SMALL | MEDIUM
The day had not yet dawned, as John
Moseley was summoned to take his seat in
the mail for London; three of the places
were already occupied, and John was com-
pelled to get a seat for his man on the out-
side; an intercourse with strangers is parti-
cularly irksome to an Englishman, and none
appeared disposed to break the silence. The
coach had left the little village of L -- far
behind it, before any of the rational beings
it contained, had thought it prudent or be-
coming, to bend in the least to the charities
of our nature, in a communication with a fel-
low creature, whose name or condition they
happened to be ignorant of. This reserve
is unquestionably characteristic of our na-
tion; to what is it owing? -- modesty? did
not our national and deep personal vanity
appear at once to refute the assertion, we
might enter into an investigation of it.
The good opinion of himself in an English-
man is more deeply seated, though less
buoyant, than that of his neighbours; in
them it is more of manners, in us more of
feeling; and the wound inflicted on the self-
love of the two, is very different in effect --
The Frenchman wonders at its rudeness, but
soon forgets the charge; while an Englishman
broods over it in silence and mortification. It
John Moseley was occupied with thoughts
very different from any of his fellow-tra-
vellers, as they proceeded rapidly on their
route, and it was only when roused from his
meditations by the accidentally coming in
contact with the hilt of a sword, he looked
up, and in the glimmerings of the morning's
light, recognised the person of Lord Hen-
ry Stapleton; their eyes met, and -- "my
lord" -- "Mr. Moseley" -- -were repeated in
mutual surprise. John was eminently a social
being, and he was happy to find recourse
against his gloomy thoughts in the conver-
sation of the dashing young sailor. His
"But how are your lovely sisters, Mose-
ley?" cried the young sailor, in a frank and
careless manner, "I should have been half
in love with one of them, if I had time -- and
money; -- both are necessary to marriage now-
a-days, you know."
"As to time," said John, with a laugh,
"I believe that may be dispensed with, but
money is a different thing."
"Oh, time too," replied his lordship; "I
have never time enough to do any thing as it
ought to be done -- always hurried -- I wish
you could recommend me a lady who would
take the trouble off my hands."
"It might be done, my lord," said John,
with a smile, and the image of Kate Chat-
terton crossed his brain, but was soon suc-
ceeded by that of her more lovely sister.
"But how do you manage on board your
ship -- hurried there too?"
"Oh! never there," replied the captain,
gravely; "that's duty, you know, and every
thing must be regular of course; but on shore
it is a different thing -- there I am only a pas-
senger; but L -- has a charming society,
Mr. Moseley -- a week or ten days ago I
was shooting, and came to a beautiful cottage
ldquo;How came your lordship acquainted
with her?" inquired Moseley, interrupting
him in a little surprise.
"Chance, my dear fellow -- chance -- I was
thirsty, and approached for a drink of water;
she was sitting in the piazza, and being hur-
ried for time, you know -- saved the trouble
of introduction -- I expect she is troubled with
the same complaint, for she managed to get
rid of me in no time, and with a great deal
of politeness -- however, I found out her name
at the next house."
During this rattle, John had fixed his eyes
on the face of one of the passengers who sat
opposite to him -- he appeared to be about
fifty years of age, strongly pock-marked,
with a stiff military air, and the dress and ex-
terior of a gentleman -- his face was much
sun-burnt, though naturally very fair, and
his dark, keen eye, was intently fixed on the
sailor, as he continued his remarks -- "Do
you know such a lady, Moseley?"
"Yes" said John, "very slightly; she is
visited by one of my sisters, and -- "
"Yourself," cried Lord Henry, with a
laugh.
"Myself, once or twice, my lord, certainly,"
answered John, gravely, "but a lady visited
The countenance of the stranger under-
went several changes during this speech of
John's, and at its close rested on him with a
softer expression, than generally marked its
rigid and compressed muscles. -- Willing to
change a discourse which was growing too
delicate for a mail-coach, John addressed
himself to the opposite passengers, while
his eye yet dwelt on the face of the military
stranger.
"We are likely to have a fine day, gentle-
men;" the soldier bowed stiffly, as he smiled
his assent, and the other passenger humbly an-
swered, "very, Mr. John," in the well
known tones of honest Peter Johnson --
Moseley started, as he turned his face for the
first time on the lank figure, which was mo-
destly compressed into the smallest possible
compass in a corner of the coach, in such a
way as not to come in contact with any of
its neighbours.
"Johnson" exclaimed John, in astonish-
ment, "you here -- where are you going -- to
London?"
"To London, Mr. John," replied Peter,
Both Moseley and Lord Henry, examined
him closely as he spoke; the former won-
dering what could take the steward, at the
age of seventy, for the first time into the
vortex of the capital; and the latter in ad-
miration at the figure and equipments of the
old man before him -- Peter was in full cos-
tume, with the exception of the goggles, and
was in reality a subject to be gazed at by
most people; but nothing relaxed the muscles,
or attracted the particular notice of the sol-
dier, who having regained his set form of
countenance, appeared drawn up in himself,
waiting patiently for the moment he was ex-
pected to act; nor did he utter more than as
many words, in the course of the first fifty miles
of their journey. His dialect was singular, and
such as put his hearers at a loss to determine
his country. Lord Henry stared at him every
time he spoke, as if to say, what country-
man are you? until at length he suggested
to John he was some officer, whom the
downfall of Bonaparte had driven into re-
tirement; "indeed, Moseley," he added, as
they were about to resume their carriage
after a change of horses, "we must draw
him out, and see what he thinks of his mas-
ter now -- but delicately, you know." The
soldier was, however, impervious to his lord-
ship's attacks, until he finally abandoned the
"Perfectly," answered John.
