t^y?^ 5 LIBRA HY OF THE U N I VERS ITY OF 1 LL1 NOIS n v.\ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/englishmannoveli01byro THE ENGLISHMAN. A NOVEL. Lane, Darhnf, and Co, Leadenhall-Street. ENGLISHMAN. a JSotiel, — iMtf tJ tM IN SIX VOLUMES. ^ — — — — i MISS BYRON 3 AUTHOR OF THE ENGLISHWOMAN; HOURS OF AFFLUENCE AND DAYS OF INDIGENCE; MODERN VILLA AND ANCIENT CASTLE, SfC, SfC. My affections Are then most humble ; I've no ambition To ace a goodlier man. VOL. I. zondox : PRINTED AT THE ^incrDaslPxcfe, TOR A. K. NEWMAN AND CO, IE ADEN1I ALL-STREET. 1812. \ . •ME ENGLISHMAN. CHAP. 1. We love some men, we know not why. Our tenJcrness i* na- turally excited in all their concerns. We excuse their faults with the same indulgence, and approve their virtues with lh« same applause, with which we consider our own. Citizen- of tub World, X HIS spontaneous friendship is not more the offering of liberality than of humility. It is liberal to shew leniency to venial er- rors ; while the least observing and earths- spelled mortal of our sphere must inter- nally acknowledge that perfection of cha- racter is a lusus natural, which docs not often grace our sublunary state. vol. i, a To THE ENGLISH M To the commingled character, in which the virtues outbalanced the foibles, there can be no moral impropriety in my introducing my readers ; as such, it is to the h *able mansion of sir Ormsby Wentu I mu transport them, where, in the 1 library, v. seated Mr. Sidney Wcntworth, the baro- net's only child. Sidney was an unexpected guest at Ad- derfield ; and having arrived rather late on the preceding evening, he had enjoined the few domestics who were apprized of it not to mention the fact to his father. There arc numberless little de\ 'hit occur to a domestic mind, which would appear wholly uninteresting to the fashioned heart, where form supersedes affection. Sidnev owned all this locality of feeling. He had often, ;is a schoolboy, surprised his father by his presence ; when a colic vacation gave him liberty, had fled to Ad- derfield- in preference to London ; and now, prompted bv filial love, hastened to the Hall ; and this in consequence only of a few THE ENGLISHMAN. a few words, which had been rather strong- ly marked in the baronet's last letter. — " Sir George Beverly says you are thin, and look pale. It is long since./ saw you, my son." Wentworth wrote half a dozen apolo- gies to ladies whose attractive parties were the theme of general panegyric ; one ex- tenuating billet, where it would have been dangerous to have trusted himself: orally ; gave a few bachelor-like injunctions to his little household, to which they all paid im- plicit attention before his face, and as una- nimously ridiculed on the instant they quit- ted his presence; then taking the only trust-worthy servant he owned into his tra- velling chariot, he set off, fully resolved on sleeping at Adderfiekl. Few circumstances are more satisfactory to a vivid imagination, than that of disco- vering that the weather smiles on their pro- jects. I believe this feeling to be peculiar- ly applicable to the English. Be that as it may, Wentworth was truly grateful, as he b 2 looked 4 TII7. ENGLISHMAN. looked on the scene before him ; it was that season *' When well apparell'd April on the heel Of limping Winter treads." He had gazed on the studded lawn which spread beneath the window, had recognised some of his favourite authors, when the sound of his father's voice met his ear. The door opened. " My son, my be- loved Sidney !" said the baronet, as he fold- ed his arms round this relic of his house. " This is kind, my dear boy. When did you come ? — you are fatigued — you look ill/' Sidney explained. " I will send the carriage for your cousin Grace, as soon as breakfast is over," continued the baronet; " there is nothing like the attentions of women in these cases. I know that Grace will attend my summons, though her pre- sent visit may very readily be allowed to own great attractions." Sidney smiled — sir Ormsby shook his head. " My THE ENGLISHMAN. 5 ff My dear sir/' interrupted Wenlworth, " I cannot consent to your recalling my cousin. I am merely a little deranged by late hours.' The air of Adderfield, and good Mrs. Corbet's herbal knowledge, to which I will willingly submit, will soon perfect my cure." " Corbet is very clever, no doubt — an excellent nurse," rejoined sir Ormsby ; " but Grace will understand my feelings; her society will cheer us. In short, Sidney, I am already beginning to experience a portion of that vacuum which will too soon be realized. Sillv boy, had you but seen with my eyes, how different had been the state of things !" " Forgive me, sir," said Wentworth. u I had imagined that the destiny of my cou- sin was now so finally arranged, as to make all references of the sort to which you al- lude unseasonable." " Sir, I perceive that I must yield my right as a father," said the baronet; u the young men of these days are above pa- b. 3 rental 6 THE ENGLISHMAN. rental authority. It is vary well, Mr. Sid- ney — mighty well, sir ! hut I thank God that 7 have no qualms of conscience in this re- spect — I was content to be directed. My father brought me to the presence of the lady ; we were told to love each other, and we did. Yes. sir: and though you smile at it, we were happv, excessively ha u But you might have been happier, sir/'* said Sidney. " Then I suppose that I do not know what constitutes happii ' internij the baronet, petulant. " / rationality is destroyed, So, sir, yoi to be happier than happy ; it is to be all rapture, bliss. Pshaw ! silly boy, you tap I thrown a pearl away ; and you will live to repent of it." " It wasa cem of I \ rhv," repi: idncv. "Grace an en- tire, a devoted heart ; and I tvoA she has found one." '• A devoted he%rt ! — there it is. These are the perversions of our language ; but I really THE ENGLISHMAN. 7 I really believe it is the only elevation of which a modern man takes account. But beware, Sidney, that you become not the Worshipper of a painted idol, an automa- ton, 1 had fondly fancied that I was already acquainted with my daughter. Poor Grace - — poor girl !" i( You compel me to smile, my dear fa- ther," said Sidney,, "when you attempt to deplore the fate of my cousin. Is not sir George Beverly the most amiable of men ? are not his family the fondest admirers of Miss Wentworth's character ? in short, is not the union, in every point of view, a most promising one ?" " Granted," said the baronet ; " yet Grace would have preferred a Wcntworth. I know it, sir — do not attempt to contra- dict me. She has loved you from infancy. Nay, your strangely altered looks half con- vince me that you have come down, with a secret hope of being able to destroy the projected alliance/' " On my honour as a man," replied Sid- £ 4 ney, % THE ENGLISHMAN. ney, with a look which strongly expressed his offended virtue, " I never loved Miss Wentworth with other than a brother's love ; and though your partiality has led you to imagine that my cousin has distinguished me by her preference, I must beg to con- tradict you. She possesses too much de- licacy to betray such a feeling, even admit- ting that she owned it ; and she is too well acquainted with my sentiments with respect to the sex in general, not to know that I should actuallv abhor the woman who claim- ed, rather than won my affections." " You will be a miserable man, Sidney/* interrupted sir Ormsby. " These absurd notions might occasion a smile, if uttered by a boy ; but at your age, sir, I had hoped better things. Let me tell you, Sidney, if a man is hot reasonable at seven-and-twen- ty, he makes but a sorry figure in the world."' " Mv dear father," replied Wentworth, "we will not argue this point. I believe that my reason is yet in its infancy, if mar* riage is the emanation which is to establish its THE ENGLISHMAN"* 9 its bounds. Love, pure love, a feeling I am ever anxious to avow, has brought me hither. I thought your last letter seemed to express a wish to see me ; and I am here in obedience to that idea." " It was well judged, my son. Sidney., Heaven is my witness that your happiness is the paramount consideration of my life. I project and dismiss my plans, yet ever conclude with one wish — to see you settled., bv which I mean married. You are the last prop of out once-numerous family. I cannot consent to believe that our name is to die with you ; — no, you will bless the declining age of your father, and give him a daughter. Could you once bring your- self to love a woman of virtue, even so as to preclude your poor old father from his present share in your affections, could I see that moment — behold you arranging your home to receive her, I should be the happiest of men ; and take my word, Sid- ney, there is no bliss like that which a ra- tional domestic home dispenses." b 5 "lam 10 THE ENGLISHMAN. u I am assured of it, sir," replied Went- worth, thoughtfully. u A woman of vir- tue is a creature who improves the sphere in which she revolves ; and — and none other are worthy of our consideration." "Spoken like a man of honour/' said the baronet, grasping the hand of his son. (c A father, my dear boy, who knows the world for what it is, must be forgiven if his fears mix even with his hopes. You have passed through the dazzling scene of youth with credit to yourself. Not a vice has marked your career ; never have I had occasion to reprove you. I have, and I must continue to regret, that your cousin was not the object of your choice. The match, in every point of view, was desi- rable ; the contiguity of the estates ; her rational and unfashionable education; in short, I had set my heart upon it, and I am disappointed." The very thoughtful cast which clouded the brow of Wentworth during this ha- rangue of the baronet, excited the curio- sity THE ENGLISHMAN. II sfry of the father. It was the most natural thing in the world for a son,, thus eulogized, either to disclaim the redundant praise, or express his gratitude. Wentworth did neither. He seemed lost to the present ; and sir Grmsby, whose af- fection for his son was unbounded, took fright at this apparent apathy. He feared that his recent upbraidings made his pre- sent sentiments irreconcileable ; and, with all the submission of a doating parent, he besought his son not to think of what he had said ; that Miss Wentworth would very shortly be lady Beverly ; and as he did not know any other woman worthy of him, it was most probable he would be spared all further importunity. Sidney smiled languidly at these transi- tive conditions ; at the same time candidly avowing that he had not the most remote idea of marrying. He was unwilling to cast a general censure on a state ordained with so much considerate tenderness for the happiness of man ; but of the few he knew b 6 who 12 THE ENGLISHMAN*. who bad wooed the silken bonds of ITy- men, scarcely any but had ultimately dis- covered them to be galling fetters. The baronet contended these unhappy results were the natural consequences of London manners, London education — mar- rying for estates in place of hearts. " Yet, my dear sir/' said Sidney, " you have pointed out an union of this sort to me. If personal beauty or interest could have influenced my feelings, I should have found no hesitation in complying with your wishes; but I am so persuaded I have formed very erroneous, not to say roman- tic, notions of a married life, that in order not to prove myself a visionist, I must re- main a bachelor." "Poh ! ridiculous \" replied sir Ormsby ; *' you will be ashamed of these sentiments a month hence. Come, you shall drive me in your curricle over to the Hall. We will surprise Grace ,* and, indeed, my excellent friend, lady Layton, claims your acknow- ledgments. She is one of your warmest admirers; THE ENGLISHMAN. 