of
marriage, I presume--let us hope that it took place--perhaps it really
was so--did he, Cargill--the minister, I mean--say any thing of such a
matter?"

"Not a word--not a word--I see where you are, my lord; you would put a
good face on't.--

'They call'd it marriage, by that specious name
To veil the crime, and sanctify the shame.'

Queen Dido for that. How the clergyman came into the secret I cannot
tell--he is a very close man. But I know he will not hear of Miss
Mowbray being married to any one, unquestionably because he knows that,
in doing so, she would introduce disgrace into some honest family--and,
truly, I am much of his mind, my lord."

"Perhaps Mr. Cargill may know the lady is privately married already,"
said the Earl; "I think that is the more natural inference, begging your
ladyship's pardon for presuming to differ in opinion."

Lady Penelope seemed determined not to take this view of the case.

"No, no--no, I tell you," she replied; "she cannot be married, for if
she were married, how could the poor wretch say that she was
ruined?--You know there is a difference betwixt ruin and marriage."

"Some people are said to have found them synonymous, Lady Penelope,"
answered the Earl.

"You are smart on me, my lord; but still, in common parlance, when we
say a woman is ruined, we mean quite the contrary of her being
married--it is impossible for me to be more explicit upon such a topic,
my lord."

"I defer to your ladyship's better judgment," said Lord Etherington. "I
only entreat you to observe a little caution in this business--I will
make the strictest enquiries of this woman, and acquaint you with the
result; and I hope, out of regard to the respectable family of St.
Ronan's, your ladyship will be in no hurry to intimate any thing to Miss
Mowbray's prejudice."

"I certainly am no person to spread scandal, my lord," answered the
lady, drawing herself up; "at the same time, I must say, the Mowbrays
have little claim on me for forbearance. I am sure I was the first
person to bring this Spa into fashion, which has been a matter of such
consequence to their estate; and yet Mr. Mowbray set himself against me,
my lord, in every possible sort of way, and encouraged the under-bred
people about him to behave very strangely.--There was the business of
building the Belvidere, which he would not permit to be done out of the
stock-purse of the company, because I had given the workmen the plan and
the orders--and then, about the tea-room--and the hour for beginning
dancing--and about the subscription for Mr. Rymour's new Tale of
Chivalry--in short, I owe no consideration to Mr. Mowbray of St.
Ronan's."

"But the poor young lady?" said Lord Etherington.

"Oh! the poor young lady?--the poor young lady can be as saucy as a rich
young lady, I promise you.--There was a business in which she used me
scandalously, Lord Etherington--it was about a very trifling matter--a
shawl. Nobody minds dress less than I do, my lord; I thank Heaven my
thoughts turn upon very different topics--but it is in trifles that
disrespect and unkindness are shown; and I have had a full share of both
from Miss Clara, besides a good deal of impertinence from her brother
upon the same subject."

"There is but one way remains," thought the Earl, as they approached the
Spa, "and that is to work on the fears of this d--d vindictive
blue-stocking'd wild-cat.--Your ladyship," he said aloud, "is aware what
severe damages have been awarded in late cases where something
approaching to scandal has been traced to ladies of consideration--the
privileges of the tea-table have been found insufficient to protect some
fair critics against the consequences of too frank and liberal
animadversion upon the characters of their friends. So pray, remember,
that as yet we know very little on this subject."

Lady Penelope loved money, and feared the law; and this hint, fortified
by her acquaintance with Mowbray's love of his sister, and his irritable
and revengeful disposition, brought her in a moment much nearer the
temper in which Lord Etherington wished to leave her. She protested,
that no one could be more tender than she of the fame of the
unfortunate, even supposing their guilt was fully proved--promised
caution on the subject of the pauper's declaration, and hoped Lord
Etherington would join her tea-party early in the evening, as she wished
to make him acquainted with one or two of her _proteges_, whom, she was
sure, his lordship would find deserving of his advice and countenance.
Being by this time at the door of her own apartment, her ladyship took
leave of the Earl with a most gracious smile.

FOOTNOTES:

[II-9] Note I.

[II-10] Note II.




CHAPTER XIV.

DISAPPOINTMENT.