"And her rejection of them."
"Is it possible," cried the brother, pacing
up and down the room; "I acknowledge I
did expect you to offer, but not to be re-
fused."
Denbigh placed in his hand the letter of
Emily, which having read, he returned, with
a sigh; "this then is the reason you left us,"
continued he; "Emily is not capricious -- it
cannot be a sudden pique -- she means as
she says."
"Yes, Mr. Moseley," said Denbigh, mourn-
fully, "Your sister is faultless -- but I am not
worthy of her -- -my deception" -- -here the
door again opened to the admission of Peter
Johnson -- both the gentlemen rose at the sud-
den interruption, and the steward advancing
to the table, once more produced the formi-
dable pocket-book -- the spectacles -- and a
letter -- he ran over its direction -- "For
George Denbigh, Esquire, London, by the
"Here I am, George, safe and sound -- -
ready to kiss the bridesmaids, if they will
let me -- and I can find time -- -bless me, Mose-
ley! -- -old marling-spike! -- -general! -- -whew
-- -where is the coachman and guard?" -- -it
was Lord Henry Stapleton -- -the Spaniard
bowed again in silence and withdrew -- -while
Denbigh threw open the door of an adjoin-
ing room, and excused himself, as he desired
Lord Henry to walk in there for a few mi-
nutes.
"Upon my word," cried the heedless
sailor, as he complied, "we might as well
have stuck together -- -we were bound to one
port, it seems."
"You know Lord Henry?" said John, as
he withdrew.
"Yes," said Denbigh, and he again re-
quired of Peter his address, which was given,
and the steward departed. The conversa-
tion between the two friends did not return
to the course it was taking, when they were
interrupted, as Moseley felt a delicacy in ma-
king any allusion to the probable cause of
his sister's refusal. He had, however, began
to hope it was not irremoveable, and, with a
determination of renewing his visit in the
morning, he took his leave, in order Denbigh
About twelve on the following morning,
John and the steward met at the door of the
hotel Denbigh lodged in; both in quest of
his person. The latter held in his hand the
answer to his master's letter, but wished par-
ticularly to see its writer. On inquiring for
him, to their mutual surprise they were told,
the gentleman had left there early in the
morning, having discharged his lodgings, and
they were unable to say whither he had gone.
To hunt for a man without some clue by
which to discover him, in the city of Lon-
don, is time misspent. Of this Moseley was
perfectly sensible, and disregarding a propo-
sition made by Peter, he returned to his own
lodgings. The proposal of the steward's, if
it did not do much credit to his sagacity, ho-
noured his perseverance and enterprise not a
little. It was no other than this; John should
take one side of the street, and he the other,
and they would thus inquire at every house,
until the fugitive was discovered. "Sir,"
said Peter, with great simplicity, "when our
neighbour White lost his little girl, this was
the way we found her, although we went
nearly through L -- before we succeeded,
Mr. John." Peter was obliged to abandon
this expedient for want of an associate, and
as no message was at the lodgings of Mose-
ley, he started with a heavy heart on his re-
turn to Benefield Lodge. But Moseley's zeal
"Did they go alone?" asked John, mu-
sing.
"There were two chaises, the Marquess'
and his Grace's."
"Who was his Grace?" inquired John.
"Why, the Duke of Derwent, to be sure."
"And the Duke? was he alone?"
"There was a gentleman with his Grace,
but they did not know his name."
As nothing further could be learnt, John
withdrew. There was a good deal of irrita-
tion mixed with the vexation of Moseley at
his disappointment, for Denbigh, he thought,
evidently wished to avoid him. That he was
the companion of his kinsman, the Duke of
Derwent, he had now no doubt, and entirely
relinquished all expectations of finding him
in London or its environs. While retracing
his steps, in no enviable state of mind, to his
lodgings, with a resolution of returning im-
mediately to L -- , his arm was suddenly
taken by his friend Chatterton. If any man
could have consoled John at that moment, it
was the Baron. Questions and answers were
Lady Chatterton had disciplined her feel-
ings upon the subject of Grace and John, into
such a state of subordination, that the fasti-
dious jealousy of the young man now found
no ground of alarm, in any thing she said or
did. It cannot be denied the Dowager was
delighted to see him again -- and, if it were
fair to draw any conclusions from colouring
-- palpitations -- and other such little accom-
paniments of female feeling -- Grace was not
excessively sorry. It is true, it was the best
possible opportunity to ascertain all about
her friend Emily and the rest of the family;
and Grace was extremely happy to have so
direct intelligence of their general welfare,
as was afforded by this visit of Mr. Moseley.
Grace looked all she expressed -- and perhaps
rather more -- and John thought she looked
very beautifully.
There was present an elderly gentleman, of
apparently indifferent health, although his
manners were extremely lively, and his dress
particularly studied. A few minutes observa-
tion convinced Moseley this gentleman was a