13" admirers; and I very shrewdly suspect that she would have no objection to a double union taking place in our families — I mean- between Louisa Beverly ^and you.'' Sidney parried this new alliance with much cheerfulness. He declared that he was as \vell disposed towards her ladyship, as her niece. Miss Beverly ; but as he felt it was a passion not likely to enda.no er his peace, he had not the least objection to facing the danger. Accordingly the curricle was ordered; and our hero, with all the expedition of a practised whip, soon brought the baronet to the avenue which led to Lay ton Hail. The equipage was distinguished by Miss Went worth from the breakfast-room. She fled to meet her cousin. " My dear Sid- ney," and " my dear Grace," were the ex- pressions which were interchanged ere Went worth had given the reins to his groom. " How she blushes !" said the baronet, m a low voice, to his son, " Joy / 1 I THE ENGLISHMAN. w Jov has her roses distinct from Love/ r replied Went worth j as he descended from the carriage, and with unrestrained freedom' saluted the cheek of his fair kinswoman. The arrival of a welcome visitor in the country j is announced by means less for- mal, and infinitely more sincere, than those used in London Lady Layton's butler had recognised our hero ; and with that zeal inseparable from an attached domestic, had made the plea- sing communication, that Mr. Wentworth and sir Onnsby were approach in g. The ladies instantlv quitted their immediate en- gagements, and met their friends in the sa- loon. " This is an unexpected pleasure/ 5 said lady Lavton. " Mv nephew will share our feelings ; and, indeed, I almost think he has procured us our present gratification." "That! must contradict" said the ba- ronet, while an animated glow passed over his cheek. " Sidney is here in compliance with a half wish of mine. He was always an THE ENGLISHMAN. 15 an adept in anticipating these sort of things; but somewhat tardy where I was most anx- ious," continued the baronet, lowering his voice. " How are we to account for this?" " I really feel too happy plied lady Layton, i( to seek into causes I see rhe happiest effects growing out of that libe- rality and confidence which has marked your conduct towards all those who have claim on your affections ; and while I allow this, I do not disown that a portion of sel- fishness is mine. Had von been arbitrary, where would my dear Beverly have found bis consolation ?" " Upon my honour," said sir Ormsby, with an air of affected gravity, " you are doing an irreparable mischief. Observe this attentive group, who are translating your sentiments to their individual situa- tions. Fanny is, in idea, confiding her long- concealed feelings to your lenient judg- ment ; whilst my little Louisa seems already in the presence oF her lover — if blushes indicate truly in such cases. Sidney, it is you 16 TffE ENGLISHMAN. you or I," continued sir Ormsby, address- ing his son ; i^ Wentworth pretends to assert that he will remain until ladv John Nugent*s party takes place, which is an- nounced for to-morrow. I know that Char- lotte will endeavour to detain him ; but George is so well aware of her talent for ridicule, that had he no other motive than an escape from its influence, he would not fail to be punctual.'' " I will not believe that Beverly could have a wish to stay one moment longer in London than is necessary to arrange the bu- siness for which he went there/' said sir Ormsby. " No, no, my dear madam, Grace's. prudery THE ENGLISHMAN. 21 prudery may lead her to discredit his re- turn, but she knows better." Miss Wentworth smiled incredulously, while Fanny Beverly declared she really thought it probable that her brother might be detained, though certainly against his l inclination ; " for Charlotte, in her letter of yesterday, avows her intention of using stratagem/ 1 continued Fanny, " in order to prove that her power over my brother, and his natural taste for gaiety, is superior to that implicit obedience and devotion he has been in the habit of amusing us with at Beverly. So you see, my dear aunt, that Grace has some reasons for her asser- tion/' " I will venture to predict/* said Sid- ney, "that sir George will keep his appoint- ment. Lady John is highly attractive, no doubt; and it was on this account that I chose rather to write my apology for the gala in a^iestion, than trust myself to her eloquence ; and, indeed, this should serve as my excuse for not being the bearer of her commands ; $2 'T;i: tmmands; but f knew that I]everl in Grosvenor-squarc, and would receixemorc extensi ntials/ 1 " Charlotte had no idea of p ingyou into her service/' replied Fanny I rly, * Poor Weritworth is quite out of spirits; I really believe he is home-sick. Do tell my dear sir Ormsbv that I wish he would command his grown baby to ronet, with an expression of lively saga- city. "But had she been contentious or arbitrary, how wretched had been our fates! Sir, I tell you that it is the admixture of character which, like the light and shadow in a portrait, gives the colouring to every tiling which partakes of nature ; and if you expect miracles to be wrought in your fa- vour, you are very presumptuous, and will live to lament that folly which has led you to expect perfection in a state that never yet exhibited a perfect model. M Too surely we are ' here to-day, and gone yesterday,' " said Fanny Beverly, with an arch smile. tc But, my dear sir Ormsby, do observe how we are alarming poor Grace, who seems actually ready to recant her vows, and resolve on a life of celibacy. Grace smiled through a blush, and re- futed the charge. w I must make some dis- coveries from my own discernment," said the attached girl, " ere I apply any gene- ral comparison with an individual prefer- ence." vol. i. c Wentworth ' 26 THE ENGLISHMAN. Wentworth took the hand of his cousin. ine judges of ourselves — that we are lenient where we should be scrupulous ; and that, in order to qualify our imperfect nature, we distinguish our foibles bv terms which should only be applied to the better efforts of our reason. The fashionable invalid was not only vi- sible, but attired with a studied though simple elegance, which added greatly to her beauty. She affected to be deeply of- fended at the estrangement of Mr. Went- worth ; and with a look of calm dignity, declared that she would have persuaded Marnley not to seek him any more. Sidney felt his cheek glow — it was not from humility, but disappointed vanity. — • Should he make his peace, or believe her sincere ? He chose the former ; for at this moment, THE ENGLISHMAN. 39 moment, such is the contrariety of mere human nature, Sidney would rather have been reassured, than convinced that he was in error. If such were his hopes, he was not dis- appointed. The lady relented, and re- ceived him into favour ; he was not to re- lapse, or she would wholly discard him ; and in making these terms, she threw so much softness into her manner, and appear- ed so interested in the arrangement, that our hero forgot lord John and his advice, and thought only of how he should appear sufficiently grateful for a condescension he so little deserved. The entrance of Mr. Marnley called the attention of Sidney from this seductive wo- man ; and it was perhaps at this instant he first became acquainted with that most for- cible and imperious voice — the voice of conscience. As he gave his hand to the unsuspecting Marnley, a feeling not unlike to suffocation nearly suspended his utter- ance. We 49 THE ENGLISHMAN. We may allow that this emotion,, on an occasion like the present, is not a peculiar feature in the character of a modern Eng- lishman, "who can "smile, and smile, and- be a villain ;" yet the attribute would not diminish the beauty of the human portrait, but might, if graciously improved, hand the sketch down to posterity, with a fast- ness of colouring which mocks the. depre- dations of time. That watch fulness which can alone secure, us against the approaches of error, was, in a manner, torn from the half-consenting, bosom of Sidney ; for ere the trio had quitted the dinner-table, a note was pre- sented to Mrs. Marnley. " What a cruel tempter !" said the fair dissembler. " Only hear, Marnley;^ and she read as follows. " Lady Linburne offers her sin- cere condolence in the indisposition of her dear 1HE ENGLISHMAN. 4-1 dear Clara. Would have made her inqui- ries in person, had she heard of it sooner; but, unfortunately, did not see the Post until she had commenced her toilet. If her dear friend has not lent her box for the Opera this evening, would esteem herself favoured by her permission to use it. She fears to offer in return her private box at Covent.Gardeni which might lead the dear invalid to tempt a little danger, where she would be so sure to meet a sentimental feast. The play is ■ The Conscious Lovers,' u Tuesday evening" u How shall I act ?" asked the docile Clara. i* Lend your box, by all means," said Mr. Marnley ; f * but I would not aavise your exposing yourself to the night air." " Ah ! I see how it is," replied the lady, with a half smile. " You are «;ettin^ so fond 42 THE ENGLISHMAN'. fond of home, that you wish to persuade me it is the only place in which I shall be secure from colds, &c. &c; but that can- not always succeed : so, my dear Marnlr -. . prescribe a more palatable regimen. I wish just now that you would order me to re- cruit my spirits, by an attendance at the mimic scene. You will consent ? — yes. I will disguise myself, by my caution to pre- serve my health; and if you are not dis- posed to take the charge, consign me to the care of Mr. Wentworth. Positively I have a very great idea that this same play would tend greatlv to the amusement of your poor sombre Clara/' Wentworth heard this arrangement with a mixed sensation of surprise and regret. He avowed himself readv to attend the lady ; yet ventured to express his fears that she might increase her indisposition. "Not a word," said Mrs. Marnley, and she laid her white hand upon the arm of Sidney ; — he was not awed, but he was flat- tered. THE ENGLISHMAN. 