CHAPTER XXIII.
"IT'S ALL UP, MR. RICHARDS, IT'S ALL UP!"
"The busy crew the sails unbending, The ship in harbour safe arrived; Jack Oakum, all his perils ending, Has made the port where Kitty lived." DIBDIN.
We return now to the day before Sir Digby's ball.
Richards lived in chambers, and in no great state. He never cared forit. Had you gone straight into his sitting-room from the fresh air, whatwould have struck you most would have been the smell of strong tobaccosmoke; and I believe you would have come to the conclusion that theprincipal furniture consisted of tobacco-pipes. They were of all sortsand sizes, and hung in rows and racks, and lay on shelves and on themantlepiece. Well, what did it matter? honest Richards was a bachelor,and not once in a blue moon did a lady look in to see him.
But one afternoon, shortly before Sir Digby's great ball, a lady did;and that lady was Mary herself.
"Which I've been dying to see you, sir," she began.
"Sit down, my dear, sit down."
Mary sat down, and proceeded,--
"It's all up, Mr. Richards, it's all up!"
The poor girl was crying now bitterly.
"Missus is as good as sold. She's goin' to the ball, and Sir Digby'sgoin' to propose. She told me, and Sir Digby kissed me and told me. Oh,oh, what ever shall I do?"
Richards lit a huge pipe, and walked about smoking for fully fiveminutes. Then he went over and took Mary's hand, and Mary looked upinnocently in his face, and said innocently through her tears,--
"Do you want to kiss me too, sir?"
"Well, I wasn't thinking about that; but there, Mary, there. Now, I'lltell you what you've got to do; and I do believe it will all come right,even yet."
So Mary and Richards had a long "confab" together, and she went backhome happy and smiling.
After she had gone Richards lit another pipe, threw himself on arocking-chair, and smoked long and thoughtfully. Then he got up andtook a rapid turn or two up and down the floor. Presently he paused, andgazed curiously at himself in a mirror.
"Old Richards," he said, shaking his fist at his reflection, "I didn'tthink it was in you. You're a designing, unscrupulous old lawyer. Nevermind; it's all for my baby's sake. I'll do it. Hang me if I don't."
An hour after this, Richards had called a carriage--a luxury he indulgedin very seldom indeed. He first visited the lawyer who had transactedthe business of the Grantley Hall mortgage for him. With this gentlemanhe was closeted for some considerable time. Then he drove to afashionable tailor's, then to a jeweller's, and next to awine-merchant's, and as all those individuals showed him to his carriagewith many gracious smiles and bows, it was evident that his businesswith them had been of a very agreeable kind indeed--to them. Richardsdrove to other places which I need not name; and when he got back homeat last, he sank into his rocking-chair with a tired but happy sigh, andimmediately lit his biggest pipe.
He was smiling to himself. "I've done it," he said half aloud, "and mybaby's safe for a time. But if his rich old brother comes to therescue, my game is spoiled. Poor Jack! I wonder what he is doing at thismoment."
* * * * *
On the night of the great ball, Sir Digby Auld was very much with MissGordon; and everybody said how well matched they were, which certainlywas paying no compliment to Sir Digby. He gave her many dances, and hesaid many soft and pretty things to her, which caused her to bend downher painted face and pretend to blush.
In the course of the evening he forgathered with D'Orsay. D'Orsay liftedhis brows and smiled.
"Getting on famously?" he said.
"I've been trying; but, D'Orsay, 'pon my life I can't. And look youhere: I may be a fool, I may be mad, but to-morrow forenoon I go toKeane's and throw myself at Gerty's feet. There! the die is cast."
A servant in livery at this moment approached him. "Beg parding, sir.Two gentlemen wants to speak to you a moment in the library."
Sir Digby turned pale.
"I'd come, sir," whispered the servant; "there will be a scene else."
Sir Digby followed him out.
"Sorry we are, sir, to disturb yer 'onor; but we has a warrant for your'rrest, and the carriage is awaitin' at the door."
"At whose instance?"
"Richards of the firm of Griffith, Keane, and Co."
Sir Digby muttered an oath. He staggered and almost fell.
D'Orsay, a quarter of an hour after this, informed the guests that SirDigby Auld had been taken suddenly ill, but that they were to continueto enjoy themselves all the same.
