"No."
"Did Miss Toobad say any thing?"
"The strange lady? No."
"Did either of them cry?"
"No."
"What did they do?"
"Nothing."
"What did Mr Toobad say?"
"He said, fifty times over, the devil was come among us."
"And they are gone?"
"Yes; and the dinner is getting cold. There is a time for every thing under the sun. You may as well dine first, and be miserable afterwards."
"True, Raven. There is something in that. I will take your advice: therefore, bring me----"
"The port and the pistol?"
"No; the boiled fowl and Madeira."
Scythrop had dined, and was sipping his Madeira alone, immersed in melancholy musing, when Mr Glowry entered, followed by Raven, who, having placed an additional gla.s.s and set a chair for Mr Glowry, withdrew. Mr Glowry sat down opposite Scythrop. After a pause, during which each filled and drank in silence, Mr Glowry said, "So, sir, you have played your cards well. I proposed Miss Toobad to you: you refused her. Mr Toobad proposed you to her: she refused you. You fell in love with Marionetta, and were going to poison yourself, because, from pure fatherly regard to your temporal interests, I withheld my consent. When, at length, I offered you my consent, you told me I was too precipitate. And, after all, I find you and Miss Toobad living together in the same tower, and behaving in every respect like two plighted lovers. Now, sir, if there be any rational solution of all this absurdity, I shall be very much obliged to you for a small glimmering of information."
"The solution, sir, is of little moment; but I will leave it in writing for your satisfaction. The crisis of my fate is come: the world is a stage, and my direction is _exit._"
"Do not talk so, sir;--do not talk so, Scythrop. What would you have?"
"I would have my love."
"And pray, sir, who is your love?"
"Celinda--Marionetta--either--both."
"Both! That may do very well in a German tragedy; and the Great Mogul might have found it very feasible in his lodgings at Kensington; but it will not do in Lincolnshire. Will you have Miss Toobad?"
"Yes."
"And renounce Marionetta?"
"No."
"But you must renounce one."
"I cannot."
"And you cannot have both. What is to be done?"
"I must shoot myself."
"Don"t talk so, Scythrop. Be rational, my dear Scythrop. Consider, and make a cool, calm choice, and I will exert myself in your behalf."
"Why should I choose, sir? Both have renounced _me_: I have no hope of either."
"Tell me which you will have, and I will plead your cause irresistibly."
"Well, sir,--I will have--no, sir, I cannot renounce either. I cannot choose either. I am doomed to be the victim of eternal disappointments; and I have no resource but a pistol."
"Scythrop--Scythrop;--if one of them should come to you--what then?"
"That, sir, might alter the case: but that cannot be."
"It can be, Scythrop; it will be: I promise you it will be. Have but a little patience--but a week"s patience; and it shall be."
"A week, sir, is an age: but, to oblige you, as a last act of filial duty, I will live another week. It is now Thursday evening, twenty-five minutes past seven. At this hour and minute, on Thursday next, love and fate shall smile on me, or I will drink my last pint of port in this world."
Mr Glowry ordered his travelling chariot, and departed from the abbey.
CHAPTER XV
The day after Mr Glowry"s departure was one of incessant rain, and Scythrop repented of the promise he had given. The next day was one of bright sunshine: he sat on the terrace, read a tragedy of Sophocles, and was not sorry, when Raven announced dinner, to find himself alive.
On the third evening, the wind blew, and the rain beat, and the owl flapped against his windows; and he put a new flint in his pistol. On the fourth day, the sun shone again; and he locked the pistol up in a drawer, where he left it undisturbed, till the morning of the eventful Thursday, when he ascended the turret with a telescope, and spied anxiously along the road that crossed the fens from Clayd.y.k.e: but nothing appeared on it. He watched in this manner from ten A.M. till Raven summoned him to dinner at five; when he stationed Crow at the telescope, and descended to his own funeral-feast. He left open the communications between the tower and turret, and called aloud at intervals to Crow,--"Crow, Crow, is any thing coming?" Crow answered, "The wind blows, and the windmills turn, but I see nothing coming;"
and, at every answer, Scythrop found the necessity of raising his spirits with a b.u.mper. After dinner, he gave Raven his watch to set by the abbey clock. Raven brought it, Scythrop placed it on the table, and Raven departed. Scythrop called again to Crow; and Crow, who had fallen asleep, answered mechanically, "I see nothing coming." Scythrop laid his pistol between his watch and his bottle. The hour-hand pa.s.sed the VII.--the minute-hand moved on;--it was within three minutes of the appointed time. Scythrop called again to Crow: Crow answered as before. Scythrop rang the bell: Raven appeared.
"Raven," said Scythrop, "the clock is too fast."
"No, indeed," said Raven, who knew nothing of Scythrop"s intentions; "if any thing, it is too slow."
"Villain!" said Scythrop, pointing the pistol at him; "it is too fast."
"Yes--yes--too fast, I meant," said Raven, in manifest fear.
"How much too fast?" said Scythrop.
"As much as you please," said Raven.
"How much, I say?" said Scythrop, pointing the pistol again.