Chapter LIII: And Last (4)

‘Here are several bills,’ she continued, taking up a roll of smaller papers--‘and another bundle of mortgages, will you hear any of them?’

[[[THE DISCOVERY OF THE MYSTERIOUS PACKET]]]

The miser shook his head. The movement was almost mechanical with him.

‘Then I will go on,’ pursued Hilda. ‘Ah! what is this letter with the black seal? Shall I read it?’

The miser made no reply. He was gazing listlessly into the fire, and watching the wreaths of smoke ascend the chimney with childish delight. Hilda, therefore, opened the letter, and found a small memorandum enclosed in it, which she placed upon the table. Trembling with emotion, she then began to read aloud the following lines:--

‘“Old and valued Friend--If this should ever meet your eye, I shall have been a year in my grave, for, in accordance with our agreement, it will not be delivered to you until the expiration of that time after my death. The agreement, I need not remind you, was so formed that in case we should both die within the year, the contract entered into by us respecting the marriage of our children should be null and void.”’

Here Hilda was startled by a sharp cry from her father, and looking up, she saw that he was staring wildly and inquiringly at her.

‘What are you reading?’ he asked.

‘The letter delivered to you by Randulph Crew,’ she replied; ‘the letter from his father.’

‘And what business have you to read it?’ he cried. ‘Who gave you leave to do so?’

‘Having gone so far, I shall go on,’ rejoined Hilda; and she resumed her reading, ‘“now call upon you to fulfil your share of the contract, and to give your daughter to my son. When we entered into the engagement, I was supposed to be the richer of the two; but I am now sadly reduced, and if my son fulfils his word, and gives up the estates to pay my creditors, he will have little or nothing.”’

‘He has nothing--he has nothing!’ cried the miser, ‘I will never give my consent--never!’

‘“But under whatever circumstances he may be placed,”’ said Hilda, continuing the letter, ‘“whether he gives up the property or not, I call upon you to fulfil your part of the contract, as I would have fulfilled mine, whatever might have happened to you; and to make, as you have agreed to do, a settlement upon your daughter proportioned to your means.”’

‘I made no such agreement!’ cried the miser; ‘it is false--false!’

“‘I enclose a copy of the memorandum,”’ pursued Hilda, still reading; ‘“the original, as you know, is in the possession of Cardwell Firebras. He will see it executed. God so requite you as you shall fulfil your agreement or neglect it!

“‘Randulph Crew.’”

‘And here is the memorandum,’ she added, taking up the smaller piece of paper. ‘It is signed by Randulph Crew and John Scarve.’

‘It is a forgery!’ shrieked the miser.

‘The original is in the possession of Cardwell Firebras,’ said Hilda. ‘Father, you have dealt unjustly by Randulph Crew. You owe him a great reparation, and I trust you will make it.’

‘I owe him nothing,’ replied the miser; ‘it is all a fabrication. Give me the papers, that I may burn them! Give them to me directly.’

And getting up, he staggered towards her, and snatched the letter and memorandum from her, with the intention of throwing them into the fire. But before he could do so, the door opened, and admitted Abel Beechcroft.

[[[RANDULPH DEFENDING HIMSELF AGAINST PHILIP FREWIN AND HIS MYRMIDONS--RANDULPH AGAIN DINES WITH LADY BRABAZON--HE RECEIVES A NOTE FROM KITTY CONWAY, AND IS ASSAULTED BY PHILIP FREWIN AND HIS MYRMIDONS ON HIS WAY TO SUP WITH HER.]]]

|The dinner passed off delightfully. It was a small party, consisting of Sir Bulkeley Price, Sir Norfolk Salusbury, and Lady Fazakerly. Everything was done to please Randulph, and the efforts were perfectly successful. The wine flowed freely after dinner--for it was a hard drinking age--and Randulph, who had been exceedingly temperate since the duel, began to feel the effect of it. As he was about to ascend to the drawing-room with the rest of the gentlemen, a note was handed him by a servant, which he instantly opened.

‘What says your billet, nephew?’ inquired Trussell, who was standing by.

‘Oh! it’s from Kitty Conway,’ said Randulph. ‘She has found out, I know not how, that I am here, and wishes me to sup with her to-night for the last time.’

‘And you will go, won’t you?’ said Trussell.

‘Not I,’ replied Randulph irresolutely.

‘Oh yes, you will,’ said Trussell; ‘and I’ll accompany you on your last visit, as I did on the first.’

And they went upstairs laughingly to the drawing-room.

Time passed by so fleetly in the fascinating society of Lady Brabazon, that Randulph was surprised, on glancing at his watch, to find it nearly eleven o’clock. ‘Jacob will be gone,’ he thought, ‘and will think I have forgotten him.’

Hastily taking leave of Lady Brabazon, who chided him playfully for running away so early, and engaged him to call upon her on the following morning, he went downstairs accompanied by Trussell. They found Jacob at the door, and in no very bland humour at having been kept so long.

‘My time’s more than up,’ said the latter gruffly, ‘and I was just goin’ away. What I want to say is this,--I’ve received a hint that master’s miserly nevy, Philip Frewin, is about to decamp with the money I gave Mr. Diggs t’other day. He’s at the Crown Inn, Ox-yard, King Street. Suppose you pay him a visit.’

‘I’ll readily do so to-morrow, Jacob,’ said Randulph; ‘but tonight I’m engaged. Come along with me. My way lies in the same direction as yours, and I want to talk to you about your master and young mistress.’

Jacob complied, and accompanied Randulph to the corner of Hedge Lane, a narrow thoroughfare running into Cockspur Street, where he took his leave. Randulph and his uncle then tracked the lane above mentioned, until they came to Whitcomb Street, where Kitty Conway then resided, having removed from the Hay-market to an old house in the latter street, erected three years after the Great Fire of London--namely, 1669.

