CHAPTER VII.
You reach a chilling chamber, where you dread Damps.--Crabbe's Borough.
I could not sleep the whole of that night, and the next morning, I setoff early, with the resolution of discovering where Glanville had takenup his abode; it was evident from his having been so frequently seen,that it must be in the immediate neighbourhood.
I went first to Farmer Sinclair's; they had often remarked him, butcould give me no other information. I then proceeded towards the coast;there was a small public house belonging to Sir Lionel close by the seashore; never had I seen a more bleak and dreary prospect than that whichstretched for miles around this miserable cabaret. How an innkeepercould live there is a mystery to me at this day--I should have imaginedit a spot upon which anything but a sea-gull or a Scotchman would havestarved.
"Just the sort of place, however," thought I, "to hear something ofGlanville." I went into the house; I inquired, and heard that a strangegentleman had been lodging for the last two or three weeks at a cottageabout a mile further up the coast. Thither I bent my steps; and afterhaving met two crows, and one officer on the preventive service, Iarrived safely at my new destination.
It was a house very little better, in outward appearance, than thewretched hut I had just left, for I observe in all situations, and inall houses, that "the public" is not too well served. The situation wasequally lonely and desolate; the house, which belonged to an individual,half fisherman and half smuggler, stood in a sort of bay, between twotall, rugged, black cliffs. Before the door hung various nets, to drybeneath the genial warmth of a winter's sun; and a broken boat, withits keel uppermost, furnished an admirable habitation for a henand her family, who appeared to receive en pension, an oldclerico-bachelor-looking raven. I cast a suspicious glance at thelast-mentioned personage, which hopped towards me with a very hostileappearance, and entered the threshold with a more rapid step, inconsequence of sundry apprehensions of a premeditated assault.
"I understand," said I, to an old, dried, brown female, who looked likea resuscitated red-herring, "that a gentleman is lodging here."
"No, Sir," was the answer: "he left us this morning."
The reply came upon me like a shower bath; I was both chilled andstunned by so unexpected a shock. The old woman, on my renewing myinquiries, took me up stairs, to a small, wretched room, to which thedamps literally clung. In one corner was a flock-bed, still unmade, andopposite to it, a three-legged stool, a chair, and an antique carved oaktable, a donation perhaps from some squire in the neighbourhood; on thislast were scattered fragments of writing paper, a cracked cup halffull of ink, a pen, and a broken ramrod. As I mechanically took up thelatter, the woman said, in a charming patois, which I shall translate,since I cannot do justice to the original: "The gentleman, Sir, said hecame here for a few weeks to shoot; he brought a gun, a large dog, and asmall portmanteau. He used to spend all the mornings in the fens, thoughhe must have been but a poor shot, for he seldom brought home anything;and we fear, Sir, that he was rather out of his mind, for he used togo out alone at night, and stay sometimes till morning. However, he wasquite quiet, and behaved to us like a gentleman; so it was no businessof ours, only my husband does think--"
"Pray," interrupted I, "why did he leave you so suddenly?"
"Lord, Sir, I don't know! but he told us for several days past that heshould not stay over the week, and so we were not surprised when he leftus this morning at seven o'clock. Poor gentleman, my heart bled for himwhen I saw him look so pale and ill."
And here I did see the good woman's eyes fill with tears: but she wipedthem away, and took advantage of the additional persuasion they gave toher natural whine to say, "If, Sir, you know of any young gentleman wholikes fen-shooting, and wants a nice, pretty, quiet apartment--"
"I will certainly recommend this," said I.
"You see it at present," rejoined the landlady, "quite in a litter like:but it is really a sweet place in summer."
"Charming," said I, with a cold shiver, hurrying down the stairs, with apain in my ear, and the rheumatism in my shoulder.
"And this," thought I, "was Glanville's residence for nearly a month! Iwonder he did not exhale into a vapour, or moisten into a green damp."
I went home by the churchyard. I paused on the spot where I had lastseen him. A small gravestone rose over the mound of earth on which hehad thrown himself; it was perfectly simple. The date of the year andmonth (which showed that many weeks had not elapsed since the death ofthe deceased) and the initials G. D. were all that was engraved upon thestone. Beside this tomb was one of a more pompous description, to thememory of a Mrs. Douglas, which had with the simple tumulus nothing incommon, unless the initial letter of the surname corresponding withthe latter initial on the neighbouring gravestone, might authorizeany connection between them, not supported by that similitude of styleusually found in the cenotaphs of the same family: the one, indeed,might have covered the grave of a humble villager--the other, theresting-place of the lady of the manor.
I found, therefore, no clue for the labyrinth of surmise: and I wenthome, more vexed and disappointed with my day's expedition than I likedto acknowledge to myself.
Lord Vincent met me in the hall. "Delighted to see you," said he, "Ihave just been to--, (the nearest town) in order to discover what sortof savages abide there. Great preparations for a ball--all the tallowcandles in the town are bespoken--and I heard a most uncivilized fiddle,
"'Twang short and sharp, like the shrill swallow's cry.'"
The one milliner's shop was full of fat squiresses, buying muslinammunition, to make the ball go off; and the attics, even at fouro'clock, were thronged with rubicund damsels, who were already, asShakspeare says of waves in a storm,
"'Curling their monstrous heads.'"