Pelham — Complete

  CHAPTER LVI.

  The times have been That when the brains were out, the man would die,And there an end--but now they rise again.--Macbeth.

  It was a strange thing to see a man like Glanville, with costly tastes,luxurious habits, great talents, peculiarly calculated for display,courted by the highest members of the state, admired for his beautyand genius by half the women in London, yet living in the most asceticseclusion from his kind, and indulging in the darkest and most morbiddespondency. No female was ever seen to win even his momentary glanceof admiration. All the senses seemed to have lost, for his palate, theircustomary allurements. He lived among his books, and seemed to make hisfavourite companions amidst the past. At nearly all hours of the nighthe was awake and occupied, and at day-break his horse was always broughtto his door. He rode alone for several hours, and then, on his return,he was employed till the hour he went to the House, in the affairs andpolitics of the day. Ever since his debut, he had entered withmuch constancy into the more leading debates, and his speeches wereinvariably of the same commanding order which had characterised hisfirst.

  It was singular that, in his parliamentary display, as in his ordinaryconversation, there were none of the wild and speculative opinions, orthe burning enthusiasm of romance, in which the natural inclination ofhis mind seemed so essentially to delight. His arguments were alwaysremarkable for the soundness of the principles on which they were based,and the logical clearness with which they were expressed. The feverishfervour of his temperament was, it is true, occasionally shown in aremarkable energy of delivery, or a sudden and unexpected burst of themore impetuous powers of oratory; but these were so evidently naturaland spontaneous, and so happily adapted to be impressive of the subject,rather than irrelevant from its bearings, that they never displeasedeven the oldest and coldest cynics and calculators of the House.

  It is no uncommon contradiction in human nature (and in Glanville itseemed peculiarly prominent) to find men of imagination and geniusgifted with the strongest common sense, for the admonition or benefit ofothers, even while constantly neglecting to exert it for themselves.He was soon marked out as the most promising and important of all thejunior members of the House; and the coldness with which he kept alooffrom social intercourse with the party he adopted, only served toincrease their respect, though it prevented their affection.

  Lady Roseville's attachment to him was scarcely a secret; the celebrityof her name in the world of ton made her least look or action theconstant subject of present remark and after conversation; and therewere too many moments, even in the watchful publicity of society, whenthat charming but imprudent person forgot every thing but the romance ofher attachment. Glanville seemed not only perfectly untouched by it,but even wholly unconscious of its existence, and preserved invariably,whenever he was forced into the crowd, the same stern, cold,unsympathizing reserve, which made him, at once, an object of universalconversation and dislike.

  Three weeks after Glanville's first speech in the House, I called uponhim, with a proposal from Lord Dawton. After we had discussed it, wespoke on more familiar topics, and, at last, he mentioned Thornton. Itwill be observed that we had never conversed respecting that person; norhad Glanville once alluded to our former meetings, or to his disguisedappearance and false appellation at Paris. Whatever might be themystery, it was evidently of a painful nature, and it was not,therefore, for me to allude to it. This day he spoke of Thornton with atone of indifference.

  "The man," he said, "I have known for some time; he was useful to meabroad, and, notwithstanding his character, I rewarded him well for hisservices. He has since applied to me several times for money, which isspent at the gambling-house as soon as it is obtained. I believe him tobe leagued with a gang of sharpers of the lowest description; and Iam really unwilling any farther to supply the vicious necessities ofhimself and his comrades. He is a mean, mercenary rascal, who wouldscruple at no enormity, provided he was paid for it!"

  Glanville paused for a few moments, and then added, while his cheekblushed, and his voice seemed somewhat hesitating and embarrassed--"Youremember Mr. Tyrrell, at Paris?"

  "Yes," said I--"he is, at present, in London, and--" Glanville startedas if he had been shot.

  "No, no," he exclaimed, wildly--"he died at Paris, from want--fromstarvation."

  "You are mistaken," said I; "he is now Sir John Tyrrell, and possessedof considerable property. I saw him myself, three weeks ago."

  Glanville, laying his hand upon my arm, looked in my face with a long,stern, prying gaze, and his cheek grew more ghastly and livid with everymoment. At last he turned, and muttered something between his teeth; andat that moment the door opened, and Thornton was announced. Glanvillesprung towards him and seized him by the throat!

  "Dog!" he cried, "you have deceived me--Tyrrell lives!"

  "Hands off!" cried the gamester, with a savage grin of defiance--"handsoff! or, by the Lord that made me, you shall have gripe for gripe!"

  "Ho, wretch!" said Glanville, shaking him violently, while his wornand slender, yet still powerful frame, trembled with the excess of hispassion; "dost thou dare to threaten me!" and with these words he flungThornton against the opposite wall with such force, that the bloodgushed out of his mouth and nostrils. The gambler rose slowly, andwiping the blood from his face, fixed his malignant and fiery eye uponhis aggressor, with an expression of collected hate and vengeance, thatmade my very blood creep.

  "It is not my day now," he said, with a calm, quiet, cold voice, andthen, suddenly changing his manner, he approached me with a sort of bow,and made some remark on the weather.

  Meanwhile, Glanville had sunk on the sofa, exhausted, less by his lateeffort than the convulsive passion which had produced it. He rose ina few moments, and said to Thornton, "Pardon my violence; let this payyour bruises;" and he placed a long and apparently well filled purse inThornton's hand. That veritable philosophe took it with the same air asa dog receives the first caress from the hand which has just chastisedhim; and feeling the purse between his short, hard fingers, as if toascertain the soundness of its condition, quietly slid it into hisbreeches pocket, which he then buttoned with care, and pulling hiswaistcoat down, as if for further protection to the deposit, heturned towards Glanville, and said, in his usual quaint style ofvulgarity--"Least said, Sir Reginald, the soonest mended. Gold is a goodplaister for bad bruises. Now, then, your will:--ask and I will answer,unless you think Mr. Pelham un de trop."

  I was already at the door, with the intention of leaving the room,when Glanville cried, "Stay, Pelham, I have but one question to ask Mr.Thornton. Is John Tyrrell still living?"

  "He is!" answered Thornton, with a sardonic smile.

  "And beyond all want!" resumed Glanville.

  "He is!" was the tautological reply.

  "Mr. Thornton," said Glanville, with a calm voice, "I have now done withyou--you may leave the room!"

  Thornton bowed with an air of ironical respect, and obeyed the command.

  I turned to look at Glanville. His countenance, always better adapted toa stern, than a soft expression, was perfectly fearful; every line init seemed dug into a furrow; the brows were bent over his large andflashing eyes with a painful intensity of anger and resolve; his teethwere clenched firmly as if by a vice, and the thin upper lip, which wasdrawn from them with a bitter curl of scorn, was as white as death. Hisright hand had closed upon the back of the massy chair, over which histall nervous frame leant, and was grasping it with an iron force, whichit could not support: it snapped beneath his hand like a hazel stick.This accident, slight as it was, recalled him to himself. He apologizedwith apparent self-possession for his disorder; and, after a few wordsof fervent and affectionate farewell on my part, I left him to thesolitude which I knew he desired.