Never having visited the pretty actress in her new abode, but having been told in the note that this date, which was inscribed in large figures on a shield over the door, would guide him to it, Randulph was looking out for the house, when he observed three men at a little distance behind him, who seemed to be dogging him and his uncle. The foremost was a tall thin man; the second a stout, square-set personage, attired in a shabby military garb; and the third a great hulking fellow with an atrociously black muzzle, dressed in a blue jacket, short trousers, and woollen cap.

Randulph could not help fancying he had seen these personages before, though he could not tell where, but he did not concern himself much about them, until just as he had discovered Kitty Conway’s dwelling, and was about to knock at the door, he saw that they were quickening their pace towards him. On a nearer approach, he was at no loss to detect Philip Frewin, and in his companions, Captain Culpepper and the fellow who had officiated as Jack-in-the-water at the Folly on the Thames.

‘Here is your man!’ shouted Philip, pointing out Randulph to the others; ‘upon him! don’t leave an unbroken bone in his body.’

Randulph, however, was prepared for the attack. Grasping the stout cane he held in his hand, he dealt Philip so severe a blow on the head with it that he stretched him on his back on the ground. At the same moment, Trussell received a blow from the cudgel of the athletic sailor, which sent him reeling against the door, to the posts of which he clung for support, while the ruffian turning to assault Randulph, encountered an unexpected adversary in the person of Jacob Post.

‘I thought what you were after, you scoundrels, when I saw you doggin’ these gen’l’men,’ cried Jacob; ‘I’m glad I got up in time. Turn your cudgel this way, you black-muzzled hound! Two can play at your game.’

While Jacob and his antagonist rapped away at each other as hard as they could, making the welkin ring with their blows, Randulph turned upon Culpepper, who attempted to draw his sword to assail him, and belaboured him so lustily with his cane, that the latter was soon fain to cry for quarter.

The sound of the cudgels, and the vociferations of the combatants, had alarmed the watch, who sprang their rattles, and hastened to the scene of strife, while Kitty Conway, hearing the noise, opened a window above, and seeing what was passing in the street, added her shrieks to the general clamour. Before, however, the watch could come up, Jacob had brought his athletic antagonist to the ground, and Culpepper had taken to his heels without being able to strike a single blow.

[[[MR. CRIPPS DETECTED--HOW MR. CRIPPS’S MARRIAGE WITH THE WIDOW WAS INTERRUPTED]]]

|It was arranged that the ceremony should take place in the upper chamber, where Randulph first breakfasted with the beau, and the clergyman selected to perform it was Doctor Gaynam. Thus nothing seemed wanting on the valet’s part to complete the matter; and late on Wednesday evening he went to Billiter Square, to inform Mrs. Nettleship that all was ready. After a brief visit, for he was somewhat fatigued, he took a tender adieu of her, saying, as he squeezed her hand at parting--

‘We shall meet to-morrow, to part no more!’

The next morning, betimes, Mr. Cripps placed himself under the hands of Antoine, who proceeded to array him in a magnificent suit, which had never been worn by his master, it having only been sent home the night before by Desmartins.

It consisted of a coat of crimson-embossed velvet, richly laced with gold, breeches of the same material, and a white satin waistcoat flowered with gold. To these were added, pink silk hose rolled above the knee, superb diamond buckles, and point-bee cravat, and his master’s handsomest Ramillies periwig, which had been dressed by Peter Pokerich.

Nearly three hours were expended in thus attiring him; and when all was completed, Antoine declared that his master had never looked half so well--a sentiment in which Mr. Cripps, as he complacently surveyed himself in the cheval-glass, entirely concurred.

A little before twelve, Peter Pokerich and the fair Thomasine arrived. The lady was dressed in white and silver, with a fly-cap with long lappets, and looked so excessively pretty that Mr. Cripps could not help wishing she had been the bride instead of Mrs. Nettleship.

While he was welcoming them, and passing some high-flown compliments on the fair Thomasine’s charms, Mr. Jukes was shown into the room; but as he was in his butler’s dress, his nephew did not condescend to speak to him.

Shortly after this Antoine announced that the bride had arrived, and Mr. Cripps hurried downstairs to meet her.

Mrs. Nettleship, who had bestowed more than ordinary pains upon her person, wore a yellow satin sack embroidered with little dots of gold. She had large pearl earrings, a garnet necklace, and a diamond solitaire. Her complexion, which was naturally rather high, had been corrected by white French powder, and was further set off with abundance of little patches on her checks, neck, and shoulders. She carried a beautiful Indian fan, the handle of which was ornamented with precious stones.

She had arrived in great state, a gilt chariot lined with pale blue satin, hired for her from a coachmaker, by Mr. Rathbone, having formed her conveyance; and she was attended by a couple of footmen out of place, likewise hired for the occasion, habited in superb liveries of sky-blue cloth trimmed with silver, with silver shoulder-knots, and point d’Espagne hats.

Mr. Rathbone, who accompanied her, was dressed in a suit of purple velvet, laced with gold. Almost bewildered by the grandeur she beheld around, the widow was led upstairs by Mr. Cripps; her wonder increased at every step she took. The two long-eared spaniels and the macaw enchanted her; but she actually screamed with delight on beholding the monkey, in his little scarlet coat and bag-wig.

Coffee, chocolate, and champagne were then handed round by Antoine and the page; and while this was going on, the clergyman and his assistant were announced.

Doctor Gaynam had a much more respectable appearance than when he officiated at Sir Singleton Spinke’s marriage. He was dressed in his full canonicals, and wore a well-powdered full-bottomed wig, which Peter Pokerich would not have disdained.

Meanwhile Mr. Cripps had seated himself by the bride on one of the couches, and was talking very tenderly to her, when he perceived his uncle approach Mr. Rathbone, as if with the intention of addressing him.

He instantly arose, and taking the latter aside, whispered a few words to him, and then, having accomplished his object, which was to prevent any communication between him and Mr. Jukes, told the clergyman to proceed with the ceremony.

