Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
Album
,"
observed Sir Cherry Bounce.
"So I would, strike me! if I was half such a good poet
as you, Cherry," returned the captain.
"You wote thum veway pwetty poetry the other day upon
the
Gweat Thea Therpenth
, Thmilackth," said the effeminate baronet: "and I don't
know why you thouldn't do the thame by the two ath tweeth."
Yes; but-strike me ugly! Miss Isabella would not let me
insert them in her
Album
," observed the captain;
"and that was very unkind."
"Bella says that you undertook to finish a butter fly
and spoilt it" exclaimed the count laughing.
"And now it theemth for all
the world like an enormouth fwog," said Sir Cherry.
"Now, really, Bounce, that is too bad!" drawled
the captain, playing with his mouzstachio. "I appeal to the Signora
herself, whether the butterfly was so very - very bad?"
"Considering it to be your first attempt," said
the young lady, "it was not so very much amiss; end I must say that I
preferred the butterfly to the lines upon the Sea Serpent."
"Well, may I perish," cried the hussar, "if I
think the lines were so bad. But we will refer them to Mr. Markham;- not that I
dispute Miss Isabella's judgment: I'd rather have my moustachios singed than do
that! But —"
"The vertheth! the vertheth!" cried Sir
Cherry.
"I am afraid that my talent does not justify such a
reference to it," said Markham; "and I should rather imagine that
Miss Isabella's decision will admit of no appeal."
"My dear thir, we will have your opinion. The vertheth
were compothed in a hurway; and they may not be quite tho ekthellent and
faultleth ath they might be."
"I only devoted half an hour to them, strike me if I
did!"
"Let'th thee - how do they begin?" continued the
effeminate young baronet of nineteen. "Oh! I wemember - the opening ith
thimple but ekpwethive:
"Thwough the thea the therpenth wollth,
Moving ever 'thwixth the polth,
Fwightning herwinth, pwath, and tholth,
In hith
pwogweth wapid;-
Thwallowing up the mighty thipth,
By the thuction of hith lipth,
Onward thill the monthtwer twipth,
Like —"
"Well, strike me!" interrupted the
captain, "if ever I heard poetry spouted like that before. Please listen
to me, Mr. Markham. This is the way the poem opens:-
"Through the sea the serpent rolls
Moving ever twixt the poles,
Fright'ning herrings, sprats, and soles,
In his progress rapid;-
Swallowing up the mighty ships,
By the motion of his lips,
Onward still the monster trips,
Like —"
"No, that ithn't the way," cried Sir
Cherry.
"Well, strike me, if I'll say another word more
then," returned the captain of hussars, apparently very much inclined to
cry.
"I am sure Miss Isabella was wrong not to have inserted
these verses in her album," said Armstrong, with a smile of good-natured
satire. "But I know that my young friend, Mr Markham, has a more refined
taste with regard to poetry than he chose just now to admit."
"Indeed!" said the beautiful Isabella; "I
should be delighted to hear Mr. Markham's sentiments upon the subject of
poetry; for I confess that I myself entertain very singular notions in that
respect. It is difficult to afford a minute definition of what poetry is; for,
like the unearthly visitants which the fears of superstition have occasionally
summoned to the world, poetry fascinates the senses, but eludes the grasp of
the beholder, and stands before him visible, powerful, and yet
impalpable!"
"I concur with your views, Miss Isabella," said
Markham, delighted to hear, amidst the frivolity of the conversation, remarks
which exhibited sound sense and judgment. "It is impossible to set forth,
in any array of words, the subtlety and peculiarity of poetry, which soars
above the powers of language and defies the reach of description."
"Yes," said Isabella; "the painter cannot
place the rainbow or the glittering dew-drop upon his canvass; the sculptor
cannot invest his image with a soul; and it seems equally difficult to define
poetry."
"We know of what we are speaking when we allude to it;
but there are no definitions which give us views of it sufficiently
comprehensive."
"Well, strike me! If I didn't think that every thing
with rhymes, or in lines of a certain length, was poetry," observed the
captain of hussars.
