Tales and Novels Volume V Part 12

Beaumont, and it will give her a great deal of pleasure--trust me--trust me."

"I do trust _you_--but perhaps you may be mistaken."

"Not at all, not at all, depend upon it; so let me go to her this minute."

"But stop, my dear sir," cried Mr. Beaumont, "stop for another reason; let me beg you to sit down again--I am not clear that Captain Walsingham is not at this instant in love with--perhaps, as it is reported, married to a Spanish lady, whom he has carried off out of a convent at ----, and whom I understand he is bringing home with him."

"Heyday! a Spanish lady!" said Mr. Palmer, returning slowly to his seat with a fallen countenance. "How's this?--By St. George, this is unlucky!

But how's this, I say?"

"You did not let us finish our story," said Mr. Beaumont, "or we should have told you."

"Let me hear the end of it now," said Mr. Palmer, sitting down again, and preparing himself with several pinches of snuff. But just at this instant a servant came to say that coffee was ready.

"I will never stir from this spot for coffee or any thing else," said Mr. Palmer, "till I know the history of the Spanish lady."

"Then the shortest and best way I have of telling it to you is, to beg you to read this letter, which contains all I know of the matter," said Mr. Beaumont. "This letter is from young Birch to his parents; we have never heard a syllable directly from Walsingham himself on this subject.

Since he reached Lisbon, we have had no letters from him, except that short epistle which brought us an account of his taking the treasure-s.h.i.+p. But we shall see him soon, and know the truth of this story; and hear whether he prefers his Spanish or his English mistress."

"'Fore George! I wish this Spanish woman had stayed in her convent,"

said Mr. Palmer; "I don't like runaway ladies. But let us see what this letter says for her."

The letter is the same that Mr. Beaumont read some time ago, therefore it need not here be inserted. Before Mr. Palmer had finished perusing it, a second message came to say that the ladies waited tea, and that Mrs. Beaumont wished not to be late going home, as there was no moon.

Mr. Palmer, nevertheless, finished the letter before he stirred: and then, with a heavy sigh, he rose and said, "I now wish, more than ever, that our captain would come home this night, before I go, and clear up this business. I don't like this Spanish plot, this double intrigue. Ah, dear me!--I shall be obliged to sail--I shall be in Jamaica before the fifth act."

"How expectation loads the wings of time!" exclaimed Mrs. Beaumont, as the gentlemen entered the drawing-room. "Here we have been all day expecting our dear Captain Walsingham, and the time has seemed so long!--The only time I ever found long in this house."

"I should like to know," said Mr. Walsingham, after a bow of due acknowledgment to Mrs. Beaumont for her compliment, "I should like to know whether time appears to pa.s.s more slowly to those that hope, or those that fear?"

Mrs. Beaumont handed coffee to Mr. Palmer, without attempting to answer this question.

"To those that hope, I should think," said Mr. Palmer; "for hope long deferred maketh the heart sick; and time, I can answer for it, pa.s.ses most slowly to those who are sick."

"'Slow as the year's dull circle seems to run, When the brisk minor pants for twenty-one,'"

said Mr. Walsingham, smiling, as he looked at young Beaumont. "But I think it is the mixture of fear with hope that makes time appear to pa.s.s slowly."

"And is hope ever free from that mixture?" said Miss Walsingham. "Does not hope without fear become certainty, and fear without hope despair?

Can hope ever be perfectly free from some mixture of fear?"

"Oh, dear me! yes, to be sure," said Miss Hunter; "for hope's the most opposite thing that ever was to fear; as different as black and white; _for_, surely, every body knows that hope is just the contrary to fear; and when one says, _I hope_, one does not ever mean _I fear_--surely, you know, Mrs. Beaumont?"

"I am the worst metaphysician in the world," said Mrs. Beaumont; "I have not head enough to a.n.a.lyze my heart."

"Nor I neither," said Miss Hunter: "Heigho!" (very audibly.)

"Hark!" cried Mr. Beaumont, "I think I hear a horse galloping. It is he!

it is Walsingham!"

Out ran Beaumont, full speed, to meet his friend; whilst, with, more sober joy, Mr. Walsingham waited on the steps, where all the company a.s.sembled, Mr. Palmer foremost, with a face full of benevolent pleasure; Mrs. Beaumont congratulating every body, but n.o.body listening to her; luckily for her, all were too heartily occupied with their own feelings to see how ill her countenance suited her words. The sound of the galloping of the horse ceased for a minute--then recommenced; but before it could be settled whether it was coming nearer or going farther away, Mr. Beaumont returned with a note in his hand.

"Not Walsingham--only Birch--confound him!" said Mr. Beaumont, out of breath. "Confound him, what a race I took, and how disappointed I was when I saw Birch's face; and yet it is no fault of his, poor lad!"

"But why did not he come up to the house? Why did not you let us see him?" said Mr. Walsingham.

"I could not keep him, he was in such a hurry to go home to his father and mother, he would only stop to give this note."

"From Walsingham? Read, quick."

"Plymouth, 5 o'clock, A.M. just landed.

"Dear friends, I cannot have the pleasure of seeing you, as I had hoped to do, this day--I am obliged to go to London instantly on business that must not be delayed--Cannot tell when I can be with you--hope in a few days--Well and happy, and ever yours, H. WALSINGHAM."

All stood silent with looks of disappointment, except Mrs. Beaumont, who reiterated, "What a pity! What a sad pity! What a disappointment! What a terrible disappointment!"

"Business!" said Mr. Beaumont: "curse his business! he should think of his friends first."

"Most likely his business is for his friends," said Miss Walsingham.

"That's right, my dear little defender of the absent," said Mr.

Walsingham.

"Business!" repeated Mr. Palmer. "Hum! I like business better than pleasure--I will be patient, if it is really business that keeps him away from us."

"Depend upon it," said Miss Walsingham, "nothing but business can keep him away from us; his pleasure is always at home."

"I am thinking," said Mr. Palmer, drawing Mr. Walsingham aside, "I am thinking whether he has really brought this Spanish lady home with him, and what will become of her--of--him, I mean. I wish I was not going to Jamaica!"

"Then, my dear sir, where is the necessity of your going?"

"My health--my health--the physicians say I cannot live in England."

Mr. Walsingham, who had but little faith in physicians, laughed, and exclaimed, "But, my dear sir, when you see so many men alive in England at this instant, why should you believe in the impossibility of your living even in this pestiferous country?"

Mr. Palmer half smiled, felt for his snuff-box, and then replied, "I am sure I should like to live in England, if my health would let me; but,"

continued he, his face growing longer, and taking the hypochondriac cast as he p.r.o.nounced the word, "_but, _Mr. Walsingham, you don't consider that my health is really--really--"

"Really very good, I see," interrupted Mr. Walsingham, "and I am heartily glad to see it."

"Sir! sir! you do not see it, I a.s.sure you. I have a great opinion of your judgment, but as you are not a physician--"

"And because I have not taken out my diploma, you think I can neither see nor understand," interrupted Mr. Walsingham. "But, nevertheless, give me leave to feel your pulse."

"Do you really understand a pulse?" said Mr. Palmer, baring his wrist, and sighing.

"As good a pulse as ever man had," p.r.o.nounced Mr. Walsingham.

"You don't say so? why the physicians tell me--"