On the lee-beam lies the land, boys,
See all clear to reef each course;
Let the fore-sheet go, don't mind, boys,
Though the weather should be worse.

_The Storm._


"It darkens round me like a tempest," thought Lord Etherington, as, with
slow step, folded arms, and his white hat slouched over his brows, he
traversed the short interval of space betwixt his own apartments and
those of the Lady Penelope. In a buck of the old school, one of
Congreve's men of wit and pleasure about town, this would have been a
departure from character; but the present fine man does not derogate
from his quality, even by exhibiting all the moody and gentlemanlike
solemnity of Master Stephen.[II-C] So, Lord Etherington was at liberty to
carry on his reflections, without attracting observation.--"I have put a
stopper into the mouth of that old vinegar-cruet of quality, but the
acidity of her temper will soon dissolve the charm--And what to do?"

As he looked round him, he saw his trusty valet Solmes, who, touching
his hat with due respect, said, as he passed him, "Your lordship's
letters are in your private dispatch-box."

Simple as these words were, and indifferent the tone in which they were
spoken, their import made Lord Etherington's heart bound as if his fate
had depended on the accents. He intimated no farther interest in the
communication, however, than to desire Solmes to be below, in case he
should ring; and with these words entered his apartment, and barred and
bolted the door, even before he looked on the table where his
dispatch-box was placed.

Lord Etherington had, as is usual, one key to the box which held his
letters, his confidential servant being intrusted with the other; so
that, under the protection of a patent lock, his dispatches escaped all
risk of being tampered with,--a precaution not altogether unnecessary on
the part of those who frequent hotels and lodging-houses.

"By your leave, Mr. Bramah," said the Earl, as he applied the key,
jesting, as it were, with his own agitation, as he would have done with
that of a third party. The lid was raised, and displayed the packet, the
appearance and superscription of which had attracted his observation but
a short while before in the post-office. _Then_ he would have given much
to be possessed of the opportunity which was now in his power; but many
pause on the brink of a crime, who have contemplated it at a distance
without scruple. Lord Etherington's first impulse had led him to poke
the fire; and he held in his hand the letter which he was more than half
tempted to commit, without even breaking the seal, to the fiery element.
But, though sufficiently familiarized with guilt, he was not as yet
acquainted with it in its basest shapes--he had not yet acted with
meanness, or at least with what the world terms such. He had been a
duellist, the manners of the age authorized it--a libertine, the world
excused it to his youth and condition--a bold and successful gambler,
for that quality he was admired and envied; and a thousand other
inaccuracies, to which these practices and habits lead, were easily
slurred over in a man of quality, with fortune and spirit to support his
rank. But his present meditated act was of a different kind. Tell it not
in Bond Street, whisper it not on St. James's pavement!--it amounted to
an act of petty larceny, for which the code of honour would admit of no
composition.

Lord Etherington, under the influence of these recollections, stood for
a few minutes suspended--But the devil always finds logic to convince
his followers. He recollected the wrong done to his mother, and to
himself, her offspring, to whom his father had, in the face of the whole
world, imparted the hereditary rights, of which he was now, by a
posthumous deed, endeavouring to deprive the memory of the one and the
expectations of the other. Surely, the right being his own, he had a
full title, by the most effectual means, whatever such means might be,
to repel all attacks on that right, and even destroy, if necessary, the
documents by which his enemies were prosecuting their unjust plans
against his honour and interest.

This reasoning prevailed, and Lord Etherington again held the devoted
packet above the flames; when it occurred to him, that, his resolution
being taken, he ought to carry it into execution as effectually as
possible; and to do so, it was necessary to know, that the packet
actually contained the papers which he was desirous to destroy.

Never did a doubt arise in juster time; for no sooner had the seal
burst, and the envelope rustled under his fingers, than he perceived, to
his utter consternation, that he held in his hand only the copies of
the deeds for which Francis Tyrrel had written, the originals of which
he had too sanguinely concluded would be forwarded according to his
requisition. A letter from a partner of the house with which they were
deposited, stated, that they had not felt themselves at liberty, in the
absence of the head of their firm, to whom these papers had been
committed, to part with them even to Mr. Tyrrel, though they had
proceeded so far as to open the parcel, and now transmitted to him
formal copies of the papers contained in it, which, they presumed, would
serve Mr. Tyrrel's purpose for consulting counsel, or the like. They
themselves, in a case of so much delicacy, and in the absence of their
principal partner, were determined to retain the originals, unless
called to produce them in a court of justice.

