Alice, or the Mysteries — Complete
"My dear colonel, my visit this morning was rather to you than to
Doltimore. I confess that I should like to see your abilities enlisted
on the side of the Government; and knowing that the post of Storekeeper
to the Ordnance will be vacant in a day or two by the promotion of
Mr.-----, I wrote to secure the refusal. To-day's post brings me the
answer. I offer the place to you; and I trust, before long, to
procure you also a seat in parliament. But you must start for London
immediately."
A week ago, and Legard's utmost ambition would have been amply gratified
by this post; he now hesitated.
"My dear lord," said he, "I cannot say how grateful I feel for your
kindness; but--but--"
"Enough; no thanks, my dear Legard. Can you go to town to-morrow?"
"Indeed," said Legard, "I fear not; I must consult my uncle."
"I can answer for him; I sounded him before I wrote. Reflect! You
are not rich, my dear Legard; it is an excellent opening: a seat in
parliament, too! Why, what can be your reason for hesitation?"
There was something meaning and inquisitive in the tone of voice in
which this question was put that brought the colour to the colonel's
cheek. He knew not well what to reply; and he began, too, to think that
he ought not to refuse the appointment. Nay, would his uncle, on whom
he was dependent, consent to such a refusal? Lord Vargrave saw the
irresolution, and proceeded. He spent ten minutes in combating every
scruple, every objection: he placed all the advantages of the post, real
or imaginary, in every conceivable point of view before the colonel's
eyes; he sought to flatter, to wheedle, to coax, to weary him into
accepting it; and he at length partially succeeded. The colonel
petitioned for three days' consideration, which Vargrave reluctantly
acceded to; and Legard then stepped into his uncle's carriage, with the
air rather of a martyr than a maiden placeman.
"Aha!" said Vargrave, chuckling to himself as he took a turn in the
grounds, "I have got rid of that handsome knave; and now I shall have
Evelyn all to myself!"
CHAPTER VI.
I AM forfeited to eternal disgrace if you do not commiserate.
......
Go to, then, raise, recover.--BEN JONSON: _Poetaster_.
THE next morning Admiral Legard and his nephew were conversing in the
little cabin consecrated by the name of the admiral's "own room."
"Yes," said the veteran, "it would be moonshine and madness not to
accept Vargrave's offer; though one can see through such a millstone as
that with half an eye. His lordship is jealous of such a fine, handsome
young fellow as you are,--and very justly. But as long as he is under
the same roof with Miss Cameron, you will have no opportunity to
pay your court; when he goes, you can always manage to be in her
neighbourhood; and then, you know--puppy that you are--her business will
be very soon settled." And the admiral eyed the handsome colonel with
grim fondness.
Legard sighed.
"Have you any commands at -----?" said he; "I am just going to canter
over there before Doltimore is up."
"Sad lazy dog, your friend."
"I shall be back by twelve."
"What are you going to ----- for?"
"Brookes, the farrier, has a little spaniel,--King Charles's breed. Miss
Cameron is fond of dogs. I can send it to her, with my compliments,--it
will be a sort of leave-taking."
"Sly rogue; ha, ha, ha! d-----d sly; ha, ha!" and the admiral punched
the slender waist of his nephew, and laughed till the tears ran down his
cheeks.
"Good-by, sir."
"Stop, George; I forgot to ask you a question; you never told me you
knew Mr. Maltravers. Why don't you cultivate his acquaintance?"
"We met at Venice accidentally. I did not know his name then; he left
just as I arrived. As you say, I ought to cultivate his acquaintance."
"Fine character!"
"Very!" said Legard, with energy, as he abruptly quitted the room.
George Legard was an orphan. His father--the admiral's elder
brother--had been a spendthrift man of fashion, with a tolerably large
unentailed estate. He married a duke's daughter without a sixpence.
Estates are troublesome,--Mr. Legard's was sold. On the purchase-money
the happy pair lived for some years in great comfort, when Mr. Legard
died of a brain fever; and his disconsolate widow found herself alone
in the world with a beautiful little curly-headed boy, and an annuity
of one thousand a year, for which her settlement had been exchanged.
All the rest of the fortune was gone,--a discovery not made till Mr.
Legard's death. Lady Louisa did not long survive the loss of her husband
and her station in society; her income of course died with herself. Her
only child was brought up in the house of his grandfather, the duke,
till he was of age to hold the office of king's page; thence, as
is customary, he was promoted to a commission in the Guards. To the
munificent emoluments of his pay, the ducal family liberally added
an allowance of two hundred a year; upon which income Cornet Legard
contrived to get very handsomely in debt. The extraordinary beauty
of his person, his connections, and his manners obtained him all the
celebrity that fashion can bestow; but poverty is a bad thing. Luckily,
at this time, his uncle the admiral returned from sea, to settle for the
rest of his life in England.
