Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 3

"Gracious God, sir!"—commenced the duke, in a low tone, with much agitation of manner, the moment that the servant had closed the door behind him—"what is all this horrible news we hear about Mr. Titmouse?"

"Horrible news—about Mr. Titmouse?" echoed Gammon, amazedly—"pardon me—I don't understand your Grace! If you allude to the two executions, which I'm sorry to hear"–

"Pho, sir! you are trifling! Believe me, this is a very awful moment to all persons involved in what has taken place!" replied the duke, his voice quivering with emotion.

"Your Grace will excuse me, but I really cannot comprehend you!"–

"You soon shall, sir! I tell you, it may be a matter of infinite moment to yourself personally, Mr. Gammon!"

"What does your Grace mean?" inquired Gammon, respectfully, but firmly—and throwing an expression of still greater amazement into his face.

"Mean, sir? By–! that you have killed my Lord Dreddlington and the Lady Cecilia," cried the duke, in a very violent manner.

"I wait to hear, as soon as your Grace may condescend to explain," said Gammon, calmly.

"Explain, sir? Why, I have already told and explained everything!" replied the choleric duke, who imagined that he really had done so.

"Your Grace has told—has explained nothing whatever," said Gammon.

"Why, sir—I mean, what 's this horrible story you've been telling my Lord Dreddlington about Mr. Titmouse being—in plain English, sir—A BASTARD?"

If the duke had struck at Gammon, the latter could not have started back more suddenly and violently than he did on hearing his Grace utter the last words; and he remained gazing at the duke with a face full of horror and bewilderment. The spectacle which he presented arrested the duke's increasing excitement. He stared open-mouthed at Gammon, presently adding—"Why sir, are we both—are we all—mad? or dreaming? or what has come to us?"

"I think," replied Gammon, a little recovering from the sort of stupor into which the duke's words had apparently thrown him, "it is I who have a better title than your Grace to ask the question!—I tell Lord Dreddlington that Mr. Titmouse is a bastard! Why, I can hardly credit my ears! Does my Lord Dreddlington say that I have told him so?"

"He does, sir!" replied the duke, fiercely.

"And what else may his Lordship have said concerning me?" inquired Gammon, with a sort of hopeless smile.

"By Heaven, sir, you mustn't treat this matter lightly!" said the duke, impetuously, approaching him suddenly.

"May I ask your Grace whether this is the matter mentioned in your Grace's note, as of the"–

"It is, sir! it is!—and it's killed my Lord Dreddlington—and also the Lady Cecilia!"

"What!" cried Gammon, starting and exhibiting increasing amazement—"does her Ladyship, too, say that I have told her so?"

"Yes, sir; she does!"

"What, Lady Cecilia?" echoed Gammon, really confounded.

"Well, sir—I think she did"–

"Think, your Grace!" interrupted Gammon, bitterly and reproachfully.

"Well, sir—certainly the fact is, I may be mistaken as to that matter. I was not present; but, at all events, my Lord Dreddlington certainly says you told him—and he's told Lady Cecilia—and it's killing her—it is, sir!—By heavens, sir, I expect hourly to hear of both of their deaths!—and I beg to ask you, sir, once for all, have you ever made any such statement to my Lord Dreddlington?"

"Not a syllable—never a breath of the sort in all my life!" replied Gammon, boldly, and rather sharply, as if indignant at being pressed about anything so absurd.

"What!—nothing of the sort? or to that effect?" exclaimed the duke, with mingled amazement and incredulity.

"Certainly—certainly not!—But let me ask, in my turn, is the fact so? Does your Grace mean to say that"–

"No, sir," interrupted the duke, but not speaking in his former confident tone—"but my Lord Dreddlington does!"

"Oh, impossible! impossible!" cried Gammon, with an incredulous air—"Only consider for one moment—how could the fact possibly be so and I not know it! Why, I am familiar with every step of his pedigree!" The duke drummed vehemently with his finger on the table, and stared at Gammon with the air of a man suddenly and completely nonplussed.

"Why, Mr. Gammon, then my Lord Dreddlington must have completely lost his senses! He declares that you told him that such was the fact!—When and where, may I ask, did you first see him to-day?"

"About half-past eleven or twelve o'clock, when he called at my chambers in a state of the greatest agitation and excitement, occasioned by the announcement in this morning's paper of the sudden blow-up of the Artificial"–

"Good Heaven! why, is that gone?" interrupted his Grace, eagerly and alarmedly, starting up from his seat—"When? why? how?—By Heaven, it's enough to turn any one's head!"

