The arrival of Mr Primrose and Penelope at Smatterton gave trouble and disturbance to many minds there, and at Neverden. We shall be fortunate if, without tediousness, we can explain this.

Zephaniah Pringle was troubled, because he laboured under the apprehension that some kind friend or other might communicate to the father what had been said of the daughter. And Zephaniah very naturally thought that the young lady’s father would resent the insult very much to the inconvenience, bodily or mental, of the said loyal and religious critic.

The elder Mr Darnley was troubled, as we have already intimated, lest this arrival should again unsettle the mind of his son. Mrs Darnley also thought it was a pity, now Robert had so nearly recovered his spirits, that there should be any probability of his being again disturbed. Miss Mary Darnley, who, by frequent literary and scientific discussions with the learned and scientific Mr Kipperson, had become a great admirer of the gentleman, was jealous of the presence of Miss Primrose again in the country. The two other young ladies, who did not like to hear their father preach, except in the pulpit, were troubled with the apprehension of long lectures on the impropriety of being improperly in love.

Mr Kipperson also had his troubles; for though it would have given him great pleasure to have gained the heart of Miss Primrose, he thought he saw several formidable rivals among gentlemen of more suitable age. But Mr Kipperson had too much self-love to suffer much from love of any other description. Robert Darnley was troubled and perplexed, though very much pleased. He now saw that he should have an opportunity of ascertaining the truth: but in either case there was an evil. For if Penelope still retained a regard for him, there was yet to be dreaded the opposition of his father; and if she did not, the change would be painful to him.

But the greatest trouble was at Neverden Hall. There was residing under the roof of Sir George Aimwell a young lady, who had been consigned to the care of the worthy baronet. The name of this lady was Arabella Glossop. She had very recently been sent to Neverden by her careful father, in order that time, absence, and change of scene, might eradicate from her mind an unfortunate attachment which she had formed for a pennyless lieutenant.

Here we cannot but suggest to our legislators an improvement, which might and ought to be made in our military code. It is melancholy to think how many instances have occurred of men of low family and no fortune winning the hearts of young ladies of high birth, of respectable connexions, and of good fortune. This might be prevented by a law, making it felony for a military officer without fortune to fall in love with a lady of good family.

Miss Glossop was not indeed of high family; but she was the daughter of a gentleman whose family had with great diligence been pushing itself up into consideration and importance. The mortification of anything like a humiliating connexion was so much the greater. Mr Glossop, the young lady’s father, was an eminent solicitor in a small but genteel town, and had married a distant relation of Sir George Aimwell. Of this connexion Mr Glossop was naturally proud; and he made the most of it.

In the town where he lived was a theatre; and the company which performed there was pronounced by such London performers as occasionally lent their mighty selves for provincial exhibition, to be one of the best provincial companies they had ever performed with. When an actor from London made his appearance on the stage, Miss Glossop honored the theatre with her presence. Greatly did the young lady surprize the natives by her studied inattention to what was passing on the stage. It was to her a mighty amusement to laugh and talk aloud, especially during those passages of the performance which were most interesting to the rest of the audience. By such means did Miss Glossop manifest her own importance and superiority. This kind of public rudeness passed with the ignorant people in the country for elegance and fashion.

The young lady was in error in this respect. But not only was she wrong in her calculations in this point. Many other blunders did she make. For being very pretty, she thought herself handsome; and being tall, she thought herself elegant; and being acquainted with many books, she thought herself learned; and having a full, clear, comprehensive voice, she thought herself a beautiful singer; and being able to perform at sight very complicated pieces of music, she apprehended that she was an excellent musician; and being rude and blunt in her manner of speaking, she thought herself a person of great intellectual superiority; and from being very much stared at, she took it for granted that she was very much admired.

Now this lady did not apprehend that there was any individual in the compass of her provincial acquaintance worthy to aspire to the honor of her hand; and she was in the habit of giving herself such arrogant and domineering airs at the country balls, that a facetiously inclined young gentleman once actually contrived in the advertisement announcing these balls, to have the name of Arabella Glossop, Esq., printed as one of the stewards. The circumstance caused a great deal of talk at the time; but it is now totally forgotten, or at least very seldom alluded to. The printer of the paper was forced to tell a great many lies to save himself from serious inconvenience.

