Chapter XIV.

Sir Edward Moseley had some difficulty in restraining the impetuosity of his son from taking some hasty step, in resenting this impertinent interference of young Jarvis, in the conduct of his favourite sister; indeed, he only yielded to his profound respect to his father's commands, aided by a strong representation on the part of his sister, of the disagreeable consequences of connecting her name with a quarrel in any manner. It was seldom the good baronet felt himself called upon to act as decidedly as on the present occasion; he spoke to the merchant in warm, but gentleman-like terms, of the consequences which might have resulted to his own child, from the intemperate act of his son; exculpated Emily entirely from censure, by explaining her engagement to dance with Denbigh, previously to his application; and hinting the necessity, if the affair was not amicably terminated, of protecting the peace of mind of his daughters against similar exposures in future, by declining the acquaintance of a neighbour he respected as much as Mr. Jarvis.

The merchant was a man of few words, but great promptitude; he had made his fortune, and more than once saved it, by his decision; and coolly assuring the baronet heshould hear no more of it, at least in a disagreeable way, took his hat and walked home from the village where the conversation passed; on arriving at his own house, he found the family collected, for a morning ride, in the parlour, and throwing himself into a chair, he commenced with great violence by saying--

"So, Mrs. Jarvis, you would spoil a very tolerable book-keeper, by wishing to have a soldier in your family; and there stands the puppy who would have blown out the brains of a deserving young man, if the good sense of Mr. Denbigh had not denied him the opportunity."

"Mercy!" cried the alarmed matron, on whom Newgate, with all its horrors, floated, and near which her early life had been passed, and a contemplation of whose frequent scenes had been her juvenile lessons of morality--"Harry! Harry! would you murder."

"Murder!" echoed her son, looking askance, as if to see the bailiffs,

"no, mother, I wanted nothing but what was fair; Mr. Denbigh would have

had an equal chance to have blown out my brains; I am sure every thing would have been fair."

"Equal chance," muttered his father, who had cooled himself, in some measure, by an extra pinch of snuff, "no, sir, you have no brains to loose; but I have promised Sir Edward that you shall make proper apologiesto himself, his daughter, and Mr. Denbigh;" this was rather exceeding the truth, but the alderman prided himself on performing more than he promised.

"Apology," exclaimed the captain, "why, sir, the apology is due to me--

ask Colonel Egerton if he ever heard of an apology being made by the challenger."

"No, sure," said the mother, who having now made out the truth of the matter, thought it was likely to be creditable to her child, "Colonel Egerton never heard of such a thing--did you, colonel?"

"Why, madam," said the colonel, hesitatingly, and politely handing the merchant his snuff-box, which, in his agitation, had fallen on the floor,

"circumstances sometimes justify a departure from ordinary measures; you are certainly right as a rule; but not knowing the particulars in the present case, it is difficult for me to decide--Miss Jarvis, the tilbury is ready;" and the colonel bowed respectfully to the merchant, kissed his hand to his wife, and led their daughter to his carriage.

"Do you make the apologies?" asked Mr. Jarvis of his son, as the door closed behind them.

"No, sir," replied the captain, sullenly.

"Then you must make your pay answer for the next six months," cried the father, taking a signed draft on his banker from his pocket, coolly tearing it in two pieces,and carefully putting the name in his mouth, and chewing it into a ball.

"Why, alderman," said his wife, a name she never used, unless she had something to gain from her spouse, who loved to hear the sound of the appellation after he had relinquished the office, "it appears to me, that Harry has shown nothing but a proper spirit --you are unkind--indeed you are."

"A proper spirit--in what way--do you know any thing of the matter?"

"It is a proper spirit for a soldier to fight, I suppose," said the wife, a little at a loss to explain.

"Spirit, or no spirit," observed Mr. Jarvis, as he left them, "apology, or ten and sixpence."

"Harry," said his mother, holding up her finger in a menacing attitude,

"if you do beg his pardon, you are no son of mine."

"No," cried Miss Sarah, "it would be mean."

"Who will pay my debts?" asked the son, looking up at the ceiling.

"Why, I would, my child, if--if--I had not spent my own allowance."

"I would," echoed the sister, "but if we go to Bath, you know, I shall want my money."

"Who will pay my debts," repeated the son.

"Apology, indeed; who is he, that you, a son of Alderman--of--of Mr.

Jarvis, of thedeanery, B--, Northamptonshire, should beg his pardon--a vagrant that nobody knows."

"Who will pay my debts," said the captain, drumming with his foot.