"Indeed it is, your Grace. My Lord Dreddlington was the first from whom I heard anything on the subject."

"It's very odd I didn't see the paragraph! Where was it? In the Morning Growl?" continued the duke, with much agitation.

"It was, your Grace—it stated that Sir Sharper Bubble had suddenly absconded, with all the funds of"–

"Oh, the villain! oh, the villain!—But why do you make such scoundrels chairmen, and treasurers, and so forth? How must the loss be made good? You really don't look sharp enough after people whom you put into such situations! Who the deuce is this fellow—this Sir Bubble Sharper, or whatever he is called—eh?"

"He was greatly respected in the City, or would not have been in the position he was. Who could have suspected it?"

"And is the thing quite blown up? All gone?"

"Yes. I fear it is, indeed!" replied Gammon, shrugging his shoulders and sighing.

"Of course no one can be made liable—come the worst to the worst, eh?" inquired the duke, very anxiously, "beyond the amount of his shares? How's that, Mr. Gammon?"

"I devoutly trust not! Your Grace will observe that it depends a good deal on the prominence which any one takes in the affair."

"Egad! is that the principle? Then, I assure you, Mr. Gammon, upon my word of honor, that I have not taken the least public part in the proceedings"–

"I am very happy to hear it, your Grace. Nor have I—but I very much fear that my Lord Dreddlington may have gone farther a good deal"–

"I've several times warned him on the subject, I assure you. By the way, there's that other affair, Mr. Gammon, I hope—eh?—that the Gunpowder and Fresh Water"–

"Good heavens, your Grace! I hope all is right there—or I, for one, am a ruined man!" replied Gammon, quickly.

"I—I—hope so too, sir.—So Lord Dreddlington was a good deal shocked, eh, this morning?"

"Yes, indeed he was—nay, I may say, terribly excited! I was greatly alarmed on his account, directly I saw him."

"And is this Mr. Titmouse—eh?—involved in the thing?"

"I really can't tell, your Grace—his movements are somewhat eccentric—it's extremely difficult to discover or account for them! By the way, I recollect, now, that I did mention his name to Lord Dreddlington."

"Ah, indeed! What about?" interrupted his Grace, briskly.

"Why, I just heard that early this morning there would be one or two executions put into his house—he's been going on lately in a very wild way."

"Oh, he's a monstrous little—but was that all that passed between you and my Lord Dreddlington about him?"

"I will undertake to say," replied Gammon, pausing, putting his finger to his lips, and appearing to try to recollect—"that that was the only mention made of his name, for soon after his Lordship was seized with a fit," and Mr. Gammon proceeded to give the duke a very vivid and feeling description of it.

"What a singular hallucination his Lordship must be laboring under, to make such an assertion concerning me as he appears to have made!" presently observed Gammon.

"Very!" replied the duke, gravely, still feeling serious misgivings on the subject; but what could he either say, or do, further, after the solemn, the explicit, and repeated denials of Mr. Gammon? His Grace then gave him an account of what he had heard as to the mode of Lord Dreddlington's seizure, and that of Lady Cecilia; and as he went on, Gammon quivered from head to foot—and it required all his extraordinary powers of self-command to conceal his excessive agitation from the duke.

"By the way, where is Mr. Titmouse?" inquired the duke, as he rose, after saying that he was going on immediately to Grosvenor Square. "I have sent to Park Lane, and find that he has not been there since the morning."

"I really don't know, I assure your Grace. I have not seen him for several days. If his affairs are as seriously involved as your Grace would intimate, he may probably be keeping out of the way!"

"Do let me beg of you to take the trouble of inquiring after him to-morrow morning, Mr. Gammon. He must be very much shocked to hear of the lamentable condition of Lady Cecilia!"

"Indeed I will, I assure your Grace: I only hope he may not have gone over to the Continent."

"God bless my soul, but I hope not!" interrupted the duke, earnestly: and added, after one or two other observations, "then I understand you as stating, Mr. Gammon, that there is not the least pretence or foundation, in point of fact, for the representation which my Lord Dreddlington has made concerning you, with reference to Mr. Titmouse—excuse me—is it so, upon your word of honor?"