At one of these country balls there happened to be a lieutenant who was quartered in that neighbourhood, and was a person of exceedingly good address, and also of good understanding, except that he was so very desirous of obtaining a fortune, that, for the sake of money, he would willingly have married Miss Glossop. He had heard reports of the lady’s fortune, and these reports were of course exaggerated. He paid the usual attentions, and was so far successful that, had it not been for some untoward accident, Mr Glossop’s ambition of matching his daughter with some gentleman of fortune and consideration in the county, would have been frustrated by a poor lieutenant.

As soon as the unfortunate attachment was made known to the father, he put himself with all suitable speed into a most towering passion; he banged all the doors, thumped all the tables, kicked all the chairs, and, but for the interference of Mrs Glossop, would have broken all the crockery in the house, because his daughter would not listen to reason. The young lady was locked up; but the young lady grew sulky, and thought that her dear lieutenant was the most charming creature in the world, because her father was in a violent passion. And the more angry was Mr Glossop, the more deeply in love was Miss Glossop.

We have said that the young lady was locked up. Now Arabella did not like this discipline, and she seriously threatened her inexorable paa, that if she was not suffered to have her own way, she would either starve herself to death, or go mad. This last idea was no doubt suggested by a pathetic passage in one of Oliver Goldsmith’s poems, wherein he says:

“The dog to gain his private ends
Went mad.”——

Whatever apprehensions Mr Glossop might entertain concerning his daughter’s madness, he certainly had some slight idea that he himself might be driven mad by the young lady’s perverseness and obstinacy. Therefore he adopted the very wise and prudent precaution, in such cases made and provided, of sending the lovely and loving Arabella to his worthy friend and relative, Sir George Aimwell, Bart.

Mr Glossop wisely thought that absence and change of scene might produce a beneficial change in his daughter’s mind. The worthy baronet was pleased with the charge; for as the shooting season was nearly over, and as he had suffered very bitterly from the encroachments of the poachers, and as the transgressing ones had made their escape, he was glad of anything that promised him a little amusement. Arabella had always been a favorite with the baronet on account of her high spirit, and when he heard of the nature of the complaint which rendered change of air desirable, he very readily undertook the charge, thinking that a better remedy was within reach, and that Robert Darnley might very probably banish from the mind of his young kinswoman all thoughts of the poor lieutenant.

Nor did the baronet judge unwisely. For, as soon as the lady had taken up her abode at Neverden Hall, her spirits revived, and her wit and humour were all alive again, and her love of admiration was as strong as ever, and she very soon pronounced Robert Darnley to be a charming young fellow. The worthy baronet was pleased with such good symptoms, and had written word to her father accordingly. To a match of this nature Mr Glossop had no very great objection. The Darnleys were of good family, and the young man was likely to have a good property. Perhaps, Mr Glossop would have preferred an union with the family of the Earl of Smatterton; but at all events the Darnleys were better than poor lieutenants.

The circumstance of Arabella Glossop being placed under the care of Sir George Aimwell, had rendered the intercourse between the hall and the rectory rather more frequent than usual; and the baronet had of course been made acquainted with the fact of Robert Darnley’s former engagement to Miss Primrose. When, therefore, Penelope and her father made their appearance at Smatterton again, and thus gave a virtual contradiction to the calumnious report which Mr Zephaniah Pringle had circulated, Sir George began to be apprehensive that his schemes with regard to the son of the rector of Neverden were very likely to fail.

We have now explained according to the best of our ability, and in as few words as distinctness would permit us to use, the varied perplexities occasioned by the apparently simple fact of Mr Primrose and his daughter taking up their abode at Smatterton rectory. Oh! how complicated are the interests of humanity, and what mighty changes are made in the history of the world and the destiny of nations by movements apparently trifling and of no moment. Common people do not observe these things; it is only such wise people, gentle reader, as you and I and Tacitus, that can take a philosophical and comprehensive view of the history of man. But we must economise our wisdom, or it will not hold out. Therefore let us proceed with our history.

