"Lor, captain, do let me go," said Mrs. Stokes, struggling to free herself; "I see you hain't left none o' your old tricks behind you. But I expect John Stokes here every moment, and though he is sich a hatomy, it would never do for him to find you at this work." 66 Why, my pretty chaffinch, is that you," said the stranger, releasing Mrs. Stokes's waist, and grasping her hand like a cable, and shaking it violently; "why, what made you weigh anchor such a night as this? and how is honest John? forgotten the very smell of real Cognac, I suppose. I've been so many months away, and you, I suspect, have begun to doubt whether there are any more ribands made in France, you have been so long fain to put up with a poor mongrel Coventry topknot: but my name is not Miles Datchet if you don't soon hoist gayer pennants than ever, that shall you ;" and here he wrung her hand more violently than before. Miles Datchet was a great man in his way, having committed every crime short of murder, and being so totally devoid of every species of principle as to be almost fit for a prime minister, except that he was never known to break faith with his coadjutors, and was notorious for that species of honour proverbially to be found among thieves. These shades of human weakness, which, alas! sometimes obscure the greatest minds, would certainly have militated against his obtaining the pinnacle of political greatness, and, therefore, it is lucky that destiny had assigned to him a career of less scope that of a mere sea politician, alias pirate. His genius for intrigue was so great, that he had acted the part of a successful spy under several governments, faithfully serving all and each, never being able (as he philosophically observed) to discover any difference in the colour, weight, and currency of the coin of the realm, whether the helm of state were swayed by Whig or Tory; save that he had been heard to confess that it flowed more freely and certainly from the latter, as though they, like the Milesian gentleman of the road from whom their name is derived, entertained juster ideas of the distribution of wealth than most modern political economists; while the sweetest promises of the Whigs were apt to turn as soon, and become as unavailable, as the original of their own soubriquet. But in England, where morality is preached more and prac tised less than in any other country of the known world, Miles Datchet knew too well the value of that most powerful of all talismans, appearances, not to study them upon all occasions; consequently, his nominal calling was that of captain of a merchantman; and though he did sell French brandy, French silks, and Latikai tobacco, cheaper than English could be purchased, yet no one thought of attributing the phenomenon to any other cause but an excess of philanthropy, which made him anxious touching the comforts and luxuries of all his fellow-creatures; and surely a universal philanthropist could not defraud any man, merely because he had the misfortune to be an exciseman! Among the female portion of the community, a very handsome Salvator Rosa-like face and commanding figure might have ensured him popularity, even had he been less generous in his gifts brought from all parts of the world; and, added to a great deal of natural humour, he possessed a mosaic of anecdotes collected from every point of the compass. At Blichingly he was a universal favourite; and had any doubts ever been entertained of his cleverness, they would have been entirely removed upon his having once effected a Glaucus and Diomede exchange with Miss MacScrew: that lady was the happy possessor of a gold box containing a nutmeggrater, which she was wont to affirm had belonged to the Pretender. Captain Datchet, through a mysterious eloquence known only to himself, undertook to convince her that it was pinchbeck, offering her in exchange, for the paltry sum of three guineas, a real pinchbeck one, assuming the travelling title of gold, which he said had for many years belonged to old Elwes the miser, and had always been called by him his lucky box, as, to use his own forcible words, money actually appeared to breed in it. All Blichingly was aware of the truth, save and except the fair MacScrew herself; and as no one had the cruelty to undeceive her, her eyes always sparkled at the sight of Miles Datchet, with the conscious pleasure of having overreached him! Datchet's present mission to Lee's cottage was to look for Madge Brindal, who was (with all due respect to appearances) his Blichingly sultana. He had returned from the Levant for reasons best known to himself, sooner than she or any one else had expected; and having been to the gipsy haunt at the old abbey, above the Fairy Bath, and finding it deserted by all save a gipsy boy, who was picketing some donkeys in the close, he learned from him where Madge was most probably to be found, and lost no time in seeking her, which will account for his sudden apparition before Mrs. Stokes. "But, seriously," resumed Datchet, "what could bring you out such an evening as this?" "Indeed, you may well ask, captain,” replied Mrs. Stokes, wringing the wet out of the skirts of her petticoats; "but it did not rain when I set out, and I came to bring Mary Lee some wine; for, poor thing! I think she grows weaker and weaker; more melancholy and moping-like; and we've had a letter from my lord, as says she's a going to marry Richard Brindal; but we haven't heard nothink on it; and, what's more cur'us still, he hain't heerd nothink on it either, so