A Lady of England 18

A Lady of England 18

NELL. I should say very singular indeed, did I not know its

cause.

 

WRIG. Is it presumptuous to inquire what that cause may be?

 

NELL. O I’ll tell you in a moment. It all arises out of the

freaks and folly of Mr. Grim of Grimhaggard Hall, who had, I

am sorry to say, the kindness to leave us this property, and

thereby consigned me to the dolefuls for the rest of my life.

 

WRIG. Was the estate bequeathed under any unpleasant

conditions? I never heard your respected father complain of

such.

 

NELL. O it is all _right_ to my father because it was all

_left_ to him. But you shall hear. This Mr. Grim had a

promising nephew, ... and this nephew, Mr. Atherton by name, was

very naturally considered as Mr. Grim’s heir, the old gentleman

never having persuaded any lady to marry him, and reign like

another Proserpine over the gloomy shades of Grimhaggard Hall.

 

WRIG. How then came the estate to your Father?

 

NELL. Have a little patience, my dear Mr. Wriggle, and you

shall be as learned as myself upon the subject. Well, this old

uncle quarrelled with this young nephew. I think that it was

about politics or some such absurdity; the elder was a Tory

and the junior a Radical; no, the young one was the Tory, and

the old one the Radical; and this _radical_ question was the

_root_ of the quarrel. Now what do you think the spiteful old

gentleman did?

 

WRIG. Disinherited his nephew, and left the property to Mr.

Cramp.

 

NELL. That would have been a pretty severe lesson to the young

man; but what do you say to the affectionate uncle leaving such

a clause as this in his will? That my father must only have

and hold this said Grimhaggard Hall, on condition of poor Mr.

Atherton’s never even crossing the threshold of what he once

considered his home! The place must be perfectly _heir_-tight.

If he ever passes twelve hours under this roof, the whole

estate is to revert to him.

 

WRIG. Such a clause argues little charity; but perhaps it may

ultimately prove for the benefit of him whom it was designed to

injure.

 

NELL. Ah, you think that Mr. Atherton may still manage to

get his property out of his old uncle’s _clause_! I am sure

I wish that Mr. Grim had left the dull place to him, or any

one but us; but then my Father is not of my mind. Yet even he

has not an atom of enjoyment of his prize, from the perpetual

fear of losing it. He has heard that young Atherton is very

sharp and clever; of course he will try to regain his rights

by any means that may present themselves; so I really believe

that Papa expects him to appear some day or other through the

key-hole. The gate is kept constantly locked,--luckily, one

can see the high-road from the house,--nothing in the shape

of a Man is permitted to pass it; we have even parted with

all men-servants, lest Mr. Atherton should manage to get in

disguised as a lackey. Grimhaggard Hall is a regular Convent. A

travelling pedlar is regarded with suspicion; the butcher-boy

must hand the leg of mutton over the gate; the young apothecary

is an object of terror,--I could not have a tooth pulled out,

were I to die for it. Dear me, how it is raining! The weather

seems endeavouring to find out whether it be possible to make

Grimhaggard Hall look a little duller than usual.

 

WRIG. I hope Miss Cob may be fortunate in having finer weather

for her journey to-morrow.

 

NELL. She is on the road to-day, like John Gilpin’s hat and

wig. She was to leave Puddingham this morning, and rest

to-night at the Jolly Bridecake at Mouseton. I hope the coach

is provided with oar and rudders, for she will certainly have

to swim for it!...

 

In the midst of this talk an artist’s gig is smashed outside the front

gate; and the artist, Mr. Scull, being much shaken, is actually admitted

within the walls of the old Hall, to the great disquiet of Mr. Cramp, who

is determined that, come what may, the young man shall not remain through

the night. It is a pelting day, and no other conveyance seems likely

to pass; while the artist is plainly unable to walk the distance which

separates Grimhaggard Hall from the next town. While this matter is still

under discussion, a ring at the front-door bell is heard, and ‘a woman

of very singular appearance’ is seen ‘standing in the rain, without an

umbrella, as if water were her native element.’

 

NELL. Who can it be? [_Runs to the window._] Why, how tall she

is! she looks as though she had grown a foot since that dress

was made for her. What an extraordinary figure! Why, Sarah is

actually letting her in. Papa, we have not had so many visitors

since we came here. Grimhaggard Hall is growing quite gay.

 

CRAMP. I will go and meet this strange guest. [_Exit._]

 

NELL. It cannot be--it cannot be Miss Cob! Such a governess

would kill me either with terror or with laughter.

 

WRIG. You were in expectation, Madam, of some one remarkable

for eccentricity. We must not always judge of the qualities of

the mind by the singularity of the exterior.

 

_Enter MR. CRAMP and MISS COB._

 

CRAMP. Miss Cob,--my daughter. [_NELLY makes a curtsey, MISS

COB a bow._]

 

NELL. [_Aside to WRIGGLE._] I shall never keep my countenance.

 

WRIG. [_Aside._] That is to be regretted, for it is a very fair

one.

 

CRAMP. We did not expect you to-night, Ma’am. Did you not

purpose sleeping at Mouseton?

 

MISS C. The inn was chock-full.

 

CRAMP. But how came you to be on foot? You never have walked

all the way! Where is your conveyance? It would be of the

utmost service to me.

 

MISS C. Smashed on the road.

 

CRAMP. Well, if all the gigs and cabs in England are not in

coalition against me this day! And where is your luggage?

 

MISS C. Coming. You did not expect me to carry it on my back,

like a snail, did ye?

 

WRIG. Miss Cob, like an experienced general, leaves her baggage

in the rear.

 

NELL. I should rather have expected to find it in the _van_.

You are very wet, Ma’am; shall I help you off with your cloak?

 

MISS C. O never mind. I’m neither sugar nor salt; only it’s a

plaguy thing to have one’s dress so long, walking through such

a bog.

 

NELL. [_Aside._] How _long_ she may have had her dress, I know

not; but in one sense I am sure it is short enough.

 

MISS C. This seems a good big house, but rather too much like a

prison. Have you those bars on all the windows?

 

CRAMP. On all.

 

MISS C. And how many men-servants do you keep?

 

CRAMP. None at all. [_Aside._] What impertinent curiosity!

 

NELL. [_Aside._] Shall I venture to address her again? I can

scarcely command myself. [_Aloud._] Pray, Ma’am, are you fond

of music?

 

MISS C. I’m a regular dab at it.

 

NELL. What instrument do you play?

 

MISS C. All sorts of instruments, from the drum to the Jew’s

harp.

 

NELL. You don’t play the cornopion?

 

MISS C. Like bricks,--and sing all the time. You shall hear me

to-morrow. [_All stare in mute amazement._]

 

CRAMP. May I trouble you, Ma’am, to let me see your letter of

introduction from Lady Myres again?

 

MISS C. Heartily welcome. You will read all about me there.

Full details of manners and accomplishments. She says I’m a