43 tered. Clara conquered ; and dispatching a hasty answer to lady Linburne, she soon after quitted the dinner-table. When the carriage was announced, Mrs. Marnley folded her shawl round her figure, so as almost to obscure her person. " This/* said she, " will not only secure me from cold, but from detection, as I should not wish to be seen out until I have sent to Boyle to issue my cards of thanks." "Observe how fashion, and a taste for sen- timental writing, will lead a woman to fi- nesse," said Mr. Marnley. " Do these facts lead you to think of marriage, Wentworth f? " They have not, as yet, tempted me to contemplate the subject," replied Sidney, " I suppose I shall be caught, and in time wear my chains with due humility." " What a hideous inference you have drawn from the remark of my carasposa!" said Mrs. Marnley. "I do not allow such sarcasms in my presence. Allons," conti- nued the now elated Clara, as she descend- ed to the carriage. This u THE ENGLISHMAN. This evening's association opened ths eyes of Sidney to the finesse which some women practise. He beheld his compa* nion so wholly subdued by the pathetic parts of this comedy, as to be, or appear to be, unconscious of the extent of her weakness. He thought it possible to be af- fected by a genuine sentiment of feeling; he allowed that the mind might be capti- vated to a degree which should give the fiction an appearance of reality- ; but* in all pre-arranged expression, there is a correct- ness, not to say an hyperbole, which, upon examination, owns less of nature than suits with domestic scenery. - Thus when Mrs. Marnlev turned from the comic interval, and reverted to the senti- mental exhibition, he was internally arraign^ ing her affected taste, if not dissecting her real from her assumed character. As if to recal, or rather to pervert, his just analysis, a folded paper caught his eye ; he raised it from the carpet, and without thought opened and glanced over* its contents. He knew THE ENGLISHMAN. 43 knew not that Mrs. Marnley had observed the action ; he had never considered it might have fallen from her pocket ; but now its purport had met his view. He looked inquiringly towards his companion, and not perceiving that she appeared to have done so, he hurried it into his pocket. To trace the progress of moral error is a task truly painful; nor is it a province in which a female pen should embark too deeplv, even admitting that the present is a period in which warmth of colouring and glowing sentiment is highly appreciated, and this upon the worst of all principles, the unfeminine avowal that it is constitu- tional to the fair vendor to disseminate such sentiments. That vice should ever be depicted in odious colours, needs no new proof to es- tablish its propriety ; yet I must believe that it is not by the diffusiveness of descrip- tion a delicate mind could be guarded,- but rather by pourtraying the consequences, by placing every perverted principle in that point 46 THE ENGLISHMAN. point of view in which it is regarded by those for whom they step aside. It is by these means I presume to think a tale of error may convey a judicious moral. The paper which had fallen (accidental- ly, as it would appear) into the hands of Wentworth, was a love-sick sonnet "On Absence," with the signature "Clara" sub- joined. Sidney had not scanned its merits, nor allowed himself to dwell upon the in- cident ; at least he persuaded himself that he had not applied its subject specially. He did not remain long in doubt ,* for on the succeeding morning, a note, penned under the impression of alarmed sensibility, claim- ed at his hands, a paper which it was hoped would not wholly destroy the fair writer in the opinion of the generous Wentworth. When a lady had given him credit for this quality, it was not in nature that he should deny the attribute. He did more — he answered her note, and added gratitude to the list of his virtues. The sonnet was detained ; he no longer fled from the clan- ger THE ENGLISHMAN. M ger which environed him ; he became the constant attendant of Mrs. Marnley. Lord John Nugent again expostulated — it was in vain. Wentworth was infatuated, and he believed he was in love; his conscience slumbered. From this dream he was awakened, by- means which wholly staggered his resolu- tion. Mr. Marnley, in confidence, sought his advice. He trembled for the health of his Clara ; he was convinced she was un- happy ; he was certain she was consumptive. Sidney heard the unaffected anxiety of his friend in silence; his heart smote him. <( Am I the wretch who has caused this?" sighed he, mentally; " and do I meditate to wound your honour, as I have already destroyed your peace?" His resolution was taken. He suppressed, as much as pos^ sible, the real agitation which almost un- nerved him ; and, in a few words, advised Mr Marnley to remove his wife from the metropolis, as an expedient worthy of trial. Weniworth had congratulated himself upon 43 THE ENGLISHMAN. upon this triumph of principle, and was reflecting on the inverted order by which he had been led to a precipice so fearful, when a billet from the rejected Clara was presented to him. It was in the impera- tive mood, and commanded his instant at- tendance. The philosophy of our hero was somewhat subdued by this mandate. It would have been virtue to refuse, yet the whole schedule -of modern gallantrv offered not a precedent in this case ; he had not time to digest new plans. Thus, like ano- ther Alexander, he went, but he conquer- ed himself. His fair upbraider was eloquent in her distress; she pronounced him the most un- grateful of his sex. He admitted her cen- sure to be just in part — while he opposed the virtues of her husband, his friend, to be such as demanded his esteem, and claim- ed from him any thing than a return so un- generous. She was prepared to meet his indiffer- ence, she avowed, but not his malice ; the idea THE ENGLISHMAN. 4t idea of quitting London was insupport- able. Sidney was proof against her anger:-— That very confidence which Marnley had in his honour, the simplicity with which he had reported his advice to his unworthy consort, were so many proofs of the unsus- picious nature of his friend, as armed the now guarded Wentworth against all the blandishments of the perfidious Clara. They parted more in anger than in love. Scarcely two days had elapsed, when our hero w r as summoned to the chamber of Mr. Marnley, who had been seized with an apo- plectic fit, and in his first lucid interval had expressed a wish to see Mr. Wentworth. Deep and compunctious were the feel- ings of Sidney. He dreaded to learn thai the internal anguish of his friend had ac- celerated his disease ; but on this head the decision of the medical men proved highly satisfactory ; it was not the first attack, and Mr. Marnley's habit was plethoric. But how greatly was the delicacy of our hero's si- ▼ol. u d , tuatioji 50 THE ENGLISHMAN. tuation increased, when he heard himself named, by the lawyers who attended the sick man, as one of the trustees of the blooming widow ! The scribe actually glanced towards our trustee, as he penned the required codicil. " He is my senior in all that is solid and praiseworthy," said the dying man, who had observed the manner of Mr. Wimbush, the attorney. Sidney was overpowered by an eulogium so unmerited. He would have begged a release from an engagement so un propi- tious, had not the physician proscribed all conversation. To pass over matters irrelevant to our story, Mr. Marnley died that night ; and the inconsolable Clara was consequently in- visible, until the proper season for her ap- pearance; she then, in "customary suit of solemn black," received her trustees with due form. She was amiably uninformed in the most trivial matter that related to mo- ney concerns. Thus she had frequent oc- casion THE ENGLISHMAN. 51 casion to call upon the deputed agents of her fortune. Wentworth saw all the inconveniences which would attach to the nomination, and uniformly refused to offer an opinion or advice, but with his joint trust, Mr. Car- berry. The widow was not slow in observing the tardiness of the ungrateful Sidney, yet she hoped : for she remembered a thousand in- stances in which widows had borne away the prize from girls of acknowledged beau- ty. Yet, again, memory whispered the Ta- dies had in these cases been experienced dames, and the men, for the most part, very youthful ; and it is probable that amongst the reflections to which her imperious at- tachment reverted, not the least irrecon~ eileable was that which assured her Sidney really possessed a mind of uncommon de- licacy. In this conclusion we must support her; and though Wentworth had nearly fallen from his hitherto upright character, and had d 2 actually $Sn*«i* 52 THE ENGLISHMAN. actually contemplated the seduction of Mrs. Marnley, though this had been the exact state of things, and she was now free to chuse, she was at this moment the last wo- man to whom he would address himself; nay, he reflected on the past with strong feelings of shame*. That systematic hypo- crisy with which he had recently treated the departed Mr. Marnley appeared now in a just point of view — it was vile dissimula- tion. Can it be supposed he could esteem the woman who had caused him thus to wander from the open path of truth ? She was not only an object of indifference to him, but almost of disgust ; and had Mr. Carberry been a man in whom he could have confided, he would have shackled him with a more than proportionate share of the irksome trust. Six months had elapsed since the death of Mr. Marnley, and Sidney had never made one reference to those unequivocal proofs of favour which he had received from the un- reserved Clara, who, seizing an opportu- nity, THE ENGLISHMAN. 53 nify, when the absence of Mr. Carberry made her address decorous, began by re- questing Mr. Wentworth to give her his ad- vice on the subject of a proposal which had been suggested to her, viz. lord Oster- ly, the nephew of her deceased husband, had written to know if she was disposed to let Marnley, the elegant country-seat of Mr. Marnley ? Sidney replied, in a short note, that he thought she would prefer retiring to a spot where she was known ; arid as the summer was advancing, he considered that she would be wise in rejecting the proposal. Mrs. Marnley was pleased with the tenor of this reply. It looked like supporting her in her rank ; and she accordingly de- cided instantly, by rejecting the offer of lord Osterly. There was, in truth, very little to flatter the widow in the advice given her by Sid- ney. He wished her absence, and con- cluded, that if she fell into the terms of his lordship, her plans for the summer would d3 be 54 THE ENGLISHMAN. be unfixed ;: and he knew not how adven- turous her ill-concealed partiality for him might make her ; and as he well knew that the generous heart of Mr. Marnley would have been deeply wounded had he believed it possible that his Clara would hold com- munication with a family who had wholly neglected him in consequence of her ad- mission into it, he considered that in his advice to Mrs. Marnley he had not been in- tirely guided by self-love. Mr. Carberry, on his return, paid his re- spects to Wentworth. They had never been familiar ; but it was the character of his col- league to exercise towards those he esteem* ed a warmth and zealousness of friendship perfectly well intended, though somewhat obtrusive in its appearance. Mr. Carberry had made a discovery which he fondly imagined would be highly grati- fying to our hero — namely, that the lovely widow did full justice to the graceful figure and conciliating manners of her youthful trustee. Mr. Carberry was unfeignedly sur~ prised THE ENGLISHMAN. 