rand despaired of equalling. The mother and son knew each other too well, whatever might be the imminent danger of their respective dilemmas, ever to commit the candid imbecility of asking a favour when they had the power of making it appear that they were conferring an obligation; and as both perfectly coincided in the French philosopher's opinion, that "words were given to us to conceal our thoughts," they invariably used theirs accordingly. 66 Well, ma'am," said the latter, as he slammed the door after him, flung himself into a chair with his hat on, yawned sonorously, and placed his feet upon the table, "I suppose you have sent to me about this Rushworth Farm business. I really don't see what the d-l you can do; I suppose you'll have to knock under at last so you had better make a virtue of necessity, to stop Jenkins's mouth, and say that, on looking over the lease, you find Grindall (for don't commit yourself) was mistaken, and therefore you will order the repairs to be made, and are sorry there should have been so long a delay." "Oh! my dear,” said the affectionate mother, "it is very little consequence about the Rushworth Farm. I sent for you upon another business-about that 'ere tiresome Mary Lee. She is threatening to expose everything; and then your character might suffer." 66 My character!" shouted Lord de Clifford, in a voice almost inarticulate with rage, as he started on his feet and stamped at his terrified parent, who stood trembling like an amateur wizard-a Tycho in the black art, that had raised a demon she had neither the power to exorcise nor control; "my character, madam! who dare impeach it? It is as undeserving of censure as it is superior to and beyond it. Is that name which has been unsullied for a thousand years, and which has derived additional lustre since it has centred in me-is it, I say, to be tarnished by a village calumny, filtered through the ravings of a lowborn peasant, who ought to feel it her only source of pride that I had ever looked at her?" "Very true, my dear," responded the virtuous and sensible matron; "but you see this here Hoskins is such a wretch: he's a drawing up some horrid pamphlet, which he threatens to publish at the next Triverton election should either you or Herbert stand; and at these elections people are so scurrilous and treacher ous, there is no knowing what may be said; and I thought if Hoskins-" "There it is," interrupted her son, as he paced the room, with his hands behind his back, and his hat slouched over his eyes; "you would give the living to that blackguard, when I wanted you to give it to young Dinely, which would have obliged Herbert, as Lord Shuffleton had always been so kind to him; and Dinely's a capital fellow-thinks of nothing but his hounds and a good bottle of claret-and as he is sure of being a bishop before he dies, he would have let you make ducks and drakes of the tithes." 66 Indeed, my dear, it is shocking to think how one suffers for a good action in this world: so charitable as it was of me to give the living to that 'ere Hoskins, when Mr. Moreton applied for it, and every one speaks so well of him! But I can't say I like those popular people; I think they must be so artful; besides, he's rather methodistical and particular. But let us think what can be done about this here terrible pamphlet." "Done! why, I'll write to Clarridge, the d-d Triverton printer, and tell him I'll prosecute him if he dares publish anything of the sort." "Oh! my dear, you are much too open and unsuspicious; that would never do; because, in the first place, that would commit you more; and, in the next place, Hoskins could get it published elsewhere; but “But what, ma'am? Then I'll break every bone in that rascally Hoskins's skin." "I'm sure, my dear, your just indignation is not to be wondered at, and does vaust credit to your head and hort; but you always was so vaustly sperited and highminded; but it don't do with those sort of people; you should always compass them with a net before you attack them with a spear; that is, never attack them before you are quite sure that they have no means either of defence or escape." "There is some`sense in that, ma'am. But what do you want me to do, then?" "Why, my dear, it strikes me" (for this candid and veracious lady would not even give her faithful friend and counsellor, Mr. Tymmons, the credit of his plot), “it strikes me that you had better give some man a couple of hundred pounds to marry the girl, and so get rid of her; but first make him promise to say that the child is his; and then you can write a letter to Clarridge, the editor of the 'Courant,' assuring him you know nothing of Mary Lee, but, hearing she was miserably poor, have given her that money as a dower, which circumstance he can put in the county paper, and it will sound uncommonly generous on your part; and Grindall shall have my orders to send him half a buck before he receives your letter, which will prepare him to justify you to every one. "That's all very fine, ma'am; but, d-n it! who's to be got to marry the girl?" 66 Why, I was thinking, my dear, that that 'ere Brindal, that I turned away for poaching some time ago, would do anything for £200. "Yes, and a pretty way I should commit myself by exacting a promise of secrecy from such a fellow as that, who, for a quarter of the sum, in a case of necessity, would betray everything!" "My dear, you are naturally so irritated at the villanous threats of that wretch Hoskins, that you do not take time to understand me. I