“I was sorry to hear of your friend’s illness, and trust he will now do very well. Bring him down with you at Christmas, if you can. I hear, by the way, there is aMissRussell in the case—a very fascinating young lady, whom you never mention at all—a fact which your mother, who is up to all those things, says is very suspicious. All I can say is, if she is as good a girl as her mother was before her—I knew her well once—you may bring her down with you too, if you like.”
“I was sorry to hear of your friend’s illness, and trust he will now do very well. Bring him down with you at Christmas, if you can. I hear, by the way, there is aMissRussell in the case—a very fascinating young lady, whom you never mention at all—a fact which your mother, who is up to all those things, says is very suspicious. All I can say is, if she is as good a girl as her mother was before her—I knew her well once—you may bring her down with you too, if you like.”
How very unlucky it is that the home authorities seldom approve of any little affairs of the kind except those of which one is perfectly innocent! Now, if Ihadbeen in love with Mary Russell, the governor would, in the nature of things, have felt it his duty to be disagreeable.
I put off the little business my father alluded to day after day, to make way for more pleasant engagements, until my stay in town was drawing to a close. Letters from Russell informed me of his having left Oxford for Southampton, where he was reading hard, and getting quite stout; but he spoke of his sister’s health in a tone that alarmed me,though he evidently was trying to persuade himself that a few weeks’ sea-air would quite restore it. At last I devoted a morning to call on Mr Rushton, whom I found at home, though professing, as all lawyers do, to be full of business. He made my acquaintance as politely as if I had been the heir-expectant of an earldom, instead of the very moderate amount of acres which had escaped sale and subdivision in the Hawthorne family. In fact, he seemed a very good sort of fellow, and we ran over the parchments together very amicably—I almost suspected he was cheating me, he seemed so very friendly, but therein I did him wrong.
“And now, my dear sir,” continued he, as we shut up the last of them, “will you dine with me to-day? Let me see; I fear I can’t say before seven, for I have a great deal of work to get through. Some bankruptcy business, about which I have taken some trouble,” he continued, rubbing his hands, “and which we shall manage pretty well in the end, I fancy. By the way, it concerns some friends of yours, too: is not Mr Ormiston of your college? Ay, I thought he was; he is two thousand pounds richer than he fancied himself yesterday.”
“Really?” said I, somewhat interested; “how, may I ask?”
“Why, you see, when Russell’s bank broke—bad business that—we all thought the first dividend—tenpence-halfpennyin the pound, I believe it was—would be the final one: however, there are some foreign securities which, when they first came into the hands of the assignees, were considered of no value at all, but have gone up wonderfully in the market just of late; so that we have delayed finally closing accounts till we could sell them to such advantage as will leave some tolerable pickings for the creditors after all.”
“Had Ormiston money in Mr Russell’s bank, then, at the time?”
“Oh, yes: something like eight thousand pounds: not all his own, though: five thousand he had in trust for some nieces of his, which he had unluckily just sold out of the funds, and placed with Russell, while he was engaged in making arrangements for a more profitable investment; the rest was his own.”
“He lost it all, then?”
“All but somewhere about three hundred pounds, as it appeared at the time. What an excellent fellow he is! You know him well, I dare say. They tell me that he pays the interest regularly to his nieces for their money out of his own income still.”
I made no answer to Mr Rushton at the moment, for a communication so wholly unexpected had awakened a new set of ideas, which I was busily following out in my mind. I seemed to hold in my hands the clue to a good deal of misunderstanding and unhappiness. My determination was soontaken to go to Southampton, see Russell at once, and tell him what I had just heard, and of which I had no doubt he had hitherto been as ignorant as myself. I was rather induced to take this course, as I felt persuaded that Miss Russell’s health was suffering rather from mental than bodily causes; and, in such a case, a great deal of mischief is done in a short time. I would leave town at once.