55 prised when Sidney treated the communi- cation as a jest. lie adduced proofs innu- merable, not omitting to name the riches of the fair candidate for Hymen. Sidney was firm — nay, more, he request- ed Mr. Carberry would not countenance such a report by smiling at it.' " You are a very extraordinary young man," said Carberry, smiling. " I have heard that in my friend Marnley's time you were an attentive escort of his wife's. It is therefore quite incomprehensible why you should be so alarmed by the bare men- tion of her partiality. Take my word, Mr. Wentworth, the widow need not sigh in vain." " Certainly not/* replied Wentworth ; " but I beg to disclaim the implied prefer- ence. " " I am yet incredulous," retorted Mr. Carberry. " Why, sir, it is one of those fortuitous chances which few young men would reject ; many a plan will be laid to d 4 ensnare 56 THE ENGLISHMAN. ensnare that fortune which actually waits your acceptance/' " Those who condescend to lay plans in an engagement of the sort to which you allude, have no right to expect, nor do they merit happiness. For myself, T con- fess that my feelings, not less than my prin- ciples, lead me to discredit such things in women, though I can readily believe our sex very frequently adopt the system/' " We will not argue this point," inter- rupted Mr. Carberry. " I yet entertain strong hopes that our lovely charge is doom- ed to make your happiness. Mr. Went- worth, I am almost tempted to abuse that tyrant Time, who precludes me the possi- bility of a distinction so flattering." Sidney laughed at the vague prediction of Mr. Carberry, and with equal sincerity wished he might succeed to that favour he appeared to estimate so highly. The elucidation of Carberrv was an ad- ■ ditional reason for our hero's absenting himself THE ENGLISHMAN. 57 himself from Mrs. Marnley. It was truly an " enforced ceremony" which ever led him thither. Thus, though, agreeably to the pure acceptation of the word love, there could be no reduction in that which never existed, yet Wentworth had been the slave of infatuation. He had hovered on the brink of error, and believed himself inte- rested in the entanglement ; his good for- tune absolved him from this dilemma, and his gratitude was proportioned to hisescape. Not so Mrs. Marnley. She, it is probable, might not regret that her actual fame was unsullied, though, in that case, honour might have effected what love disowned, for the thing is usual ; but she relied on those con- victions of which Sidney could not but be sensible. Alas ! it was trusting: to theaber- rations, rather than the sincerity of man. Gratitude must be an inhabitant of a good mind. I speak not of pecuniary gratitude, which fetters a generous soul, and makes it " poor indeed," but of that species of gra- titude to which friendship and solicited con- d 5 fidence •58 THE ENGLISHMAN. fidence give birth. These are the soothing emanations of exalted feelings ; and to these the noblest natures gracefully demean themselves. The Circean dame, no more than the pining virgin, can claim from man more than a qualified and short-lived devo- tion, Wentworth could have illustrated this truism specially,; and it was to Mrs. Marn- ley we alluded when we avowed that our hero chose rather to address a few lines ap- prizing her of his departure for Adderfield. It is true, his resolutions were fixed with re- gard to this lady. He wished not to tempt her anger; and he felt that her reproaches might alarm his conscience. To avoid the danger seemed desirable. Thus, merely naming his journey as a casualty which their relative situation made consistent, he left the widow to London and its attractions* and sought the abode of his father. CHAP. THE ENGLISHMAN. 59 CHAP. m. *' A man I knew, who liv'd upon a smile, And well it fed him — he look'd plump and fair." The underlings in a comedy should never be suffered to make too conspicuousaflgure in the piece ; they may be necessary to the effect ; but if the audience are too sen- sibly interested for this class, we reserve our heroes for a very inadequate portion of that applause which should especially attach to the principal personages. Thus, though I might, agreeably to the expression of a modern statesman, kill-off' a few of my people, I chuse a more happy method, and beg to marry off one couple, being con- vinced that my determination will be more likely to gain a majority, unless I could pro- d G mise tO THE ENGLISHMAN. mise to accompany my murders with soul- harrowing incidents, and terrific images. Sir George Beverly arrived at Beverly, his paternal estate, some hours before that named in his letter to Miss Wentworth. — Without waiting to change his travelling- dress, he mounted his horse, and was at Layton Hall in a period which love will easilv calculate, when the distance is stated to have been three short miles. Fanny Beverly drew her watch from her side, and, smilingly, remarked the over- punctuality of her brother, while the beat- ing heart of Miss Wentworth evidently pro- claimed that there is a mechanism in the human construction which antedates time, and reckoning by affection, relies upon possibilities. As the baronet's visit to London had been for the purpose of arranging marriage-set- tlements, &c. &c. his return now hastened the completion of his happiness. Our hero attended the nuptials of his cousin, with a heart which took the live- liest THE ENGLISHMAN. 61 liest interest in the union. He was attach- ed to sir George from principle. They had been friends from their youth ; their habits were similar, though their characters were distinct. Lady Layton and her nieces regarded the connexion as highly honourable, while sir Ormsby, now convinced beyond all doubts that Sidney was heart-whole, cast aside his useless regrets, and gave loose to the na- tural urbanity of his character. Some weeks had elapsed, and the bride had passed the ordeal of county visiting, which is a trial somewhat formidable ; for in the country, as in London, there are the friendlys, the curious, the observing, and the envious ; yet lady Beverly appeared to retain that place she had ever held in the sphere of her little circle. Sidney was so engaged in the family plans, so busily happy in that distinction which his new connexions claimed, that he was in absolute danger of being spoiled. That approbation which is so bountifully bestowed 62 THE ENGLISHMAN. bestowed upon an independent and per- sonable man in London, can never flatter any but a trifler, who values himself only as he is conspicuous ; but where the social feelings are called into action, and a man feels his own importance in a circle which his reason must approve, he yields to the soothings of unfashioned friendship, and is amiably alive to all the happiness of his situation; but the least diminution in his prerogative, the introduction of a compe- titor, sensibly affects his pride. This trait in the manly character would be disowned by thousands who are at the moment acting under its influence. Yet it were folly to refute the charge ; and happy would it be for this lordly creature, if he possessed not a vanity more objectionable than that of wishing to be estimated where it is honourable to be esteemed. Wentworth had passed the morning with the Beverlys, and was riding slowly up the avenue to Adderfield, when the appearance of a travelling carriage, from which the horses THE ENGLISHMAN* 63 horses had been loosed, attracted his atten- tion. Sidney inquired who had arrived during his absence ? " Lord Osterly and Mr. Supple/* said Watkins, the butler, as our hero passed on to the sitting-room of sir Ormsby. A confused idea of the probable cause of his lordship's visit crossed his mind. He believed Mrs. Marnley capable of exerting a very extensive system of speculation ; and that lord Osterly^ who was a light and inconsiderate young man, would take great pleasure in any plan of the kind. " Sidney," said the baronet, as Went- worth entered the room, " here are two of your friends." Sidney welcomed his lordship with po- liteness, while towards Mr. Supple he ob- served a more marked, yet respectful de- meanour. " You are surprised," said his lordship ; " but, my dear uncle-elect, I could not think of passing so near the Hall without making my bow with due submission." Mr. 64 THE ENGLISHMAN. Mr. Supple smiled. His smiles, like the whispering echo, were ever waiting on the last sound. " You distinguish me by a title to which I never gave a thought, or can have a claim,'* said Wentworth; "so pray, my lord, be sincere, and tell me that you knew I was at home, and thought I should be glad to see you/' 9 Poh ! this is folly/' replied lord easter- ly. u Wentworth, you are considered a very blunt fellow. I have broken the ice," continued the peer. * Sir Ormsby has heard from me a most interesting detail of your very delicate situation; so you need not deny it." " Had there been the most remote foun- dation for the report to which you allude/' said Sidney, " my father would have heard it from me ; but " M This is devilish odd," said the peer, turning to Mr. Supple. " Excessively so," my lord; "but that amiable feature of character which you at- tribute THE ENGLISHMAN. 