I'm come to hear what she says; but, lord, here have I been a knocking and knocking, first at one side of the house and then at the other, till I'm almost drowned; to say nothink of seeing the hawfullest things imaginable, and can't make them hear, do what I will." Totally regardless of the latter part of Mrs. Stokes's speech, Datchet gave a long shrill whistle as he took up a stone to knock at the door, and then repeated, nodding his head, "When the dove marries with the crow, Then we'll hear the green grass grow, "Helo, there!" said a voice, as Datchet was again besieging the door. "Oh! Mr. Lee," said Mrs. Stokes, turning round to the person who had called out, "I'm so glad you have come at last, for I have been trying till I am tired to get in; and only guess who's arrived?" continued she, pointing to Miles Datchet. "How are you, my boy?" said the latter, grasping Lee's hand as cordially as he had previously done Mrs. Stokes's. "Why, captain! what wind blew you here?" asked the old man, as he placed his carpenter's basket on the step of the door, and felt in his pockets for the latch-key. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," replied Datchet, avoiding a direct answer; "and I dare say you can smell the Virginian weed in it by this time, and it won't be the less easily smoked because I did a crew of d-d Yankees out of it; but that's an after-supper yarn; so open the door, my hearty, and let us get under hatches before another squall comes on." "How's this?" said Lee, as he pushed open the door, and entered the dark and fireless front-room of his cottage; "this is but a cold reception, captain. My poor girl! my poor girl! I suppose she's ill again." "No, no," interposed Mrs. Stokes, good-naturedly; "don't ee fret, Master Lee, I know where she is; it's all right, only she did not expect you, I suppose; and if you and the captain will just wait here, I'll go and bring them to you, for Madge is with her." So saying, she passed her hand along the wall till she found the door, which having done, she opened, and groped her way along the narrow passage till she came to the door of the workshop, to which she was directed by the firelight which streamed from beneath it. Her first impulse was to turn the handle suddenly, and boldly appear before the guilty pair in the midst of their unhallowed rites; but Madge Brindal, the witch, deserving of a horsepond a few minutes before, was now transformed into the reigning favourite of the all-powerful Captain Datchet; a person not to be offended with impunity; so charity and toleration, in the visionary forms of Lisle lace and silk dresses, flitted across the mind of Mrs. Stokes, and "wrought a mighty change," that caused her to knock gently at the door, and calmly enter to the as gentle response of "Come in." All traces of the late scene had passed away. Mary and her companion were quietly seated at the fire; Mary with her arms folded, and her eyes intently fixed upon the blazing fagots before her, and Madge thrown back in her chair, with little Wasp in her lap, deluding him into the belief that she had some hidden treasure in her hand, by holding it above her head, and keeping him on the tiptoe of expectation, like many a cleverer dog, grasping at a chimera! "Mary, love," said Mrs. Stokes, "your father is come home, and wants some fire and some supper; and here am I, like a drowned rat, knocking for the last half hour, first at one door, then at the other, and could not make any of you hear. What have you been about ?" 66 Why, who could hear in such a storm as this?" asked Madge, seeing that Mary was too much abstracted to answer; and fearing that, if she did, she might let out too much of the truth. "Why, that's true enough," rejoined Mrs. Stokes ; "but if the storm was ten times greater, I suppose you could hear good news?" "Good news! what news ?" gasped Mary, with that vague anticipation of a something which for ever haunts the wretched and the forsaken. Why, I have good news for you too, poor child," replied Mrs. Stokes; "but it will keep till by-and-by, for they are waiting in the next room without either fire or light; so make haste, and let us go to them." "And who may they and them be, pray?" inquired Madge. "Ay, there it is now," said Mrs. Stokes; "that's my news, and it concerns you, Madge; who do you think is come back ?" "I'm sure I don't know," said Madge, listlessly; "Richard, I suppose; for that kettle is full of rabbits and pheasants, which I found here this afternoon; so I suppose he's come back from the north, for that's generally the way he leaves his card;" and Madge laughed as she rose to deaden the blaze under the savoury mess of game and vegetables that was boiling over the fire. "No; guess again; you are wrong for once in your life, Madge, though your brother is returned, for he was at our house this afternoon; but it is not him I mean." "Oh, I suppose, then, it's Freddy Flipps, whom I sent to Rushworth this morning about a covered cart to take us to Triverton fair." "No, no; you must go a great deal farther than Rushworth; you are miles away from being right yet; miles away, Madge ;" and Mrs. Stokes held her sides as she laughed at her own wit. 66 Why," ," said Madge, her cheek flushing and her eyes flashing, as she advanced a step or two and looked inquiringly into Mrs. Stokes's face, "you have not heard anything of Miles Datchet, have you? The-the captain-I mean." "What if I had not only heard of him, but seen him?” "Impossible ?" said Madge; "he is far away at sea now; and-" |