"Why, Harry," exclaimed the mother, "do you love money better than honour--a soldier's honour?"

"No, mother; but I like good eating and drinking--think, mother, its a cool five hundred."

"Harry," cried the mother, in a rage, "you are not fit for a soldier; I wish I were in your place."

I wish, with all my heart, you had been for an hour this morning, thought the son; and, after arguing for some time longer, they compromised, by agreeing to leave it to the decision of Colonel Egerton, who, the mother did not doubt, would applaud her maintaining the Jarvis dignity, a family his interest in was but little short of what he felt for his own---so he had told her fifty times---and the captain determined within himself, to touch the five hundred, let the colonel decide as he would; but the colonel's decision prevented this disobedience to the commands of one parent, in order to submit to the requisition of the other. The question was put to him by Mrs.

Jarvis, on his return from the airing, with no doubt the decision would be favourable to her opinion; the colonel and herself, she said, never disagreed; andthe lady was right--for wherever his interest made it desirable to convert Mrs. Jarvis to his side of the question, Egerton had a manner of doing it, that never failed to succeed.

"Why, madam," said he, with one of his most agreeable smiles,

"apologies are different things at different times; you are certainly right in your sentiments, as relates to a proper spirit in a soldier; but no one can doubt the spirit of the captain, after the stand he took in the affair; if Mr.

Denbigh would not meet him, (a very extraordinary measure, indeed, I

confess,) what can he do more? he cannot make a man fight against his will, you know."

"True, true," cried the matron, impatiently, "I do not want him to fight; heaven forbid! but why should he, the challenger, beg pardon?--I am sure, to have the thing regular--Mr. Denbigh is the one to ask forgiveness." The colonel felt at a little loss how to reply, when Jarvis, in whom the thoughts of his five hundred pounds had worked a mighty revolution, exclaimed--

"You know, mother, I accused him--that is, suspected him of dancing with Miss Moseley against my right to her; now you find that was a mistake, and so I had better act with dignity, and confess my error."

"Oh, by all means," cried the colonel, who saw the danger of an embarrassing rupture between the families otherwise, "delicacyto your sex requires that, ma'am, from your son;" and he accidentally dropped a letter as he spoke.

"From Sir Edgar, colonel?" asked Mrs. Jarvis, as he stooped to pick it up.

"From Sir Edgar, madam, and he begs to be remembered to yourself and family." Mrs. Jarvis bowed in what she intended for a graceful bend, and sighed--a casual observer might have thought, with maternal anxiety for the reputation of her child--but it was conjugal regret, that the political obstinacy of the alderman, had prevented his carrying up an address, and thus becoming-- Sir Timothy--. Sir Edgar's heir prevailed, and the captain received permission to do what he had done already.

On leaving the room, after the first discussion, and before the appeal, he had hastened to his father with his concessions. The old gentleman knew too well the influence of five hundred pounds, to doubt their effects in the present instance, and had ordered his carriage for the excursion--it came, and to the hall they proceeded; the captain found his intended antagonist there, and in a rather uncouth manner, made the required concession. He was restored to his former favour--no great distinction--and his visits to the hall suffered, but with a dislike Emily could never conquer, or at all times conceal.

Denbigh was standing with a book in his hand, when Jarvis commenced his speech to the baronet and his daughter, and was apparently much engaged with its contents, as the captain blundered through. It was necessary, the captain saw by a glance of his father's eyes, to say something to the gentleman, who had delicately withdrawn to a distant window. His

speech was made here too, and Mrs. Wilson could not avoid stealing a look at them; Denbigh smiled and bowed in silence. It is enough, thought the widow; the offence was not against him, it was against his maker; he should not arrogate to himself, in any manner, the right to forgive, or require apologies--the whole is consistent.-- The subject was never afterwards alluded to; Denbigh appeared to have forgotten it; and Jane sighed gently as she hoped the colonel was not a duellist.

Several days passed, before the deanery ladies could forgive the indignity their family had sustained, sufficiently to resume their customary intercourse; like all other grievances, where the passions are chiefly interested, it was forgotten in time, and things put in some measure on their former footing. The death of Digby served to increase the horror of the Moseleys, and Jarvis himself felt rather uncomfortable, on more accounts than one, at the fatal termination of the unpleasant business.

