At a late hour in the evening Lord Spoonbill, accompanied by his worthy friend Colonel Crop, arrived at Smatterton castle. The domestics were instructed not to make the arrival public, for his lordship was not desirous of being interrupted by any invasions of callers. His object professed to be the making some arrangements, and laying down some plans for alterations and improvements.

Colonel Crop was an excellent counsellor. He was one of those admirable advisers, whose suggestions are always taken, and whose advice is always welcome, for he never gave any advice except that which was dictated to him by the person whose counsellor he was. He would have made an excellent prime minister for any sovereign who might not like to be contradicted. His reverence for lords was very great, and far greater of course would have been his reverence for kings. He would no more think of reasoning with or contradicting a lord, than a common soldier would think of refusing to march or halt at the word of his commander.

Now when this worthy couple had finished a late dinner, and Colonel Crop had assented to and echoed all that Lord Spoonbill had been pleased to affirm as touching the excellence or the reverse of the various meats and drinks composing their dinner, the hereditary legislator began the work of consultation.

“Well, Crop, it is a good thing that I have sent that rascally letter-carrier away.”

“Very,” replied the colonel.

“It would have been quite shocking if he had been terrified or bribed out of his secret.”

“Quite,” replied the colonel.

“Now I have been thinking,” continued his lordship, “that you may be of great service to me in this affair.”

“You may command me,” replied the colonel.

That was true enough, and so might any one who would feed him. Young men of weak minds and vicious habits are very much to be pitied when they have such friends and companions as Colonel Crop.

“You know Miss Primrose by sight, colonel?” said his lordship.

“Can’t say I do,” replied the colonel; “I have seen her once, but I took very little notice.”

“I must introduce you then. Now you remember the trouble I had with the old ones about this affair, and you know that I was fool enough, as I told you, to go so far as actually to make Miss Primrose an offer of marriage.”

The colonel gave his assent to this proposition also; for he seemed to think it an act of rudeness to contradict a lord, even when he called himself a fool. And so perhaps it really is; for a lord ought to know whether he is a fool or not, and he would not say it if he did not believe it; and there is also a degree of wisdom in the discovery that one has been a fool, for thereby it is intimated that the season of folly is over. Whosoever therefore actually says that he was a fool formerly, virtually says that he is not a fool now. So no doubt did the colonel interpret the assertion of Lord Spoonbill, and with this interpretation he said, “Exactly so.”

“But I think now,” proceeded his lordship, “I may have the young lady on my own terms. But the difficulty is how to manage the business without alarming her, and perhaps bringing down some deadly vengeance from that father of her’s, for he is as fierce as a tiger.”

That which is a difficulty to an hereditary legislator and heir to a title and large estate, must of course be a difficulty also to a half-pay colonel, who loves to depend upon occasional dinners, and, like a hospital, to be supported by voluntary contributions. Therefore the colonel said:

“Ay, that is the difficulty.”

“If by any means we could contrive to get the father out of the way, we might perhaps get rid of some obstacle. Crop, can you hit upon any scheme to separate them?”

“Can’t, ’pon honor,” replied the colonel, who probably thought that it was not becoming in him to be more ingenious than his feeder. The colonel indeed was willing to do whatever he might be bid, to say whatever might be put into his mouth, to write whatever might be dictated to him, and to go wherever he might be sent. But he was by no means a self-acting machine. He would do anything for any body, but he required to be told explicitly what to do.

After a pause of some minutes, Lord Spoonbill observed; “Perhaps some use might be made of the stoppage of Mr Primrose’s banker. I forget the name; have you any recollection of it?”

“Can’t say I have, ’pon honor;” replied the colonel.

To proceed much farther in narrating this lively dialogue which took place between the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill and Colonel Crop, as to the most likely means of forwarding the designs which his lordship meditated against Miss Primrose, would contribute more to the reader’s weariness than to his amusement or edification. It will be enough in the present state of affairs to say, that this notable colloquy terminated in the determination on the part of his lordship to take no immediate steps in the affair till he had ascertained what effect the anonymous letter had produced upon Robert Darnley. For this purpose, Colonel Crop might render himself useful. Instructions were therefore given him accordingly, and he was ordered to ride over to Neverden Hall, where he might be most likely to gain some information.

Early therefore, on the following morning, the gallant colonel found his way to the mansion of the worthy baronet and able magistrate, Sir George Aimwell. The unpaid one was mightily well pleased at the visit, and he shook the hand of the half-paid one till his fingers ached.

“Well, Colonel, I am glad to see you. So you are tired of the gaieties of London already, and you are coming to relieve our dullness in the country. How are our noble neighbours?”

“Quite well, I thank you,” replied the colonel, who felt himself one of great importance in being able to speak so readily and assuredly concerning nobility.