The letter which Robert Darnley had written to Mr Primrose, and which the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill had fruitlessly fumbled and tumbled to ascertain the contents thereof, found its way at last into the hands for which it was by its writer originally destined. It was brought to Smatterton, as usual, by Nick Muggins.

Nick was a poor lad and a somewhat simple one, though not altogether lacking craftiness. He was not so rich as an archdeacon, but he had not quite determined that he was too poor to keep a conscience; therefore he had not entirely given it up for a bad job. He kept a pony—he was almost forced to do so—but he kept his pony very scantily and worked it hardly, and the beast was at best but a queer kind of animal. It would have been a riddle to Buffon, and a treasure to Sir Joseph Banks. Nick’s conscience was kept about as scurvily as his pony, and was much such another nondescript; but, like his pony, it answered his purpose as well as a better; it was kicked, cuffed, and buffeted about, but still it was a conscience.

Now this conscience, such as it was, smote poor Muggins right heartily when he delivered into the fair hands of Penelope Primrose a letter for her father. The poor lad recollected that he had, at Lord Spoonbill’s expense, drunk several more quarts of strong beer and glasses of gin than would otherwise have fallen to his lot, and that he had obtained these extra luxuries by putting into the hands of his lordship those letters which he ought to have delivered to Penelope Primrose.

When Penelope left Smatterton, and was residing in London, Nick thought little or nothing concerning his treachery. But now she had returned to the country again, and he had seen her, and she had spoken to him kindly and civilly, and had condescended to make enquiries after his poor old mother, his heart melted within him, and he could hardly speak to her. It was very kind of her to come out and speak to him, there was not one young lady in a hundred who would have condescended so much. Poor Muggins could not think what had bewitched him to play the traitor to so beautiful, so elegant, and so sweet-tempered a young lady as Miss Primrose; for Nick had a notion of elegance and beauty, though, to look at himself and his pony, one would hardly have imagined it.

That was a curious refinement in Nick’s conscience, that he should reproach himself so much the more bitterly for his transgression, because the person whom he had injured was beautiful and sweet-tempered. Perhaps he would have thought less of the matter had Miss Primrose been a little, under-sized, snub-nosed, cross-grained old maid. But that is a very dangerous and wicked mode of reasoning, and wiser people than Nick Muggins are guilty of it; let such persons be told that under-sized, snub-nosed, cross-grained old maids have as much feeling as the rest of the world, and are as much entitled to the advantages and protection of the laws of humanity as the young, and the lovely, and the amiable.

Be this as it may, still the ungainly post-boy felt rather awkwardly and looked foolishly when he thus encountered the unexpected appearance and condescension of Penelope Primrose. And when he returned home to his mother’s cottage, he could not help acknowledging to her his transgressions, and speaking of the remorse that he felt.

The old woman however thought and said, that what was done could not be undone, and that he had better be more cautious another time, and that mayhap it might not be a matter of much consequence; just a love affair like, or some sich stuff; and she concluded by telling him never to take money out of letters for fear of being hanged.

“But I am so sorry, mother,” said Nick, “you can’t think what a nice, kind young lady Miss Primrose is.”

“Ay, ay,” said Mrs Muggins, in reply, “and so is my Lord Spoonbill a very nice young gentleman. Never mind now, only don’t do so again. And what’s the use of your telling Miss Primrose anything about it?”

“Oh why, because somehow I think it was such a pity like. She is so pretty.”

“Nonsense, boy; Lord Spoonbill is a person of much greater consequence than a dozen pretty Miss Primroses. I am sure he is as nice a man as ever lived.”

Nick muttered something about Lord Spoonbill’s large whiskers, and the colloquy ceased; but Nick was fidgetty still.

The Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill suffered much uneasiness, and would, had he known what was passing in the mind of Nick Muggins, have suffered much more. But our business is now with the good people at Smatterton and Neverden, and we must therefore leave his lordship to bear his troubles by himself as well as he can.