"Upon my sacred word of honor!" replied Gammon, steadfastly; and, shortly afterwards, bowing to the duke, took his leave, promising to call on his Grace early on the morrow, and to make every exertion to see Mr. Titmouse—whom Mr. Gammon was now, indeed, devouringly anxious to see, and would have made almost any sacrifice to be enabled to fall in with him that very night. Good heavens! how much now depended on Titmouse!—on the manner in which he would deal with such questions as would infallibly be asked of him by the duke, and by any one else who might have heard of the rumor! In short, Gammon was quite distracted by doubts and fears, as he bent his way back to his chambers, not venturing, after what he had heard, to call in Grosvenor Square that evening, lest he should hear fatal news of either the earl or Lady Cecilia—that is, of either or both of his victims! The next morning, the following announcement of the earl's illness appeared in most of the morning papers, and created quite a sensation in "society:"—

"Sudden and alarming illness of the Earl of Dreddlington and Lady Cecilia Titmouse.—Yesterday, while sitting in the office of his solicitor, the Earl of Dreddlington experienced an apoplectic seizure of a most serious nature, and which, but for prompt and decisive medical treatment, must have proved immediately fatal.

His Lordship rallied sufficiently during the course of the day to admit of his being conveyed to his house in Grosvenor Square, but in the evening experienced a second and still more alarming fit, and continues in a state which is calculated to excite the greatest apprehension. We regret also to add, that Lady Cecilia Titmouse, his Lordship's only daughter, happening to be with his Lordship at the moment of this sudden attack, was immediately seized with illness; which, in her Ladyship's critical state of health, may be attended with most serious consequences."

In the evening papers, it was stated that the Earl of Dreddlington still continued in a precarious condition, and that Lady Cecilia was not expected to survive the night; and the instant that Mr. Gammon laid his hands on the next morning's paper, he turned with eagerness and trepidation to a certain gloomy corner of it—and a faint momentary mist came over his eyes, while he read as follows:—

"Yesterday, in Grosvenor Square, in her 29th year, after giving premature birth to a son, still-born, Lady Cecilia Titmouse, the Lady of Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq., M. P., and only daughter and heiress of the Right Honorable the Earl of Dreddlington."

Mr. Gammon laid down the paper, and for some moments felt overcome with a deadly faintness. Having, however, recovered himself a little, on casting a hasty apprehensive glance over the newspaper, for intelligence of the Earl of Dreddlington, he read as follows:—

"The Earl of Dreddlington, we regret to say, continues alarmingly ill. Drs. Bailey and Whittington are in constant attendance upon his Lordship. Our readers will see, in another part of our paper, the melancholy announcement of the death of his Lordship's lovely and accomplished daughter, Lady Cecilia Titmouse, after giving premature birth to a son, still-born.

We regret to hear it rumored, that the illness of his Lordship originated in a shock occasioned by circumstances of a very painful nature; but this report, we trust, will turn out to be unfounded. In the event of his Lordship's demise, he is succeeded in his titles and estates by his son-in-law, and heir, upon the death of the Lady Cecilia, Mr. Titmouse, M. P. for Yatton."

It will surely be a relief to one's feelings to pass away, for a while at least, from the contemplation of these events of untoward and disastrous issue, to persons and to incidents of a very different character. Turn, therefore, kind and patient reader! your eye to that retreat of long-suffering virtue which is to be found in Vivian Street!

Relieved from the immediate pressure which had, as it were, forced him down into the very dust, poor Aubrey's pious and well-disciplined mind was not long in recovering that tone of confident reliance upon the goodness and mercy of God, which God had seen fit so severely to try; and such He now permitted Aubrey to see had been His object. He and his lovely—his beloved wife and sister, soon recovered a considerable measure of composure, and even cheerfulness; yet felt they all in the deep waters. The generous and timely interference of Mr. Runnington had secured them, indeed, a few months' respite from the harassing and tormenting attacks of those who seemed bent upon their destruction; but what was to become of them all, when the arrival of the next term should have again set into motion against them the dismal machinery of the law? None of them could foresee any mode of exit from their troubles; speculation was idle: yet lost they not an humble but trembling hope, that Providence would yet make a way for their escape.

The one of all the recent occurrences which had most shocked and disheartened Mr. Aubrey, and driven him nearest to the verge of downright despair, was that of Lady Stratton's death, and its afflicting concomitants. How powerfully and perseveringly did the Arch-enemy of mankind represent this circumstance to him—especially in those moods of depression which are incident to all of us in this fluctuating scene of trial and suffering—as proof that he was the sport of chance, the victim of evil destiny! What—it was suggested—had he, his wife, his sister, done to deserve it? But, thank God! in vain were these suggestions from beneath; totally ineffectual

"To shake his trust in God!"