Doctor Gaynam was sipping a glass of usquebaugh, but he hastily gulped it down, and declared himself perfectly ready. He then took a prayer-book from the clerk, and stationed himself between the windows, motioning the others to take their places before him.

[[[MR. CRIPPS DETECTED]]]

All was soon arranged. Peter Pokerich and the fair Thomasine stood near the bride; Mr. Rathbone near the bridegroom; Antoine behind him; while the group was completed by the two Africans, who had mounted a settee in the corner, to obtain a full view of the ceremony. The page was on the floor keeping the dogs quiet, who were quarrelling with the monkey, and biting its tail.

Just as Doctor Gaynam had opened his book, and uttered a preliminary cough, a noise was heard at the door, and Mr. Cripps, turning to see what was the matter, beheld it open, and admit his master.

The valet’s alarm was instantly communicated to the whole assemblage. Antoine shrugged his shoulders, and lifted up his hands in affright. The two Africans exchanged glances of alarm, and all eyes were directed towards the beau, who with angry looks, and grasping his clouded cane, marched towards the valet. He was followed by Lady Brabazon, Sir Bulkeley Price, and Trussell Beechcroft.

Lady Brabazon was attended by her black page, leading her dog by a riband, and this arrival excited the anger of one of the spaniels, whose furious barking set the macaw screaming.

Mr. Cripps presented a very chopfallen appearance. All his assurance deserted him. His hands dropped to his side, and he scarcely dared to meet his master’s angry gaze.

‘Rascal!’ exclaimed Villiers, ‘I have at last fairly detected you. I’ll teach you to put on my clothes--to assume my name----’

‘What!’ screamed Mrs. Nettleship, dropping a bottle of salts which she had placed to her nose--‘isn’t it really himself--isn’t it Mr. Willars?’

‘No, madam,’ replied the beau--‘I am Mr. Villiers; and this rascal is only my valet, Crackenthorpe Cripps.’

‘This looks like the real gentleman, I must say,’ cried Mr. Rathbone, who was thunderstruck with surprise.

‘Oh, the villain!--the base deceiver!--the impostor!’ shrieked Mrs. Nettleship, clenching her hands, and regarding the valet as if she would annihilate him. ‘I’ll tear his eyes out! To deceive and expose me in this way--to--to--to--oh! I shall never survive it. Support me!’ she added, falling into the arms of the fair Thomasine.

‘This is really too bad of you, sir,’ said Mr. Cripps, who began to recover himself a little. ‘You’ve deceived _me_. I thought you were at Newmarket.’

‘I received information of your practices, rascal,’ replied the beau, ‘and resolving to see to what extent you carried them, I only went to a short distance from town, and then returned with Sir Bulkeley Price, with whom I have remained till now. And a pretty discovery I’ve made, i’faith! My house filled with company--my servants turned into your servants--a dinner, supper, confectionery, wine, fruit, musicians, and the devil knows what, ordered at my expense.’

‘Well, they’re not thrown away, sir,’ replied Mr. Cripps.

‘You can marry the lady yourself, if you think proper. I’ve no doubt she’ll consent to the exchange, and she has fifty thousand pounds.’

‘Oh, the impudence!’ exclaimed Mrs. Nettleship, jumping up.

‘I’ll not be taken in a second time. I’ll be revenged on all the sex!’

‘You are not aware, Mr. Willars, of the extensive frauds this rascal has practised upon you,’ said Mr. Rathbone. ‘He has actually signed a bond for five thousand pounds in your name, which I have in my pocket.’

‘The devil he has!’ exclaimed Villiers.

‘But it is of no effect, since the marriage has not taken place,’ said Mr. Cripps; ‘and if Mr. Villiers chooses to take the lady, he will of course pay you himself.’

In spite of himself, the beau could not help laughing.

‘Bad as Mr. Cripps is, he is not worse than the other party,’ said Trussell, stepping forward; ‘while he was duping them, they tried to dupe him. I understand from Mr. Jukes, who has it on unquestionable authority, that Mrs. Nettleship, so far from being a wealthy widow, is greatly in debt, while her friend there, Mr. Rathbone, hoped to pocket the five thousand pounds secured by the bond he has mentioned.’

‘Gadso! then it seems I’ve had an escape!’ cried Mr. Cripps.

‘You have,’ replied Trussell; ‘and your uncle would have told you all this before, if you had not kept him at a distance.’

‘I won’t stay here to be laughed at!’ cried the widow, looking defiance at the jeering countenances around her. ‘Mr. Rathbone, your arm. I’ll make you marry me yourself, or pay the penalty of the contract,’ she added, in a whisper.

‘You’ll not mistake a valet for a gentleman after this, Monsieur Rathbone,’ said Antoine--‘ha! ha!’

‘You had better go away by the back stairs,’ said Trussell, stopping them; ‘for there are a couple of officers in the hall waiting to arrest you!’

‘Curse on it! I sent them myself!’ said Mr. Rathbone, ‘to compel the rascal I supposed to be Mr. Wiliars to pay your debts.’

And hurrying out of the room, he acted upon Trussell’s suggestion.

‘And now, rascal,’ said the beau to the valet, ‘you are no longer in my service--I discharge you. And you may thank your stars that I let you off so easily.’

‘I was about to discharge _you_. sir,’ rejoined the valet, impertinently. ‘I don’t desire to live with a gentleman who takes his servants by surprise. He’s as bad as a jealous husband.’

‘Stay!’ cried the beau--‘you don’t leave me in that way. Antoine, stand by him. Now, sir, take off that peruke--take it off carefully--now the sword.’

The orders were obeyed, and the wig and sword delivered to the French valet.

‘Now take off the coat.’ Mr. Cripps complied with a sigh.

‘Now the waistcoat.’ The order was obeyed.

‘Now the cravat.’ And it was taken off.

‘Now the diamond buckles.’

‘Anything else?’ inquired Mr. Cripps, as he gave up the buckles. ‘Recollect there are ladies in the room, sir.’