65 tribute to Mr. Wentworth, by the term of bluntness, I beg to observe that the inge- nuousness of his reply wholly does away the delusion. The lady has calculated er- roneously." " Impossible/' said lord Osterly. "My dear sir/' addressing the baronet, H can it be believed that a young widow, with three thousand per annum, and a person really above mediocrity, should have been so blindly infatuated as not to feel her own importance ?" u We are traversing dangerous ground," replied sir Ormsby. " A woman's fame is of a texture so delicate as to claim our for- bearance, even where our conclusions may be supposed to be accurate. All unmarried men are the property of the ladies. I hope very few are purchased; and for my son, I confess, while I feel assured of his confi- dence in all cases which relate to a parent, I do not hesitate to say that I should prefer the daughter who had not known a first love." " There 66 THI ENGLISHMAN. ft There is infinite justness and delicacy hi your remark/' said Mr. Supple; "and the pretensions of Mr. Wentworth to such a distinction cannot be doubted/' Sidney regarded the speaker with astern countenance ; and turning to lord Osterly, proceeded to ask some questions concern- ing their mutual acquaintance. " The town is full of fascination at this moment/' replied his lordship; "and I ought to account for my migration. Positively, Wentworth, you are one of the causes which propelled my visit to the shade. The fair widow actually languishes for your return; and I half-promised her that I would whis- per the gentle truth in your ear. But the ostensible motive of my journey was to pay my respects to Beverly's bride. I hear she is devilish handsome ; and I wish to make my observations, and carry the report into a certain circle, for the pure purpose of exciting envy, malice, &c. &c." ff A most benevolent intention/' said Wentworth, smiling, " though scarcely in- ferior THE ENGLISHMAN. ST ferior in error to your first avowal. I am* surprised to find you visit in Grosvenor- street ; but must beg of you to speak of Mrs. Marnley as the wife of your respect- ed uncle It is alwa\s dangerous to tam- per with the characters of women : and when I assure you that you wound rather than flatter my feelings in the present in- stance, I am certain you will desist." " My poor rejected Epbesian !" sighed lord Osterly, with a whimsical smile. " Oh, I forgot to mention, that being resolved on gaining my point with respect to hire- ing Marnley's villa for the season, I made my appearance in Grosvenor-street, and was most graciously received by my "aunt* Upon my soul, she is a pretty creature ; and as I am at liberty to act for myself now, I accepted her general invitation, and have laughed away many an idle hour with the fashionable Clara. But you are her theme. She would have consented to let the estate, but you had advised her not to do so : and then she is so prettily confused, and blushes so, *>S THE ENGLISHMAN. so, when I call you a sly fellow to have en- grossed so fair a prize to yourself, that — M " The e lady feels the delicacy of her si- tuation, sir/' interrupted sir Ormsby. — u Such allusions must be particularly pain- ful to a heart so lately widowed. " t( Poh ! my dear sir, you are wholly mis- taken/* continued his lordship; "it is se- ven long months since my uncle died." "If you had been on terms of friend- ship with him," interjoined Sidney, with a countenance in which reproof was evident, u I am persuaded you would not have com- mitted yourself so much as to speak thus lightly of one whom he loved with unex- ampled tenderness." (< I am perfectly of your opinion, sir,'* replied Mr. Supple. " My friend, lord Os- terly, is so generally happy in his badinage, that he suffers his spirits to carry him be- yond his original intention. 3 ' (( I believe this is the usual quality of the talent you name, sir," said Sidney. Mr. Supple bowed profoundly, and turn- ing THE ENGLISHMAN. 69 ing'to the baronet, complimented him upon the uncommon solidity and acquirements of his son. The baronet was vulnerable in this point; and Sidney, in order to draw his immediate feelings from a conversation to which he could not listen, and preserve the rights of hospitality, entered into a desultory con- versation with the young lord. " But tell me, my dear Wentworth," said his lordship, " is lady Beverly such a divi- nity ?" " A mere mortal, I assure you," said Sid- ney ; " quite the woman to foil your spi- rits, if not to oppress you with ennui/* " Hah ! a moralist I suppose ; a country miss, full of sentiment and romantic theory. But is she not to be naturalized ? will not London, by teaching her the value of her charms, make her more amenable, more like ms .?" " I sincerely hope lady Beverly will ever remain what she now is — an unaffected wo- man. As such, no example unworthy of 3 her 70 THE ENGLISHMAN. her imitation will have the power of effect- ing any change in her sentiments. But I believe, my lord, you have forgotten this divinity is my cousin.** Mr. Supple, who was not so much en- gaged but that he had an ear for this re- mark, turned, with a most conciliating smile, « towards our hero. " I have experienced an inconceivable degree of apprehension," said this ductile toad-eater, " lest my ami- able friend should, in the warmth of his heart, utter a sentiment irreverent to the very perfect character of the elegant lady Beverly." " Is she known to you ?" asked Sidney, with a look of cool surprise. {< I have not that honour, sir," replied Supple ; " but that she was a Wentworth is sufficient to claim the respect of all who value goodness." " How do you support yourself under this torrent of affected sentiment ?" asked our hero of lord Osterly, in a low voice. " Faith, if he was not very useful' in a thousand THE ENGLISHMAN. 71 ihousand points, I should have cut with him long since; but at this time he is a neces- sary evil." * f What an exorbitant interest you pay for his services/' replied Sidney, " by suf- fering him thus to draw upon your time !" " Your remark bears a very extensive la- titude, my dear fellow," said his lordship, with a smile; " he is devilish high in his charges." Supple, who by no means approved of the apparent familiarity of the young men, nor the very repulsive manner which Sid- ney observed towards him, became alarmed lest the discernment of Wentworth should lead his hitherto ductile pupil to think for himself. Strictly speaking, there was scarcely a young man in the whole circle of his nu- merous acquaintance of whom he stood in awe, save our hero. He had applied him- self successfully to the ruling passion of his victims ; and though a few had thought the system bad, as they looked on and be- held 72 THE ENGLISHMAN. held the versatility of Mr. Supple's genius, though hypocrisy had sometimes been ob- vious, not one had proved himself a scep- tic when the remedy was specifically ap- plied. Wentworth's was a truly independent mind. His nature was generous, and his heart open to the liveliest impressions of friendship. No man was more likely to discover, even at the expence of his for- tune, that he had calculated too favoura- bly, and bestowed his favours unworthily. A pecuniary error might diminish his self- importance as a man of the world ; he could bear these disappointments with philoso- phic firmness ; but when he had more than once been deceived under the garb of seem- ing virtue, his heart sickened at the disco- very, and like a mere trusting son of hu- manity, he breathed his distempered feel- ings. " Alas !" said the wounded Sidney, "are these the creatures to whom my heart spon- taneously turned ? Is it by these fatal dis- coveries THE ENGLISHMAN. 73 coveries in the characters of my fellow be- ings that I am to acquire a knowledge of human nature, which is to check my fondly indulged hopes ? — forbid it, Heaven ! I will not 'seek in man for more than man ;' but the moment that tells me all my ac- tions must be weighed by the cold medium of caution, that hour which checks the warm impulse of humanity, and fills my breast with doubts, leaves me a desolate being, though surrounded by myriads of my spe- cies." That a heart thus fashioned should feel indignant in the presence of a Supple, will create no surprise; nor that the smiling miscreant should be anxious to quit a so- ciety in which he saw himself in a manner detected, is by no means wonderful — repent- ing his usual exordium, " My dear lord." interrupted this satellite, (( I believe you have forgotten that our dinner must be nearly ready ; vou ordered it at five." " Supple should have been a parson," =;aid lord Osterly, laughing, ,r he has such vol. i. e a fine 71 THE ENGLISHMAN*. a fine scent for the good things of this world." Sir Ormsby expressed some disappoint- ment that the young lord should have used such ceremonv. u / am tempfed to regret it," said lord Osterly ; cc but the fact is, my dear sir, lam pressed for time. I have but three days, and in that short term must make my bow to lady Beverly, steal the heart of one of her sisters, flatter the old dowager who has charge of them, learn their plans, take ano- ther peep at Adderfield, in order to be the bearer of a billet, or a sigh, or a look, either of which shall be given with due effect, on the instant of mv arrival in town. Thus you perceive, my dear sir Ormsby, that I have my hands full of business." u If my father sees your statement with mv eyes," replied Sidney, "he will laugh at you as 1 do. You have taken some trouble to tell Beverly and myself what we already knew — that you are a thoughtless animal. But I fear your expedition, like most mo- dem THE ENGLISHMAN. 75 dcrn achievements, will prove a most abor- tive scheme." "Ah, I understand you," said the peer. " My poor little widow ! Wentworth, you are guilty ; I see it. You are making love in the hamlet, and forgetting the courtly dime." " My affections are certainly limited to the hamlet," replied Sidney ; " further I lay not." " But if you were more copious," said sir Ormsby, " the explanation could not but be honourable : for here, my dear Sid- nev. there are none of the dangers which attach to the passion in London. The man- ners of the women are more pure'; they are almost strangers to the undermining flattery which constitutes the leading trait in the character of a fashionable man. Nor can 1 understand the nature of that luve which will not bear avowal, I speak not Clf those e\ nescent passions which are une times distinguished by the name of e 2 lo\e ; 76 THE ENGLISHMAN. love; they are unworthy of our considera- tion ; but " " Worthy sir," interrupted Mr. Supple, * I fear if we exempt that little band which most probably owes its happiness to the in- fluence of your good example and enlight- ened sentiments, if 'we except the Arcadian demesne of Adderfield, there will not be found, in an equally independent circle, the rare but blissful perspective of unso- phisticated love." Sir Ormsbv looked 5 rave, and fixing a steady eye upon the palpable flatterer, " Sir," said the baronet, " ] believe you take me for a very young man ;" and he walked towards an open window, as if to calm the rising indignation which filled his breast. " I have grown with those oaks/* continued the animated sir Ormsbv, point- ing to some stately trees which ornament* ed the avenue, " and like them I am firm- not to be shaken by every light blast that crosses my path, believe me, sir." 11 My THE ENGLISHMAN. 