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The Adventures of Hugh Trevor

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I then enquired concerning the second letter she had mentioned? To
which she answered--'It is addressed to me, as a mediator: but relates
entirely to you, and the person who wrote it; your poor penitent
servant, Philip.'

She gave it me; and these were its contents.

'Honoured madam,

'I make bold to lay my case before you; which as it is very grievous
I hope it may move you to pity me. I am the young man that lived with
my honoured master Mr. Trevor; in the same house, madam, that you are
pleased to live. My name is Philip. I have been guilty of a very great
fault; for which my conscience worries me night and day. So that I am
sure I shall never forgive myself: though I take my holy saviour to
witness it was more a mistake than a thought of committing so wicked
a crime. I was in a flurry, so that I did not know what I was about;
for to think of having robbed a master that was so kind to me is such
a sin and a shame as never was. But I had no notion but that my poor
dear master had drowned himself in the river; and so, as he had told
me the day before to make up my account and he would pay me the next
morning, I thought it was hard that I should lose my wages and the
money beside which I had laid out for washing, and newspapers, and
tea, and sugar, and other materials of that kind: which, though my
wages _was_ only eight pounds eight shillings, made up the whole to
twelve pounds five and threepence three farthings. Which was the
reason to make me do so base a thing as it would else have been as to
break open the box, and take out a ten pound note, and four pair of
stockings, and two waistcoats: because I knew very well my master's
kindness so that it is ten to one if he had lived to make his will he
would have given me them and more. After which I hurried away: being
as I was told of a place, with an old master that I was sure would
take me again. But I had no more thought that Mr. Trevor was living
than the child unborn: which since I discovered I have never been
at rest; being out of place, and having nobody now to ask for a
character, which is the greatest misfor_tin_ that can behappen a poor
servant that never was guilty of such an action as breaking open his
master's box, and running away with his money and things, in all my
life before, or since. So that I was tempted to list for a soldier;
but that I happened, honoured madam, to meet your maid Mary, and she
persuaded me to write to Mr. Trevor: which I durst not do, though I
know his goodness. So she said your honoured ladyship would be so kind
and tender hearted as to lay my case before Mr. Trevor, and my dear
and honoured mistress, Miss Mowbray, both of _which_ I would run to
the world's end to serve. On which she said she was sure they would
take my case into merciful consideration, and grant me their gracious
forgiveness.

'Which is the humble petition of your distressed servant to command,
honoured madam.

PHILIP FRANKS.'

Poor fellow! Forgive thee? What is thy crime? An inaccuracy. A mistake
of judgment. A desire to do thyself right, without intentional wrong
to me or any one. Yet for this mistake, differently circumstanced,
thou mightest have lost thy life, and have been hanged like a dog!

I too accused thee of robbery, of taking more than thy due, when thou
tookest less. Hadst thou offered thy old waistcoats and stockings to a
street hawker, he would not have given thee half the surplus that was
thy due.

Such were the reflections that broke from me, after perusing his
simple but affecting defence.

Mary was called up, and questioned. She knew where he lived: for the
poor, little inclined to suspicion, confide in each other. It is the
rich only that tempt them to be treacherous.

After consulting with Miss Wilmot, it was determined that she should
write to Olivia; enclosing Philip's letter, and requesting her to
give him a character. I knew she would take care to see him paid the
wages that were his due; and, as I had been the cause of his want of
employment since the fright he took at Cranford-bridge, I left money
to reimburse him for the loss of his time from that period.

The people I mixed with, and the prejudices of the world, required
that I should keep a servant: but, though the man that was with me was
by no means so great a favourite as Philip had been, I did not think
I had sufficient cause to discharge him for another. There was an
additional motive for not wishing Philip to be my servant again; at
least not under my present circumstances. Olivia's aunt had imagined
we were in league, at Cranford-bridge; and, should she see him
once more in my service, that suspicion might either be revived or
strengthened.