Certainly, the event alluded to baffled all his calculations long, and deeply, and anxiously as he reflected upon it, in all its bearings—and his only refuge lay in the simple reference of it to the all-wise providence of God. Oh, foolish fiend! and didst thou really think this little matter was sufficient to make this Christian man doubt or deny God's moral government of the world?—Far otherwise, indeed, was it with him, enlightened by intelligence from on high; and which satisfied Aubrey, that while there was so much that was utterly incomprehensible and inexplicable in the character of God Himself, in His physical and natural government of the world, it was but reasonable to expect corresponding mystery and incomprehensibility in His moral government of the world. We are permitted to obtain a few occasional glimpses of the one, as well as of the other—and they should satisfy us of the reality of the sublime and awful system which is in existence around us. What know we of the ultimate scope and end of His working? What seeming good shall we be sure will not produce evil? What seeming evil shall we be sure will not produce, and is not designed to produce, good? And may not our ignorance in these respects be specially ordained to test the faith of man—to check presumptuous confidence—to repel palsying despair; in a word, to make man walk humbly with his God, in constant and implicit dependence upon him? Oh, blessed is the man of true devoutness of mind, and protected from innumerable troubles and perils that assail and overpower those who choose to live without God in the world!—Thus was it that Aubrey, as he had not presumed in his prosperity, so despaired not in his adversity.

He had commenced a sedulous attendance at the chambers of Mr. Mansfield, within a few days after the delicate kindness of Mr. Runnington had afforded him the means of doing so. He already knew sufficient to give him an interest in the intricate system of the law of real property; and the immediate practical operation of its principles, which he witnessed in his new scene of study, served to enhance his estimate of its importance and value. In addition, however, to his absorbing professional labors, he continued his occasional contributions to substantial literature; but Mr. Runnington's generosity had enabled him to dispense with that severe and incessant exertion to which he had been till then accustomed, and to address himself to his difficult yet delightful studies, with undivided energy.

Some short time after he had commenced his attendance at Mr. Mansfield's chambers, Mr. Aubrey was, one morning about ten o'clock, on his way down to Lincoln's Inn, and when about to cross Piccadilly, paused to let pass him a dusty post-chaise and four, dashing up St. James's Street; and as it went close and rapidly by him, he quite started with astonishment; for, unless his eyes had extraordinarily deceived him, he had seen in that chaise no other a person than Lord De la Zouch: who, however, if it were he, had not appeared to see Mr. Aubrey, and probably had really not observed him.

"Why, how can this be?" thought Aubrey, standing and gazing for a moment in astonishment after the dust-covered vehicle. "The letter which Agnes received the other day from Lady De la Zouch, did not say a word about Lord De la Zouch's intention to return to England! And alone!—And in a post-chaise—and travelling all night, as he evidently has, from Dover! 'T is strange! What can be the matter?"—And he stood for a moment irresolute whether or not he should retrace his steps, and satisfy his curiosity by calling at the house of Lord De la Zouch, in Dover Street. On consideration, however, he determined not to do so. He might be mistaken; but if not, Lord De la Zouch might have been called back to England on a matter of special urgency, and possibly deem a visit from any one, except those whom he expected to see, intrusive. Aubrey, therefore, continued his way on to Lincoln's Inn; and was very soon engrossed with the matters there requiring his attention. But it really was Lord De la Zouch whom he had seen; and, moreover, it was solely on Aubrey's own account that his Lordship, leaving Lady De la Zouch at Paris, had taken this sudden journey to England—not intending Aubrey, however, at all events at present, to be apprised of the fact. 'Twas entirely owing to the unconscious Gammon that Lord De la Zouch thus made his appearance in England; for, had that gentleman not taken such special pains to have inserted in the Morning Growl, the full and accurate account of the proceedings which he had caused to be instituted against himself, which the reader has had laid before him, and which his Lordship, in due course, had read at Paris, with infinite anxiety and alarm on the score of its possible bearing upon Mr. Aubrey, his Lordship would in all probability have continued at Paris for several months longer, in total ignorance of the thraldom of the unfortunate Aubreys. The moment that his Lordship had perused the report in question, he wrote off to Mr. Runnington a strictly confidential letter, begging an immediate answer, with as full and exact an account of Mr. Aubrey's circumstances as Mr. Runnington could give. By the very next post, that gentleman wrote off to his Lordship a long answer, acquainting him with what had befallen the persecuted Aubrey, viz.—his double arrest, and in respect of so terrible a liability. Mr. Runnington spoke in very glowing and feeling terms of the manly fortitude of Mr. Aubrey under his accumulated misfortunes; and, in short, drew so moving a picture of the deplorable circumstances into which Mr. Aubrey and his family were plunged, that his Lordship the next day wrote off to inform Mr. Runnington, in confidence, that he might expect to see his Lordship in London within a day or two—for that he was coming over solely on the affairs of the Aubreys—and was, in fact, resolved upon bringing about, cost what it might, either alone, or in conjunction with such other friends of Mr. Aubrey as his Lordship might think proper to take into his counsels, a complete and final settlement of Mr. Aubrey's affairs, and so place him at once and forever out of the reach of all his enemies; to set him once more straight and free in the world, and give him a fair chance of securing, by the successful practice of the profession of the bar, that independence, affluence, and distinction, to which his great talents, learning, industry, and unconquerable energy, warranted him in aspiring. As soon as his Lordship had recovered from the fatigues of his journey, he sent off a servant to request the immediate attendance of Mr. Runnington—who was overjoyed at receiving the summons, and could hardly refrain from stepping over to Mr. Mansfield's, in order to apprise Mr. Aubrey of the arrival of Lord De la Zouch. He abstained, however, from doing so, on recollecting the strict injunctions of Lord De la Zouch; and immediately set off for Dover Street. But before they met, let me take the opportunity of mentioning one or two little matters connected with the previous movements of Mr. Runnington.