77 Cf My dear sir Ormsby," said lord Gster- ]y, " let me complete your metaphor. — Supple is the creeping ivy, which winding round the oak, would willingly obscure its beauties in his evergreen mantle; but the oak towers above, and looks down upon the insidious wanderer with tremendous majesty." " And what are you }*' thought our hero, ml CD * '* who can thus discriminate, yet bear the garish deceit ?" Might he not have added to the allegory, and likened his lordship to that apple which grows upon this patriarch of the woods, and which, when separated from the tree, owes all its value to its bit- terness ? The awkwardness of Mr. Stipple's sirua** tion had been considerably increased by the remark of lord Osferly ; yet this pipe, on which "Folly might sound what stop she pleased," owned only a momentary degra- dation ; he knew his power over his im- mediate victim, and trusted to his hitherto successful peculations. The dinner-hour, e 3 as 78 THE ENGLISHMAN. as had before been observed bv this osier- like friend, had actually arrived, and lord Osterly appeared indisposed to retire. — Drawing his watch, and suspending it to the view of the peer, he made an obsequi- ous bow. " Wentworth," said his lordship, as he seized his hat, " you are a churl. I would have taken roy dinner with your good fa- ther, had you seconded the invitation/' " You are my prisoner," replied Sidney, as he arrested the egress of his guest. "I am unconscious of the omission you name; but you go not under an impression so hos- tile to my feelings. " Sir Ormsby renewed his intreaties, which, with a tempered civility, were extended to Supple. '* My lord," said the anxious reptile, " have you forgotten that you have letters to write this evening?" "That is true," replied the peer, thought- fully. "'Yet you know what to say. Go," continued lord Osterly, "get your dinner, and THE ENGLISHMAN. 79 and pledge the gods to inspire you with eloquence." Supple was not slow in obeying the com- mands of his pupil but gladly withdrew from a circle in which he felt ill at ea e. Lord Osterly, emancipated from his now willing thraldom, became pleasant and en- tertaining. He possessed not those claims to esteem which captivate the attention, and bid us look to the rich harvest of coming years. Of him it might be said, •* In youth, of patrimonial wealth possest, The foi-e of science faintly warmM his breast.'* Yet sir Ormsbv, who ever leaned to the fair side of the portrait, saw something to esteem, while he inwardlv, and with the partiality of a father, contrasted his heart's treasure, with a scrupulousness that left a balance too decisive to be calculated by any judge less lenient than a parent. e 4 CHAP. £@ THE ENGLISHMAN- tmcmammttmi w > i.»*g> u CHAP. IV. " 'Tis vain to seek in man for more than man.'* A better feeling than vanity may lead a man to regret that triflers gain an ascend- ancy in society ; nor, if vanity stood the prominent feature in this case, need he blush to own it. The culture of intellect, like the exercise of mercy, " blesseth twice. " The toil capacitates the mind to compre- hend and appreciate enlightened senti- ments, while it repays the mental exertion, bv increasing its internal resources. To such a mind there can be no heavier ta>j, speaking of mere casualties, than that of being called upon to approve such a character. Considered as a visitor en pas- sant, lord Osterly appeared the most insig- nificant THE ENGLISHMAN. 81 nificant being imaginable; but when Sid- ney saw three days pass away, and his lord- ship yet lingered in the vicinity of Bever- ly ; when he beheld Fannv Beverly pleased with his attentions; and, above all, found the morning parties at the Hall arranged previously to his arrival, his pride took alarm. He had been valued, because he was the only recisbeo at hand ; it hadbeen highly Mattering, for they had appeared to esteem him ; but now the most egre&ious idler had superseded him, and his vanity sunk in proportion to his disappointment. To betrav jealousy where we own no in- dividual preference, appears arrogant; vet 1 fear this blemish cannot be erased from the character of an Englishman. An Irish- man can be the slave of half a thousand bright eyes, and remain wholly exempt from this too scrupulous feeling. Shall we impute this to his vanity, or his noncha- lance? That he is a creature capable of every noble impulse, admits not of a doubt. Then I would say, that the latter is all heart, e d the R2 THE PNGMSIfMAM. the former all nerve ; that the Irishman sees no ill, for his buoyant spirits balance the ills of life, thus avoiding a preponder- ance ; while the Englishman, tinctured with that variation which distinguishes his clime, fluctuates, hopes, and desponds, is vulne- rable and inaccessible, yet ever valuable, for a polished Englishman is a reflective being. Wentworth could not look on calmly. If by chance he called at Beverly, he was greeted with some salutation which bespoke lord Osterly's importance. Some party had been projected, and he was solicited to join them ; and, contrary to all his idea of pro- babilities, Supple had gained an established footing in the family. While he deplored this, he was too much absorbed in disap- pointment to understand that by his occa- sional seclusions these uncongenial associa- tions had been formed. Sir Ormsby, whose petulance was easily aroused, grew severe in his remarks. To lord Osterly he was considerately lenient; but THE ENGLISHMAN. 83 but lie saw no reason why Mr. Supple should incroach upon the hospitality of sir George. As a host, no man evinced higher ideas of liberality than sir Ormsby. He was not, however, so prodigal of his time. Even when blessed with the society of his son and his niece, there were hours in which he sought. the retirement of his closet — hours which, dedicated to rational pursuits, fitted him more immediately for the charm of in- tellectual converse. The little festering irritabilities which are comprehended and felt by the nice obser- ver, by the heart possessing sensibility, these subtle underminers had completely deran- ged the so late happy life of our hero. In a fit of vexation, he had half resolved on quilting Adderfield, and returning to Lon- don, when the benevolent countenance of his father met his eye. " He has not dis- appointed me," said Wentworth, mentally. " Ch no — he is the kindest of parents;" e 6 and 84 THE ENGLISHMAN. and for the present his London journey was wholly forgotten. Lord Osterly, whose aim was notoriety, appeared fully sensible of the favour he enjoyed. He rode with sir George, pro- jected amusements for his lady, made love to Fanny Beverly, and affected a sentimen- tal taste whenever Louisa Beverlv bestow- ed her time upon him ; to lady Linburne he was the assiduous and respectful attend- ant, and would quit the girls to escort the aunt. Yet though his lordship timed his ser- vices so adroitly, there were two in the circle who wanted faith in the motives which induced his assiduities ; these were lady Be- verly and Louisa. Sir George Beverlv, warm-hearted and undesignmg, not prone to deep observa- tion, saw the peer with that indifference with which he would have beheld any other man of equal rank and similar sentiments. He knew thai lord Osterly was received everywhere, THE ENGLISHMAN. 80 everywhere, therefore it could not be wrong in him to entertain him as his guest. Sir Geerge, like half a thousand of his sex, believed he had a laste for rural scenes. He was mistaken. His estate required his occasional presence, and he willingly visit- ed it every year. Love had united his power to bind him to the scenes of his childhood. To his bride he was most affectionately at- tached ; he loved her for herself; but he prided himself upon the firmness of her character ; yet he was the last man in the world who could have sat him down con- tent to improve the land which his "fore- fathers tilled;" nay, he was already look* ing forward to the period of their appear- ance in London. Still the virtues of sir George were not of a negative sort. Human nature is ever mutable ; and we profess not to speak of men as angels, lest we should be compelled to doom them to celibacy, for I know not where we could irate them. The I) THE ENGLISHMAN. The baronet and his son were conversing on the subject of sir George's visitors, sir Ormsby evincing in every remark that jea- lousy which occupied his mind ; for the feeling, though various, is general ; 2nd a parent is not the least prone to this foible. I have seen its ebullitions, from the lisp of infancy to that period when the full grown scion supersedes the parent in the eye of the world. Nay, it has gone further. When the person, from becoming a legal proper- ty, has lost claim to particular devotion, it has passed from the person to their posses- sions. It is not known by the name of jea- lousy — it is called ambition ; and we are contented to deceive ourselves thus. Sir Ormsby thought his son superior to all other men's sons ; and he was pointing out the many frivolous traits in lord Oster- iy's character, when a servant entered, and announced a gentleman. " Has he no name ?" asked the baronet. V He says he is a stranger to you, sir, and requests to see you alone." "Alone I" THE ENGLISHMAN. 87 " Alone !" repeated sir Ormsby. " I hate mystery ! I can sec no reason for your quitting the room, Sidney," he continued. " Yet go — perhaps he is right." Went worth retired. In his egress from the library he met a young man of pre- possessing appearance. His countenance, though animated, had more of sorrow than joy in it ; and in his manner there seemed a trepidation which spoke forcibly to the heart of Wentworth. He paused, and rais- ing his large dark eyes, with a look of be- nignity perfectly in unison with his feel- ings, f My father will have the pleasure of receiving you directly, sir," said he j and turning back, he preceded the stranger, opened the library-door, and ushered him in. A silent bow from the young man ex- pressed his thanks. Sidney walked toward* the vestibule. He wished to ascertain whether any equipage awaited the return of the stranger. He learned from the servants that a hired chaise had brought the gentleman ; and further, 5 that 88 THE ENGLISHMAN. that it was ordered to an inn contiguous, where horses were to be ready for his im- mediate return. Whether Wentworth, like the baronet, hated mystery, we know not, vet his curio- sity was excited ; for his father's visitor ap- peared agitated and apprehensive of his reception. The general manner of sir Orms- by was conciliating ; Sidney therefore con- cluded that the stranger had some matter of a distressing nature to reveal, and it was to this cause he must impute the evident anx- ietv of their guest. These reflections had passed over his mind, and he was yet musing on the sub- ject, when sir Ormsby, following the stran- ger, appeared before him. The baronet looked ruffled. He waved his hand, with a most repulsive and inhos- pitable movement. fi You are deceived, sir," said he ,* " but I am not so credulous as to attend to this," and he referred to an oaen letter which he grasped in one hand. " I have stated a fact which that letter corroborates/* THR ENGLISHMAN. SO corroborates," said the stranger, With calm dignity. " Whatever th? pride of sir Orms- by Wentworth may suggest, mine never re- duced me to supplicate, where 1 had hoped to meet attention and respect; nor was I ever the a^ent of villanv." Sidney advanced—*' Allow me to medi- ate/' said he, in a voice of persuasive soft- ness — " ycu are both warm ;" and he glan- ced towards his father, with an expression that was not lost upon the stranger. It seemed to ask his forbearance, his consi- deration, for a man who was easily roused, and, we might add, as easily appeased. The young man advanced a few steps, and with an open brow requested to know if the baronet had reconsidered the sub- ject, and would allow him to be ihe bearer of a more propitious answer? " Forgive me, sir/' said sir Qrmsby, t( I must believe you — you speak like a man of honour; but you are credulous — it is vou who are deceived. Solve the matter, sir, and you will soon discover your error.' 