CHAPTER III


_The period of contention approaches, and the unabated patriotism of
the Baronet: Hector and the Earl become enemies, and I am made the
subject of newspaper calumny: Threatening appearances: A journey
projected: A tragical event, giving occasion to the practice of some
small portion of humanity_


The dissolution of parliament was hourly expected. Flying reports
fixed it to happen on different days; but none of them very
distant. The zeal of Sir Barnard, in behalf of his country and its
constitution, was unabated. The measures of ministry were wicked
beyond example; and the servility of parliament was unequalled, since
the time of the Tudors. Such was the Baronet's continual theme.

From him, and the political circles I frequented, I heard news in
which I might be said to be personally concerned. In consequence of
the firm refusal of Olivia, a rupture had taken place between Lord
Idford and the family: much at first to the regret of the Mowbrays;
till the turn that the quarrel took enflamed the latter.

Hector Mowbray had great property, and influence, in the county of
which he and I were both natives. Of this county the Earl was the Lord
Lieutenant; and here he likewise had his dependents, and partisans.
The Mowbrays were wealthy; and Hector was ambitious of being elected
knight of the shire. When it was first proposed, the aunt forwarded
the project: for there was no probability that any other candidate so
powerful should start. The joint interest of the Earl and the Mowbrays
would defy opposition.

The Earl however understood traffic; and, finding himself so
positively refused by Olivia, he thought proper to inform the family
that she must either be induced to consent, or, instead of aiding to
bring Hector into parliament, he should himself propose and support
another candidate with the whole weight of his interest. The threat
was galling. It was insinuated first to the aunt; and, when Hector was
informed of it, he affected to vapour and treat it with defiance; but,
on better consideration, he and the aunt thought proper to importune
Olivia, hoping they should oblige her to comply. Threats and
intreaties alike were vain. Her resolution was not to be shaken; and
the Earl more openly declared that, if she should think proper to
persist, he would beggar himself rather than Hector should carry his
election.

Hector had been canvassing the county, had subscribed to races, been
present at the assizes, given public dinners, and taken various means
to increase his popularity; of which he had become inordinately vain.
Inflated therefore with a certainty of victory, he threw down the
gauntlet, and dared the Earl to the field.

In the mean time, paragraphs appeared in a morning and an evening
paper, both of them sold to Government, and the echoes of each other,
that were evidently aimed at me, and my connections. At first I could
not have conceived how I should have attracted the attention of those
worthy gentlemen, who earn their bread by the daily manufactory of
lampoons: but I was soon informed that this is become a regular branch
of business; and that the motives to carry it on are many. These
motives originate in paymasters, of various descriptions: of whom the
treasury is supposed to be the chief.

The libels, of which I was the subject, aimed to be satirical; but
were too dull of wing to hit their mark: they were only malignant.
They could neither tickle the fancy nor gall the heart; but they
proved that I had lurking enemies, who wished to wound, did they but
know when and where to strike.

It was well known that my professedly dear friend, Glibly, was
principally concerned in the morning paper where these libels
generally appeared. When I first became acquainted with him, he
affected indifference to parties; and was ready to praise or laugh at
either, as circumstances should happen to direct him: but, when the
temper of the times became intolerant and acrimonious, he thought it
prudent to take a decided part. That such a man should declare in
favour of the weakest was not to be expected; and he now associated
with the known hirelings of ministry, of whom I was a still more open
and undisguised opponent.

By these attacks on me, Glibly therefore, for they were undoubtedly
a part of his handy-work, Glibly, I say, had a three-fold motive.
He indulged a propensity, which strange to say he had acquired,
of wounding in the dark, that he might smile and shake hands with
the insulted person in broad day; he answered the end for which
ministry retained him, that of decrying all its antagonists; and he
particularly forwarded the views of another of his dear friends, the
Earl.

The general complexion of paragraphs like these is falsehood; which is
sometimes direct, though it is more commonly a perversion of existing
facts. The pamphlet I had written, which had been partially made known
to the public by the advertisement that had appeared, the patronage of
Sir Barnard, my ambitious views on the Mowbray family, with such other
particulars as the indefatigable Glibly could collect, sometimes
delivered in obscure allusions and at others more openly, were the
topics of calumny. How many of these ingenious devices to irritate and
injure were framed I never knew: for I seldom read them myself, though
I heard of them sufficiently often to be assured that they were
numerous.

