Mr Darnley’s study overlooked the avenue which led to the house. For a study it was not well situated, inasmuch as it was next to impossible for any one but a person of great powers of abstraction to keep himself free from interruption. The situation however was very well adapted to the humour of the rector of Neverden; for thus he could observe every one who approached the house, and exercise a continual superintendance over his establishment, seeing that no one could enter or leave the house without his knowledge.

At the study window Robert Darnley took his station, looking listlessly towards the road that passed the end of the avenue and led towards the village of Smatterton. Turning a little towards the left hand he could see at a very short distance the magnificent towers of Smatterton castle and the smart gilt weathercock of Smatterton church. The young man was beginning to grow sentimental and melancholy; but soon his thoughts were diverted from sentimentality by the appearance of Nick Muggins and his pony fumbling their clumsy entrance at the great white gate that opened into the road. Better riders than Nick are sometimes puzzled at opening a heavy swing gate on horseback; but Nick would always manage it without dismounting, if he had to make twenty efforts for it.

Nick was certainly a picturesque, though by no means a poetical object; and his appearance dispersed the gathering cloud of lackadaisicalness which was just threatening Robert Darnley with a fit of melancholy. Other thoughts, though bearing on the same object, now took possession of him; and as he was very straitforward and prompt in whatever occurred to him, he immediately resolved to question the boy concerning the lost letters.

For this purpose, without waiting for the arrival of the letter-carrier at the house-door, Robert Darnley went partly down the avenue to meet him. Nick made one of his best bows, and grinned his compliments to the young gentleman on his arrival in England; for this was the first meeting of the parties since the rector’s son arrived at home. Robert Darnley was not a man of compliments; he proceeded directly to business. Producing from his pocket the letter which had been picked up by the little girl, he held it out to the lad, saying:

“Muggins, can you give any account of this letter; it was picked up in the road the other day; do you ever drop the letters out of the bag?”

Muggins, who was as cunning a rogue as many of his betters, concealed his conviction and shame as well as might be, and took the letter into his hand with much simplicity of look, and gazed upon it for a while with “lack-lustre eye;” not that he had any great need to examine the letter in order to answer the question, but thereby he gained time to meditate a lie of some kind or other. After looking at it for a few moments he handed it back to Robert Darnley, and said:

“Please, sir, I can’t make out the ’rection of it.”

That might be true, but it was not much of an answer to the question which was proposed to him.

“The direction of the letter,” answered Darnley, “is to Miss Primrose at Smatterton. Now do you remember ever losing a letter that should have been delivered at the rectory at Smatterton?”

Nick Muggins, we have related, was so melted by the condescending kindness of Penelope Primrose, that his heart smote him sorely for his unfaithfulness to his trust, and he was on the very verge of a confession of his iniquity; but then Penelope was not likely to horsewhip him, whereas there did appear to the sagacious mind of the treacherous letter-carrier some possibility of such operation being performed by the more vigorous arm of Robert Darnley; and as such a catastrophe must be exceedingly unpleasant to a man of any feeling, Nick resolved to use his utmost sagacity to avoid it. The question therefore, which was last proposed, he answered thus:

“I’ve took a great many letters to Smatterton parsonage, sir, and I don’t never remember losen none as I took there.”

Here again was an equivocation worthy of the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill himself. Robert Darnley thought that Nick Muggins was a fool, but Nick was not such a fool as he looked. He had prodigiously fine diplomatic talents, but ‘Full many a flower, &c.’ as the poet says.

All the questions and cross-questionings of the son of the rector of Neverden could not extort from the carrier of the Smatterton and Neverden letter-bags any information leading to the discovery of the circumstances to which the interruption of the correspondence might be attributed. In despair of ascertaining anything, Robert Darnley ceased his interrogations, and the uncouth rider of the indescribable beast then handed to his interrogator his share of the contents of the letter-bag. It was only one letter, and the superscription was in an unknown hand.

