by Harclai, who, to use his own expression, laid vio lent hands upon him, and carried him to visit his tenants at Wellsbury. It may be remembered, that in the ancient map of the borough, a considerable portion of land appeared once to have belonged to Mr. Okeover, now transferred to Mr. Flowerdale, a gentleman whom we hope the reader has not forgotten. Indifferent to borough politics, Flowerdale had not rejected an offer made by Lord Cleveland's steward, for the purchase of this land. The steward said it was an agreement; but this was denied by Harclai, who now acted for Flowerdale. But whether agreement or not, Harclai refused to fulfil it, and at length appeared in the shape of its legal owner himself, under a regular deed of sale from the quiet but right judging squire of Okeover. In truth, from the moment Harclai had made the discovery of Flowerdale's possession in Wellsbury, and that the sale to Lord Cleveland was not completed, he bent all his endeavours to avail himself of the good will that had arisen between Flowerdale and De Vere, to transfer the interest of that estate to his friend. For this purpose he introduced himself at Okeover, and made good his claim to be considered the representative of Mortimer, whom he found so high in Flowerdale's favour, that the bare opening of the treachery he had met with, determined him to close all negotiation with Lord Cleveland, and dispose of his land where it might contribute to redeem the right, not be perverted to defend the wrong. As De Vere was absent, and as Harclai knew he could not afford to buy, to prevent delay, he made the purchase himself, and greeted him with it upon proper securities, as soon as possible after his uncle's death. This activity of Harclai, gave a blow to the Cleveland party in the borough; and thus, the plainness and apparent parsimony of his life, was made to tell in the cause of friendship. For it was by this parsimony alone that he was enabled to lay by hundreds per annum, which were almost all dedicated to generous purposes.. The freeholds thus acquired were all the votes that remained in the borough, above those of the two parties that now divided it; and they gave a balanced, if not a preponderating interest to De Vere. bas CHAPTER XIII. HOPE. I see some sparkles of a better hope, SHAKSPEARE. THE affairs of the borough, thus opportunely urgent, furnished a fair pretext for that absence from his home which, for the reasons we have assigned, had been resolved upon by the master of Talbois. But another plea arose out of the service of Lady Constance herself. The marquess, in his quality of executor and guardian, had complained much of want of information respecting the fairest parts of her inheritance, situated in Yorkshire. Here she possessed the great mansion called Cleveland Hall, which took its title from the hills which surround it. It had not been visited for ages, that is, from the time of the death of old Mr. Cleveland, the last owner who had ever resided there. It was this gentleman who had settled these estates upon Lord Mowbray, who was his grandson by his only child, the former countess; and Lord Mowbray, having ever found even Staffordshire too far from the royal atmosphere he was so fond of, had never once visited the place after he came into possession. Consigned entirely to stewards, there were many things that wanted explanation and rectifying, which nothing but a disinterested eye could effect, and as it was far from convenient for the marquess to go in person, an offer which De Vere made to accompany his solicitor, on behalf of his cousin, was gladly accepted, and richly repaid by the manner in which Constance seemed to feel it. On approaching the hall, Mr. Blagrave, his fellowtraveller, told him that he must not expect much comfort where he was going. "For not only," said he, "it has not had a gentleman for its inhabitant for near fifty years, since your great grandfather died; but, with proper respect be it spoken, the tradition is, that Mr. Cleveland himself did not live too generously. Indeed, we are told that it was by the most pinching parsimony that he raised these estates to the immense value they now bear, forming, by much, the largest part of the Mowbray fortune." This account of the solicitor was realized on their arrival at the house; for it was perfectly true, as he had represented it, that even in Mr. Cleveland's lifetime, it had scarcely exhibited a less desolate appearance than it now bore. It should seem, indeed, even then, that it had been the prototype of those descriptive lines of Pope on the mansion of a miser: ** Like some lone chartreux stands the good old hall, No raftered roofs with dance and tabor sound, Curs'd the sav'd candle, and th' unop'ning door: But, however inhospitable, this long-neglected mansion was not only the best, but the sole head-quarters