There were various means by which they might have been stopped; and
of which, in ordinary cases bribing is chiefly practised: but in this
instance fighting, or the law, would have been more effectual. Of
these however I totally disapproved. Defamation is an evil: but death
is generally and perhaps always a greater; and to prevent enquiry
is among the worst of evils. I was not yet sufficiently acquainted,
however, with the mistakes to which men are subject, or rather
impelled by the institutions they admire, not to feel great surprise
and some indignation at the obstacles which I found were continually
to impede my career. He who has never travelled into the country of
Mosquitoes is not aware how slight a net-work covering will preserve
him from their sting.

These were trifles, and would have been unworthy of notice had they
not resembled the small cloudy speck, which, though scarcely visible
in the distant horizon, approaches, and swells, and bursts over the
head in a storm. The beginning contest between the Earl and the
Mowbray family, the interest which the worthy Mr. Glibly had thought
proper to take in me and my affairs, the patriotism of Sir Barnard,
nay the friendship of Mr. Evelyn himself, that best of men, were but
so many links in the chain of that fate which was impending.

At present, however, with respect to the Baronet, I daily increased in
favour. He frequently requested me to accompany him when he went down
to the house; and paraded with me, arm in arm, through the avenues:
catching every man he knew by the button, and introducing me; then
descanting on the news of the day, the victories of the minister among
his creatures and in the house, and the defeats of his projects every
where else.

At length it was generally affirmed and believed that parliament would
be dissolved in a fortnight; and, as Sir Barnard wished to keep well
with his borough, he proposed that we should go down and visit the
worthy and independent electors: among whom he observed we might spend
a few days in a pleasant manner, and advantageously to his interest,
till the writ of election should be issued. This was on the Wednesday:
but, as there was to be a debate and probably a division of the house
on Friday, his sense of public duty would not permit him to be absent
on such an occasion, and we agreed to defer our journey till Saturday
morning.

During this short interval an incident occurred, which it is necessary
I should relate. It happened on the Thursday that, after spending the
day near Richmond, where I had been invited to dine, I was returning
home on horseback, followed by my servant: for I thought myself
obliged to practise some part of that aristocracy which I nevertheless
very sincerely condemned.

The night was starlight; and, as we were cantering down a lane at the
entrance of Barnes common, we heard distant cries and the report of a
pistol, in the direction as we believed in which we were proceeding.
I immediately stopped, and listened very attentively: but all was soon
silent. Being convinced as well by the cries as the firing of the
pistol that a robbery, if not something worse, had been committed, and
not certainly knowing from what point the sound came, I rode gently
forward and continued to listen with the utmost attention: desiring my
servant to do the same.

We rode on, still walking our horses and looking cautiously round for
some time, without any sight or sound of man approaching us, till we
came to a gate at the edge of the common. Here I saw a horse standing
patiently, without his rider; and stopping once more to look and
listen, I presently perceived an indistinct object: which I discovered
to be a man; wounded and weltering in his blood.

I spoke to him: but no answer was returned, nor any sound. I then
raised the body in my arms, and it appeared to be lifeless.

What was to be done? A human being, who might be dead or might not, in
either case, must not be left in such a situation.

The neighbourhood is populous, and I could distinguish lights at no
very great distance. Fearing lest, if I sent my servant he should
blunder, or that the persons he might address himself to would be less
likely to pay attention to him than to me, I bade him remain by the
dead or wounded man; and, mounting my horse, I rode away immediately
to procure aid.

My direction was across the common; and fortunately I met with a
carriage, which proved to be a hackney coach returning to town with
two passengers. I ordered the coachman to stop, and he immediately
supposed I was a highwayman: but, being undeceived, he refused to go
out of his way for the purpose I required.

The persons within, hearing a kind of squabble, and understanding when
they listened the nature of it, spoke to me; and enquired into the
particulars. By good luck, they happened to feel properly, and joined
me against the coachman; who, though unwillingly, was obliged to
submit; and, when he came to the point where the roads join, to turn
back and receive the wounded man into the carriage. The passengers
alighted, I ordered my man to take the horse of the stranger in
charge, and we proceeded slowly to the first inn.

