A Terrible Temptation: A Story of To-Day
Highmore garden; the boundary wall tempted him so.
One light but windy night, when everybody that could put his head under
cover, and keep it there, did, reckless Reginald was out enjoying the
fresh breezes; he mounted the boundary wall of Highmore like a cat, to
see what amusement might offer. Thus perched, he speedily discovered a
bright light in Highmore dining-room.
He dropped from the wall directly, and stole softly over the grass and
peered in at the window.
He saw a table with a powerful lamp on it; on that table, and gleaming
in that light, were several silver vessels of rare size and
workmanship, and Mr. Bassett, with his coat off, and a green baize
apron on, was cleaning one of these with brush and leather. He had
already cleaned the others, for they glittered prodigiously.
Reginald's black eye gloated and glittered at this unexpected display
of wealth in so dazzling a form.
But this was nothing to the revelation in store. When Mr. Bassett had
done with that piece of plate he went to the paneled wall, and opened a
door so nicely adapted to the panels, that a stranger would hardly have
discovered it. Yet it was an enormous door, and, being opened, revealed
a still larger closet, lined with green velvet and fitted with shelves
from floor to ceiling.
Here shone, in all their glory, the old plate of two good families:
that is to say, half the old plate of the Bassetts, and all the old
plate of the Goodwyns, from whom came Highmore to Richard Bassett
through his mother Ruperta Goodwyn, so named after her grandmother; so
named after her aunt; so named after her godmother; so named after her
father, Prince Rupert, cavalier, chemist, glass-blower, etc., etc.
The wall seemed ablaze with suns and moons, for many of the chased
goblets, plates, and dishes were silver-gilt: none of your filmy
electro-plate, but gold laid on thick, by the old mercurial process, in
days when they that wrought in precious metals were honest--for want of
knowing how to cheat.
Glued to the pane, gloating on this constellation of gold suns and
silver moons, and trembling with Bohemian excitement, reckless Reginald
heard not a stealthy step upon the grass behind him.
He had trusted to a fact in optics, forgetting the doctrine of shadows.
The Scotch servant saw from a pantry window the shadow of a cap
projected on the grass, with a face, and part of a body. She stepped
out, and got upon the grass.
Finding it was only a boy, she was brave as well as cunning; and, owing
to the wind and his absorption, stole on him unheard, and pinned him
with her strong hands by both his shoulders.
Young Hopeful uttered a screech of dismay, and administered a back kick
that made Jessie limp for two days, and scream very lustily for the
present.
Mr. Bassett, at this dialogue of yells, dropped a coffee-pot with a
crash and a tinkle, and ran out directly, and secured young Hopeful,
who thereupon began to quake and remonstrate.
“I was only taking a look,” said he. “Where's the harm of that?”
“You were trespassing, sir,” said Richard Bassett.
“What is the harm of that, governor? You can come over all our place,
for what I care.”
“Thank you. I prefer to keep to my own place.”
“Well, I don't. I say, old chap, don't hit me. 'Twas I put 'em all on
the scent of your kid, you know.”
“So I have heard. Well, then, this makes us quits.”
“Don't it? You ain't such a bad sort, after all.”
“Only mind, Mr. Bassett, if I catch you prying here again, that will be
a fresh account, and I shall open it with a horsewhip.”
He then gave him a little push, and the boy fled like the wind. When he
was gone, Richard Bassett became rather uneasy. He had hitherto
concealed, even from his own family, the great wealth his humble home
contained. His secret was now public. Reginald had no end of low
companions. If burglars got scent of this, it might be very awkward. At
last he hit upon a defense. He got one of those hooks ending in a screw
which are used for pictures, and screwed it into the inside of the
cupboard door near the top. To this he fastened a long piece of catgut,
and carried it through the floor. His bed was just above the cupboard
door, and he attached the gut to a bell by his bedside. By this means
nobody could open that cupboard without ringing in his ears.
Jessie told Tom, Tom told Maria and Harriet; Harriet and Maria told
everybody; somebody told Sir Charles. He was deeply mortified.
“You young idiot!” said he, “would nothing less than this serve your
turn? must you go and lower me and yourself by giving just offense to
my one enemy?--the man I hate and despise, and who is always on the
watch to injure or affront me. Oh, who would be a father! There, pack
up your things; you will go to school next morning at eight o'clock.”
Mr. Reginald packed accordingly, but that did not occupy long; so he
sallied forth, and, taking for granted that it was Richard Bassett who
had been so mean as to tell, he purchased some paint and brushes and a
rope, and languished until midnight.
But when that magic hour came he was brisk as a bee, let himself down
from his veranda, and stole to Richard Bassett's front door, and
inscribed thereon, in large and glaring letters,
“JERRY SNEAK, ESQ., Tell-Tale Tit.”
He then returned home much calmed and comforted, climbed up his rope
and into his room, and there slept sweetly, as one who had discharged
his duty to his neighbor and society in general.
In the morning, however, he was very active, hurried the grooms, and
was off before the appointed time.
Sir Charles came down to breakfast, and lo! young Hopeful gone, without
the awkward ceremony of leave-taking.
Sir Charles found, as usual, many delicacies on his table, and among
them one rarer to him than ortolan, pin-tail, or wild turkey (in which
last my soul delights); for he found a letter from Richard Bassett,
Esq.