‘Yes; take yourself off,’ rejoined the beau.

Even thus shorn of his splendour, Mr. Cripps maintained his customary assurance. He bowed profoundly and gracefully round, and quitted the room amid the laughter of the company.

[[[ABEL BEECHCROFT DISCOVERING THE MISER IN THE CELLAR--DEATH OF THE MISER]]]

|No sooner, however, was one source of dread removed, than another was aroused. His hoards might be gone! Terrified by this idea, he flew to all his hiding-places, and placed their contents on the table. His dim eyes sparkled with unnatural brilliancy as he gloated over them.

While telling over the pieces, and weighing them in his hand, a new recollection crossed him. Snatching up the candle, he hurried to a small cupboard at one side of the room, at the bottom of which lay a heap of old rags and rubbish, apparently put there out of the way. Hastily removing this dusty pile, some half dozen leathern bags were exposed to view.

‘Here they are--here they are!’ he exclaimed, with a cry of childish delight. ‘Oh, my darlings!--my treasures!---how glad I am to see you. You give me new life. Talk of physic--pshaw! there is none like gold. The sight of it cures me in an instant. I feel well--quite well; no, not quite,’ he added, as a sudden giddiness seized him, and he had to catch at the closet door for support; ‘not quite well; but better--much better. What a memory mine must be to forget these bags--each containing two hundred guineas--that’s twelve hundred! Twelve hundred guineas! and I had forgotten them. I hope I have not forgotten anything else. Let me see--oh! my head!--my head!’ he continued, shaking it mournfully. ‘My memory’s clean gone!--clean gone! But what shall I do with these bags? they’re not safe here. Jacob may find them in clearing the room. I’ll hide them in the cellar with the other treasure.’

Utterly forgetful that the chest had been removed, he immediately set about executing his design.

Listening at the door to hear that all was still, he took up two of the bags with the intention of carrying them downstairs; but finding them too heavy for him, he was obliged to content himself with one, and thus in transporting them all to the cellar, he had to perform six journeys. The last had nearly proved fatal, for as he tottered down the cellar steps, he missed his footing, and rolled to the bottom.

With some difficulty he got up again; but heedless of the bruises he had received, he picked up his candle, which was extinguished in the fall, and returned to his bedchamber to light it at the fire. This done, he procured the shovel, and repairing to the cellar commenced his task.

In his present state of debility and exhaustion, it cost him infinite labour to get up the bricks, and he was frequently obliged to desist from the toil and rest himself; but though he shook in every limb--though thick damps burst from every pore, he still persevered.

Having got out the bricks, he carefully scraped off the surface of the loose sandy soil. Surprised that the spade met with no resistance, his alarm was instantly excited, and he plunged it deeply into the ground.

But no chest was there!

For a few minutes he stood transfixed with despair. It never occurred to him that he had himself removed his treasure, but he concluded he had been robbed of it.

At length his anguish found vent in a piercing cry, and he rushed towards the door with the intention of calling up Jacob; but the recollection that forced itself upon him, that the porter was from home, checked him.

Other imperfect ideas thronged upon his bewildered brain. A glimmering recollection of digging up the chest crossed him, but he fancied he must have taken out its contents and buried them deeper in the ground. Somewhat calmed by the idea, he commenced digging anew with frightful ardour, and soon cleared out the soil to nearly the depth of three feet. But as he found nothing, his apprehensions returned with new force and paralysed his efforts.

Throwing aside the spade, he groped about in the sandy soil with his hands, in the hopes of finding a few pieces of gold. A single piece would have satisfied him; but there was none--nothing but little pebbles mixed with the sand. His moans, while thus employed, were truly piteous.

At this juncture, his candle, which had long been expiring in the socket, went out, leaving him in total darkness. A mortal faintness seized him at the same time. He tried to get out of the hole, but fell back with the effort--his head striking against the bricks. He struggled to get up again, but in vain--his limbs refused their office. He tried to cry out for help, but a hollow rattling sound alone issued from his throat.

At length, by a convulsive effort, he did contrive to lift his head from the ground; but that was all he could do. His hands clutched ineffectually at the sandy soil; his frame was powerless; and a stifled groan broke from his lips. But this condition was too horrible for long endurance. The muscles of the neck relaxed; his head fell heavily backwards; and after a gasp or two, respiration ceased.

Thus died this unhappy man, unattended, in a cellar, half entombed in the hole digged as a hiding-place for a portion of his wealth--wealth for which he had sacrificed all his comforts, all his feelings, all his affections, and for which alone of late he had seemed to live. Thus he perished--a fearful example of the effects of the heart-searing vice of which he was the slave and the victim.

After some little consideration, Abel went up alone to the miser’s room, and knocking two or three times, and receiving no answer, opened the door. Approaching the bed, he found it empty, with the clothes turned down, as left by the miser; and casting a hurried glance into the closet to satisfy himself that no person was there, he hastily ran downstairs to Hilda, to acquaint her with the alarming discovery he had made.

She was greatly terrified; but after a moment’s reflection, suggested that her father might possibly have gone down to the cellar, and related the circumstance which she herself had once witnessed there.

Concurring in the opinion, Abel offered immediately to go in search of him; and dissuading Hilda, who secretly shared his worst apprehensions, from accompanying him, took a candle and descended to the cellar.

As he entered the vault, he indistinctly perceived a ghastly object; and springing forward, held up the light, so as to reveal it more fully. His fancy had not deceived him. There, in a grave--evidently digged by his own hands--lay his old enemy--dead--dead!

While Abel was wrapt in contemplation of this miserable spectacle, and surrendering himself to the thoughts which it inspired, heavy steps were heard behind him, and Jacob rushed into the cellar.

‘Where is he?’ cried the porter, in accents of alarm. ‘Has anything happened? Ha! I see.’

And pushing past Abel Beechcroft, he precipitated himself into the hole with his master.