3 u Impossible/' SO THE fcNGUSHMAN. " Impossible," said the stranger, with a mournful air; " it is past conjecture. But I will not detain you longer, sir,*' and bow- ing hastily to the baronet, and most cor- dially to Sidney, he quitted the house. Wentworth was on the eve of following. His heart impelled an instant communica- tion with this ambiguous stranger; but sir Ormshy, who saw the purpose of his son, opposed it. Wentworth stood gazing after the stranger, who more than once looked back towards the house. \x is here we might, with Rousseau, sav — ** There is a certain similarity of disposition, which is disco- vered in a moment, and which soon produces intimacy." But in the present instance, the parties, however we ! l disposed, were precluded from a chance so propitious; for the stran- ger was on his road to London, and Sidney left to bear the fluctuations and caprices of his father. Yet was our hero persuaded that he should know more of their late vi- sitor. He had been interested by his ap- pearance ; 1HK ENGLISHMAN. &l m pearance ; he anticipated that he wanted a friend ; and though there 'is always much difficulty in administering comfort of a pe- cuniary nature to a man, Sidney was assured that he could serve without wounding. A species of jealousy mixed even in this feel- ing, but it was purely national ; for an Englishman is a most tenacious beinjr in his friendships. He can serve munificent- ly, but he avoids communication ; and while his charily fertilizes the little sphere of his action, the secrecy with which it is bestowed enhances its value, for the favour- ed remain free — at least, he is less a slave than he might be. Now Wentworth, in idea, had wrested the name, character, and pretensions of the stranger from his father, his copious heart was planning extensive means of service, which were to be exclusively his own, when on entering the library, he found Mr. Sup- ple making his bow to the baronet, The tractable genius of this gentleman was of a nature not to be repressed by trilling 0$ Tire EKGMSHMA1J. trifling obstacles. He couid slide in at any door in London. His knowledge in ail cu- linary matters made him the most Conceni- at tut creature in the world. He would chuse a dish of fish for the widow Claveri ng, taste the claret For lady Bronze, write a bill of fare for two or three of his friends whose sudden elevations made them incompetent to arrange a fashionable dinner, &c. &c. It had been whispered thai Mr, Supple was in some danger from a conspiracy form- ed against him bv the men-cooks, on whose privileges he infringed. A stray pheasant, well larded, had been seen upon the road to Mr. Supple's lodgings ; and as the poul- terer was recognised, the second-table gen- try verv readilv concluded it was a job. — ■ They hated all jobs, more especially such as abridged their enjoyments ; and upon a scrupulous interrogation of Mr. Supple's valet, groom, &c. it was discovered that their master had no open accounts with any tradesman, that he rarely dined at home, but, received many presents of game, &c. "Proof THE ENGLISHMAN.- 93 " Proof positive," said these professional gentlemen ; and they vented some resolu- tions perfectly in character. One was for choking him in Ivs curry ; but this was re- jected, as the danger might be extended to others A second knew hh gout for noyau, ^d proposed infusing poison into kfa glass ; but an Italian, whose knowledge of English patronage was more judii ious, wisely s,ug* gested that the brotherhood* more espe* culls foreigner** should unite, and draw up certain resolutions, setting forth their ta r lent*, &c. &c. desiring an increase of sa-« lary, or their long-established salvage on the property of their masters. The scheme was successful. Not a master but was convinced that lh<3 poor devils bad been wronged ; Cor an epicure is seldom gratified by the cheapness of his fare. Thev instantly perceived their error. ]t was the easiest tiling imaginable to give up a friend such at Supply but bj no mea. sioeasy ui replace a knight of the palate. Fhf cooks conquered, and Supple soon saw 91 THE ENGLISHMAN. saw his ejection, in the long faces of his- acquaintance. Many were the calls he made; not a commission fell in his way ; and he was absolutely in danger of becom- ing a burthen upon his own little proper- ty, when lord Osterly, a full-plumed pi- geon, just emerging from the restrictions of a very rigid father, crossed his path.-—* The young peer fell into the snare ; and Mr. Supple, since his engagements with mv lord, had been seen more than once turning stock. Curiosity, low-minded curiosity, is al- most always: an accompaniment of the de- signing character. Now the eye of M>\ Supple was particularly keen, in his way to Addcrfield this morning, he had encoun- tered the stranger. Why the ra*aw/resur- prised him, it is not now necessary to re- late. The meeting gave rise to some uner, sensations— yet he passed on; but, as ho perceived our hero leaning over the ter- race, he made a circuit through the grounds, in order to avoid him, and, if possible, meet the THE ENGLISHMAN. 95 the baronet alone. He had a few questions to propose respecting the stranger; and such was his fear of our hero, that he ac- tually blushed, and looked confused, as Went worth discovered him in the library. The familiarity which had induced an in- trusion so bold, appeared to Sidney a new motive for his coldness. He therefore threw into his countenance ail that calm surprise which the character of his features was. emi- nently calculated to produce; and bowing formally to the salutation of their visitor, proceeded to regulate some volumes on a shelf, with no purpose save that of being employed. " I met a young man at the entrance of the copse," said Supple, addressing the ba« ronet, "whom I was astonished to see in this neighbourhood." •' Do you know him ?" said the baronet and his son in a breath. Supple felt his importance — " I would have it understood that he is not an acquain- tance of mine," said the traducer. •• In fact, 96 THi- EKCLISHMAK. fact, he Is a person whose habits of life are intirely out of a certain rank ; and it is whispered, (but 1 beg to be understood as merely repeating what I have heard,) that his means are very precarious/' Wentworth, who had given the stranger credit for qualities truly estimable, stood anxiously awaiting the elucidation of Supple, yet firmly resolved on judging for himself, ft My dear sir Ormsbv/' resumed Mr, Supple, ** London, In its present state, very different to what you and I remember it/' '* If you mean by this that its luxuries have increased/' reioined the baronet, " I Can readily believe it ; yet a metropolis like ours, while it exhibits strong and la rr»en table causes for regret, at the same time shelters so much worth as to leave 3 balance favourable to a man's natural pre* dilection for the country in which he \v born. But you were speaking of the young ynan you met ; what do vpu know of him ?" "Whv mv knowledge of this Mr, pu weston, THE ENGLISHMAN. 97 weston, in fact, amounts to no more than this — I was under the painful necessity of negotiating a friendly lean for a young nobleman, an acquaintance of mine, some months since. Being myself new to these sort of transactions, I was particularly scru- pulous of being seen at the house of Mr. Prince, though he is a man whose extensive connexions make him very generally known and esteemed. I however was shewn into an adjoining room to that in which Mr. Prince was, as I heard, engaged with a gen- tleman. Without the smallest intention or desire of knowing the business in question, I was compelled to be a hearer, for the par- tition was a thin wainscot, and the parties talked loudly. I heard a voice, more like intreatv than that confidence which is ne- cessary to insure the services of this class of people. Mr. Prince seemed desirous of getling rid of the business. I heard him plead engagements, and the utter impossi- bility of listening to proposals so vague as those of strict principles, honour, pure fn- vol. i. e ten! ions, 98 THE ENGLISHMAN. tcnUons, 8zc. At length I heard a final ne- gative put upon the business; and feeling a degree of curiosity to see the person who had formed so ridiculous an idea of a mo- ney-lender, I marked his appearance as he passed through the hall ; and a card which he had left upon the table of Mr. Prince, as he said, in hopes that he would make the inquiry he had suggested, and finally accede to his proposition, put me in possession- of his name. I have since seen him in public many times. His appearance is always that of a gentleman ; but I, who am acquaint- ed with his necessities, have been astonish- ed at the presumption of his conduct. He has once or twice dined at tables where I visit. His language is that of indepen- dence; he professes the most liberal senti- ments, rails at the follies of the dav, and addresses females, even of the most exalt- ed rank, with a sangfroid truly unaccount- able. These concurring circumstances did certainly excite a portion of surprise in my breast; and I took the trouble to ascertain his THE ENGLISHMAN. 99 his residence. I found it to be in an ob- scure part of the town ; but I could make out no direct way by which he attained his living. He would have fallen from my re- membrance, had I not met him one day with a female of extraordinary beauty." " Go on, go on, sir," interrupted sir Ormsby. Supple paused for a moment-^" Yes, my dear sir, even I, who am really difficult to please, must truly confess that Durvves- ton's wife is the most lovely woman I ever beheld." u His wife !" interrupted the baronet. " Has he married her ?" " I know not to whom yon allude/' re- joined the narrator, with a sarcastic smile; 44 but Mrs. Durweston is certainly a lovely creature. Such, however, is the poverty of this young man that he cannot support her; and she is now gone into a family, as companion or femme cle clianibre to a lady of rank." f 2 u Impossible !" 100 THE ENGLISHMAN. " Impossible i" said sir Ormsby ; " he dares not to suffer such a degradation." "Jam unfortunately ignorant of the lady's claim to a higher rank in life," con- tinued Supple, with a significant emphasis; "but as I was observing, it is trulv asto- nishing to see how people of no considera- tion, in hct, persons wholly unknown, how they mix in society." " Yet I thought you seemed to insinuate Mr. Dnrweston was a man whose habits of life were distinct from a certain circle?" said Sidney. " Did I say so ?" replied Supple. " Well, that took rise in my conviction that he did not deserve the consideration he seems in a degree to have attained/' " And he is married,'* interjoined sir Ormsby, with a thoughtful look. <( Why there again 1 beg to be under- )ocl," resumed Supple. <4 I do not ex- actly recollect how or \\!:ere I first saw the young woman, but I perfectly remerabef that T$E ENGLISHMAN. 