INTRODUCTORY.
THE other day, in looking over
my papers, I found in my desk
the following copy of a letter,
sent by me a year since to an
old school acquaintance:--
"DEAR CHARLES, "I
think when you and I were at
Eton together,
we were neither of us what could
be called popular characters:
you were a sarcastic, observant,
shrewd, cold-blooded creature;
my own portrait I will not attempt
to draw, but I cannot recollect
that it was a strikingly attractive
one--can you? What animal magnetism
drew thee and me together I know
not; certainly I never experienced
anything of the Pylades and Orestes
sentiment for you, and I have
reason to believe that you, on
your part, were equally free
from all romantic regard to me.
Still, out of school hours we
walked and talked continually
together; when the theme of conversation
was our companions or our masters
we understood each other, and
when I recurred to some sentiment
of affection, some vague love
of an excellent or beautiful
object, whether in animate or
inanimate nature, your sardonic
coldness did not move me. I felt
myself superior to that check
THEN as I do NOW.
"It is a long
time since I wrote to you,
and a still longer
time since I saw you. Chancing
to take up a newspaper of your
county the other day, my eye
fell upon your name. I began
to think of old times; to run
over the events which have transpired
since we separated; and I sat
down and commenced this letter.
What you have been doing I know
not; but you shall hear, if you
choose to listen, how the world
has wagged with me.
"First, after
leaving Eton, I had an interview
with my maternal
uncles, Lord Tynedale and the
Hon. John Seacombe. They asked
me if I would enter the Church,
and my uncle the nobleman offered
me the living of Seacombe, which
is in his gift, if I would; then
my other uncle, Mr. Seacombe,
hinted that when I became rector
of Seacombe-cum-Scaife, I might
perhaps be allowed to take, as
mistress of my house and head
of my parish, one of my six cousins,
his daughters, all of whom I
greatly dislike.
"I declined
both the Church and matrimony.
A good clergyman
is a good thing, but I should
have made a very bad one. As
to the wife--oh how like a night-mare
is the thought of being bound
for life to one of my cousins!
No doubt they are accomplished
and pretty; but not an accomplishment,
not a charm of theirs, touches
a chord in my bosom. To think
of passing the winter evenings
by the parlour fire-side of Seacombe
Rectory alone with one of them--for
instance, the large and well-modelled
statue, Sarah--no; I should be
a bad husband, under such circumstances,
as well as a bad clergyman.
"When I had
declined my uncles' offers
they asked me 'what I
intended to do?' I said I should
reflect. They reminded me that
I had no fortune, and no expectation
of any, and, after a considerable
pause, Lord Tynedale demanded
sternly, 'Whether I had thoughts
of following my father's steps
and engaging in trade?' Now,
I had had no thoughts of the
sort. I do not think that my
turn of mind qualifies me to
make a good tradesman; my taste,
my ambition does not lie in that
way; but such was the scorn expressed
in Lord Tynedale's countenance
as he pronounced the word TRADE--such
the contemptuous sarcasm of his
tone--that I was instantly decided.
My father was but a name to me,
yet that name I did not like
to hear mentioned with a sneer
to my very face. I answered then,
with haste and warmth, 'I cannot
do better than follow in my father's
steps; yes, I will be a tradesman.'
My uncles did not remonstrate;
they and I parted with mutual
disgust. In reviewing this transaction,
I find that I was quite right
to shake off the burden of Tynedale's
patronage, but a fool to offer
my shoulders instantly for the
reception of another burden--one
which might be more intolerable,
and which certainly was yet untried.
"I wrote instantly
to Edward--you know Edward--my
only brother,
ten years my senior, married
to a rich mill-owner's daughter,
and now possessor of the mill
and business which was my father's
before he failed. You are aware
that my father-once reckoned
a Croesus of wealth--became bankrupt
a short time previous to his
death, and that my mother lived
in destitution for some six months
after him, unhelped by her aristocratical
brothers, whom she had mortally
offended by her union with Crimsworth,
the ----shire manufacturer. At
the end of the six months she
brought me into the world, and
then herself left it without,
I should think, much regret,
as it contained little hope or
comfort for her.