never meant that you should compromise yourself by having any dealings with Brindal; but I thought I could give Mr. Tymmons (of whose honesty and secrecy I have every reason to have the highest opinion) a hint to negotiate the business; and when he had got him publicly to own the child, then give him the money, which would be better and safer than giving it to the girl, as that might look suspicious; and in giving it to Brindal, Mr. Tymmons could say that I had discovered that he was not guilty of the fault for which I had discharged him, and therefore that you, as well as myself, wished to make him every reparation in our power. Besides, my dear, doing it in this way would have another advantage; the circumstance would do vaustly well to put into a paragraph, as a set-off to one of those eternal flourishes about the blankets and coals Lord Sudbury gives to the poor of Triverton every Christmas." "Well, my dear ma'am," said the obedient son, affectionately taking his mother's hand, "I think you have arranged everything very diplomatically, so I shall leave it entirely to you." 66 Ah, my dear! depend upon it, there is no friend like a mother, and this it was that made me so much against your marriage. I saw how you was throwing yourself VOL. I.-I away-but there's no putting old heads on young shoulders.' "I can only lament, my dear ma'am," said the affectionate son, gallantly kissing the hand he still held, “that, being blessed with such a mother, I have not always followed the advice which was dictated by her superior sense." 66 Well, my dear, let by-gones be by-gones; I'll write to Mr. Tymmons, if you'll just write a line to Clarridge." Lord de Clifford sat down and endited the following epistle : "DEAR SIR, "You may probably have heard some time ago of a man of the name of Richard Brindal, an under gamekeeper of my mother's, being discharged from her service for poaching: she has since discovered that he was wrongfully accused by a rival keeper, and she is therefore anxious (with that justice and generosity which have ever distinguished her) to make him every reparation in her power; for which reason, hearing he is about to be married to a young woman of the name of Lee, in the village of Blichingly, she has given him £100, and begged of me to add another hundred to it, which I have much pleasure in doing. I should feel much obliged by your making these facts public, through the medium of your valuable paper; not from any desire of proclaiming my mother's generosity (for that is a proceeding from which I know she would shrink), but solely from the desire of vindicating and re-establishing the character of the poor man. I understand Brindal has had a liaison with the girl he is about to marry; the child which was the result of it, Mr. Hoskins, with his usual impotent, unchristian-like, but for that reason perfectly clerical malice, has thought fit to tax me with being the father of; an accusation which I hope I need not assure you, on the honour of a gentleman, is perfectly false, and this you have my authority to state, should the calumny gain ground. Hoping Mrs. Clarridge and your young people are quite well, "Believe me, dear sir, 66 Very faithfully yours, "There, ma'am, will that do?" said Lord de Clifford, pushing over this precious "morceau" to his mother, who, after she had perused it, said, 66 'Nothing can be better, my dear; but you do write so vaustly well! There is only one thing: do you think it quite prudent to call Hoskins's conduct 'perfectly clerical? I'm sure I speak disinterestedly, for his conduct has been enough to disgust one with all religion; but it might be brought against you at one of those horrid elections; and you know, my dear, that I am a stanch Tory, for I really think we landed proprietors ought to support church and state." 66 Fudge! my dear ma'am; what the d-1 have the church and the parsons to do with the state? All that is such d-d nonsense!"" Perhaps not the parsons, my dear (and I'm sure no one has more cause to dislike them than I have), but certainly church and state always have gone, always do, and always will go together. You know, my dear, we have the thirty-nine Articles, the Magna Charta, and the Habeas Corpus Act for that. But we are forgetting things of more consequence; you did not mention the venison your letter to Clarridge." in "I thought it better not; for, should he show the letter, it might look like bribery." "Very just observation, my dear; I did not think of that." And now came the pith and marrow of this long conference, namely, her ladyship's own business, which, to make it appear of the least possible importance, she put off to the last moment. 'Oh, by-theby, George," said she, just as her son was about to seal his letter, "be so good as to add a postscript, begging Clarridge will contradict in every possible way any stories about Jenkins and the Rushworth Farm; say it was all a mistake of Grindall's; that I had it rectified the moment it came to my knowledge. I'm sure none but landed proprietors can know the trouble of landed property," concluded her ladyship, with a deep sigh, as though she were personally labouring under the weight of all her own acres. This veracious protocol having been added to the before-mentioned truths, the bell was rang, and the letter duly despatched. Lord de Clifford having arranged all his own business entirely to his satisfaction, was preparing to leave the room, when his amiable parent said, "Stop a minute, my dear, I want to speak to you. 46398B |