"Ha!"

"Foolish, I own," said the duke. "But suppose, now, you had caught your b.u.t.terfly, and you could neither let it go nor consent to follow its vagaries. That poses you."

"Young people," said Mr. Beamish, "come under my observation in this poor realm of mine--young and old. I find them prodigiously alike in their love of pleasure, differing mainly in their capacity to satisfy it. That is no uncommon observation. The young, have an edge which they are desirous of blunting; the old contrariwise. The cry of the young for pleasure is actually--I have studied their language--a cry for burdens.

Curious! And the old ones cry for having too many on their shoulders: which is not astonishing. Between them they make an agreeable concert both to charm the ears and guide the steps of the philosopher, whose wisdom it is to avoid their tracks."

"Good. But I have asked you for practical advice, and you give me an essay."

"For the reason, duke, that you propose a case that suggests hanging.

You mention two things impossible to be done. The alternative is, a garter and the bedpost. When we have come upon crossways, and we can decide neither to take the right hand nor the left, neither forward nor back, the index of the board which would direct us points to itself, and emphatically says, Gallows."

"Beamish, I am distracted. If I refuse her the visit, I foresee dissensions, tears, games at ball, romps, not one day of rest remaining to me. I could be of a mind with your Puritan, positively. If I allow it, so innocent a creature in the atmosphere of a place like this must suffer some corruption. You should know that the station I took her from was ... it was modest. She was absolutely a b.u.t.tercup of the fields. She has had various masters. She dances... she dances prettily, I could say bewitchingly. And so she is now for airing her accomplishments: such are women!"

"Have you heard of Chloe?" said Mr. Beamish. "There you have an example of a young lady uncorrupted by this place--of which I would only remark that it is best unvisited, but better tasted than longed for."

"Chloe? A lady who squandered her fortune to redeem some ill-requiting rascal: I remember to have heard of her. She is here still? And ruined, of course?"

"In purse."

"That cannot be without the loss of reputation."

"Chloe"s champion will grant that she is exposed to the evils of improvidence. The more brightly shine her native purity, her goodness of heart, her trustfulness. She is a lady whose exaltation glows in her abas.e.m.e.nt."

"She has, I see, preserved her comeliness," observed the duke, with a smile.

"Despite the flying of the roses, which had not her heart"s patience.

"Tis now the lily that reigns. So, then, Chloe shall be attached to the d.u.c.h.ess during her stay, and unless the devil himself should interfere, I guarantee her Grace against any worse harm than experience; and that,"

Mr. Beamish added, as the duke raised his arms at the fearful word, "that shall be mild. Play she will; she is sure to play. Put it down at a thousand. We map her out a course of permissible follies, and she plays to lose the thousand by degrees, with as telling an effect upon a connubial conscience as we can produce."

"A thousand," said the duke, "will be cheap indeed. I think now I have had a description of this fair Chloe, and from an enthusiast; a brune?

elegantly mannered and of a good landed family; though she has thought proper to conceal her name. And that will be our difficulty, cousin Beamish."

"She was, under my dominion, Miss Martinsward," Mr. Beamish pursued.

"She came here very young, and at once her suitors were legion. In the way of women, she chose the worst among them; and for the fellow Caseldy she sacrificed the fortune she had inherited of a maternal uncle. To release him from prison, she paid all his debts; a mountain of bills, with the lawyers piled above--Pelion upon Ossa, to quote our poets.

In fact, obeying the dictates of a soul steeped in generosity, she committed the indiscretion to strip herself, scandalizing propriety.

This was immediately on her coming of age; and it was the death-blow to her relations with her family. Since then, honoured even by rakes, she has lived impoverished at the Wells. I dubbed her Chloe, and man or woman disrespectful to Chloe packs. From being the victim of her generous disposition, I could not save her; I can protect her from the shafts of malice."

"She has no pa.s.sion for play?" inquired the duke.

"She nourishes a pa.s.sion for the man for whom she bled, to the exclusion of the other pa.s.sions. She lives, and I believe I may say that it is the motive of her rising and dressing daily, in expectation of his advent."

"He may be dead."

"The dog is alive. And he has not ceased to be Handsome Caseldy, they say. Between ourselves, duke, there is matter to break her heart. He has been the Count Caseldy of Continental gaming tables, and he is recently Sir Martin Caseldy, settled on the estate she made him free to take up intact on his father"s decease."

"Pah! a villain!"

"With a blacker brand upon him every morning that he looks forth across his property, and leaves her to languish! She still--I say it to the redemption of our s.e.x--has offers. Her incomparable attractions of mind and person exercise the natural empire of beauty. But she will none of them. I call her the Fair Suicide. She has died for love; and she is a ghost, a good ghost, and a pleasing ghost, but an apparition, a taper.

The duke fidgeted, and expressed a hope to hear that she was not of melancholy conversation; and again, that the subject of her discourse was not confined to love and lovers, happy or unhappy. He wished his d.u.c.h.ess, he said, to be entertained upon gayer topics: love being a theme he desired to reserve to himself. "This month!" he said, prognostically shaking and moaning. "I would this month were over, and that we were well purged of it."