"My father's
relations took charge of Edward,
as they did
of me, till I was nine years
old. At that period it chanced
that the representation of an
important borough in our county
fell vacant; Mr. Seacombe stood
for it. My uncle Crimsworth,
an astute mercantile man, took
the opportunity of writing a
fierce letter to the candidate,
stating that if he and Lord Tynedale
did not consent to do something
towards the support of their
sister's orphan children, he
would expose their relentless
and malignant conduct towards
that sister, and do his best
to turn the circumstances against
Mr. Seacombe's election. That
gentleman and Lord T. knew well
enough that the Crimsworths were
an unscrupulous and determined
race; they knew also that they
had influence in the borough
of X----; and, making a virtue
of necessity, they consented
to defray the expenses of my
education. I was sent to Eton,
where I remained ten years, during
which space of time Edward and
I never met. He, when he grew
up, entered into trade, and pursued
his calling with such diligence,
ability, and success, that now,
in his thirtieth year, he was
fast making a fortune. Of this
I was apprised by the occasional
short letters I received from
him, some three or four times
a year; which said letters never
concluded without some expression
of determined enmity against
the house of Seacombe, and some
reproach to me for living, as
he said, on the bounty of that
house. At first, while still
in boyhood, I could not understand
why, as I had no parents, I should
not be indebted to my uncles
Tynedale and Seacombe for my
education; but as I grew up,
and heard by degrees of the persevering
hostility, the hatred till death
evinced by them against my father--of
the sufferings of my mother--of
all the wrongs, in short, of
our house--then did I conceive
shame of the dependence in which
I lived, and form a resolution
no more to take bread from hands
which had refused to minister
to the necessities of my dying
mother. It was by these feelings
I was influenced when I refused
the Rectory of Seacombe, and
the union with one of my patrician
cousins.
"An irreparable
breach thus being effected
between my uncles
and myself, I wrote to Edward;
told him what had occurred, and
informed him of my intention
to follow his steps and be a
tradesman. I asked, moreover,
if he could give me employment.
His answer expressed no approbation
of my conduct, but he said I
might come down to ----shire,
if I liked, and he would 'see
what could be done in the way
of furnishing me with work.'
I repressed all--even mental
comment on his note--packed my
trunk and carpet-bag, and started
for the North directly.
"After two
days' travelling (railroads
were not then in existence)
I arrived, one wet October afternoon,
in the town of X----. I had always
understood that Edward lived
in this town, but on inquiry
I found that it was only Mr.
Crimsworth's mill and warehouse
which were situated in the smoky
atmosphere of Bigben Close; his
RESIDENCE lay four miles out,
in the country.
"It was late
in the evening when I alighted
at the gates
of the habitation designated
to me as my brother's. As I advanced
up the avenue, I could see through
the shades of twilight, and the
dark gloomy mists which deepened
those shades, that the house
was large, and the grounds surrounding
it sufficiently spacious. I paused
a moment on the lawn in front,
and leaning my back against a
tall tree which rose in the centre,
I gazed with interest on the
exterior of Crimsworth Hall.
"Edward is rich," thought I
to myself. 'I believed him to
be doing well--but I did not
know he was master of a mansion
like this.' Cutting short all
marvelling; speculation, conjecture, &c.,
I advanced to the front door
and rang. A man-servant opened
it--I announced myself--he relieved
me of my wet cloak and carpet-bag,
and ushered me into a room furnished
as a library, where there was
a bright fire and candles burning
on the table; he informed me
that his master was not yet returned
from X---- market, but that he
would certainly be at home in
the course of half an hour.
"Being left
to myself, I took the stuffed
easy chair, covered
with red morocco, which stood
by the fireside, and while my
eyes watched the flames dart
from the glowing coals, and the
cinders fall at intervals on
the hearth, my mind busied itself
in conjectures concerning the
meeting about to take place.
Amidst much that was doubtful
in the subject of these conjectures,
there was one thing tolerably
certain--I was in no danger of
encountering severe disappointment;
from this, the moderation of
my expectations guaranteed me.