With a solemn imprecation on the formality and absurdity of the writer,
Lord Etherington let the letter of advice drop from his hand into the
fire, and throwing himself into a chair, passed his hand across his
eyes, as if their very power of sight had been blighted by what he had
read. His title, and his paternal fortune, which he thought but an
instant before might be rendered unchallengeable by a single movement of
his hand, seemed now on the verge of being lost for ever. His rapid
recollection failed not to remind him of what was less known to the
world, that his early and profuse expenditure had greatly dilapidated
his maternal fortune; and that the estate of Nettlewood, which five
minutes ago he only coveted as a wealthy man desires increase of his
store, must now be acquired, if he would avoid being a poor and
embarrassed spendthrift. To impede his possessing himself of this
property, fate had restored to the scene the penitent of the morning,
who, as he had too much reason to believe, was returned to this
neighbourhood, to do justice to Clara Mowbray, and who was not unlikely
to put the whole story of the marriage on its right footing. She,
however, might be got rid of; and it might still be possible to hurry
Miss Mowbray, by working on her fears, or through the agency of her
brother, into a union with him while he still preserved the title of
Lord Etherington. This, therefore, he resolved to secure, if effort or
if intrigue could carry the point; nor was it the least consideration,
that, should he succeed, he would obtain over Tyrrel, his successful
rival, such a triumph, as would be sufficient to embitter the
tranquillity of his whole life.

In a few minutes, his rapid and contriving invention had formed a plan
for securing the sole advantage which seemed to remain open for him; and
conscious that he had no time to lose, he entered immediately upon the
execution.

The bell summoned Solmes to his lordship's apartment, when the Earl, as
coolly as if he had hoped to dupe his experienced valet by such an
assertion, said, "You have brought me a packet designed for some man at
the Aultoun--let it be sent to him--Stay,--I will re-seal it first."

He accordingly re-sealed the packet, containing all the writings,
excepting the letter of advice, (which he had burnt,) and gave it to the
valet, with the caution, "I wish you would not make such blunders in
future."

"I beg your lordship's pardon--I will take better care again--thought it
was addressed to your lordship."

So answered Solmes, too knowing to give the least look of intelligence,
far less to remind the Earl that his own directions had occasioned the
mistake of which he complained.

"Solmes," continued the Earl, "you need not mention your blunder at the
post-office; it would only occasion tattle in this idle place--but be
sure that the gentleman has his letter.--And, Solmes, I see Mr. Mowbray
walk across--ask him to dine with me to-day at five. I have a headache,
and cannot face the clamour of the savages who feed at the public
table.--And let me see--make my compliments to Lady Penelope
Penfeather--I will certainly have the honour of waiting on her ladyship
this evening to tea, agreeably to her very boring invitation
received--write her a proper card, and word it your own way. Bespeak
dinner for two, and see you have some of that batch of Burgundy." The
servant was retiring, when his master added, "Stay a moment--I have a
more important business than I have yet mentioned.--Solmes, you have
managed devilish ill about the woman Irwin!"

"I, my lord?" answered Solmes.

"Yes, you, sir--did you not tell me she had gone to the West Indies with
a friend of yours, and did not I give them a couple of hundred pounds
for passage-money?"

"Yes, my lord," replied the valet.

"Ay, but now it proves _no_, my lord," said Lord Etherington; "for she
has found her way back to this country in miserable plight--half-starved,
and, no doubt, willing to do or say any thing for a livelihood--How has
this happened?"

"Biddulph must have taken her cash, and turned her loose, my lord,"
answered Solmes, as if he had been speaking of the most commonplace
transaction in the world; "but I know the woman's nature so well, and am
so much master of her history, that I can carry her off the country in
twenty-four hours, and place her where she will never think of
returning, provided your lordship can spare me so long."

"About it directly--but I can tell you, that you will find the woman in
a