Hitherto, the admiral had taken no notice of George. He himself had
married a merchant's daughter with a fair portion; and had been blessed
with two children, who monopolized all his affection. But there seemed
some mortality in the Legard family; in one year after returning to
England and settling in B-----shire, the admiral found himself wifeless
and childless. He then turned to his orphan nephew; and soon became
fonder of him than he had ever been of his own children. The admiral,
though in easy circumstances, was not wealthy; nevertheless, he advanced
the money requisite for George's rise in the army, and doubled the
allowance bestowed by the duke. His grace heard of this generosity, and
discovered that he himself had a very large family growing up; that the
marquess was going to be married, and required an increase of income;
that he had already behaved most handsomely to his nephew; and the
result of this discovery was that the duke withdrew the two hundred a
year. Legard, however, who looked on his uncle as an exhaustless mine,
went on breaking hearts and making debts--till one morning he woke in
the Bench. The admiral was hastily summoned to London. He arrived;
paid off the duns--a kindness which seriously embarrassed him--swore,
scolded, and cried; and finally insisted that Legard should give up
that d-----d coxcomb regiment, in which he was now captain, retire on
half-pay, and learn economy and a change of habits on the Continent.
The admiral, a rough but good-natured man on the whole, had two or three
little peculiarities. In the first place, he piqued himself on a sort of
John Bull independence; was a bit of a Radical (a strange anomaly in an
admiral)--which was owing, perhaps, to two or three young lords having
been put over his head in the earlier part of his career; and he made
it a point with his nephew (of whose affection he was jealous) to
break with those fine grand connections, who plunged him into a sea of
extravagance, and then never threw him a rope to save him from drowning.
In the second place, without being stingy, the admiral had a good deal
of economy in his disposition. He was not a man to allow his nephew to
ruin him. He had an extraordinarily old-fashioned horror of gambling,--a
polite habit of George's; and he declared positively that his nephew
must, while a bachelor, learn to live upon seven hundred a year.
Thirdly, the admiral could be a very stern, stubborn, passionate old
brute; and when he coolly told George, "Harkye, you young puppy, if you
get into debt again--if you exceed the very handsome allowance I make
you--I shall just cut you off with a shilling," George was fully aware
that his uncle was one who would rigidly keep his word.
However, it was something to be out of debt, and one of the handsomest
men of his age; and George Legard, whose rank in the Guards made him a
colonel in the line, left England tolerably contented with the state of
affairs.
Despite the foibles of his youth, George Legard had many high and
generous qualities. Society had done its best to spoil a fine and candid
disposition, with abilities far above mediocrity; but society had only
partially succeeded. Still, unhappily, dissipation had grown a habit
with him; all his talents were of a nature that brought a ready return.
At his age, it was but natural that the praise of _salons_ should retain
all its sweetness.
In addition to those qualities which please the softer sex, Legard was a
good whist player, superb at billiards, famous as a shot, unrivalled
as a horseman,--in fact, an accomplished man, "who did everything so
devilish well!" These accomplishments did not stand him in much stead
in Italy; and, though with reluctance and remorse, he took again to
gambling,--he really _had_ nothing else to do.
In Venice there was, one year, established a society somewhat on the
principle of the _salon_ at Paris. Some rich Venetians belonged to it;
but it was chiefly for the convenience of foreigners,--French, English,
and Austrians. Here there was select gaming in one room, while another
apartment served the purposes of a club. Many who never played belonged
to this society; but still they were not the _habitues_.
Legard played: he won at first, then he lost, then he won again; it was
a pleasant excitement. One night, after winning largely at _roulette_,
he sat down to play _ecarte_ with a Frenchman of high rank. Legard
played well at this, as at all scientific games; he thought he should
make a fortune out of the Frenchman. The game excited much interest; the
crowd gathered round the table; bets ran high; the vanity of Legard,
as well as his interest, was implicated in the conflict. It was soon
evident that the Frenchman played as well as the Englishman. The stakes,
at first tolerably high, were doubled. Legard betted freely. Cards went
against him; he lost much, lost all that he had, lost more than he had,
lost several hundreds, which he promised to pay the next morning. The
table was broken up, the spectators separated. Amongst the latter had
been one Englishman, introduced into the club for the first time that
night. He had neither played nor betted, but had observed the game with
a quiet and watchful interest. This Englishman lodged at the same hotel
as Legard. He was at Venice only for a day; the promised sight of a file
of English newspapers had drawn him to the club; the general excitement
around had attracted him to the table; and once there, the spectacle of
human emotions exercised its customary charm.
On ascending the stairs that conducted to his apartment, the Englishman
heard a deep groan in a room the door of which was ajar. He paused, the
sound was repeated; he gently pushed open the door and saw Legard seated
by a table, while a glass on the opposite wall reflected his working and
convulsed countenance, with his hands trembling visibly, as they took a
brace of pistols from the case.
The Englishman recognized the loser at the club; and at once divined the
act that his madness or his despair dictated. Legard twice took up one
of the pistols, and twice laid it down irresolute; the third time he
rose with a start, raised the weapon to his head, and the next moment it
was wrenched from his grasp.
"Sit down, sir!" said the stranger, in a loud and commanding voice.
Legard, astonished and abashed, sank once more into his seat, and stared
sullenly and half-unconsciously at his countryman.
"You have lost your money," said the Englishman, after calmly replacing