I anticipated no overflowings
of fraternal tenderness; Edward's
letters had always been such
as to prevent the engendering
or harbouring of delusions of
this sort. Still, as I sat awaiting
his arrival, I felt eager--very
eager--I cannot tell you why;
my hand, so utterly a stranger
to the grasp of a kindred hand,
clenched itself to repress the
tremor with which impatience
would fain have shaken it.
"I thought
of my uncles; and as I was
engaged in wondering
whether Edward's indifference
would equal the cold disdain
I had always experienced from
them, I heard the avenue gates
open: wheels approached the house;
Mr. Crimsworth was arrived; and
after the lapse of some minutes,
and a brief dialogue between
himself and his servant in the
hall, his tread drew near the
library door--that tread alone
announced the master of the house.
"I still retained
some confused recollection
of Edward as he
was ten years ago--a tall, wiry,
raw youth; NOW, as I rose from
my seat and turned towards the
library door, I saw a fine-looking
and powerful man, light-complexioned,
well-made, and of athletic proportions;
the first glance made me aware
of an air of promptitude and
sharpness, shown as well in his
movements as in his port, his
eye, and the general expression
of his face. He greeted me with
brevity, and, in the moment of
shaking hands, scanned me from
head to foot; he took his seat
in the morocco covered arm-chair,
and motioned me to another sent.
"'I expected
you would have called at the
counting-house
in the Close,' said he; and his
voice, I noticed, had an abrupt
accent, probably habitual to
him; he spoke also with a guttural
northern tone, which sounded
harsh in my ears, accustomed
to the silvery utterance of the
South.
"'The landlord
of the inn, where the coach
stopped, directed
me here,' said I. 'I doubted
at first the accuracy of his
information, not being aware
that you had such a residence
as this.'
"'Oh, it is
all right!' he replied, 'only
I was kept half
an hour behind time, waiting
for you--that is all. I thought
you must be coming by the eight
o'clock coach.'
"I expressed
regret that he had had to wait;
he made no answer,
but stirred the fire, as if to
cover a movement of impatience;
then he scanned me again.
"I felt an
inward satisfaction that I
had not, in the first
moment of meeting, betrayed any
warmth, any enthusiasm; that
I had saluted this man with a
quiet and steady phlegm.
"'Have you
quite broken with Tynedale
and Seacombe?' he asked
hastily.
"'I do not
think I shall have any further
communication with
them; my refusal of their proposals
will, I fancy, operate as a barrier
against all future intercourse.'
"'Why,' said he, 'I may as
well remind you at the very outset
of our connection, that "no man
can serve two masters." Acquaintance
with Lord Tynedale will be incompatible
with assistance from me.' There
was a kind of gratuitous menace
in his eye as he looked at me
in finishing this observation.
"Feeling no
disposition to reply to him,
I contented myself
with an inward speculation on
the differences which exist in
the constitution of men's minds.
I do not know what inference
Mr. Crimsworth drew from my silence--whether
he considered it a symptom of
contumacity or an evidence of
my being cowed by his peremptory
manner. After a long and hard
stare at me, he rose sharply
from his seat.
"'To-morrow,'
said he, 'I shall call your
attention to some other
points; but now it is supper
time, and Mrs. Crimsworth is
probably waiting; will you come?'
"He strode
from the room, and I followed.
In crossing the hall,
I wondered what Mrs. Crimsworth
might be. 'Is she,' thought I,
'as alien to what I like as Tynedale,
Seacombe, the Misses Seacombe--as
the affectionate relative now
striding before me? or is she
better than these? Shall I, in
conversing with her, feel free
to show something of my real
nature; or --' Further conjectures
were arrested by my entrance
into the dining-room.
"A lamp, burning
under a shade of ground-glass,
showed a handsome
apartment, wainscoted with oak;
supper was laid on the table;
by the fire-place, standing as
if waiting our entrance, appeared
a lady; she was young, tall,
and well shaped; her dress was
handsome and fashionable: so
much my first glance sufficed
to ascertain. A gay salutation
passed between her and Mr. Crimsworth;
she chid him, half playfully,
half poutingly, for being late;
her voice (I always take voices
into the account in judging of
character) was lively--it indicated,
I thought, good animal spirits.
