This eBook was produced by Tapio Riikonen
and David Widger
Change and time take together their flight.—Golden Violet.
One evening in autumn, about three years after the date of our lastchapter, a stranger on horseback, in deep mourning, dismounted at thedoor of the Golden Fleece, in the memorable town of W——. He walkedinto the taproom, and asked for a private apartment and accommodationfor the night. The landlady, grown considerably plumper than when wefirst made her acquaintance, just lifted up her eyes to the stranger'sface, and summoning a short stout man (formerly the waiter, now thesecond helpmate of the comely hostess), desired him, in a tone whichpartook somewhat more of the authority indicative of their formerrelative situations than of the obedience which should havecharacterized their present, "to show the gentleman to the Griffin,No. 4."
The stranger smiled as the sound greeted his ears, and he followed notso much the host as the hostess's spouse into the apartment thusdesignated. A young lady, who some eight years ago little thoughtthat she should still be in a state of single blessedness, and whoalways honoured with an attentive eye the stray travellers who, fromtheir youth, loneliness, or that ineffable air which usuallydesignates the unmarried man, might be in the same solitary state oflife, turned to the landlady and said,—
"Mother, did you observe what a handsome gentleman that was?"
"No," replied the landlady; "I only observed that he brought noservant"
"I wonder," said the daughter, "if he is in the army? he has amilitary air!"
"I suppose he has dined," muttered the landlady to herself, lookingtowards the larder.
"Have you seen Squire Mordaunt within a short period of time?" asked,somewhat abruptly, a little thick-set man, who was enjoying his pipeand negus in a sociable way at the window-seat. The characteristicsof this personage were, a spruce wig, a bottle nose, an elevatedeyebrow, a snuff-coloured skin and coat, and an air of thatconsequential self-respect which distinguishes the philosopher whoagrees with the French sage, and sees "no reason in the world why aman should not esteem himself."
"No, indeed, Mr. Bossolton," returned the landlady; "but I supposethat, as he is now in the Parliament House, he will live less retired.It is a pity that the inside of that noble old Hall of his should notbe more seen; and after all the old gentleman's improvements too!They say that the estate now, since the mortgages were paid off, isabove 10,000 pounds a year, clear!"
"And if I am not induced into an error," rejoined Mr. Bossolton,refilling his pipe, "old Vavasour left a great sum of ready moneybesides, which must have been an aid, and an assistance, and anadvantage, mark me, Mistress Merrylack, to the owner of Mordaunt Hall,that has escaped the calculation of your faculty,—and the—and the—faculty of your calculation!"
"You mistake, Mr. Boss," as, in the friendliness of diminutives, Mrs.Merrylack sometimes styled the grandiloquent practitioner, "youmistake: the old gentleman left all his ready money in two bequests,—the one to the College of ——, in the University of Cambridge, andthe other to an hospital in London. I remember the very words of thewill; they ran thus, Mr. Boss. 'And whereas my beloved son, had helived, would have been a member of the College of —— in theUniversity of Cambridge, which he would have adorned by his genius,learning, youthful virtue, and the various qualities which did equalhonour to his head and heart, and would ha