‘All’s over with him,’ he cried, in a voice of agony and self-reproach, and grasping the cold hand of the corpse. ‘This would never have happened if I had been at home. I’m in a manner his murderer.’

‘Another hand than yours has been at work here, Jacob,’ said Abel; ‘and terrible as your poor master’s fate has been, it may prove a salutary lesson to others. There he lies, who a few hours ago was the possessor of useless thousands, the value of which he knew not--nay, the very existence of which he knew not--for the few bags of gold beside him were the only palpable treasure he owned.

[[[DISPERSION OF THE JACOBITE CLUB, AND DEATH OF CARDWELL FIREBRAS--THE SUMMER-HOUSE AT THE CHEQUERS--THE OLD MILL--THE JACOBITES BETRAYED]]]

|A glance satisfied Firebras that all was right, and he returned slowly to the house, the landlord stamping upon the floor as he quitted the building, as a signal to the grenadiers that they might now come forth from their concealment. On reaching the house, Firebras dismissed the landlord, and going up to Randulph, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, ‘I have rare news for you.’

‘And I have rare news for you,’ replied the other.

‘Hear mine first!’ cried Firebras. ‘What if I tell you I am come to offer you your estates and the hand of Hilda, if you join the Jacobite party?’

‘There would be no use in joining you now!’ returned Randulph.

‘You think I’m trifling with you!’ cried Firebras, producing a packet; ‘but this will speak to the contrary. Here is the assignment of your estates to Isaac Isaacs. A receipt in full of all claims is attached to it. The deed is yours, provided you join us.’

‘You amaze me,’ cried Randulph, gazing at the packet; ‘that is unquestionably the deed I executed.’

‘Most certainly it is,’ replied Firebras. ‘It is too long a story to tell you how I became possessed of it,’ he added, replacing it in his pocket, ‘but I have other intelligence for you. Mr. Scarve is dead!’ Randolph uttered an exclamation of surprise.

‘He died last night,’ pursued Firebras, ‘and left his property to Philip Frewin, in case of Hilda’s refusal to marry him.’

‘But Philip may not live to claim the fulfilment of the condition,’ cried Randulph.

‘Philip, also, is dead,’ replied Firebras. And smiling at Randulph’s astonishment, he added, ‘Now you see that all is in your grasp. Fate has given you the lady of your love. I offer you your fortune. Can you refuse to join us?’

‘Mr. Firebras,’ said Randulph, composing himself, ‘this is not the time to put such a question to me.’

‘Pardon me,’ cried Firebras sternly, ‘I must have an answer now--at this moment--or you lose your estates and Hilda for ever. Do not suppose I threaten lightly. I can, and will, make good my words.’

‘You mistake me altogether,’ rejoined Randulph. ‘I mean to say it would be useless for me to assent. You are betrayed.’

‘Betrayed!’ exclaimed Firebras, in a voice of thunder. ‘How! by whom? But this is a mere assertion made to turn me from my purpose.’

‘You will find it too true,’ replied Randulph. ‘The house is environed on all sides by grenadiers.’

‘I have just visited the summer-house,’ said Firebras. ‘There was no one there.’

‘The men were concealed in a lower chamber,’ said Randulph.

‘It’ may be so,’ cried Firebras, with a terrible imprecation. ‘But they shall not take me easily. My pistols! ha! they have been removed! The landlord, then, is our betrayer.’

‘He is,’ replied Randulph. ‘Your only chance of escape is apparent unconsciousness of the design. You might perhaps make good your own retreat--but the others----’

‘I will never desert them,’ said Firebras. ‘There is a boat at hand, for I ordered Jacob Post to be in waiting for you off the summer-house, for another purpose, and I caught a glimpse of him just now. Ha! here come our friends.’ And, as he spoke, Sir Norfolk Salusbury, Sir Bulkeley Price, Father Verselyn, Mr. Travers, and four or five other gentlemen entered the room.

‘Leave us, landlord,’ said Firebras; ‘we will call you when we want you.’ And the order being obeyed, he bolted the door. ‘We are betrayed, gentlemen,’ said Firebras, in a low tone; ‘the house is surrounded by guards, and our retreat is cut off by the river.’

As the words were uttered, the door was tried by some persons without, who, finding it fastened, proceeded to burst it open. ‘To the garden! to the garden!’ cried Firebras. And the party made for the window.

Before, however, the whole of them could pass through it, the officer and a party of grenadiers burst open the door, and endeavoured to seize them.

Firebras and the others, with the exception of Randulph, drew off.

[[[DEATH OF TUE JACOBITE CLUB, AND OF CARDWELL FIREBRAS--DISPERSION]]]

|The Miser’s Daughter their swords, and the next instant an encounter took place. But, as all was buried in darkness, little mischief was done. In spite of the efforts of the soldiers to prevent them, five or six of the Jacobites contrived to get across the ditch, and gaining the mill, took shelter within it. They were followed by a party of grenadiers, who fired a few shots at them. Whether the circumstance was the result of accident or design is immaterial, but a few minutes afterwards the mill was found to be on fire. Flames burst from the upper windows, throwing a fierce glare on the groups below, and brightly illumining the towers of Westminster Abbey.

Repeated loud explosions were next heard, threatening each moment to shake the mill to pieces; while some of the unfortunate Jacobites were seen springing from a side window upon the waterwheel, and trying to descend by it. Two others, at the risk of breaking their necks, dropped from a window facing the river, and endeavoured to gain the vessel moored beside it. The fugitives on the water-wheel were held in check by a party of grenadiers, who, having thrown a couple of planks over the little stream, were enabled to reach them.

Meanwhile, favoured by the previous darkness, for all was now as bright as day, Firebras, Salusbury, and the rest of the Jacobites made good their retreat as far as the summer-house. Some of them even managed to force their way to the platform. Here a desperate struggle took place, in which Sir Norfolk was severely wounded in the side by a bayonet. By this time the fire had broken out in the mill, and its glare showed Jacob at a little distance in a skiff. Notwithstanding the menaces of the soldiers, who pointed their guns at him, and threatened to fire if he approached nearer, Jacob pushed resolutely towards the summer-house.