"My daughter can explain the mystery to you," said
the countess, surveying Isabella with pride and maternal enthusiasm.
Isabella blushed deeply. She feared that she had intruded
her remarks on the company, and dreaded to be considered vain or anxious for
display Mark ham immediately perceived the nature of her thoughts, and
skilfully turned the conversation to the poetry of her native land, and thence
to the leading characteristics and features of Italian life.
Dinner was at length announced, and Richard had the felicity
of conducting the lovely daughter of the count to the dining-room, and of
occupying a seat by her side during the banquet.
THE DREAM
THREE weeks passed away in a most agreeable manner, and Richard
frequently expressed his gratitude to Armstrong for the pleasure he had
procured him by this visit.
The more he saw of Count Alteroni's daughter, the more he
was compelled to admire her personal and mental qualifications. But he felt
somewhat annoyed when he discovered that Captain Smilax Dapper was paying his
addresses to her: for he was interested in so charming a young lady, and would
have regretted to see her throw herself away on such a coxcomb. He did not
however find that Isabella gave the captain any encouragement: on the contrary
he had frequently seen an erratic smile of contempt upon her lips when the
military aspirant to her hand uttered an absurdity or indulged in an air of
affectation.
By the constant and unvaried respect, and the absence of all
familiarity on the part of Dapper towards the lovely Italian, Markham also
argued that he had not as yet declared his sentiments, because had he been a
favoured suitor, the truth would have betrayed itself in some trifling manner
or another. Moreover, as Isabella conducted herself in only just the same
friendly way towards Captain Dapper as she manifested towards her lather's
other guests, Richard saw no reason to believe that this passion was
reciprocal.
Markham was thrown much in the signora's society during his
visit at her father's house. He soon perceived that she preferred a
conversation upon edifying and intellectual subjects to the frivolous chit-chat
of Sir Cherry Bounce and Captain Dapper; and he frequently found himself
carrying an a lengthened discourse upon music, poetry, painting and Italian
literature, while the others were amusing themselves in the billiard or
smoking. rooms. But Isabel was no blue-stocking; she was full of vivacity and
life, and her conversation was sprightly and agreeable, even when turning upon
those serious subjects.
In a few days after Richard's arrival, it was always
he who turned the leaves of
Isabella's music-book, "because Captain Dapper didn't know when;" she
always took his arm when they walked round the shrubbery and garden after
breakfast, "because Captain Dapper was constantly leaving her to play Sir
Cherry some trick;" and somehow or another at meal-times, Richard and
Isabella were invariably seated next to each other.
Such was the state of things at the expiration of three
weeks, to which extent, although contrary to the original proposal of
Armstrong, the visit had already extended; and Captain Smilax Dapper more than
once fancied that he saw a rival in Richard Markham. At length he determined to
communicate his suspicions to his friend Sir Cherry Bounce - a resolution which
he carried into effect in the following manner.
"Cherry, my dear fellow," said he, one morning,
taking the effeminate young baronet with him into the garden, up the gravel
walks of which he walked in a very excited state; " Cherry, my dear
fellow, I have something upon my mind, strike me! and I wish to unburden myself
to you."
"Do you, Thmilackth? What can pothibly be the
matter?" demanded the youth, turning very pale. "Ith it veway
terwible? becauth if it ith, I had better call the count, and he will bwing
hith blunderbuth."
"Strike me an idiot, Cherry, if you ain't a fool with
your counts and blunderbusses. Now listen to me! I love Isabella, and have been
doing the agreeable to her —"
" On my thoul I never could thee it!"
"I dare say not! strike me, if I didn't keep it so
precious snug and quiet! However I love the girl; and curse me if I don't have
her too - that's more! She shall be Mrs. Smilax Dapper, as sure as she a born,
and I hope the mother of a whole regiment of little Smilaxes. And then Cherry,
you shall stay a month or six weeks with us at a time, and fondle the little
ones on your knees, you shall, and everything will go on comfortable and
smooth."