My purse was in the usual state of an undergraduate’s at the close of a visit to London; so, following up the train of my own reflections, I turned suddenly upon Mr Rushton, who was again absorbed in his papers, and had possibly forgotten my presence altogether, and attacked him with—
“My dear sir, can you lend me ten pounds?”
“Certainly,” said Mr Rushton, taking off his spectacles, and feeling in his pockets, at the same time looking at me with some little curiosity—“certainly—with great pleasure.”
“I beg your pardon for taking such a liberty,” said I, apologetically; “but I find I must leave town to-night.”
“To-night!” said the lawyer, looking still more inquiringly at me; “I thought you were to dine with me?”
“I cannot exactly explain to you at this moment, sir, my reasons; but I have reasons, and I think sufficient ones, though they have suddenly occurred to me.”
I pocketed the money, leaving Mr Rushton to speculate on the eccentricities of Oxonians as he pleased, and a couple of hours found me seated on the Southampton mail.
The Russells were surprised at my sudden descent upon them, but welcomed me cordially; and even Mary’s pale face did not prevent my being in excellent spirits. As soon as I could speak to Russell by himself, I told him what I had heard from Mr Rushton.
He never interrupted me, but his emotion was evident. When he did speak, it was in an altered and humbled voice.
“I never inquired,” he said, “who my father’s creditors were—perhaps I ought to have done so; but I thought the knowledge could only pain me. I see it all now; how unjust, how ungrateful I have been! Poor Mary!”
We sat down, and talked over those points in Ormiston’s conduct, upon which Russell had put so unfavourable a construction. It was quite evident, that a man who could act with so much liberality and self-denial towards others, could have had no interested motives in his conduct with regard to Mary Russell; and her brother was now as eager to express his confidence in Ormiston’s honour and integrity, as he was before hasty in misjudging him.
Where all parties are eager for explanation, mattersare soon explained. Russell had an interview with his sister, which brought her to the breakfast table the next morning with blushing cheeks and brightened eyes.Hermisgivings, if she had any, were easily set at rest. He then wrote to Ormiston a letter full of generous apologies and expressions of his high admiration of his conduct, which was answered by that gentleman in person by return of post. How Mary Russell and he met, or what they said, must ever be a secret, for no one was present but themselves. But all embarrassment was soon over, and we were a very happy party for the short time we remained at Southampton together; for, feeling that my share in the matter was at an end—a share which I contemplated with some little self-complacency—I speedily took my departure.
If I have not made Ormiston’s conduct appear in as clear colours to the reader as it did to ourselves, I can only add, that the late misunderstanding seemed a painful subject to all parties, and that the mutual explanations were rather understood than expressed. The anonymous payment to Russell’s credit at the bank was no longer a mystery: it was the poor remains of the College Tutor’s little fortune, chiefly the savings of his years of office—the bulk of which had been lost through the fault of the father—generously devoted to meet the necessities of the son. That he would have offered Mary Russell his heart and hand at oncewhen she was poor, as he hesitated to do when she was rich, none of us for a moment doubted, had not his own embarrassments, caused by the failure of the bank, and the consequent claims of his orphan nieces, to replace whose little income he had contracted all his own expenses, made him hesitate to involve the woman he loved in an imprudent marriage.
They were married, however, very soon—and still imprudently the world said, and my good aunt among the rest; for, instead of waiting an indefinite time for a good college living to fall in, Ormiston took the first that offered, a small vicarage of £300 a-year, intending to add to his income by taking pupils. However, fortune sometimes loves to have a laugh at the prudent ones, and put to the rout all their wise prognostications; for, during Ormiston’s “year of grace”—while he still virtually held his fellowship, though he had accepted the living—our worthy old Principal died somewhat suddenly, and regret at his loss only gave way to the universal joy of every individual in the college (except, I suppose, any disappointed aspirants), when Mr Ormiston was elected almost unanimously to the vacant dignity.