Meanwhile the prisoner was being rapidly whirled away to the Fleet.
And the letter that Keane had received that night was to the effect thatthe man who proposed marrying his daughter was a bankrupt and a beggar,and would that evening be arrested in his own house and among hisguests.
Having effectually disposed of Sir Digby for a time, Richards couldafford to quietly await the turn of events. His practice had been sharp,but it was certainly justifiable. He had often hinted to his partnerKeane, nay, even told him plainly, that the baronet was but a man ofstraw.
"Owes a few thousands perhaps," Keane had replied, with anill-concealed sneer. "They all do it. A post-obit would clear that up.His brother can't live for ever. Sir Digby will be a lord, you know, onhis brother's death."
"I'll tell you what," Richards had gone so far as to exclaim one day:"if I were you I'd pay Digby's debts for him. Ten thou., I reckon, woulddo it. But I shouldn't marry my only daughter to a beggar!"
Keane turned on him sharply.
"Richards," he said, as calmly as he could, "I knew a gentleman once whomade an immense fortune by a very simple process."
"Indeed; how?"
"By minding his own business." Then Keane cackled over his ledger.Richards said no more. But the idea of Keane, of all men, paying off afuture son-in-law's debts was too absurd.
When Richards went to Keane's house a few days after Digby'sincarceration, he found his partner in the throes of packing. He wasgoing to Italy for a time with Gerty, and of course Mary would accompanyher.
Months went by, and many a long delightful letter did Richards receivefrom Gerty, and from Mary too, the latter always ending with "luv andsweet kisses." Then came a final letter. They were coming home. Alas!the ship never reached England. She was captured by a Don, and all weremade prisoners. Keane could have bought his liberty if he had cared to.He preferred to wait, and waiting--died.
A few weeks afterwards poor lonely Gerty returned, and Mary. Richardsconstituted himself Miss Keane's guardian. Indeed it had been Keane'slast wishes that he should do so. And, strange to say, the rulingpassion had manifested itself strongly in death; for by the help of apriest he had written a letter to Richards, praying him, for the sake oftheir long acquaintanceship and friendship, to see that Gerty marriedSir Digby. He died, he said, peacefully, knowing she would yet be LadyAuld.
"A dying man's last request," said Richards to himself, "ought to beattended to; but--"
Then he solemnly placed the letter in the fire, and it was cremated.
Sir Digby made himself as comfortable as possible in the Fleet. Richardsdid not think it safe he should come out. Gerty was a strange girl. Herheart bled for the poor man, as she called him. For sake of her father'smemory, there was no denying that she might even yet sacrifice herself.
D'Orsay paid many visits to Sir Digby in prison. He really acted like atrue friend, and did all he could for him. He had even gone to see hisold brother, and come back, figuratively speaking, with a finger in hismouth.
"No good in that quarter," he told Sir Digby bluntly. "Says you're aspendthrift and a ne'er-do-weel, and that he means to live for twentyyears yet; and 'pon honour, Digby, he looks as if he could. I did heartoo that he was looking out for a wife."
* * * * *
"I shall go and see my hero in his dark dungeon, in his prison cell, inhis chai
ns and misery."
These are words spoken by Miss Gordon heroically to herself in themirror one morning. She had strange ideas of the Fleet.
She was astonished to find her hero in a flowered dressing-gown, smokinga Havana, which he threw into the fire when he saw her, and living in ahandsomely-furnished room.
She went again and again. I do not know how she managed it, but I doknow that in a month's time Sir Digby was a free man, and married toMiss Gordon.
This event took place just two days before Jack's ship staggered wearilyinto Plymouth Sound.
While he still sat by his open port, gazing sadly landward, Tom Fairliecame in with a rush and a run. He too had a copy of the _Times_.
"Listen, Jack," he cried, "and I'll read something that will astonishyou."
"Don't, Tom, don't. I have already seen the awful announcement. I am abroken and crushed man!"