"Oh! veway thmooth!" cried Sir Cherry Bounce,
making a slight grimace at the pleasing prospect of fondling the little Dappers
upon his knees.
"And I suppose I am not presumptuous in aspiring to the
hand of Isabella? My father is a peer - and my uncle is a peer - and I
have three thousand a-year of my own, beside expectations. Strike me, if I'm a
man to be sneezed at!"
"Who thinkth of thneething at you?"
I don't know exactly. And then I am not such a very bad
looking fellow either. You are not ugly, Cherry, you are not - that is, not
particularly ugly, although you have got pink eyes and white lashes, and a pug
nose;- but I'm more athletic, strike me!"
"I'm thure I don't dithpute what you thay."
"Well then - acknowledging all this, proceeded the
captain, "how should I treat a fellow who endeavours to cut me out?"
"Thallenge him to fight with thword and pithtol,"
answered Sir Cherry. "But who ith he?"
"That upstart fellow, Markham, who was brought here by
that odious, republican, seditious, disloyal scoundrel Armstrong, and who talks
all day about poetry and music, and God knows what. However, can't say I admire
that plan of yours," continued the hussar; "swords and pistols, you
know are so very dangerous; and - and —"
"And what elth?"
"Why, you re a fool, Cherry. I thought you would have
hit upon some plan to enable me to secure the prize."
"Well then - thuppothing we carwy the girl off to
Wochethter for inthanth."
"Deuce take Rochester! my regiment is quartered at
Chatham."
"Well - to Canterbuwy then? "
"Yes - that will do - strike me blind if it won't!
" ejaculated the captain. "But if I could only get rid of this
Markham somehow or another, I should prefer it. The fellow —"
Captain Smilax Dapper stopped short: for at that moment, as he
and his companion were turning the angle of a summer-house, they ran against
Richard Markham.
"It wath'nt me - it wath'nt me who thpoke!"
ejaculated Sir Cherry Bounce ; and having uttered these words, he very fairly
took to his heels, leaving his friend the captain to settle matters as beat he
might.
" Who was taking a most unwarrantable liberty with my
name ?" demanded Richard, walking straight up to Captain Smilax Dapper.
"I certainly made an observation," answered the
captain, turning mighty pale, "and I do not hesitate to say, sir —"
"What, sir?"
"Why, sir - that - I feel, sir - that strike me,
sir!"
"Yes, sir - I
shall
strike you," very coolly
answered Markham; "and that will teach you not to speak lightly of one,
who is a comparative stranger to you, on another occasion."
As he uttered these words, he seized the captain by the
collar, and gave him a couple of boxes on the ears. Dapper endeavoured to pluck
up a spirit and resist; but the ceremony was performed before he could release
himself from his assailant's clutches and he then returned to the house,
muttering threats of vengeance.
That same afternoon Markham took leave of his new friends.
On his return home, he found his dwelling more lonely and
cheerless than ever. He felt that he was isolated in the world ; and his heart
seemed to be pierced with a red-hot iron when the remembrance of all his wrongs
returned to his imagination.
Oh! if we would but study the alphabet of fate, and remember
that each leaf which falls, each flower that dies, is but the emblem of man's
kindred doom, how much of the coldness, the selfishness, the viciousness of
life would be swept away, and earth would be but a proof-sheet of heaven's
fairer volume - with errors and imperfections, it is true, but still
susceptible of correction and amendment, ere its pages be unfolded before the
High Chancery of heaven!
Spring now asserted its tranquil reign once more; and May
strewed the earth with flowers, and covered the trees with foliage.
One evening Richard sate in his library reading until a very
late hour. Night came, and found him at his studies; and the morning dawned ere
he thought of retiring to slumber.
He hastened to his bed-room, with the intention of seeking
his couch ; but he felt no inclination to sleep. He walked up to the window,
drew aside the curtain, and gazed forth into the open air. The partial
obscurity seemed to hang like a dusky veil against the windows: but by degrees
the darkness yielded to the grey light of the dawn.