10 I that the association seemed very familiar; and that more than once I have seen them purchasing articles of a domestic sort; and one evening, in particular, I saw them issue from a jeweller's shop, when the lady was evidently in tears." " I have been too hasty/' vociferated the baronet, in a tone of anguish. M I fear you have," replied Sidney. — " Shall I follow him ?" " No, no — I know not where they live; besides, he has married her, and withholds it from me." (C Permit me to observe, my dear sir Ormsby, that I am not in possession of the fact. The matter seemed probable, from the situations in which I have seen them ; and having by chance addressed the lady one evening, she took exception at it, and with all those high-flown notions of deli- cacy which usually attaches to proud po- verty, she expressed her resentment, in a tone which brought Durweston to her side* who, it seems, was discharging a coach from f 3 which 102 THE ENGLISHMAN. which they had alighted. My temper is warm, and I could not brook the authorita- tive voice in which he spoke. I asked him who he was ? He said, * That lady's pro- tector/ The term made me smile, for it has, in London, a very ambiguous meaning. He saw my thoughts, and added, 'Her na- tural protector.' It is from this, and the subsequent observations I have made, when I have found him included in a few parties in which the lady was sure to make her ap- pearance in the course of the evening, either at the Opera, whither we sojourned, or in some assembly. They seem, in these cases, to observe a distant civility ; vet I find him ready to come forward in any little contingence which places her in a conspicuous point of view. Nay, the girl did not reject the appellation of Mrs. Dur- weston when a friend of mine addressed her by the name. Thus you perceive that though the fact is not conclusive, it is high- ly probable." " Not in the least, sir," replied Went- worth. THETfcNGMSHMAN. 103 worth. " To avoid the indiscriminate gal- lantries of such idlers as take pleasure in discountenancing virtue, must be the wish of a delicate woman ; and though she might disclaim an assumption that was inconsis- tent with truth, there might be moments when the shield was offered to her, and she rejoiced to embrace its security." u Eminently refined, Mr. Wentworth ! — these are the sentiments of the moralist; yet forgive me if I add, that the enthusiasm of youth makes you figurative. You take up the gauntlet for a stranger, and in your warmth are, perhaps, unconscious that you bespatter a party who, from their distinct- riess, might reasonably hope to be spared." " Sir, I would willingly apologize to you, if I considered I had given cause for of- fence/' said Sidney ; " but you must par- don me if I observe, that for a person of whom you think so contemptibly, you are remarkably well-informed with respect to Mr. Durweston's situation, habits, &c. I grant there is a want of connexion in your f 4 history ; 104; THE ENGLISHMAN. history ; and I am led to believe that your fancy has given a fashion to the tale not exactly suitable to the original text. Yet I thank you for it ; and I perceive my fa- ther feels himself your debtor. It is on the common contingencies of life, in the simple events of the day, that all our fortunes take their rise. There is nothing wonderful un- der heaven ; — the temper of mind in which we receive these casualties alone makes the difference ; and, for my own part, I must consider this morning as one of peculiar promise/' and he looked towards sirOrms- by, entreatingly, though silently. " The sun shall not so down on mv an- ts ger," replied the baronet, in a hurried voice. " I cannot tod much applaud that lively humanity which graces your character, Mr. Sidney," said Supple; "yet permit me to add that your danger is incalculable. I know the world for what it is ; and while I would hail and encourage everv generous sentiment in the young, my experience would THE ENGLISHMAN. 105 would make me tremble for a disposition thus moulded." " I have been upon my own hands some years," replied Wentworth, coolly, "and without professing much discernment, I cannot say I was ever greatly deceived. I love happiness, and I look to the fair side; I can understand misery, and know it may be assuaged." " There is no ariniino; with a mind thus constructed," interjoined Supple, address- ing sir Ormsby ; " but you and I, my friend, who can detect the garish cheats, who can bring the hypocrite to light, tear off the mask of sentimental libertinism, and disconcert the plans of the gambler — it is we who, acquainted with the shoals, must endure the mental anguish of watch- ing and guarding these youthful mariners on life's perilous ocean." " You have conjured up a strife of pas- sions more terrific than an elemental war," replied the baronet. "Thank Heaven, my bark, saving one gale, has been a most pros- f 5 pcrous 106 THE ENGLISHMAN. perous vessel. I believe I set sail with a good compass — it never varied, as I have observed, but once ; and even now I reckon upon its consequences. But my son owns no such alloy; he entered the world with tempered expectations, and has conducted himself as a rational being. I should de- spise a young man who distrusted every man as a villain ; it is destroying that sun- shine which gilds the season of youth. A man of sense, with sound morals, buys ex- perience at a fair price ; a fool always pays too high a price for all he possesses/ 1 * Very just, perfectly correct ; yet the influx which society now sanctions makes the danger infinitely greater/' " By no means, sir ; I cannot understand your colouring as generally applicable. — That there are vices which deform the hu- man character, I admit ; but I do not con- sider them as the specific growth of this era. I think there is a laxity in our mo- rals, yet 1 hope better things ; for we are the creatures of Hope. But when you ask me THE ENGLISHMAN. 107 me to revert to my juvenile days as the golden age, my memory tells me it is good for man to compare the past with the pre- sent. If he is impartial, he either lessens his vanity, or confirms his hopes ; while he who looks upon the present hour as a cy- nic, disqualifies himself to enjoy life, and ultimately deduces from his natural term. With regard to that admixture of conpany which you seem to deplore, I regret that a man who feels his own inferiority should brave the contumely of the rich by join- ing their society ; but I should be sorry the mere want of fortune excluded the man of genius from the delights of social intercourse." " I honour vour sentiments, mv dear sir/' replied Supple ; " nor will I presume to argue the point with you. You may indulge them here; but should you visit the metropolis, I shall iind you a convert to my opinions." Sir Ormsby looked incredulouslv, while Sidney, whose thoughts all tended to one f Q point, 108 THE ENGLISHMAN. point, perceiving Supple was retiring, evi- dently disappointed that his elucidation had made no lasting impression, requested to know where Mr. Durweston lived ? ""He did live in lod^in«s at Pentonville, Islington, some months since, but I believe he has removed into the town." li Allow me to ask, sir," continued Went- worth, " if your knowledge of Mr. Dur- weston 's pecuniary embarrassments are the sole motives for your considering him un- fit to mix in the higher circles?" " Why I confess, since you press the sub- ject, that they are. I know that the man of sentiment will extenuate, and by a liberality which perhaps does honour to his heart, justify such admissions ; but I presume to see the matter differently. The man who has.no stable income, who, in fact, depends upon his talents for his support, and is known to resort to such aid as I have named, must be classed as an adventurer ; for when did mere genius [ecd its possessor, much Jess remunerate a money lender? Then I assert THE ENGLISHMAN". 109 assert that we err in making such persons our associates, inasmuch as we increase their expenditure, and lead them into deeper difliculties." " Your remarks are perfectly consistent with that svstcm which should regulate our moral conduct in all its bearings ; but as a degree of turpitude, of wilful blindness, attaches to that arrangement which the world calls ' fashionable society," resumed Sidney, te I should deplore that a man was ejected, (if he can find pleasure in the scene,) for a reason which, by comparison, would prove to be as a ' drop in the ocean' of dissipation ; nor can I under- stand the nicetv of vour distinction. Have you not heard of a son's post-obit bonds, of mortgaged properties, of numbers sup- ported by gambling, of women trafficking with Jews ? or is it that you wink at splen- did infamy, and cast the sins of thousands upon the undefended head of plebeian mi- sery ?" "I make every allowance for this warmth, 5 my 1 10 THE ENGLISHMAN. my dear sir — I even wave the relort which my feelings might justify ; yet I insist that where there is no property, the man be- comes a suspicious character, and should be treated as such." " How many whose means are beyond all doubt contemptible, how many mix in the mass ! — what hangers-on, what stale re- tainers, scandal -mongers, vile traducers ! Yet you point the finger of scorn at an individual because he is poor. My dear father,'' continued our hero, turning to the baronet, " there are creatures in the rational world who, like the polypus, will adhere to you; cut them off in one way, and they will cling to you in another. To avoid these reptiles, the heart must select its friends ; and though sudden preposses- sions are attended with dangers, lam san- guine in the present instance." "Heaven forbid that /should frustrate an intention so well-meant!" said Supple, rising. " Experience alone can convince in some cases. Adieu, worthy sir," taking the THE ENGLISHMAN. 1 1 I the band of the baronet. " Mr. Went- worth, I am your humble servant ; you will do me justice at some future period. — Adieu." " I do so now," thought Sidney, as the door closed. " I know thee '< For one that courses uu and down on errands ; A stale retainer at lord Timon's table ; A man grown great by making legs and cringes, By winding round a wanton spendthrift's heart, And gulling him at pleasure." The inquiring eye of our hero, though frequently directed towards his father, at- tained not the answer it sought. The ba- ronet continued thoughtful, and somewhat silent, during the day ; he neither spoke of the stranger or his concerns. The sun was sinking in the west; Sidney cast his eyes on the orient beam, and again he glanced at sir Ormsby. "Beat peace, my son," said the baro- net; "I can forgive, but I ask time to teach me to forget." CHAP. H2 THE ENGLISHMAN. CHAP. V.