He was now close under the platform, and made signs to Randulph to descend, but the latter would not desert Sir Norfolk, who had been seized by a couple of grenadiers. He threw himself upon the old baronet’s captors, and in the struggle that ensued, the railing gave way, precipitating Sir Bulkeley Price, the Jesuit, and the grenadiers into the tide. Before the other soldiers had recovered from their surprise at this occurrence, Randulph had lowered Sir Norfolk into the skiff and sprung in after him.

Jacob’s efforts to push off were impeded by Sir Bulkeley Price, who clung to the stern of the skiff, earnestly imploring them to take him in. Father Verselyn caught hold of the steps, and apprehensive of some further disaster, crept along the side of the summer-house, and took refuge in a small sewer, in the slime of which it is supposed he perished, for he was never heard of more.

Meanwhile, Cardwell Firebras--engaged hand to hand with the officer, who, having vainly summoned him to surrender, attacked him in person--had reached the platform. Seeing escape impossible, Firebras, while defending himself against the officer, called to Randulph, whom he descried below, and held out the packet to him. The latter ordered Jacob to keep the skiff steady, and to bring it as near the combatants as possible.

While Jacob obeyed the injunction, a successful thrust from Firebras stretched his adversary upon the platform, but the next moment he received his own death-wound from Long Tom, who stepped forward as his officer fell, and discharged his musket into his breast. With a dying effort, Firebras stretched his hand over the rail, and consigning the packet to Randulph, fell backwards into the water. Possessed of the packet, Randulph turned to the aid of Sir Bulkeley Price, and pulling him into the skiff, Jacob instantly pushed off. Assisted by the stream, which ran very strong, they soon got under the sides of the vessel near the mill, and were sheltered from the fire of the soldiery.

Meanwhile, the conflagration raged fast and furiously, and before the skiff containing the fugitives had got half way to Westminster Bridge, a tremendous explosion took place, scattering the blazing fragments of the old mill far and wide into the river.

[[[RANDOLPH CREW’S MARRIAGE WITH HILDA AT LAMBETH CHURCH--DETAILING AN EVENT WHICH MAY POSSIBLY HAVE BEEN ANTICIPATED]]]

|We shall hurry over the intervening period as rapidly as the lovers themselves would have hurried it over, and proceed at once to the wished-for day.

A little before nine o’clock, on this eventful morning, Randulph, who had taken up his quarters with Sir Bulkeley Price, in Saint James’s Square, entered the breakfast-room, arrayed in his bridal attire, which had been prepared for him by the skilful hands of Desmartins. He found Sir Bulkeley Price and Sir Norfolk Salusbury at the table--the latter having come up from Wales, whither he had retired to recruit himself after his wound, expressly to attend the ceremony. After receiving their congratulations, Randulph sat down with them, but as he could only swallow a cup of chocolate, he underwent much rallying on his want of appetite.

Breakfast over, the party drove to Whitehall Stairs, where a six-oared barge was in readiness to convey them across the river. Jacob Post was appointed coxswain of this barge, and he wore a waterman’s coat of scarlet cloth, and velvet jockey-shaped cap of the same colour. The six rowers were attired in the same livery, and presented a very gay appearance.

The morning was bright and beautiful, and everything seemed to Randulph to participate in his happiness. Each boat that passed them, seeing the purpose on which they were bent, cheered them cordially, and Jacob, who was greatly elated, returned their greetings lustily.

As they passed through Westminster Bridge, and shaped their rapid course to Lambeth, they passed a boat containing a couple in bridal attire, and rowed by watermen with favours in their caps. These were Mr. Rathbone and Mrs. Nettleship, who, having made a composition with their creditors, had come to the conclusion that the best thing they could do would be to fulfil their original agreement, and having heard that Randulph and Hilda were to be united at Lambeth, they determined, like Peter Pokerich and the fair Thomasine, to be married at the same time, and at the same church. The boats cheered each other as they passed. Shortly after this, they came up with a four-oared cutter, in which was a still more gaily dressed bridal party, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Deacle, the fair Thomasine, and Peter Pokerich. The sunny tresses, bright eyes, and dimpling cheeks of the bride attracted Sir Bulkeley’s admiration, and he called out to Peter that he ought to consider himself a very happy man; to which the little barber replied, ‘that he was the happiest man in the world--Mr. Crew excepted.’

Another cheering passed between the rowers; and Randulph’s barge swept over the sparkling waters to the stairs near Lambeth Palace, where he and his companions disembarked.

As Abel Beechcroft was extremely well known and highly respected in the neighbourhood, great preparations were made to lend éclat to his nephew’s wedding. A band of music was stationed on a lighter moored near the stairs; and the lighter itself was hung all over with flags and streamers. The band was playing, the bells ringing, and as Randulph leaped ashore, a loud shout from the crowd collected to see him land, welcomed him, while many flattering comments, in no very low key, were made upon his handsome appearance by the female part of the assemblage. In passing towards his uncle’s residence, Randulph noticed with interest a troop of pretty little girls with wreaths round their heads, and baskets of flowers in their hands, standing in the path leading to the church.

The party were admitted by Mr. Jukes, whose portly figure was well displayed in an expansive snowy waistcoat, a brown coat, spick and span new for the occasion, and a well-powdered bob-wig. The worthy butler gave Randulph a hearty welcome, and wished him many years of happiness, and having ushered him and the others into the parlour, returned to the hall to Jacob, to give him wedding favours for himself and the watermen, which the other hastened to distribute.

The meeting between the young bride and bridegroom was full of agitated delight. Abel looked perfectly happy, but thoughtful, as did Mrs. Crew, whose emotion found relief in an occasional sigh--not the sigh of misgiving, but the relief of a joy-oppressed heart.