He glanced in the direction of the hill upon the summit of
which stood the two trees; and he thought of his brother. He wondered, for the
thousandth time whether the appointment would be eventually kept, and why
Eugene came not to revisit the home at his birth.
He was in the midst of cogitations like these, when his eyes
were suddenly struck by an object which seemed to be moving between the trees
upon the top of the hill. A superstitious fear seized upon Richard's mind. In
the first moment of his surprise he imagined that the apparition of his brother
had been led back to the trysting-place by those leafy banners that proclaimed
the covenant of the heart. But he speedily divested himself of that momentary
alarm, and smiled at his folly in believing it to be extraordinary that any one
should visit the hill at that early hour.
The object was still there - it was a human being - and, as
the morning gradually grew brighter, he was enabled to distinguish that it was
a man.
But that was the hour at which labourers went to their daily
toils:- still, why should one of those peasants linger upon the top of the
hill, to reach which he must have gone out of his way?
Markham felt an indescribable curiosity to repair to the
hill ;-but he was ashamed to yield to the superstitious impulse under the
influence of which he still more or less laboured;- and the sudden
disappearance of the object of his anxiety from tine hill confirmed him in his
resolution to remain in his chamber. He accordingly closed the blind, and
retired to his couch, where he shortly sank into a deep slumber.
Markham was now plunged into the aerial world of dreams.
First he saw himself walking by the side of Isabella in a cool and shady grove,
where the birds were singing cheerily in the trees; and it seemed to him that
there reigned a certain understanding between himself and his fair companion
which allowed him to indulge in the most delightful and tender hopes. He
pressed her hand - she returned the token of affection and love. Suddenly this
scene was rudely interrupted. From a deep recess in the grove appeared a
wretch, covered with rags, dirty and revolting in appearance, with matted hair,
parched and cracked lips, wild and ferocious eyes, and a demoniac expression of
countenance. Isabella screamed: the wretch advanced, grasped Richard's hand,
gave utterance to a horrible laugh, and claimed his friendship - the friendship
of Newgate! It seemed to Richard that he made a desperate effort to withdraw
his band from that rude grasp ;- and the attempt instantly awoke him.
He opened his eyes ;- but the horror experienced In his
dream was now prolonged, for a human countenance was bending over him!
It was not, however, the distorted, hideous, and fearful one
which he had seen in his vision - but a countenance handsome, though very
pale, and whose features were instantly familiar to him.
"Eugene, my brother - Eugene, dearest Eugene!"
ejaculated Richard; and he stretched out his arms to embrace him whom he thus
adjured.
But scarcely had his eyes opened upon that countenance, when
it was instantly withdrawn; and Richard remained for a few moments in his bed,
deprived of all power of motion, and endeavouring to assure himself whether he
was awake or in a vision.
A sudden impulse roused him from his lethargy;- he sprang
from his couch, rushed towards the door, and called aloud for his brother.
The door was closed when he reached it; and no trace seemed
to denote that any visitor had been in that chamber.
He threw on a dressing-gown, hurried down stairs, and found
all the doors fast closed and locked as usual at that hour. He opened the
front-door and looked forth, - but no one was to be seen. Bewildered and
alarmed, he returned to his bed-chamber, and once more sought his couch. He
again fell asleep, in the midst of numerous and conflicting conjectures
relative to the incident which had just occurred; and when he awoke two hours
afterwards, he was fain to persuade himself that it was all a dream.
He dressed himself, and walked towards the hill. On his
arrival at the top, he instinctively cast his eyes upon the name and date
carved in the bark of his brother's tree. But how great was his surprise - how
ineffable his joy, when he beheld fresh traces of the same hand imprinted on
that tree. Beneath the former memento - and still fresh and green, as if they had
only been engraved a few hours - were the words -
EUGENE.
May 17th, 1838.
"My God!" exclaimed Richard, "
it was then no dream!"
He threw himself upon the seat between the two trees and
wept abundantly.