Chatterton, who to his friends had not hesitated to avow his attachment to his cousin, but who had never proposed for her, as his present views and fortune were not, in his estimation, sufficient for her proper support; had pushed every interest he possessed, and left no steps unattempted an honourable man could resort to, to effect his object. This desire to provide for his sisters, had been backed by the ardour of a passion that had reached its crisis; and the young peer, who could not, in the present state of things, abandon the field to a rival so formidable as Denbigh, even to further his views to preferment, was waiting in anxious suspense the decision on his application: a letter from his friend informed him, his opponent was likely to succeed; that, in short, all hopes of his lordship's success had left him--

Chatterton was in despair. On the following day, however, he received a second letter from the same friend, announcing his appointment; after mentioning the fact, he went on to say--"The cause of this sudden revolution in your favour is unknown to me, and unless your lordship has obtained interest I am ignorant of, it is one of the most singular instances of ministerial caprice I have ever heard of." Chatterton was as much at a loss as his friend, but it mattered not; he could now offer to Emily --it was a patent office, to a large amount in receipts, and a few years would amply portionhis sisters; that very day he proposed, and was refused.

Emily had a difficult task to avoid self-reproach, in regulating her deportment to the peer. She was fond of Chatterton as a relation--as her brother's friend--as the brother of Grace, and even on his own account; but

it was the fondness of a sister; his manner--his words, which although never addressed to herself, were sometimes overheard unintentionally, and sometimes reached her through her sisters, left her in no doubt of his attachment; she was excessively grieved at the discovery, and innocently appealed to her aunt for directions how to proceed; of his intentions she had no doubt, but at the same time he had not put her in a situation to dispel his hopes; encouragement, in the usual meaning of the term, she gave to him, or no one else. There are no little attentions that lovers are fond of showing to their mistresses, and which mistresses are fond of receiving, that Emily ever permitted to any gentleman--no rides--no walks--no tetê-a-têtes; always natural and unaffected, there was a simple dignity about her that forbade the request, almost the thought, in the gentlemen of her acquaintance; Emily had no amusements, no pleasures of any kind, in which her sisters were not her companions; and if any thing was on the carpet, that required an attendant, John was ever ready; he was devoted to her; the decided preference she gave him over every other man, upon such occasions, flattered his affections; and he would, at any time leave even Grace Chatterton, to attend his sister--all this was without affectation, and generally without notice. Emily so looked the delicacy and reserve she acted without ostentation, that not even her own sex had affixed to her conduct the epithet of squeamish; it was difficult, therefore, for her to do any thing, which would show Lord Chatterton her disinclination to his suit, without assuming a dislike she did not feel, or giving him slights neither good breeding or good nature could justify; at one time, indeed, she expressed a wish to return to Clara; but this Mrs. Wilson thought would only protract the evil, and she was compelled to wait his own time. The peer himself did not rejoice more in his ability to make the offer, than Emily did to have it in her power to decline it; her rejection was firm and unqualified, but uttered with a grace and tenderness to his feelings, that bound her lover tighter than ever in her chains, and he resolved on immediate flight as his only recourse.

"I hope nothing unpleasant has occurred to Lord Chatterton," said Denbigh, with great interest, as he reached the spot where the young peer stood leaning his head against a tree, on his route from the rectory to the hall.

Chatterton raised his face as he spoke; there were evident traces of tears on it, and Denbigh, shocked, was delicately about to proceed, as the

baron caught his arm.

"Mr. Denbigh," said the young peer, in a voice almost choaked with emotion, "may you never know the pain I have felt this morning--Emily--

Emily Moseley--is lost to me--forever."

For a moment, the blood rushed to the face of Denbigh, and his eyes flashed with a look that Chatterton could not stand; he turned, as the voice of Denbigh, in those remarkable tones which distinguished it from every other voice he had ever heard, uttered,

"Chatterton, my lord, we are friends, I hope--I wish it from my heart."

"Go, Mr. Denbigh--go; you were going to Miss Moseley--do not let me detain you."

"I am going with you, Lord Chatterton, unless you forbid it," said Denbigh, with emphasis, slipping his arm through that of the peer's.

For two hours they walked together in the baronet's park, and when they appeared at dinner, Emily wondered why Mr. Denbigh had taken a seat next her mother, instead of his usual place between herself and aunt. In the evening, he announced his intention of leaving B--for a short time with Lord Chatterton; they were going to London together, but he hoped to return within tendays. This sudden determination caused some surprise, but as the dowager supposed, it was to secure the new situation, and the remainder of their friends thought it might be business, it was soon forgotten, but much regretted for the time. They left the Hall that night to proceed to an inn, from which they could obtain a chaise and horses; and the following morning, when the baronet's family assembled around their social breakfast the peer and his companion were many miles on their route to the metropolis.