Here I immediately enquired for surgical and medical assistance;
and, as the people of these villages are many of them opulent, good
practitioners were presently procured.

While the messengers were dispatched, I had leisure to examine the
stranger; whose appearance, figure, and countenance, were altogether
extremely interesting. His hair was abundant, but milk white, his
features were serene, and his form in despite of age was still manly.
The benevolence of his countenance was heightened by the blood with
which his locks were in part clotted, and that had streamed over his
face upon his clothes and linen.

The medical gentlemen arrived nearly at the same time, the stranger
was examined, the pulsation of the heart was perceptible, and, though
the contusions on the head and the temple were violent, and he had
been shot in the shoulder, so that the ball had passed through behind,
they were of opinion, as there was no fracture of the skull, that
the wounds were not mortal. The appearance of the stranger, and the
condition in which I found him, had made a lively impression upon
me. I was fearful of leaving him, in an unknown place, amidst the
casualties and hurry of an inn, to the care of waiters, and the
neglect of persons who had scarcely leisure to be humane. I therefore
determined to send my servant to town, and stay with him that night. I
had an appointment and other business in the morning; but I could be
at London in less than an hour: that was therefore no obstacle.

Hoping to have discovered his place of abode, I desired his pockets to
be searched before the people present: but they were entirely emptied;
and contained no paper, or memorandum, that could afford information.

After some time, by the aid which was procured, his pulse began to
quicken, and his lungs to do their office; and, that nothing might
be omitted, I prevailed on the physician to remain with me at his
bed-side, and attend to every symptom, above half the night. With this
he the more willingly complied because he was apprehensive of fever,
when the circulation should recover all its elasticity.

In the morning, though very unwillingly, I was obliged to forsake my
charge: but not till I had left money with the physician, who made
himself accountable to the innkeeper for all expences. Being a humane
person, I believe he would have done this without my interference. But
in addition to that every mark about the stranger, his look, his dress
and the horse on which he was mounted, denoted him to be a gentleman;
and when I left him, though the physician thought it was probable he
might not recover the use of his understanding and the power of speech
for a day or two, he yet was persuaded that he would not die.




CHAPTER IV


_An incident in the park, or the danger of unruly dogs and horses: The
fortitude and affection of Olivia: A visit to the wounded stranger_


Knowing the habits of Sir Barnard to be precise, and pettish, so that
if I counteracted the arrangement he had made it would put him into a
disagreeable temper, I resolved, as we were to depart early the next
morning, to return as soon as possible to the stranger. About two in
the afternoon, I was riding through the park for this purpose: and
here another incident occurred; which, though it excited extreme
terror, it afterward afforded uncommon delight.

A few days before, I had witnessed a lady on a run-away horse, who
was seized with fright, dropped from the saddle, and bruised herself
exceedingly. She would have been in no danger, if she had behaved but
with the ordinary resolution of a man; and the accident led me to
reflect on the ill education to which women are subjected. They seem
to be esteemed by men in proportion as they are helpless, timid, and
dependent. It is supposed they cannot be affectionate unless their
leading feature be imbecility.

Just as I had crossed the bridge over the Serpentine river, two ladies
and a gentleman with their grooms, all on horseback, were turning
round; and went off in a hand gallop toward Kensington gardens. I was
riding fast, at no great distance; and perceived it to be Olivia, her
aunt, and some person whom I did not know. Olivia was mounted on a
fine blood horse; and a large dog rushed by him in pursuit of me,
being tempted by my fast galloping.

The horse of Olivia had previously been put upon his mettle. I saw the
danger, and instantly pulled up: but he began to plunge, and kick, in
a manner that would have unhorsed most men. The dog then turned from
me, and attacked the animal that was highest in motion; and the horse
immediately set off full speed. The foolish servant, being frightened,
began to gallop after her. I was obliged to do the same, and stop him:
for the clattering of feet behind did but increase the fury of the
runaway horse.