Mr. Beamish rea.s.sured him. The wit and sprightliness of Chloe were so famous as to be considered medical, he affirmed; she was besieged for her company; she composed and sang impromptu verses, she played harp and harpsichord divinely, and touched the guitar, and danced, danced like the silvery moon on the waters of the mill pool. He concluded by saying that she was both humane and wise, humble-minded and amusing, virtuous yet not a Tartar; the best of companions for her Grace the young d.u.c.h.ess. Moreover, he boldly engaged to carry the d.u.c.h.ess through the term of her visit under a name that should be as good as a masquerade for concealing his Grace"s, while giving her all the honours due to her rank.

"You strictly interpret my wishes," said the duke; "all honours, the foremost place, and my wrath upon man or woman gainsaying them!"

"Mine! if you please, duke," said Mr. Beamish.

"A thousand pardons! I leave it to you, cousin. I could not be in safer hands. I am heartily bounders to you. Chloe, then. By the way, she has a decent respect for age?"

"She is reverentially inclined."

"Not that. She is, I would ask, no wanton prattler of the charms and advantages of youth?"

"She has a young adorer that I have dubbed Alonzo, whom she scarce notices."

"Nothing could be better. Alonzo: h"m! A faithful swain?"

"Life is his tree, upon which unceasingly he carves his mistress"s initials."

"She should not be too cruel. I recollect myself formerly: I was...

Young men will, when long slighted, transfer their affections, and be warmer to the second flame than to the first. I put you on your guard.

He follows her much? These lovers" paintings and puffings in the neighbourhood of the most innocent of women are contagious."

"Her Grace will be running home all the sooner."

"Or off!--may she forgive me! I am like a King John"s Jew, forced to lend his treasure without security. What a world is ours! Nothing, Beamish, nothing desirable will you have which is not coveted! Catch a prize, and you will find you are at war with your species. You have to be on the defensive from that moment. There is no such thing as peaceable procession on earth. Let it be a beautiful young woman!--Ah!"

Mr. Beamish replied bracingly, "The champion wrestler challenges all comers while he wears the belt."

The duke dejectedly a.s.sented. "True; or he is challenged, say. Is there any tale we could tell her of this Alonzo? You could deport him for the month, my dear Beamish."

"I commit no injustice unless with sufficient reason. It is an estimable youth, as shown by his devotion to a peerless woman. To endow her with his name and fortune is his only thought."

"I perceive; an excellent young fellow! I have an incipient liking for this young Alonzo. You must not permit my d.u.c.h.ess to laugh at him.

Encourage her rather to advance his suit. The silliness of a young man will be no bad spectacle. Chloe, then. You have set my mind at rest, Beamish, and it is but another obligation added to the heap; so, if I do not speak of payment, the reason is that I know you would not have me bankrupt."

The remainder of the colloquy of the duke and Mr. Beamish referred to the date of her Grace"s coming to the Wells, the lodgement she was to receive, and other minor arrangements bearing upon her state and comfort; the duke perpetually observing, "But I leave it all to you, Beamish," when he had laid down precise instructions in these respects, even to the specification of the shopkeepers, the confectioner and the apothecary, who were to balance or cancel one another in the opposite nature of their supplies, and the haberdasher and the jeweller, with whom she was to make her purchases. For the duke had a recollection of giddy shops, and of giddy shopmen too; and it was by serving as one for a day that a certain great n.o.bleman came to victory with a jealously guarded dame beautiful as Venus. "I would have challenged the G.o.ddess!"

he cried, and subsided from his enthusiasm plaintively, like a weak wind instrument. "So there you see the prudence of a choice of shops. But I leave it to you, Beamish." Similarly the great military commander, having done whatsoever a careful prevision may suggest to insure him victory, casts himself upon Providence, with the hope of propitiating the unantic.i.p.ated and darkly possible.

CHAPTER III

The splendid equipage of a coach and six, with footmen in scarlet and green, carried Beau Beamish five miles along the road on a sunny day to meet the young d.u.c.h.ess at the boundary of his territory, and conduct her in state to the Wells. Chloe sat beside him, receiving counsel with regard to her prospective duties. He was this day the consummate beau, suave, but monarchical, and his manner of speech partook of his external grandeur. "Spy me the horizon, and apprise me if somewhere you distinguish a chariot," he said, as they drew up on the rise of a hill of long descent, where the dusty roadway sank between its brown hedges, and crawled mounting from dry rush-spotted hollows to corn fields on a companion height directly facing them, at a remove of about three-quarters of a mile. Chloe looked forth, while the beau pa.s.singly raised his hat for coolness, and murmured, with a glance down the sultry track: "It sweats the eye to see!"

Presently Chloe said, "Now a dust blows. Something approaches. Now I discern horses, now a vehicle; and it is a chariot!"

Orders were issued to the outriders for horns to be sounded.

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