The young gentleman opened the letter with great eagerness of curiosity, and looking to the end of it he found that it was anonymous. He endeavoured to read and comprehend the whole by one glance, but it did not betray its meaning so obviously; he was therefore under the necessity of reading it regularly line by line. We are not much in the habit of printing letters—we think it a breach of confidence; but, as the present is anonymous, we venture to give it:

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“A sincere well-wisher to Mr Robert Darnley, though a total stranger, or nearly so, wishes to caution an unsuspicious and generous mind against a deep-laid plot, which has for its object to entrap Mr D. into a marriage, which will bring with it poverty and disgrace. It may not be altogether unknown to Mr D. that a certain gentleman, who shall be nameless, once ruined a handsome fortune by gaming. This gentleman now professes to have repaired his shattered fortunes, and to have forsaken entirely his vicious habit. But this is mere pretence. Nearly the whole of that which he acquired abroad, he has in a short time lost by gambling at home; and now he gives out that his loss arises from the stoppage of a banking-house in town. Concerning the character of a young lady nearly related to the gentleman above alluded to, Mr D. would do well to make the strictest inquiry before he ventures on the irretrievable step of marriage. Mr D. ought to ascertain why Smatterton is chosen for her residence. The —— family is not residing at the castle, but it is possible that an individual of that family may find a pretence for an incognito visit there. A word to the wise is enough.”

A letter such as this was almost too much for Robert Darnley. He was honest, candid, and unsuspicious; but even in such minds as his jealousy may be excited, and the above letter very nearly answered the purpose.

Instead of going directly to Smatterton, according to his first intention, he returned to the house, and read over and over again this mysterious and anonymous epistle. But there was nothing in it which could afford him the slightest information as to the source from whence it came, or the motive with which it could have been written.

It was peculiarly mortifying, after the magnanimous, prompt, and decided avowal which he had made to his father, of his intention of renewing his acquaintance with Miss Primrose, that he should meet with this painful and perplexing interruption. He began to wish that he had not been quite so positive. He supposed that of course his father took it for granted that the threatened visit to Smatterton would be paid that very morning. And he had dreaded meeting the family at dinner, should the visit have been paid; but still greater would be his mortification to meet his father again and be forced to acknowledge that he had not been to Smatterton. It would be but natural to ask if he had been there, and quite as natural to ask why he had not.

The answer to these enquiries would involve the young gentleman in a dilemma, to extricate himself from which would require the talents of a Muggins, or a Spoonbill. But Robert Darnley was not cut out for shuffling and equivocating. His only consideration was, how far it might be prudent to inform his father of the receipt of the anonymous letter.

For the purpose of giving himself time for uninterrupted meditation, he sauntered out from the house, and, as it were unconsciously, turned his steps towards the village of Smatterton. And he thought, as he walked along, that it would take several days at least, if not some weeks, to ascertain the truth or falsehood of the insinuations. He knew not where to seek for information, or how to gain evidence either on one side or the other. If he should not very soon make a visit to Mr Primrose, it would seem manifest that his intention was not to renew the acquaintance with Penelope; and very mortifying indeed would it be to him, if, after making enquiries and finding that the insinuations of the anonymous letter were unfounded, malicious and mischievous, he should, by his tardiness or mean suspicions, have forfeited the good will of the young lady.

Fortunate for him was it, that while he was thinking on the subject of this anonymous communication, and putting the case that it might be the work of some malicious and ill-designing one, there occurred also to his recollection the lost letter which had been picked up by a stranger. With the recollection of that came also again to his mind the image and tone and look of the crafty letter-carrier, and the shuffling evasive answers which the cunning dog had given to his interrogatories.

Wise and penetrating reader, who can’st dive most deeply into human motives, and read the movements of the human heart, we beseech thee not to impute it to stupidity or obtuseness in our friend Robert Darnley, that he could not sooner see the probability of the existence in some quarter or other of a spirit of treachery at work against him. His own mind was of a very unsuspicious cast, and he was not in the habit of looking for deeply-laid schemes, but he gave general credit to appearances and ordinary assertions. He was not unaware of the existence of roguery, or of the circulation of unfounded reports, but he did not look very commonly and cunningly for tricks and falsehood in the everyday movements of human life. But when he once had ground for suspicion, he had sagacity enough to pursue the investigation, and prudence enough not to be deceived when once put on his guard.

He thought again of the anonymous letter, and he knew that there was no individual residing in London sufficiently acquainted with him to have written this letter for his sake. He thought of the intercepted letters, and of the allusion to Lord Spoonbill, and he thought of none so likely to have intercepted those letters as Lord Spoonbill himself. An apprehension of something near the truth now came firmly and distinctly upon his mind.

Under the impression of this thought, he moved somewhat more rapidly and decidedly towards Smatterton, almost resolving that he would actually call at once on Mr Primrose, and renew his acquaintance with Penelope. He thought that he possessed penetration enough to discover if there were in the young lady’s deportment and carriage any symptoms of a diminished or impaired moral feeling.