“SIR--Some nights since we caught your successor that is to be, at my
dining-room window, prying into my private affairs. Having the honor of
our family at heart, I was about to administer a little wholesome
correction, when he reminded me he had been instrumental in tracking
Miss Bassett, and thereby rescuing her: upon this I was, naturally,
mollified, and sent him about his business, hoping to have seen the
last of him at Highmore.
“This morning my door is covered with opprobrious epithets, and as Mr.
Bassett bought paint and brushes at the shop yesterday afternoon, it is
doubtless to him I am indebted for them.
“I make no comments; I simply record the facts, and put them down to
your credit, and your son's.
“Your obedient servant,
“RICHARD BASSETT.”
Lady Bassett did not come down to breakfast that morning; so Sir
Charles digested this dish in solitude.
He was furious with Reginald; but as Richard Bassett's remonstrance was
intended to insult him, he wrote back as follows:
“SIR--I am deeply grieved that a son of mine should descend to look in
at your windows, or to write anything whatever upon your door; and I
will take care it shall never recur.
“Yours obediently,
“CHARLES DYKE BASSETT.”
This little correspondence was salutary; it fanned the coals of hatred
between the cousins.
Reckless Reginald soon found he had caught a Tartar in his new master.
That gentleman punished him severely for every breach of discipline.
The study was a cool dark room, with one window looking north, and that
window barred. Here he locked up the erratic youth for hours at a time,
upon the slightest escapade.
Reginald wrote a honeyed letter to Sir Charles, bewailing his lot, and
praying to be removed.
Sir Charles replied sternly, and sent him a copy of Mr. Richard
Bassett's letter. He wrote to Mr. Beecher at the same time, expressing
his full approval.
Thus disciplined, the boy began to change; he became moody, sullen,
silent, and even sleepy. This was the less wonderful, that he generally
escaped at night to a gypsy camp, and courted a gypsy girl, who was
nearly as handsome as himself, besides being older, and far more
knowing.
His tongue went like a mill, and the whole tribe soon knew all about
him and his parents.
One morning the servants got up supernaturally early, to wash. Mr.
Reginald was detected stealing back to his roost, and reported to the
master.
Mr. Beecher had him up directly, locked him into the study alone, put
the other students into the drawing-room, and erected bars to his
bedroom window.
A few days of this, and he pined like a bird in a cage.
A few more, and his gypsy girl came fortune-telling to the servants,
and wormed out the truth.
Then she came at night under his window, and made him a signal. He told
her his hard case, and told her also a resolution he had come to. She
informed the tribe. The tribe consulted. A keen saw was flung up to
him; in two nights he was through the bars; the third he was free, and
joined his sable friends.
They struck their tents, and decamped with horses, asses, tents, and
baggage, and were many miles away by daybreak, without troubling
turnpikes.
The boy left not a line behind him, and Mr. Beecher half hoped he might
come back; still he sent to the nearest station, and telegraphed to
Huntercombe.
Sir Charles mounted a fleet horse, and rode off at once into
Cambridgeshire. He set inquiries on foot, and learned that the boy had
been seen consorting with a tribe of gypsies. He heard, also, that
these were rather high gypsies, many of them foreigners; and that they
dealt in horses, and had a farrier; and that one or two of the girls
were handsome, and also singers.
Sir Charles telegraphed for detectives from London; wrote to the mayors
of towns; advertised, with full description and large reward, and
brought such pressure to bear upon the Egyptians, that the band begin
to fear: they consulted, and took measures for their own security; none
too soon, for, they being encamped on Grey's Common in Oxfordshire, Sir
Charles and the rural police rode into the camp and demanded young
Hopeful.
They were equal to the occasion; at first they knew nothing of the
matter, and, with injured innocence, invited a full inspection.
The invitation was accepted.
Then, all of a sudden, one of the women affected to be struck with an
idea. “It is the young gentleman who wanted to join us in
Cambridgeshire.”
Then all their throats opened at once. “Yes, gentleman, there was a
lovely young gentleman wanted to come with us; but we wouldn't have
him. What could we do with him?”
Sir Charles left them under surveillance, and continued his researches,
telegraphing Lady Bassett twice every day.
A dark stranger came into Huntercombe village, no longer young, but
still a striking figure: had once, no doubt, been superlatively
handsome. Even now, his long hair was black and his eye could glitter:
but his life had impregnated his noble features with hardness and
meanness; his large black eye was restless, keen, and servile: an
excellent figure for a painter, though; born in Spain, he was not
afraid of color, had a red cap on his snaky black hair, and a striped
waistcoat.
He inquired for Mr. Meyrick's farm.
He soon found his way thither, and asked for Mrs. Meyrick.
The female servant who opened the door ran her eye up and down him, and
said, bruskly, “What do you want with her, my man? because she is
busy.”
“Oh, she will see me, miss.”
Softened by the “miss,” the girl laughed, and said, “What makes you
think that, my man?”
“Give her this, miss,” said the gypsy, “and she will come to me.”
He held her out a dirty crumpled piece of paper.
Sally, whose hands were wet from the tub, whipped her hand under the
corner of her checkered apron, and so took the note with a finger and