Trussell was, as usual, in very high spirits. He shook Randulph heartily by the hand, wished him all sorts of happiness, and then cordially greeted the Welsh baronets. Besides Mrs. Clinton, there was another young lady present, the daughter of an old friend of Mrs. Crew’s, a Miss Wilbraham, who acted as bridesmaid to Hilda.

Soon afterwards, all being in readiness, the bride prepared to set forth under the care of Abel Beechcroft, who, before they quitted the house, in an earnest tone, invoked a blessing on her head and on that of his nephew. And both felt that the blessing of so good a man would not be thrown away.

Cheered by the good wishes and smiling countenances of the groups through which they had passed, and enlivened by the sunshine, the party entered the church. Peter Pokerich and the fair Thomasine, with Mr. Rathbone and Mrs. Nettleship, were already standing beside the altar. The young couple advanced, and took the central place, and the church was instantly crowded with spectators. The service was admirably performed by a venerable clergyman--an old and valued friend of Abel’s, and at its close, the concourse issued from the church, dividing into two lines, so as to allow a passage for the wedding train.

As soon as the happy couple were seen issuing hand-in-hand from the Gothic portal of the old church, a loud and joyous shout was raised by the assemblage, a couple of guns were fired on board the lighter, and the church bells rang forth a joyous peal.

It was a heart-cheering sight, and many a breast throbbed, and many an eye grew moist at beholding it. And plenty of spectators there were. The whole of the area before the church was filled, and the windows and towers of the old archiépiscopal palace were studded with faces. The little flower-girls now stepped forward, and strewed their fragrant offerings in the path of the happy pair, who walked on amid the continued cheers of the bystanders.

A little behind Randulph, on the right, walked Trussell, who, excited by the general enthusiasm, had placed his hat on his cane, and waved it to the crowd. Near him came Abel and Miss Wilbraham, the former with a glowing smile on his countenance, such as Mr. Jukes himself never remembered to have witnessed. After them walked Sir Norfolk Salusbury and Mrs. Crew. Next in order came Mr. and Mrs. Pokerich, the latter of whom thought it decorous to turn aside her pretty face from the ardent gaze of her enamoured little lord. Lastly came Mr. and Mrs. Rathbone, whose appearance did not seem greatly to interest the spectators. Sir Bulkeley Price had posted himself on the left of the church door, to watch the wedding train pass by, and to wait the coming forth of the clergyman.

As Randulph advanced through the crowd, Jacob Post stepped forward, and holding out his rough, honest hand to him, said in a voice, the sincerity of which could not be doubted, ‘God bless you, sir, and your lovely bride, and may you know years of uninterrupted happiness!’

‘And take my blessing too,’ said Mr. Jukes, likewise extending his hand. ‘An old man’s good wishes, though he be but a dependant, can do no harm.’

‘I thank you both!’ cried Randulph, in a voice of emotion; ‘and my wife thanks you too.’

‘I do--I do,’ she replied; ‘nor do I doubt the fulfilment of your wishes.’ And as she uttered these words, loud and deafening cheers rent the air, and another discharge of guns took place.

In this way they proceeded to the house, where they were followed by the rest of the party, and presently afterwards by the clergyman and Sir Bulkeley. They then all sat down to an excellent repast.

By desire of his hospitable master, Mr. Jukes invited the other couples and their friends to take refreshments at his house, which, as they delightedly availed themselves of the offer, were served to them in the summer-house overlooking the river; where, while enjoying themselves, they did not forget to drink long life and happiness to Randulph and his bride.

The honeymoon--all the rest of their life was a honeymoon--was passed by the happy couple, in good old-fashioned style, at Lambeth. They then proceeded to Cheshire, accompanied by Trussell and Mrs. Crew, and were soon afterwards followed by Abel, who passed the winter with them. In due time the prognostications of Mr. Jukes were fulfilled, and Abel displayed no objection to the endearments of two great-nieces and a great-nephew.

Appointed Randulph’s head-gamekeeper, Jacob Post passed the remainder of his days in the service of his new master. Of the two brothers Beechcroft, Abel was the first to pay the debt of nature, Trussell survived him two or three years, during which he was a great martyr to gout. He never, however, lost his temper, except when young Master Randulph accidentally trod on his toe, and then he would swear a round oath, to frighten him, and try to hit at him with his stick, as testy old gentlemen are wont to do in plays. Randulph and Hilda almost touched the verge of the nineteenth century; and from the anecdotes of one of their descendants, in the third generation, the materials of the present tale have been collected.

HISTORY OF THE IRISH REBELLION IN 1798 AND EMMETT’S INSURRECTION IN 1803.

By W. H. Maxwell

Author Of ‘The Life Of The Duke Of Wellington,’ Etc. Etc.

``````Take heed

```How you awake the deeping sword of war;

```We charge you, in the name of God, take heed!

```For never two such kingdoms did contend,

```Without much fall of blood.

``````--Shakspeare.=

[[[THE CRADLE OF THE REBELLION]]]

|The rebellious movement which, in 1798, openly burst into the horrors of civil war, had for years been maturing. The success of the American colonists in defeating the mother country, and the upheaval in France, the great Revolution, proved fatal precedents, and the easily excited minds of the Irish people led the disloyal and disaffected of the sister kingdom to contemplate the forcible carrying out of a similar policy. As will be seen, this fratricidal struggle largely resolved itself into a religious campaign between the Catholic and Protestant sections of the community.

At an early stage of the coming struggle the ulterior objects of the discontented Catholics became perfectly apparent, and some of their warmest advocates took alarm. Sir Hercules Langrish, in his place in the Irish Parliament, thus addressed the House: ‘Notwithstanding my prepossessions in favour of the Roman Catholics, I was checked for some time in my ardour to serve them, by reading of late a multitude of publications and paragraphs in the newspapers, and other public prints, circulated _gratis_ with the utmost industry, purporting to convey the sentiments of the Catholics. What was their import? They were exhortations to the people never to be satisfied at any concession till the State itself was conceded: they were precautions against public tranquillity; they were invitations to disorder, and covenants of discontent; they were ostentations of strength, rather than solicitations for favour; rather appeals to the power of the people, than applications to the authority of the State; they involved the relief of the Catholic, with the revolution of the Government; and were dissertations for democracy, rather than arguments for toleration.’