It would not be much out of his way to go through the park, and as there was a footpath passing very closely by the castle, he designed to take that route, that, if meeting any one of the domestics, he might be able to ascertain whether or not Lord Spoonbill was expected at Smatterton.

Not many steps had he taken with this intention before he had the satisfaction of meeting the unfaithful Nick Muggins, shuffling back from having delivered up his charge. Nick saw the young gentleman, and would gladly have avoided the meeting; but there was no way of escape, except by going back again to Smatterton, and that was quite out of the question, for at the public-house of that village he had spent his last allowable minute. Finding that the encounter must take place, Nick whistled himself up to his highest pitch of moral fortitude, and put spurs to his beast. He might as well have struck his spurs against a brick wall. The rough-coated quadruped had been too long in the service of government to be put out of his usual pace by Nick’s spurs, and these said spurs had been long enough in the service of Muggins to have lost their virtue.

Nick’s next resource was to give Mr Robert Darnley the cut indirect, and to ride on without seeing him. But that was no easy matter in a narrow unfrequented road. Before the rogue could resolve what to do, the parties were together, and Robert Darnley, advancing into the middle of the road, gave command to the lad to stop. Disobedience of course was not to be thought of; and though the consciousness of guilt and the suspicion of accusation made him tremble, yet the necessity of concealment rendered him very cautious of betraying any emotion.

The appearance of Robert Darnley’s countenance was at this interview very different from what it had been an hour or two ago. For, in the first instance, he had been merely making an unsuspicious enquiry, and his interrogations had been more for the purpose of gaining information than for fixing an accusation. Now, he felt as if he were examining a criminal, and he directed a stern enquiring look towards the uncouth varlet, who blinked like an owl in the sunshine and seemed to be looking about for something to look at; for he was ashamed to look at Robert Darnley, and afraid to fix his eyes elsewhere.

“Muggins, have the goodness to dismount,” said the young gentleman; “I wish to have a little talk with you.”

That was a movement by no means agreeable to Mr Muggins, who would thereby be brought into closer and more perilous contact with an ugly ill-looking elastic knotted cane, which was bending under the pressure of Mr Darnley’s hand. Muggins therefore, in answer to this command, said with all the coolness he could muster:

“Please, sir, I maan’t stay long.”

“Nonsense,” replied Darnley; “dismount, I tell you.”

Now Muggins thought that if he was destined to receive a caning for a violation of his trust, he need not add to his troubles by provoking Mr Darnley to administer an extra application to him for refusing to dismount. Down therefore came Nick, and at the word of command fastened his horse to a gate-post.

“Now, Muggins,” said Robert Darnley, “if you don’t tell me the truth, I will cane you as long as I can stand.”

“Sir?” said Muggins, in a tone of well-feigned astonishment, and with the accent of interrogation.

“Will you tell me the truth, sir?” repeated the interrogator.

“What about, sir?” asked Muggins.

That question does by no means redound to the credit of Muggins; for had he been a truly honest lad, he would have been ready to tell the truth on any subject.

“What about!” echoed Darnley; “about those letters, to be sure, which you ought to have delivered at the rectory at Smatterton. Tell me what you did with them, this moment.”

A threatening aspect accompanied, and a threatening attitude followed this speech. Muggins gave himself up for lost. If he called out “murder,” there was none to assist him; running away was an absolute impossibility; resistance would be vain; and shuffling would no longer answer the purpose. It is astonishing how powerfully present considerations overwhelm and command the mind. If Muggins could have mustered up sufficient energy of purpose to resist the threats of the son of the rector of Neverden, he might afterwards have laid his case before the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill, by whose interest he might have gained promotion, or by whose liberality he might have been handsomely rewarded. But all other thoughts and considerations were lost and absorbed in the elastic cane, which seemed vibrating with anxious eagerness for a close acquaintance with his shoulders.

Cowering and trembling, the guilty one, whose craftiness would no longer avail him, dropped abjectly upon his knees and blubberingly implored for mercy, on consideration of revealing the whole truth. Darnley, who thought more of the happiness of renewing his acquaintance with Penelope than of the pleasure of caning a graceless varlet, readily promised mercy upon confession. And so great was Nick’s gratitude for the mercy promised, that he told the whole truth, and gave up the character of Lord Spoonbill to contempt.