Mr. Crimsworth soon checked her
animated scolding with a kiss--a
kiss that still told of the bridegroom
(they had not yet been married
a year); she took her seat at
the supper-table in first-rate
spirits. Perceiving me, she begged
my pardon for not noticing me
before, and then shook hands
with me, as ladies do when a
flow of good-humour disposes
them to be cheerful to all, even
the most indifferent of their
acquaintance. It was now further
obvious to me that she had a
good complexion, and features
sufficiently marked but agreeable;
her hair was red --quite red.
She and Edward talked much, always
in a vein of playful contention;
she was vexed, or pretended to
be vexed, that he had that day
driven a vicious horse in the
gig, and he made light of her
fears. Sometimes she appealed
to me.
"'Now, Mr.
William, isn't it absurd in
Edward to talk so?
He says he will drive Jack, and
no other horse, and the brute
has thrown him twice already.
"She spoke
with a kind of lisp, not disagreeable,
but childish.
I soon saw also that there was
more than girlish--a somewhat
infantine expression in her by
no means small features; this
lisp and expression were, I have
no doubt, a charm in Edward's
eyes, and would be so to those:
of most men, but they were not
to mine. I sought her eye, desirous
to read there the intelligence
which I could not discern in
her face or hear in her conversation;
it was merry, rather small; by
turns I saw vivacity, vanity,
coquetry, look out through its
irid, but I watched in vain for
a glimpse of soul. I am no Oriental;
white necks, carmine lips and
cheeks, clusters of bright curls,
do not suffice for me without
that Promethean spark which will
live after the roses and lilies
are faded, the burnished hair
grown grey. In sunshine, in prosperity,
the flowers are very well; but
how many wet days are there in
life--November seasons of disaster,
when a man's hearth and home
would be cold indeed, without
the clear, cheering gleam of
intellect.
"Having perused
the fair page of Mrs. Crimsworth's
face, a
deep, involuntary sigh announced
my disappointment; she took it
as a homage to her beauty, and
Edward, who was evidently proud
of his rich and handsome young
wife, threw on me a glance--half
ridicule, half ire.
"I turned from
them both, and gazing wearily
round the room,
I saw two pictures set in the
oak panelling--one on each side
the mantel-piece. Ceasing to
take part in the bantering conversation
that flowed on between Mr. and
Mrs. Crimsworth, I bent my thoughts
to the examination of these pictures.
They were portraits--a lady and
a gentleman, both costumed in
the fashion of twenty years ago.
The gentleman was in the shade.
I could not see him well. The
lady had the benefit of a full
beam from the softly shaded lamp.
I presently recognised her; I
had seen this picture before
in childhood; it was my mother;
that and the companion picture
being the only heir-looms saved
out of the sale of my father's
property.
"The face,
I remembered, had pleased me
as a boy, but then
I did not understand it; now
I knew how rare that class of
face is in the world, and I appreciated
keenly its thoughtful, yet gentle
expression. The serious grey
eye possessed for me a strong
charm, as did certain lines in
the features indicative of most
true and tender feeling. I was
sorry it was only a picture.
"I soon left
Mr. and Mrs. Crimsworth to
themselves; a servant conducted
me to my bed-room; in closing
my chamber-door, I shut out all
intruders--you, Charles, as well
as the rest.
"Good-bye for the present, "WILLIAM
CRIMSWORTH."
To this letter I never got
an answer; before my old friend
received it, he had accepted
a Government appointment in one
of the colonies, and was already
on his way to the scene of his
official labours. What has become
of him since, I know not.
The leisure time I have at
command, and which I intended
to employ for his private benefit,
I shall now dedicate to that
of the public at large. My narrative
is not exciting, and above all,
not marvellous; but it may interest
some individuals, who, having
toiled in the same vocation as
myself, will find in my experience
frequent reflections of their
own. The above letter will serve
as an introduction. I now proceed.
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