"Broken and crushed fiddlestick!" said Tom. "Listen, listen: 'At St.Nicholas' Church, on the 5th inst., by the Rev. Charles Viewfield, SirDigby Auld to Miss Gertrude Gordon, daughter of--'"
"Hurrah!" cried Jack, springing from his seat and overturning the chair."Hurrah for the Rev. Charlie! Tom, shake hands, my dearest and best offriends. You've made me the happiest man in the British Islands.Hurrah!"
* * * * *
In a week's time the _Tonneraire_ was paid off and safe in dock, and acarriage with postillions might have been seen tearing along the roadthat leads from Plymouth to Tor Bay.
The carriage contained Jack Mackenzie and his friend Tom Fairlie.
CHAPTER XXIV.
BY THE OLD DIAL-STONE.
"So heroes may well wear their armour, And, patient, count over their scars; Venus' dimples, assuming the charmer, Shall smooth the rough furrows of Mars." DIBDIN.
General Grant Mackenzie was lounging at breakfast one morning in hisprivate rooms in the big barn-like barracks of C----. At his right handsat one of his captains, with whom he was talking--languidly enough, itmust be confessed.
"You are right, Moore. By Jove, you're right; and to-day I send in myresignation. Here have we been lying waiting the French for more than ayear, and the rascals won't show front. No; I shall go in for club lifein London now."
"We'll miss you, general."
"Ah, Moore, it is good of you to say so; but what _can_ a fellow do?When I rejoined the service, I expected to see some fighting.Disappointed. And now I'm parted from my daughter, and lying in this oldbarn positively getting mouldy. Besides--"
"Some one to see you, sir," said the servant.
"Why, Richards, my dear old boy, who could have expected to see you?Nothing wrong, I hope?"
"No, everything right--more than right. Prepare to hear news that--"
He glanced at the captain.
"My friend Captain Moore. No secrets from him--knowseverything.--Captain Moore, Mr. Richards, my family lawyer, and, baryourself, the best fellow in existence."
Richards bowed.
"Well, Jack's come. Had terrible fighting. I hurried over to tell you."
"But not for that alone?"
"Nay, friend. Now sit down, or catch hold of something. I'm going tostartle you. Your old uncle is dead."
"What, the man that disinherited me?"
"The same; only--you are heir to Glen Pollok. It is all yours--a coolL10,000 a year."
The general could not speak for a moment; then he grasped the kindly oldsolicitor's hand once more, and with tears in his eyes.
"God in heaven bless you, Richards," he exclaimed, "and his name bepraised. Poor Jack and dear Flo, they will not now be beggars!"
"And, Richards," he added, "Flora shall be wedded with all the pomp andglory due to a daughter of the proud house of Grant Mackenzie."
"Ah!" laughed Richards, "there is the old reckless Celtic bloodasserting itself again. Don't forget, my friend, that even L10,000 ayear can be spent, and that right easily too."
"I won't, I won't; you shall be my guide."
"And then, you see," continued Richards, "there is the mortgage to payoff on Grantley Hall."
"Grantley Hall! why, isn't that sold long ago?"
Richards laughed heartily now. "O bother," he cried. "I've let the catout of the bag, and I didn't mean to. I meant to give you such apleasant surprise. Well, well, well,--
'The best-laid schemes o' mice and men Gang aft agley.'"
Then Richards told him all he had done.
The tears stood in General Mackenzie's eyes. "Richards," he said, "Icould not have believed such kindness possible. I--I--I can't sayanother word."
* * * * *
The meeting between Tom Fairlie and Flora was all that lovers coulddesire. Mary positively hugged Jack. He was still her boy. I'm not sureshe did not shower upon him "luv and sweet kisses."
"But, bless me, Jack," she said, "how tall you've got! and really youmakes poor me feel old."
Gerty met Jack with a bonnie blush.
Ah! how he longed to take her in his arms and tell her all, and all shehad been to him throughout the last two long and eventful years. But no,he would not, dared not. When in a few months' time a ship was once moreat his command, he would go quietly away to sea; but he ne'er wouldspeak of love.
For his old Highland pride had come to his rescue. She was rich; _he_was very poor indeed.
No, it never could be. And so he told Tom, and so he told his sister.The former laughed at his scruples; the latter thought her brother wasright.