Mr Russell the elder has never returned to England. On the mind of such a man, after the first blow, and the loss of his position in the world, thedisgrace attached to his name had comparatively little effect. He lives in some small town in France, having contrived, with his knownclever management, to keep himself in comfortable circumstances; and his best friends can only strive to forget his existence, rather than wish for his return. His son and daughter pay him occasional visits, for their affection survives his disgrace and forgets his errors. Charles Russell took a first class, after delaying his examination a couple of terms, owing to his illness, and is now a barrister, with a reputation for talent, but as yet very little business. However, as I hear the city authorities have had the impudence to seize some of the college plate in discharge of a disputed claim for rates, and that Russell is retained as one of the counsel in an action of replevin, I trust he will begin a prosperous career, by contributing to win the cause for the “gown.”
I spent a month with Dr and Mrs Ormiston at their vicarage in the country, before the former entered upon his official residence as Principal; and can assure the reader that, in spite of ten—it may be more—years of difference in age, they are the happiest couple I ever saw. I may almost say, the only happy couple I ever saw, most of my married acquaintance appearing at the best onlycontentedcouples, not drawing their happiness so exclusively from each other as suits my notion ofwhat such a tie ought to be. Of course, I do not take my own matrimonial experience into account; the same principle of justice which forbids a man to give evidence in his own favour, humanely excusing him from making any admission which may criminate himself. Mrs Ormiston is as beautiful, as amiable, as ever, and has lost all the reserve and sadness which, in her maiden days, overshadowed her charms; and so sincere was and is my admiration of her person and character, and so warmly was I in the habit of expressing it, that I really believe my dilating upon her attractions used to make Mrs. Francis Hawthorne somewhat jealous, until she had the happiness to make her acquaintance, and settled the point by falling in love with the lady herself.
Mr Bubb was a Whig orator, also a Soap Laborator,For everything’s new christen’d in the present day;He was follow’d and adored by the Common Council board,And lived quite genteel with a one-horse chay.II.Mrs Bubb was gay and free, fair, fat, and forty-three,And blooming as a peony in buxom May;The toast she long had been of Farringdon-Within,And fill’d the better-half of the one-horse chay.III.Mrs Bubb said to her Lord, “You can well, Bubb, affordWhate’er a Common Council man in prudence may;We’ve no brats to plague our lives, and the soap concern it thrives,So let’s have a trip to Brighton in the one-horse chay.IV.“We’ll view the pier and shipping, and enjoy many dipping,And walk for a stomach in our best array;I longs more nor I can utter, for shrimps and bread and butter,And an airing on the Steyne in the one-horse chay.V.“We’ve a right to spare for nought that for money can be bought,So to get matters ready, Bubb, do you trudge away;To my dear Lord Mayor I’ll walk, just to get a bit of talkAnd an imitation shawl for the one-horse chay.”VI.Mr Bubb said to his wife, “Now I think upon’t, my life’Tis three weeks at least to next boiling-day;The dog-days are set in, and London’s growing thin,So I’ll order out old Nobbs and the one-horse chay.”VII.Now Nobbs, it must be told, was rather fat and old,His colour it was white, and it had been grey;He was round as a pot, and when soundly whipt would trotFull five miles an hour in the one-horse chay.VIII.When at Brighton they were housed, and had stuffed and caroused,O’er a bowl of rack punch, Mr Bubb did say,“I’ve ascertain’d, my dear, the mode of dipping hereFrom the ostler, who is cleaning up my one-horse chay.IX.“You’re shut up in a box, ill convenient as the stocks,And eighteenpence a-time are obliged for to pay;Court corruption here, say I, makes everything so high,And I wish I had come without my one-horse chay.”X.