Paul Clifford — Complete
beyond my nature, and that under fairer auspices I might have been other
than I am!”
Lucy's tear dropped upon Clifford's hand as he spoke; and while his
heart melted within him as he felt it and knew his own desperate and
unredeemed condition, he added,--
“Every one courts you,--the proud, the rich, the young, the
high-born,--all are at your feet! You will select one of that number for
your husband; may he watch over you as I would have done!--love you as
I do he cannot! Yes, I repeat it,” continued Clifford, vehemently,--“he
cannot! None amidst the gay, happy, silken crowd of your equals and
followers can feel for you that single and overruling passion which
makes you to me what all combined--country, power, wealth, reputation,
an honest name, peace, common safety, the quiet of the common air, alike
the least blessing and the greatest-are to all others! Once more, may
God in heaven watch over you and preserve you! I tear myself, on leaving
you, from all that cheers or blesses or raises or might have saved me!
Farewell!”
The hand which Lucy had relinquished to her strange suitor was pressed
ardently to his lips, dropped in the same instant, and she knew that she
was once more alone.
But Clifford, hurrying rapidly through the trees, made his way towards
the nearest gate which led from Lord Mauleverer's domain; when he
reached it, a crowd of the more elderly guests occupied the entrance,
and one of these was a lady of such distinction that Mauleverer, in
spite of his aversion to any superfluous exposure to the night air, had
obliged himself to conduct her to her carriage. He was in a very ill
humour with this constrained politeness, especially as the carriage was
very slow in relieving him of his charge, when he saw, by the lamplight,
Clifford passing near him, and winning his way to the gate. Quite
forgetting his worldly prudence, which should have made him averse to
scenes with any one, especially with a flying enemy, and a man with
whom, if he believed aright, little glory was to be gained in conquest,
much less in contest; and only remembering Clifford's rivalship, and
his own hatred towards him for the presumption, Mauleverer, uttering a
hurried apology to the lady on his arm, stepped forward, and opposing
Clifford's progress, said, with a bow of tranquil insult, “Pardon me,
sir, but is it at my invitation or that of one of my servants that you
have honoured me with your company this day?”
Clifford's thoughts at the time of this interruption were of that nature
before which all petty misfortunes shrink into nothing; if, therefore,
he started for a moment at the earl's address, he betrayed no
embarrassment in reply, but bowing with an air of respect, and taking no
notice of the affront implied in Mauleverer's speech, he answered,--
“Your lordship has only to deign a glance at my dress to see that I have
not intruded myself on your grounds with the intention of claiming your
hospitality. The fact is, and I trust to your lordship's courtesy to
admit the excuse, that I leave this neighbourhood to-morrow, and for
some length of time. A person whom I was very anxious to see before I
left was one of your lordship's guests; I heard this, and knew that
I should have no other opportunity of meeting the person in question
before my departure; and I must now throw myself on the well-known
politeness of Lord Mauleverer to pardon a freedom originating in a
business very much approaching to a necessity.”
Lord Mauleverer's address to Clifford had congregated an immediate crowd
of eager and expectant listeners; but so quietly respectful and really
gentlemanlike were Clifford's air and tone in excusing himself, that the
whole throng were smitten with a sudden disappointment.
Lord Mauleverer himself, surprised by the temper and deportment of the
unbidden guest, was at a loss for one moment; and Clifford was about to
take advantage of that moment and glide away, when Mauleverer, with a
second bow, more civil than the former one, said,--
“I cannot but be happy, sir, that my poor place has afforded you any
convenience; but if I am not very impertinent, will you allow me to
inquire the name of my guest with whom you required a meeting?”
“My lord,” said Clifford, drawing himself up and speaking gravely and
sternly, though still with a certain deference, “I need not surely
point out to your lordship's good sense and good feeling that your very
question implies a doubt, and consequently an affront, and that the tone
of it is not such as to justify that concession on my part which the
further explanation you require would imply!”
Few spoken sarcasms could be so bitter as that silent one which
Mauleverer could command by a smile, and with this complimentary
expression on his thin lips and raised brow, the earl answered: “Sir,
I honour the skill testified by your reply; it must be the result of
a profound experience in these affairs. I wish you, sir, a very good
night; and the next time you favour me with a visit, I am quite sure
that your motives for so indulging me will be no less creditable to you
than at present.”
With these words Mauleverer turned to rejoin his fair charge. But
Clifford was a man who had seen in a short time a great deal of the
world, and knew tolerably well the theories of society, if not the
practice of its minutiae; moreover, he was of an acute and resolute
temper, and these properties of mind, natural and acquired, told him
that he was now in a situation in which it had become more necessary
to defy than to conciliate. Instead therefore of retiring he walked
deliberately up to Mauleverer, and said,--
“My lord, I shall leave it to the judgment of your guests to decide
whether you have acted the part of a nobleman and a gentleman in thus,
in your domains, insulting one who has given you such explanation of
his trespass as would fully excuse him in the eyes of all considerate or
courteous persons. I shall also leave it to them to decide whether the
tone of your inquiry allowed me to give you any further apology. But
I shall take it upon myself, my lord, to demand from you an immediate
explanation of your last speech.”
“Insolent!” cried Mauleverer, colouring with indignation, and almost for
the first time in his life losing absolute command over his temper; “do
you bandy words with me? Begone, or I shall order my servants to thrust
you forth!”
“Begone, sir! begone!” cried several voices in echo to Mauleverer,
from those persons who deemed it now high time to take part with the
powerful.
Clifford stood his ground, gazing around with a look of angry and
defying contempt, which, joined to his athletic frame, his dark and
fierce eye, and a heavy riding-whip, which, as if mechanically, he half
raised, effectually kept the murmurers from proceeding to violence.
“Poor pretender to breeding and to sense!” said he, disdainfully turning
to Mauleverer; “with one touch of this whip I could shame you forever,
or compel you to descend from the level of your rank to that of mine,
and the action would be but a mild return to your language. But I love
rather to teach you than to correct. According to my creed, my lord, he
conquers most in good breeding who forbears the most,--scorn enables me
to forbear! Adieu!”
With this, Clifford turned on his heel and strode away. A murmur,
approaching to a groan, from the younger or sillier part of the
parasites (the mature and the sensible have no extra emotion to throw
away), followed him as he disappeared.
CHAPTER XXII.
Outlaw. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about you!
Val. Ruffians, forego that rude, uncivil touch!
The Two Gentlemen of Verona.
On leaving the scene in which he had been so unwelcome a guest, Clifford
hastened to the little inn where he had left his horse. He mounted
and returned to Bath. His thoughts were absent, and he unconsciously
suffered the horse to direct its course whither it pleased. This was
naturally towards the nearest halting-place which the animal remembered;
and this halting-place was at that illustrious tavern, in the suburbs of
the town, in which we have before commemorated Clifford's re-election to
the dignity of chief. It was a house of long-established reputation; and
here news of any of the absent confederates was always to be obtained.
This circumstance, added to the excellence of its drink, its ease, and
the electric chain of early habits, rendered it a favourite haunt,
even despite their present gay and modish pursuits, with Tomlinson and
Pepper; and here, when Clifford sought the pair at unseasonable hours,
was he for the most part sure to find them. As his meditations were
interrupted by the sudden stopping of his horse beneath the well-known
sign, Clifford, muttering an angry malediction on the animal, spurred it
onward in the direction of his own home. He had already reached the end
of the street, when his resolution seemed to change, and muttering
to himself, “Ay, I might as well arrange this very night for our
departure!” he turned his horse's head backward, and was once more at
the tavern door. He threw the bridle over an iron railing, and knocking
with a peculiar sound at the door, was soon admitted.
“Are ------ and ------- here?” asked he of the old woman, as he entered,
mentioning the cant words by which, among friends, Tomlinson and Pepper
were usually known.
“They are both gone on the sharps to-night,” replied the old lady,
lifting her unsnuffed candle to the face of the speaker with an
intelligent look; “Oliver (the moon) is sleepy, and the lads will take
advantage of his nap.”
“Do you mean,” answered Clifford, replying in the same key, which
we take the liberty to paraphrase, “that they are out on any actual
expedition?”
“To be sure,” rejoined the dame. “They who lag late on the road may want
money for supper!”
“Ha! which road?”
“You are a pretty fellow for captain!” rejoined the dame, with a
good-natured sarcasm in her tone. “Why, Captain Gloak, poor fellow! knew
every turn of his men to a hair, and never needed to ask what they were
about. Ah, he was a fellow! none of your girl-faced mudgers, who make
love to ladies, forsooth,--a pretty woman need not look far for a kiss
when he was in the room, I warrant, however coarse her duds might be;
and lauk! but the captain was a sensible man, and liked a cow as well as
a calf.”
“So, so! on the road, are they?” cried Clifford, musingly, and without
heeding the insinuated attack on his decorum. “But answer me, what is
the plan? Be quick!”
“Why,” replied the dame, “there's some swell cove of a lord gives a
blow-out to-day; and the lads, dear souls! think to play the queer on
some straggler.”
Without uttering a word, Clifford darted from the house, and was
remounted before the old lady had time to recover her surprise.
“If you want to see them,” cried she, as he put spurs to his horse,
“they ordered me to have supper ready at------” The horse's hoofs
drowned the last words of the dame; and carefully rebolting the door,
and muttering an invidious comparison between Captain Clifford and
Captain Gloak, the good landlady returned to those culinary operations
destined to rejoice the hearts of Tomlinson and Pepper.
Return we ourselves to Lucy. It so happened that the squire's carriage
was the last to arrive; for the coachman, long uninitiated among the
shades of Warlock into the dissipation of fashionable life, entered on
his debut at Bath, with all the vigorous heat of matured passions for
the first time released, into the festivities of the ale-house,
and having a milder master than most of his comrades, the fear of
displeasure was less strong in his aurigal bosom than the love of
companionship; so that during the time this gentleman was amusing