And here we will take the opportunity, and a very fit one it is, of observing on a very curious fact, namely, that the reverence for nobility and high rank is not felt so acutely and powerfully by simple and unmixed plebeians, as it is by those who have some remote affinity to nobility, or who fancy themselves to be a shadow or two of a caste above the mere plebeian. Colonel Crop was not of noble family, but he was the last of a mighty puissant race of insignificant attenuated gentry in a country town; and as nobility was a scarce article in the neighbourhood where he was born and brought up, he was mightily proud of his intimacy with the noble family of the Spoonbills. But to proceed.

“Now, colonel, as you are here,” said the worthy baronet, “I hope you will stay and spend the day with me.”

We are always popping in our remarks upon everything that is done and said; and here again we cannot help remarking that Sir George Aimwell might have had the grace to say “with us,” as well as “with me;” but he thought so much of his own magisterial self, that he had no consideration of any one else.

To the invitation thus given the gallant colonel scarcely knew what to say, for his commission, though very definite as to purpose, was not definite as to time. Now the colonel, though a man of family, was somewhat obtuse, and by some people would have been called stupid; and he scarcely knew whether or not he should communicate to the amiable magistrate at Neverden Hall, the fact of Lord Spoonbill’s incognito presence at Smatterton castle. And as it was not possible for him to send back to the castle for further orders, he thought that the most prudent step that he could take would be to leave the matter of dining undecided, and go back in person to Smatterton for full directions.

He gave therefore an undecided answer to the baronet’s invitation, saying that he had some “little matters” to attend to at Smatterton, and that, if he possibly could return to Neverden in the evening, he should be most happy to take his dinner with the worthy baronet.

Back therefore to Smatterton trotted the convenient colonel, in order to report progress and ask leave to sit at the baronet’s table. Now we “guess” that some of our readers are sneering most contemptuously at this convenient colonel, and admiring the placid facility with which he is moved about from place to place at the nod of an hereditary legislator, and obeying all the commands of a tadpole senator. Yet why should any one think that he is unworthily or degradingly employed. Only let us imagine for a moment that the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill is a most gracious, or a most Christian majesty, and that his negociations are for precisely the same purpose as they are at present; or that from negociations of this nature there may have arisen between two mighty and puissant nations a just and necessary war—such things have been—then would the said Colonel Crop, in his capacity of negociator, be regarded with profound admiration by all his majesty’s most faithful and loyal subjects; and morning and evening papers would be proud of putting forth second editions to immortalize his diplomatic movements. But, as it is, ours is the only record of these matters.

When Colonel Crop therefore returned to Smatterton castle, and informed his right honorable employer of what had passed at Neverden, Lord Spoonbill thought, though he did not say, that Colonel Crop was a great booby.

“Why, colonel,” said his lordship, “by all means go back and take your dinner with Sir George; you may find out something about Darnley; I am in no hurry for your return, only let me know all that you can collect concerning this young lady; and above all endeavour to find out whether Mr Robert Darnley is spoken of as her future husband, or whether the acquaintance between them is broken off. That is all I wish to ascertain at present. I shall then know how to act. For don’t you see that, if Darnley keeps at a distance in consequence of the present reports, I am more likely to have her on my own terms. There is no heart so easy to win as that of a disappointed lover.”

With his instructions back went the colonel to Neverden. And as we have not the opportunity of giving verbal or senatorial advice to mighty and puissant princes, we will here do all we can for the good of our country, and of all countries into the language of which this history may be translated, by advising and most earnestly recommending that blockheads, however valorous or gallant, like our friend Colonel Crop, be not employed in diplomatic offices. There is a very great difference between the vigorous arm that can break a man’s head, and the ingenious dexterity which can bend a man’s heart. And, generally speaking, those people can have but little regard for brains, whose business it is to knock them out.

For want of a dexterous diplomatist, Lord Spoonbill, as we shall see hereafter, was exposed to great inconvenience, and suffered mighty and serious disappointment.

Colonel Crop was not sorry that leave was granted him to dine at Sir George Aimwell’s. For the baronet had an excellent cook, and the cook had an excellent place, and few are the instances in which there exists so good an understanding between master and servant, as in the present case there did between the worthy magistrate and his as worthy cook.

Whether Colonel Crop did or did not possess the organ of hope strongly developed in his skull, we cannot tell, for the gallant colonel has not yet been hanged; if he had, we might have found any organs we pleased; but we may suppose that he had the organ of anticipativeness, for his thoughts dwelt so seriously and intently upon the good dinner that he was likely to enjoy at Sir George Aimwell’s table, that he did actually and truly forget a great part of his errand. Oh, how selfish is mortal man!

The colonel, however, with all his propensity to oblivion, had sufficient memory to recollect that his business was to ascertain whether Mr Darnley, son of the rector of Neverden, still continued his acquaintance with a young lady or not. At the table of Sir George Aimwell there was introduced a young lady, Miss Glossop. The name of Glossop bears no very marked affinity to that of Primrose, but by some strange fatality or fatuity, the gallant colonel confounded them. The young lady, by a certain dashing style of behaviour, passed off with the colonel as a remarkably fine young woman; and when Sir George Aimwell spoke banteringly to her concerning Robert Darnley, then the gallant negociator was sure that this was the lady in question.

