Tales and Novels Volume III Part 8

"Who the devil are these two that seem to be making up to us?" said Sir Philip, looking at two gentlemen who were coming towards them; "St.

George, hey? you know every body."

"The foremost is Percival, of Oakly-park, I think, 'pon my honour,"

replied Mr. St. George, and he then began to settle how many thousands a year Mr. Percival was worth. This point was not decided when the gentlemen came up to the spot where Sir Philip was standing.

The child for whose sake Clarence Hervey had lost his bet was Mr.

Percival's, and he came to thank him for his civility.--The gentleman who accompanied Mr. Percival was an old friend of Clarence Hervey's; he had met him abroad, but had not seen him for some years.

"Pray, gentlemen," said he to Sir Philip and his party, "is Mr. Clarence Hervey amongst you? I think I saw him pa.s.s by me just now."

"d.a.m.n it, yes--where is Clary, though?" exclaimed Sir Philip, suddenly recollecting himself.--Clarence Hervey at this instant was drowning: he had got out of his depth, and had struggled in vain to recover himself.

"Curse me, if it's not all over with Clary," continued Sir Philip. "Do any of you see his head any where? d.a.m.n you, Rochfort, yonder it is."

"Damme, so it is," said Rochfort; "but he's so heavy in his clothes, he'd pull me down along with him to Davy's locker:--damme, if I'll go after him."

"d.a.m.n it, though, can't some of ye swim? Can't some of ye jump in?"

cried Sir Philip, turning to his companions: "d.a.m.n it, Clarence will go to the bottom."

And so he inevitably would have done, had not Mr. Percival at this instant leaped into the river, and seized hold of the drowning Clarence.

It was with great difficulty that he dragged him to the sh.o.r.e.--Sir Philip's party, as soon as the danger was over, officiously offered their a.s.sistance. Clarence Hervey was absolutely senseless. "d.a.m.n it, what shall we do with him now?" said Sir Philip: "d.a.m.n it, we must call some of the people from the boat-house--he's as heavy as lead: d.a.m.n me, if I know what to do with him." [2]

Whilst Sir Philip was d.a.m.ning himself, Mr. Percival ran to the boat-house for a.s.sistance, and they carried the body into the house.

The elderly gentleman who had accompanied Mr. Percival now made his way through the midst of the noisy crowd, and directed what should be done to restore Mr. Hervey's suspended animation. Whilst he was employed in this benevolent manner, Clarence's worthy friends were sneering at him, and whispering to one another; "Ecod, he talks as if he was a doctor,"

said Rochfort.

"'Pon honour, I do believe," said St. George, "he is the famous Dr.

X----; I met him at a circulating library t'other day."

"Dr. X---- the writer, do you mean?" said Sir Philip; "then, d.a.m.n me, we'd better get out of his way as fast as we can, or he'll have some of us down in black and white; and curse me, if I should choose to meet with myself in a book."

"No danger of that," said Rochfort; "for how can one meet with oneself in a book, Sir Philip, if one never opens one?--By Jove, that's the true way."

"But, 'pon my honour," said St. George, "I should like of all things to see myself in print; 'twould make one famously famous."

"d.a.m.n me, if I don't flatter myself, though, one can make oneself famous enough to all intents and purposes without having any thing to say to these author geniuses. You're a famous fellow, faith! to want to see yourself in print--I'll publish this in Bond-street: d.a.m.n it, in point of famousness, I'd sport my Random against all the books that ever were read or written, d.a.m.n me! But what are we doing here?"

"Hervey's in good hands," said Rochfort, "and this here's a cursed stupid lounge for us--besides, it's getting towards dinner-time; so my voice is, let's be off, and we can leave St. George (who has such a famous mind to be in the doctor's hook) to bring Clary after us, when he's ready for dinner and good company again, you know--ha! ha! ha!"

Away the faithful friends went to the important business of their day.

When Clarence Hervey came to his senses he started up, rubbed his eyes, and looked about, exclaiming--"What's all this?--Where am I?--Where's Baddely?--Where's Rochfort?--Where are they all?"

"Gone home to dinner," answered Mr. St. George, who was a hanger-on of Sir Philip's; "but they left me to bring you after them. Faith, Clary, you've had a squeak for your life! 'Pon my honour, we thought at one time it was all over with you--but you're a rough one: we shan't have to 'pour over your grave a full bottle of red' as yet, my boy--you'll do as well as ever. So I'll step and call a coach for you, Clary, and we shall be at dinner as soon as the best of 'em after all, by jingo! I leave you in good hands with the doctor here, that brought you to life, and the gentleman that dragged you out of the water. Here's a note for you,"

whispered Mr. St. George, as he leaned over Clarence Hervey--"here's a note for you from Sir Philip and Rochfort: read it, do you mind, to _yourself_."