“As I hope,” says she, “to thrive, ’tis flaying folks alive,The King and them extortioners are leagued, I say;’Tis encouraging of such for to go to pay so much,So we’ll set them at defiance with our one-horse chay.XI.“Old Nobbs, I am sartin, may be trusted gig or cart in,He takes every matter in an easy way;He’ll stand like a post, while we dabble on the coast,And return back to dress in our one-horse chay.”XII.So out they drove, all drest so gaily in their best,And finding, in their rambles, a snug little bay,They uncased at their leisure, paddled out to take their pleasure,And left everything behind in the one-horse chay.XIII.But while, so snugly sure that all things were secure,They flounced about like porpoises or whales at play,Some young unlucky imps, who prowl’d about for shrimps,Stole up to reconnoitre the one-horse chay.XIV.Old Nobbs, in quiet mood, was sleeping as he stood(He might possibly be dreaming of his corn or hay);Not a foot did he wag, so they whipt out every rag,And gutted the contents of the one-horse chay.XV.When our pair were soused enough, and returned in their buff,Oh, there was the vengeance and old Nick to pay!Madam shriek’d in consternation, Mr Bubb he swore——!To find the empty state of the one-horse chay.XVI.“If I live,” said she, “I swear, I’ll consult my dear Lord Mayor,And a fine on this vagabond town he shall lay;But the gallows thieves, so tricky, hasn’t left me e’en a dicky,And I shall catch my death in the one-horse chay.”XVII.“Come, bundle in with me, we must squeeze for once,” says he,“And manage this here business the best we may;We’ve no other step to choose, nor a moment must we lose,Or the tide will float us off in our one-horse chay.”XVIII.So noses, sides, and knees, all together did they squeeze,And, pack’d in little compass, they trotted it away,As dismal as two dummies, head and hands stuck out like mummiesFrom beneath the little apron of the one-horse chay.XIX.The Steyne was in a throng, as they jogg’d it along,Madam hadn’t been so put to it for many a day;Her pleasure it was damped, and her person somewhat cramped,Doubled up beneath the apron of the one-horse chay.XX.“Oh would that I were laid,” Mr Bubb in sorrow said,“In a broad-wheeled waggon, well covered with hay!I’m sick of sporting smart, and would take a tilted cartIn exchange for this bauble of a one-horse chay.XXI.“I’d give half my riches for my worst pair of breeches,Or the apron that I wore last boiling-day;They would wrap my arms and shoulders from these impudent beholders,And allow me to whip on in my one-horse chay.”XXII.Mr Bubb ge-hupped in vain, and strove to jerk the rein,Nobbs felt he had his option to work or play,So he wouldn’t mend his pace, though they’d fain have run a race,To escape the merry gazers at the one-horse chay.XXIII.Now, good people, laugh your fill, and fancy if you will(For I’m fairly out of breath, and have said my say),The trouble and the rout, to wrap and get them out,When they drove to their lodgings in their one-horse chay.XXIV.The day was swelt’ring warm, so they took no cold or harm,And o’er a smoking lunch soon forgot their dismay;But, fearing Brighton mobs, started off at night with Nobbs,To a snugger watering-place, in the one-horse chay.
Mr Bubb was a Whig orator, also a Soap Laborator,For everything’s new christen’d in the present day;He was follow’d and adored by the Common Council board,And lived quite genteel with a one-horse chay.
Mrs Bubb was gay and free, fair, fat, and forty-three,And blooming as a peony in buxom May;The toast she long had been of Farringdon-Within,And fill’d the better-half of the one-horse chay.
Mrs Bubb said to her Lord, “You can well, Bubb, affordWhate’er a Common Council man in prudence may;We’ve no brats to plague our lives, and the soap concern it thrives,So let’s have a trip to Brighton in the one-horse chay.
“We’ll view the pier and shipping, and enjoy many dipping,And walk for a stomach in our best array;I longs more nor I can utter, for shrimps and bread and butter,And an airing on the Steyne in the one-horse chay.
“We’ve a right to spare for nought that for money can be bought,So to get matters ready, Bubb, do you trudge away;To my dear Lord Mayor I’ll walk, just to get a bit of talkAnd an imitation shawl for the one-horse chay.”