the travellers could find, as there was nothing like an inn within many miles. At the same time, from having given some days' notice, the interior was not totally destitute of comfort, and the discomfort De Vere made light of, for the sake of her whose service he was upon. But his mind was far from happy, and his letters to his mother at this time, describe his feelings so particularly that we cannot help giving an extract of one of them to the reader. "We arrived at dusk, and, as the weather was warm, were rather surprised to see what seemed to be a splendid light through some of the windows, and still more to find that it proceeded from large wood fires, which had been kindled in the rooms we were to inhabit. But we were soon reconciled to them, and condescended with a good grace, to what, though perhaps an evil at this time at Talbois, was here a blessing to all but the swallows in the chimnies. "I write to you from a magnificient, abandoned and gloomy bed-chamber, with a state bed in it of green cut velvet, which I thought my great grandfather could never have procured with money. Mr. Blagrave, however, assured me he had so much pride mixed with his penury, that he had no doubt he purchased it upon some lucky speculation in the South Sea. Be this as it may, the chamber is half ruined, half furnished, and vast and cold; as much so, in these last respects, as my hopes. It was certainly not a place for a hopeless man to come to; and yet I have something to relate about it, which a century or two ago, might have impressed me with I know not what divinations. The thought of the advantages which my journey may procure to her for whom I undertook it, bears me up; but except for this, I could not find comfort in this place. The very extent and magnificence of the property, only seem to increase my distance from her. It is quite extraordinary my uncle should never have visited what may be rendered flourishing beyond all thought. But the place itself is half ruined from neglect, and the first evening seemed ominous to me, in the frame of mind I was in. Leaving my companion to give the necessary orders for our accommodation, I walked through a long line of neglected garden, from twilight till dark night; or at least it was only lighted by the stars, and I really invoked the woods and wilds, whose melancholy gloom accorded with my soul's sadness.'. In this solitude, her perfections were more than ever impressed upon me; but so was my despair. To think of these estates, added to those of Castle Mowbray, made me more alive than ever to the failures of my late endeavours to achieve, what, I am not wanting in friends to tell me, I have too many wayward notions to accomplish. In short, it seems the height of madness to hug VOL. III. 9 this delicious passion still to my heart, when, as long as there is this distance between us, no power on earth shall tempt me to disclose it. "But hopelessness in love is not the only one I feel. The plans designed for me by my uncle have failed, I will not say from what causes: satisfied that you do not lay them to the account of an improper pride. They have failed, not only without substituting others in their places, but, by making others too late, have rendered all abortive. "Such were my thoughts during my walk, protracted till the damps of the evening; the recollection, however that I had abandoned my companion in this lone place, drove me in. I sat down with him at supper, and rather envied him an appetite, which seemed not the less for the total want of care. Whether it was his civility, on seeing me still abstracted, or sheer fatigue, at so cheerless a companion, he soon left me alone; and I retired to the gloomy state bed-room I have mentioned, where, little disposed to sleep, I abandoned myself to the same thoughts which had so lately occupied me in my walk. And very appropriate were they to such a place, all about me seemed to exhibit an abortive attempt at what could not be accomplished; shall I call it an unfinished, and, therefore, an abandoned commencement, of what was intended to be magnificence, but had failed? Fit emblem,' said I to myself, of what I thought to be, and what I am;' and I looked at the velvet hangings, which clothed a deal worm-eaten bedstead, and an immense chimney, meant to receive marble columns, for which, however, bricks had been substituted. Upon the sides of the room too were the same marks of unexecuted purpose, in compartments of the wainscot, made for pictures, but which had never been placed there, while their spaces had been covered with old paper. "The mood this generated, did not add to the cheerfulness of that I was already in. I, who had always been such an idolizer of hope, began to despair. I thought of the many things which had been said of my once adored deity, by the observers of the world; and |