"If I can," said Clarence; "but Sir Philip writes a _b.l.o.o.d.y bad hand_."

[3]

"Oh, he's a _baronet_," said St. George, "ha! ha! ha!" and, charmed with his own wit, he left the boat-house.

Clarence with some difficulty deciphered the note, which contained these words:

"Quiz the doctor, Clary, as soon as you are up to it--he's an author--so fair game--quiz the doctor, and we'll drink your health with three times three in Rochfort's burgundy.

"Yours, &c.

"PHIL. BADDELY.

"P.S. Burn this when read."

With the request contained in the postscript Clarence immediately complied; he threw the note into the fire with indignation the moment that he had read it, and turning towards the gentleman to whom it alluded, he began to express, in the strongest terms, his grat.i.tude for their benevolence. But he stopped short in the midst of his acknowledgments, when he discovered to whom he was speaking.

"Dr. X----!" cried he. "Is it possible? How rejoiced I am to see you, and how rejoiced I am to be obliged to you! There is not a man in England to whom I would rather be obliged."

"You are not acquainted with Mr. Percival, I believe," said Dr. X----: "give me leave, Mr. Percival, to introduce to you the young gentleman whose life you have saved, and whose life--though, by the company in which you found him, you might not think so--is worth saving. This, sir, is no less a man than Mr. Clarence Hervey, of whose universal genius you have just had a specimen; for which he was crowned with sedges, as he well deserved, by the G.o.d of the Serpentine river. Do not be so unjust as to imagine that he has any of the presumption which is sometimes the chief characteristic of a man of universal genius. Mr. Clarence Hervey is, without exception, the most humble man of my acquaintance; for whilst all good judges would think him fit company for Mr. Percival, he has the humility to think himself upon a level with Mr. Rochfort and Sir Philip Baddely."

"You have lost as little of your satirical wit, Dr. X------, as of your active benevolence, I perceive," said Clarence Hervey, "since I met you abroad. But as I cannot submit to your unjust charge of humility, will you tell me where you are to be found in town, and to-morrow------"

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow," said Dr. X------: "why not to-day?"

"I am engaged," said Clarence, hesitating and laughing---"I am unfortunately engaged to-day to dine with Mr. Rochfort and Sir Philip Baddely, and in the evening I am to be at Lady Delacour's."

"Lady Delacour! Not the same Lady Delacour whom four years ago, when we met at Florence, you compared to the Venus de Medici--no, no, it cannot be the same--a G.o.ddess of four years' standing!--Incredible!"

"Incredible as it seems," said Clarence, "it is true: I admire her ladys.h.i.+p more than ever I did."

"Like a true connoisseur," said Dr. X------, "you admire a fine picture the older it grows: I hear that her ladys.h.i.+p's face is really one of the finest pieces of painting extant, with the advantage of

'Ev'ry grace which time alone can grant.'"

"Come, come, Dr. X------," cried Mr. Percival, "no more wit at Lady Delacour's expense: I have a fellow-feeling for Mr. Hervey."

"Why, you are not in love with her ladys.h.i.+p, are you?" said Dr. X----.

"I am not in love with Lady Delacour's picture of herself," replied Mr.

Percival, "but I was once in love with the original."

"How?--When?--Where?" cried Clarence Hervey, in a tone totally different from that in which he had first addressed Mr. Percival.

"To-morrow you shall know the how, the when, and the where," said Mr.

Percival: "here's your friend, Mr. St. George, and his coach."

"The deuce take him!" said Clarence: "but tell me, is it possible that you are not in love with her still?--and why?"

"Why?" said Mr. Percival--"why? Come to-morrow, as you have promised, to Upper Grosvenor-street, and let me introduce you to Lady Anne Percival; she can answer your question better than I can--if not entirely to your satisfaction, at least entirely to mine, which is more surprising, as the lady is my wife."

By this time Clarence Hervey was equipped in a dry suit of clothes; and by the strength of an excellent const.i.tution, which he had never injured, even amongst his dissipated a.s.sociates, he had recovered from the effects of his late imprudence.--"Clary, let's away, here's the coach," said Mr. St. George. "Why, my boy--that's a famous fellow, faith!--why, you look the better for being drowned. 'Pon honour, if I were you, I would jump into the Serpentine river once a day."

"If I could always be sure of such good friends to pull me out," said Hervey.--"Pray, St. George, by-the-bye, what were you, and Rochfort, and Sir Philip, and all the rest of my friends doing, whilst I was drowning?"