Mr Bubb said to his wife, “Now I think upon’t, my life’Tis three weeks at least to next boiling-day;The dog-days are set in, and London’s growing thin,So I’ll order out old Nobbs and the one-horse chay.”
Now Nobbs, it must be told, was rather fat and old,His colour it was white, and it had been grey;He was round as a pot, and when soundly whipt would trotFull five miles an hour in the one-horse chay.
When at Brighton they were housed, and had stuffed and caroused,O’er a bowl of rack punch, Mr Bubb did say,“I’ve ascertain’d, my dear, the mode of dipping hereFrom the ostler, who is cleaning up my one-horse chay.
“You’re shut up in a box, ill convenient as the stocks,And eighteenpence a-time are obliged for to pay;Court corruption here, say I, makes everything so high,And I wish I had come without my one-horse chay.”
“As I hope,” says she, “to thrive, ’tis flaying folks alive,The King and them extortioners are leagued, I say;’Tis encouraging of such for to go to pay so much,So we’ll set them at defiance with our one-horse chay.
“Old Nobbs, I am sartin, may be trusted gig or cart in,He takes every matter in an easy way;He’ll stand like a post, while we dabble on the coast,And return back to dress in our one-horse chay.”
So out they drove, all drest so gaily in their best,And finding, in their rambles, a snug little bay,They uncased at their leisure, paddled out to take their pleasure,And left everything behind in the one-horse chay.
But while, so snugly sure that all things were secure,They flounced about like porpoises or whales at play,Some young unlucky imps, who prowl’d about for shrimps,Stole up to reconnoitre the one-horse chay.
Old Nobbs, in quiet mood, was sleeping as he stood(He might possibly be dreaming of his corn or hay);Not a foot did he wag, so they whipt out every rag,And gutted the contents of the one-horse chay.
When our pair were soused enough, and returned in their buff,Oh, there was the vengeance and old Nick to pay!Madam shriek’d in consternation, Mr Bubb he swore——!To find the empty state of the one-horse chay.
“If I live,” said she, “I swear, I’ll consult my dear Lord Mayor,And a fine on this vagabond town he shall lay;But the gallows thieves, so tricky, hasn’t left me e’en a dicky,And I shall catch my death in the one-horse chay.”
“Come, bundle in with me, we must squeeze for once,” says he,“And manage this here business the best we may;We’ve no other step to choose, nor a moment must we lose,Or the tide will float us off in our one-horse chay.”
So noses, sides, and knees, all together did they squeeze,And, pack’d in little compass, they trotted it away,As dismal as two dummies, head and hands stuck out like mummiesFrom beneath the little apron of the one-horse chay.
The Steyne was in a throng, as they jogg’d it along,Madam hadn’t been so put to it for many a day;Her pleasure it was damped, and her person somewhat cramped,Doubled up beneath the apron of the one-horse chay.
“Oh would that I were laid,” Mr Bubb in sorrow said,“In a broad-wheeled waggon, well covered with hay!I’m sick of sporting smart, and would take a tilted cartIn exchange for this bauble of a one-horse chay.
“I’d give half my riches for my worst pair of breeches,Or the apron that I wore last boiling-day;They would wrap my arms and shoulders from these impudent beholders,And allow me to whip on in my one-horse chay.”
Mr Bubb ge-hupped in vain, and strove to jerk the rein,Nobbs felt he had his option to work or play,So he wouldn’t mend his pace, though they’d fain have run a race,To escape the merry gazers at the one-horse chay.
Now, good people, laugh your fill, and fancy if you will(For I’m fairly out of breath, and have said my say),The trouble and the rout, to wrap and get them out,When they drove to their lodgings in their one-horse chay.
The day was swelt’ring warm, so they took no cold or harm,And o’er a smoking lunch soon forgot their dismay;But, fearing Brighton mobs, started off at night with Nobbs,To a snugger watering-place, in the one-horse chay.
PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH.
Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters’ errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the authors’ words and intent.