He was a very able man; clear-headed, cautious, experienced, and singularly prompt and determined, when once he had resolved on any course of proceeding: in short, he was quite capable of contending against even such a formidable opponent as Gammon, subtle, tortuous, and unscrupulous though he might be. "Let me once get hold of Master Gammon—that's all!"—thought, very frequently, Mr. Runnington. Now, the astounding avowal which Miss Aubrey represented Mr. Gammon as having made to her, in his insane attempt to prevail upon her to entertain his addresses—viz. that he possessed the power of immediately, and by legal means, displacing Mr. Titmouse, and repossessing Mr. Aubrey, of Yatton—had made a profound impression on the mind of Mr. Runnington. The more that he reflected upon the incident—and upon the character of Mr. Gammon, the stronger became his conviction that Mr. Gammon had been in earnest in what he had said; that there was a foundation in fact for his assertion; and that if so, some scheme of profound and infernal wickedness must have been had recourse to, in order to dispossess Mr. Aubrey of Yatton, and place Titmouse there in his stead. Then Mr. Runnington adverted, in his own mind, to the circumstance of Mr. Gammon's exercising such a constant interference and control over Titmouse, and all matters connected with Yatton. Mr. Runnington many and many a time pondered these things in his mind—but was, after all, completely at a loss to know what steps to take, and how to deal with the affair, as it stood. Then again, with reference to the death of Lady Stratton, and the melancholy circumstances attending it, Mr. Runnington had entered into a correspondence with Mr. Parkinson, with a view to ascertaining the chances there were, of procuring his draft of Lady Stratton's will, to be admitted to probate; and laid the whole affair, in the shape of a "case," before an eminent practitioner in the ecclesiastical court. The opinion he thus obtained, was, however, adverse; mainly, on the ground that there was clearly evidence to show a subsequent essential alteration of intention on the part of Lady Stratton—to say nothing of certain other difficulties which, the fee marked being a very handsome one, were suggested by the astute civilian. Mr. Runnington was much chagrined at this result; and abandoned his design of seriously contesting Mr. Titmouse's claim to administration. It could, however, he thought, do no harm if he were just to lodge a caveat, even though he should there leave the matter. It might have the effect of interposing some delay; staving off any contemplated proceedings upon the bond which Mr. Aubrey had given to the late Lady Stratton; and afford an opportunity for negotiation concerning the payment of Mr. Aubrey and Miss Aubrey's shares of the property of the intestate. This step, therefore, he took—and was by no means chagrined at finding, some short time afterwards, that the Vulture Company were bent on pursuing their ordinary course, in cases of policies which rendered it worth their while, viz. not paying till they were forced to do so:—and the Company, in their turn, were only too happy to find that there was a chance of a protracted dispute concerning the right to the policy. Not satisfied with this—still haunted by Mr. Gammon's mysterious statement to Miss Aubrey—it all at once occurred to Mr. Runnington, in the course of one of his many meditations upon the subject, to take an opportunity of discussing the affair, in all its bearings, with Sir Charles Wolstenholme, whose penetrating, practical sagacity, sharpened by his zeal and sympathy, might hit upon something or other undiscernible to Mr. Runnington. Without having intimated his intentions to Mr. Aubrey, Mr. Runnington, shortly after having lodged his caveat, succeeded in obtaining an interview with Sir Charles, expressly with a view of talking over the affairs of the unfortunate Mr. Aubrey.