[[[APPEAL TO FORCE OF ARMS]]]

Acting, however, on the resolutions they had published, the Committees determined to summon a Convention in imitation of the proceedings which were at the time violently revolutionising France, where the horrors of the great French Rebellion had already unsettled everything in 1789. Circulars were issued by their leaders--representatives elected in the counties--and on the 3rd of December 1792 the ‘Back Lane Parliament’ commenced its first session in Tailor’s Hall.

The daring measure of calling together an assembly, where the delegates debated with closed doors, was followed by a still bolder demonstration. The discontented Romanists resolved upon making an overbearing display of physical force, and declared their intention to arm, to maintain their rights and effect their objects. For this purpose large sums of money were levied, and a body was enrolled in the metropolis under the title of ‘The National Guard.’ They were arrayed in green uniforms, with a harp without the crown displayed upon the buttons and appointments. Orders were issued for a general muster on the 9th of December; but a proclamation, issued by the Lord Lieutenant, declared the body to be dangerous to the public peace, and directed the authorities to disperse the meeting should it be attempted, and employ force were it required. Many conjectures were hazarded at the time respecting the objects of the movement; some asserted that it was merely intended, by an exhibition of numerical strength, to confirm unsteady friends, and intimidate those who were opposed to them; others, however, ascribed to the National Guards more serious and sanguinary designs--‘to seize even then upon the city, and commence at once a civil war.’ Certain it is that the Government were led to apprehend that this muster would lead to a revolutionary movement, and, accordingly, the most decisive measures were taken to render it abortive.

[[[‘THE UNITED IRISHMEN’]]]

|To follow up the progress and proceedings of the ‘United Irishmen’ throughout that unquiet period which intervened between the lieutenancies of Earls Westmoreland and Camden would be unnecessary. Their civil and military organisation, however, shall be described, and a brief analysis given of their general history from the epoch where we have broken off, when the seeds of disaffection had taken a firm root, and a conspiracy was hatched, which, a few years afterwards, became fatally matured, and exploded in 1798 with portentous violence.

Under the colour of volunteering, the arming and drilling of the malcontents continued. A proclamation, issued by the 11th of March 1793, declared these proceedings illegal, and attached penal consequences to any who should continue them. The preamble ran thus: ‘Whereas certain seditious and ill-affected persons, in several parts of the north, particularly in the town of Belfast, have endeavoured to foment and encourage discontent, and to defame the Government and the Parliament, by seditious publications circulated among the people; and that several bodies of men have been collected in armed associations, and have been levied and arrayed in the said town of Belfast; and that arms and gunpowder to a very large amount have been sent thither; and that bodies of men have been drilled and exercised by day and night, under the pretext of obtaining a redress of grievances, though the obvious intention appears to be to overawe the Parliament and the Government, and to dictate to both.’

This and the Gunpowder Act struck heavily at the military organisations of the revolutionists; while the Convention Act, subsequently passed, embarrassed the leaders of the movement so much, that an influential member of the Union, Samuel Neilson, afterwards declared, ‘That the bill was calculated to meet every part of the system, and the framer must have had their constitution in his hand when he was devising its provisions.’

[[[‘THE DEFENDERS’ AND ‘ORANGE LODGES’]]]

|In 1794 and 1795 outrages by ‘the Defenders’--a lawless confederacy, exclusively Catholic--became general, and the Protestants associated for self-defence. A conflict between the rival religionists took place at a spot called ‘The Diamond,’ in the county of Armagh, in which the Defenders were signally defeated. In commemoration of this success the first Orange Lodge was formed on the 21st of September 1795. The system of Orange Lodges ‘was not established in the metropolis, though many years threatened with open rebellion, till the month of January 1798; and many gentlemen of high character and considerable talents placed themselves at its head, to give the institution a proper direction, and to silence the calumnious clamours of traitors against it.’ The ‘Orange’ organisation, slowly but steadily, gained strength, until the body was considered in the north of Ireland so numerous and effective, that General Knox, commanding at the outbreak in 1798, assured the Government that to these ardent supporters of the constitution the safety of Ulster might be confidently entrusted.

[[[STATE PROSECUTIONS]]]

|Early in the annals of the movement several of the revolutionary leaders were subjected to State prosecutions for sedition. Hamilton Rowan was convicted, fined, and imprisoned, but escaped in women’s clothes from Newgate; Nappy Tandy placed under bail, but fled the kingdom to avoid a trial; Doctor Drennan was tried and acquitted; Tone expatriated himself, and went with his family to America; but Jackson, an English clergyman, and an envoy from the French Republican Government to the Irish revolutionists, was, on the 23rd of April 1795, capitally convicted of high treason. The unhappy man committed suicide, and poisoned himself in the prisoner’s bar, immediately after the foreman had announced him guilty.

The recall of Lord Westmoreland and the appointment of Lord Fitzwilliam as viceroy raised the sinking confidence of the Catholic party as much as it depressed the hopes of the Orangists. The well-known bias of the Earl’s political opinions was warmly in favour of fresh and full concessions, and it was supposed that Catholic emancipation was at hand. While the Roman Catholics were buoyant with high expectation, arising from the noble lord’s appointment to the Irish lieutenancy, a sudden recall crushed their hopes and augmented their disaffection. From this period their hostility to any monarchical form of government appears to have become inveterate, and the first test required of a United Irishman--one in which a reformed Parliament was distinctly recognised--was instantly exchanged for another purely democratical.

[[[OATH OF THE ‘UNITED IRISHMEN’]]]