There was a still farther corroboration in the circumstance that this lady was gifted with remarkable vocal powers. The colonel was no great judge of music, but he could see that she played very rapidly, and he could hear that she sung very loud; and therefore he entertained the same notion of her musical talents which she herself did.

The musical exhibition took place after tea. Lady Aimwell cared little about music or anything else, and in the presence of her husband’s visitors she generally shewed her dignity by looking sulky. But Colonel Crop was so vastly polite, that her ladyship was generally more civil and courteous to him than to any other guests who were attracted to Neverden Hall by the fame of the baronet’s cook.

And while Miss Glossop was amusing herself with melodious vociferations, and singing and playing so loud that the poor magistrate could hardly keep his eyes shut, Colonel Crop and Lady Aimwell were engaged in a whispering or muttering conversation, all about nothing at all. They both agreed that it was remarkable weather, neither of them had remembered it so mild for many years. Lady Aimwell was very well pleased to hear Colonel Crop’s common-place nothings which he had brought from London, and her ladyship related all that had taken place at Neverden since the colonel was there last.

Her ladyship was not especially partial to Miss Glossop. There was some little jealousy in the heart of Lady Aimwell that this stranger, as it were, should occupy so much of the baronet’s attention. Disagreeable people are generally the most jealous. Her ladyship noticed the music.

“I wonder,” muttered the fretful one to Colonel Crop, “that Sir George can bear to hear such a constant noise. I am sure he knows nothing of music. There is a great deal of talk about her fine voice and her rapid execution; her voice sounds to my ear very much like the voice of a peacock.”

Saying this her ladyship smiled, because it was almost witty, and the colonel also smiled, for he too thought it was witty.

“But I beg your pardon, colonel,” said her ladyship; “perhaps you may be partial to music?”

“By no means,” replied the colonel, “and I was not aware that Sir George was partial to it. Our friends at the castle are very musical.”

It was pleasant for the colonel to be able to talk about our friends at the castle; but Lady Aimwell, though not very ambitious of publicity in the gay world, was rather jealous of the Smatterton great ones, and thought herself treated with too much haughtiness and distance by the Earl and Countess.

“I wish that all that noise and affectation were at the castle, instead of tormenting me.”

Thus spoke Lady Aimwell. Now, thought Colonel Crop, there was a fine opportunity for introducing his diplomacy; and for that purpose the gallant negociator said, in a very knowing accent:

“But I think I have heard that this young lady is likely to give her hand to a Mr —— Mr —— bless me, I forget names.”

“Do you mean Mr Darnley,” said her ladyship, “the son of our rector?”

“Yes, yes,” replied the colonel, “I believe that is the name; Darnley, Darnley, ay, ay, that is the name. This lady is going to be married to Mr Darnley, I have heard.”

“Oh no!” replied her ladyship, “I don’t believe it. I can hardly think it probable. Indeed—but I hope it will go no further”—

Here her ladyship spoke in a still lower key and more subdued tone, and the gallant colonel listened with profound attention, and with great delight did he hear her ladyship thus speak:

“There has, I believe, been some talk about such an affair, and Robert Darnley has met her here once or twice. But the truth is, he seems to know her character and disposition too well. And if there were any such thoughts on his part, I am sure he has given up all such idea by this time. Indeed, I do not think that there ever was much regard on either side.”

This was grand intelligence for the colonel. He felt himself mightily important. He soon ceased the conversation, and took his leave of the family at Neverden Hall, and he reported all that he had heard and seen according to the best of his ability.

“Well, my lord, I have seen your Arabella.”

“Penelope, you mean;” interrupted his lordship.

“Ay, ay, Penelope; bless me, how soon I forget names. So I have seen her and heard her.”

“She plays and sings delightfully,” said Lord Spoonbill.

“Wonderfully,” replied the colonel, who was more than usually eloquent in consequence of the good success of his diplomacy: “to be sure I do not understand music, but I never saw so rapid an execution in my life.”

“But,” interrupted his impatient lordship, “did you hear anything about that Darnley?”

“Yes,” replied the colonel, with mighty pomp and energy of manner. “Lady Aimwell told me, in confidence, that Darnley knew her character too well to think of marrying her. These were her ladyship’s own words.”

“Now, Crop, you have done me a service indeed. Now I think the day is our own.”

When the good friends parted for the night, his delighted lordship was so occupied with his own sweet thoughts that he was quite intoxicated with joy. He would, had he been able, have sung a Te Deum; and it would be very well if Te Deum had never been sung on occasions quite as unworthy as, if not infinitely more so than the present.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY C. H. REYNELL, BROAD STREET, GOLDEN SQUARE.