* * * * *
Richards and the general were at Grantley Hall and as busy as thetraditional bonnet-maker. They had a little secret between them, forneither Jack nor Flora had yet been told of the change in the fortunesof the Grant Mackenzies. It would be such a delightful surprise. And sothe two old friends worked away, as merrily as school-boys building arabbit-hutch, and in a few weeks' time the old place was put to rights,and every nick-nack and every curio and souvenir and picture replaced inthe drawing-room, just as it had been in the dear, reckless days of longago.
But near the finish of the arrangements M'Hearty was invited down andlet into the delightful secret, for he it was who should bring Jack andhis sister, with Tom, Gerty, and Mary the maid, down to the old place.
* * * * *
"Do you know," said M'Hearty about a week after this, as he stood withJack and his sister on the balcony of the priest's drawing-room atTorquay, "I'm dying to see old Grantley Hall just once again."
"And I too would like to see it," sighed Jack, "if--if I thought Floracould stand it."
"Oh I think I could."
"_The old dial-stone._" Page 212.]
"Well, the weather is delightful; why shouldn't we sail round?"
"Agreed," said Jack; "we shall."
They hired a yacht, not a very fast one. There were no _Thistles_ inthose days. But she was most clean and comfortable, and the party hadfavouring winds all the way round, and in due time arrived safely inLowestoft harbour.
Then nothing less than a coach and postillions would suit M'Hearty.
"It shan't be at your expense though, Captain Jack," he said, "nor yourseither, Tom. Why, I have made oceans of prize-money, and an old bachelorlike me doesn't really know how to spend it."
The surprise began when they reached the lodge gate. "Why," cried Jack,"there is some one living here. I expected to find the place in ruins."The surprise increased when they reached the lawn, for here the generaland sly old Richards met them laughing. But when the party were usheredinto the drawing-room, and saw everything in its place as it had beenyears ago, and the general and Richards "ready to die" stifling a laugh,why, then the surprise reached a climax.
"Pinch me, Tom," cried Jack. "I'm in a dream."
What a happy first-coming that was, to be sure! but there were many moreto follow.
* *
* * *
The autumn tints were on the trees, evening primroses and dahlias noddedby the pathways, and many a rare old flower besides.
One evening Jack, with his sister and Gerty, was walking in the brightmoonlight along the broad and grassy path that swept under the limeavenue. Flora had gone on, and Jack had given Gerty his arm.
Suddenly they came to the old dial-stone. And here they stopped, forJack had remembered his dream. He was Gerty's equal now in every way,and so he told her his dream, and he told her something else; told herof all his manly love that neither absence nor the vicissitudes of warcould ever banish from his heart. And much more, too, he told her thatwe need not pry into. Flora went on and on. Just once she glancedbehind. Gerty was very close to Jack.
When, a whole hour after this, they entered the great drawing-room armin arm, they looked very happy indeed. There was no one there butRichards and the general. "Why, where ever have you two truants been?"said the latter.
"We have been cleaning the moss off the old dial-stone, and rolling backthe scroll of time. Father, let me present to you your futuredaughter-in-law."
"My own brave boy," said the general. "Gerty Keane."
That was all; but I do not know yet which was the happier man of thetwo--Jack's father or Mr. Richards.
As for Mary, as soon as she heard the glorious news she must seek out"her boy" at once. She found him in his room, and with the best grace hecould muster he had to submit to "luv and sweet kisses" on the spot,Mary assuring him that he had made her the happiest girl in all Norfolk.
* * * * *
There is a good deal of similarity about weddings; but it was generallyadmitted that the double event that took place at Grantley Hall in thespring of '99--namely, the marriages of Tom and Flora, and Gerty andJack--was the gayest wedding, or rather pair of weddings, that had evertaken place in the north. I cannot say that bonfires blazed on everyhill, because there are no hills in Norfolk worthy of the name; but therejoicing far and near was universal, and with all his old Highlandhospitality and lavishness, General Grant Mackenzie, ably supported byRichards and the gallant M'Hearty, kept open house for a whole fortnightto all comers.
Meanwhile, in a charming yacht, under blue skies and with favouringwinds, the happy couples were sailing round the shores of merry Englandand green Caledonia.
Ah! there is many a less happy life than that of the sailor, and manyworse people than sailors; and had I my time to begin again, I shouldstill be sweeping through the deep.
The End]
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends