Читать книгу The Miser's Daughter - William Harrison Ainsworth - Страница 12

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Notwithstanding his engagement to Beau Villiers, Randulph, accustomed to early hours, and blessed, moreover, with a very healthy appetite, needed no urging on the part of Mr. Jukes to sit down at eight o'clock, on the second morning after his arrival in town, to a sort of preliminary breakfast with Uncle Abel. Glad of the excuse for a little extra indulgence in repose, Trussell did not rise till late, and Randulph was therefore left to a tete-a-tete with his elder uncle. Whether it was that Abel was in a better humour than before, or that he was not fretted by Trussell, whose remarks, however well meant, generally seemed to excite all his cynical propensities, Randulph could not tell, but he certainly found him more agreeable than he had previously thought him. Abel questioned his nephew narrowly as to his tastes and pursuits, and seemed pleased with the answers he received. In fact, things went on so prosperously that Mr. Jukes, who was carving a fine Westphalia ham at the well spread sideboard, suspended his operations to rub his hands with delight. Abel noticed his exhilaration, and guessing the cause, could not refrain from smiling, and Randulph thought he had never seen so pleasant a smile before. Abel's heart indeed, it was evident, was warming towards his nephew; and he made no attempt to check the kindly feeling. He descanted with much force and truth, on the dangers to which a young man must be exposed on his first entrance into the world, but exhibited far less straightlacedness than might have been expected. He advised his nephew to mix with society, but not to become a part of it; to use, but not abuse, the advantages nature had given him; and to push his fortune to the utmost; displaying throughout the whole discourse, a shrewdness of observation, a nice perception of character, and a knowledge of the world, for which Randulph had not given him credit, and which raised him materially in his opinion. On one point only, the young man thought him guilty of injustice—namely, in the bitter and disparaging view he took of women. On this head, therefore, he ventured to differ with him, and his zeal and earnestness appeared to interest Abel. When he had done, the old man shrugged his shoulders, and contented himself with saying, "You'll think differently, one day."

Randulph would have replied, but a plate of ham from Mr. Jukes, accompanied by a significant look from the discreet butler, warned him not to pursue the subject further. Accordingly, he was silent, and Abel returned to his exposition and dissection of society with the same earnestness as before.

About half-past ten, Trussell made his appearance. He was dressed with unusual care; had a world of the finest lace at his wrists, and on his breast; and wore a green velvet coat, richly embroidered, a satin waistcoat of the same colour, woven with gold, and diamond buckles at his knees. The only part of his attire which appeared to be neglected was his peruke, and this did not escape Abel's attention, as he scanned him contemptuously from head to foot.

"It's all very well," he said, drily; "you are sufficiently be-laced and be-scented to fit you for the beau's society, but your wig is out of order."

"Why you don't surely think I am going in this old peruke, sir?" rejoined Trussell, smiling. "No, no, I'm not quite so careless. I've sent my best perriwig to be dressed by Peter Pokerich, the barber in the Little Sanctuary, and shall put it on as we pass on our way to Spring Gardens, where, as you know, Mr. Villiers resides."

"A barber in the Little Sanctuary," cried Randulph; "why he must be the very person I met when—"

Here a stern look from Uncle Abel stopped him, and called the colour to his cheeks.

"Why did you send it there?" remarked Abel, angrily, to his brother. "Was there no other barber nearer at hand?"

"Oh yes, sir, plenty," replied Trussell; "but Pokerich understands the mode, and I desired to appear to advantage on this occasion. I wish I could induce you to adopt the present fashion, Randulph. Your own hair is certainly very fine, but a perriwig would be far more becoming."

"Be natural as long as you can, and keep your own hair, Randulph," said Abel.

"I intend to do so, sir," replied the young man.

"But at all events your dress must be improved," pursued Trussell. "I will introduce you to M. Desmartins, the French tailor in Piccadilly. He will make you quite another thing."

"And empty your purse at the same time," sneered Abel. "Wear out the dress you have on. It's almost new."

"It is quite new," said Randulph, a little abashed. "It was made expressly for my visit to town, by Stracey, of Chester, who works for all the best people in the county."

"Stracey of Chester—ha! ha!" exclaimed uncle Trussell, jeeringly. "You had better put by Mr. Stracey for your return. But it is time we started. I shall have to stop a few minutes at Pokerich's."

They then set forth, and it was with a throbbing heart that the young man again found himself beside the dwelling of the miser's daughter. He gazed eagerly at it, in the hope of catching a glimpse of her he loved, but could discern nothing through the barred and dust-begrimed windows.

"May I ask what is the cause of uncle Abel's aversion to Mr. Scarve?" he enquired of Trussell.

"I would rather not be questioned on that subject," replied the other, "because I am quite sure, if I told you, that Abel would discover from your manner, that I had disclosed his secret. By the by," he added, "is Hilda Scarve really a fine girl?"

Randulph returned a rapturous affirmative.

"Egad, then," pursued Trussell, as if debating some matter with himself, "I don't know whether one speculation would not be as good as t'other."

"What do you mean, uncle," enquired Randulph.

"Why that a marriage with Hilda Scarve would answer as well as waiting for Abel's money," replied Trussell. "The miser must be immensely rich—immensely. I'll call on him one of these days, and sound him on the subject of the union."

"Recollect your brother's injunction, sir," rejoined Randulph, who was, however, so enchanted by the proposition, that he could have flung his arms round his uncle's neck, and hugged him,—"it may be hazardous."

"Tut—tut," exclaimed Trussell, "he'll never hear of it. They have no sort of communication. Abel hates him like the devil—as well he may. But I must not say more. And here we are at Pokerich's."

With this, he entered Peter's shop. The little barber was engaged at the moment in shaving a customer, and called to his apprentice to set chairs for the new comers. He did not at first notice Randulph, who was behind his uncle; but when the young man came full into view, his hand trembled so much that the razor slipped, inflicting a slight wound on the chin of the gentleman he was shaving.

"Have a care, fellow," cried this person angrily; "you have cut me."

"Ten thousand pardons, sir," apologised Peter, "it is not much, sir—a mere trifle—a little sticking plaster will set all to rights."

So saying, he very dexterously wiped off the lather, and bathing the gentleman's cheek with warm water, speedily succeeded in stanching the blood. He then finished shaving him, and taking a light flaxen wig from a block hard by, fitted it on his head. This done, the gentleman arose, walked towards a glass to ascertain the extent of the injury he had received, and finding it very trifling, laughed good humouredly. He was a middle-sized man, remarkably squarely and powerfully built; and as the barber assisted him to put on his coat, and fasten on his sword, Randulph could not help noticing his great apparent strength of frame.

"You have not a very steady hand, friend," remarked the stranger, as he took out his purse to pay the barber.

"I never made such a mistake before, sir," replied Peter; "never, on my honour."

"Then I suppose it was this young gentleman who startled you," replied the other, laughing, "for the accident occurred just as he entered your shop."

"Why, really, I was rather surprised to see him, I must own," returned Peter; "Mr. Randulph Crew, your most obedient."

"What!" cried the stranger, with a look of astonishment. "Is this Mr. Randulph Crew?"

It was now Randulph's turn to appear surprised.

"You will wonder at my exclamation, sir," pursued the stranger, advancing towards him, "but I knew a gentleman of your name, which is not a very common one, in Cheshire, years ago—knew him intimately."

"Probably my father," said Randulph.

"He is well, I hope?" asked the other.

"Alas! sir, I lost him a year ago," replied Randulph.

Here the conversation dropped, for the stranger seemed a little embarrassed, as if he had something to say, and yet did not know how to set about it. He glanced at Trussell, who had taken his seat, and was submitting his bald pate to Peter, while the latter was adjusting upon it, with the utmost care, a very well-powdered peruke.

"Is that a relative of your's?" asked the stranger of Randulph.

"My uncle, sir," replied the young man.

"Indeed!" exclaimed the stranger. And he again hesitated.

"A very singular person," thought Randulph.

"There," cried Trussell, rising and looking at himself in the glass; "that'll do—capital—capital!"

"Mr. Scarve lives over the way, barber, I believe?" said the stranger to Peter.

"He does, sir," replied the latter. "That's the house. A very strange affair occurred there yesterday-evening."

"What might that be!" inquired the stranger.

"Why," replied the barber, "about five o'clock the whole street was alarmed by the arrival of a troop of fourteen horsemen, each with a thousand pounds in a couple of bags at his saddle-bow. Well, sir, these horsemen stopped at the miser's door, and threw down their bags before it; and it turned out to be the payment of the sum of fourteen thousand pounds borrowed from old Starve—beg pardon, Scarve—on mortgage, by Sir Bulkeley Price, and which the latter was obliged to pay at a certain time, or his estate would have been foreclosed. It was a near run for Sir Bulkeley. He only just saved his distance. Ah! you should have seen how the old miser raved and swore when be found himself robbed of his prey. But for his daughter's interference, he would certainly have laid violent hands on the knight. Ha! ha!"

Randulph, whose breast was agitated with conflicting feelings, was about to question the barber further as to Hilda's conduct on the occasion, when he was checked by the stranger, who, turning hastily to Peter, said, "This is an unheard-of mode of paying mortgage money,—and so large a sum too. Are you sure it was as much as fourteen thousand pounds?"

"As that I have a comb in my hand," replied the barber. "And it was paid in gold too. I heard the chink of the metal myself. Besides, Sir Bulkeley called upon me, together with the other spectators, to witness the payment."

"You surprise me!" exclaimed the stranger—"I must have a word with Mr. Scarve on the subject.—Good morning, gentlemen. Mr. Randulph Crew, we may possibly meet again." And raising his hat, he walked across the street, and knocked at the miser's door.

"Who is that strange person?" asked Trussell of Peter.

"Haven't the least idea, sir." replied the barber. "He came in here to be shaved; that's all I know of him. Never ask customers' names."

Randulph, meanwhile, ran to the door to see how the stranger would be received, and was somewhat chagrined to find that Jacob, after reconnoitring him according to custom, and detaining him while he consulted his master, admitted him.

"He will see Hilda," sighed the young man.

"Come, nephew, come," cried Trussell, impatiently, "We shall be late."

Sorely against his will, Randulph suffered himself to be dragged away, and they proceeded along King-street, in the direction of Spring Gardens.