Terrified however as I was, when I first noticed the vicious
propensities of the horse, the courage of Olivia was such, her seat
was so firm, and she kept so steady a hold of the strong curb rein,
that I felt a confidence she would overpower the horse; if the fear
and folly of some other person should do no mischief. I therefore
followed at a proper distance; and, when I saw several horsemen who
attempted to cross her, I shouted and waved my hat for them to keep
off.

My hopes were justified. She avoided every danger, by her management
and presence of mind; and, by her use of the curb and the aid of the
wall at the end of the ride, arrested the course of the intemperate
animal.

Having kept the grooms back, I was the first that came up with her;
and, leaping from my saddle, I seized the reins and held them till the
servant arrived. I then enjoyed one more rapturous moment, such as I
had indeed but little foreseen: I received her in my arms.

Not a minute before, how firm and collected had her mind and actions
been: but no sooner did she feel my embrace than her frame was
suffused. A thousand ideas, that had no relation to the danger which
her own fortitude had escaped, immediately rushed upon her; she sunk
upon my shoulder, and burst into a flood of tears. They were the heart
casings of ten thousand of the foregone anxieties of love.

How could I have hated the broad day, and the prying eyes that were
upon us! How welcome would the fogs and darkness of Cranford-bridge
have been! My adventurous spirit would then have surely imprinted the
first kiss of love! as chaste as it would have been ecstatic.

This bliss, alas, was not to be. The crowd approached. I pressed her
hand, and, as an assurance of fidelity, she gently returned the token
of kindness. Such mute signs being all that were permitted.

Perceiving I must leave her, I again requested she would not mount the
unruly horse; and she replied, with a heavenly smile, 'Have no fear
for me. I will be careful of myself;' to which she added in a low
whisper: 'for my preserver's sake!'

Oh moments of unutterable bliss! Who can estimate your worth? One
of you will outweigh a life, such as the dull round of common place
nothings can yield.

Did not my eyes thank her? Did not the strong workings of my colour
and countenance inform her of what was passing within? Oh yes! And
in the same language she involuntarily replied. He who shall suppose
there was one emotion which celestial purity might not approve cannot
comprehend Olivia. They were emanations such as those only who have
souls, as well as bodies, are acquainted with.

The tide of ecstacy must turn. The aunt came up, I bowed, she
returned my salute in a manner that shewed her mind was affected by
contradictory emotions, and I mounted my horse and guided his head
toward the Park gate; through which I passed; feeling, at the moment,
that I was passing the gate of paradise.

I had not however left all my heaven behind me. No: I bore with me
ample stores for delicious revery. The fortitude of Olivia, the firm
and easy grace with which she kept her seat, her admirable management
and quick presence of mind, her unabating courage at one moment, and
her melting tenderness at the next, were not the food but the feast of
love.

In this revelry of the imagination I indulged, till I arrived at the
inn; where I found the physician, agreeable to appointment; and was
informed by him that the stranger still continued insensible: but that
the symptoms appeared to be rather more than less favourable.

I remained with the patient during some hours, till the necessary
preparation for my journey obliged me to depart. I then left a
sufficient sum with the physician; and, after most earnestly
recommending the stranger to his care, reluctantly returned to town.

Though I had obtained a promise, from the physician, that the patient
should be removed to his own home, as soon as it should be discovered,
or to the house of the physician, whenever it might be done without
danger, I yet could not help questioning whether to leave him to the
mercy of persons, with whom I was unacquainted, that I might take
a journey to visit the free and independent electors of an English
borough, were faithfully to fulfill the duties of humanity. Add to
which the venerable and benevolent appearance of the stranger was
so uncommonly interesting that it made a strong impression upon my
imagination.

But it was necessary to decide, and I acted as mortals are obliged to
do on such occasions: not knowing what was best, I adopted that which
appeared to be the most urgent.




CHAPTER V


_The journey to the borough of the Baronet: Independent electors, and
their motives satisfactorily explained: Evil communication corrupts
good manners: Electors eager to make hay while the sun shines, and
being once bought wish again to be bribed_


The following morning at the hour appointed, Sir Barnard and I set
off for the borough of ****: at which we arrived without delay or
accident.

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