Varney the Vampyre 132An Evening with Colonel Deverill.—the Stratagem of Mrs. Meredith
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Literature · Horror
Varney the Vampyre 132
An Evening with Colonel Deverill.—the Stratagem of Mrs. Meredith
RymerEnglish
Mr. Twissel seated himself by Mrs. Meredith’s fire, not at all pleased with what he had anticipated and expected on that day, and yet well pleased that there was an end to it; but, at the same time, he had conceived a dislike for the colonel, of which the reader can easily guess the reason. The colonel had received him rather haughtily, and he was annoyed at it, and he was resolved that he would do him no service; and now, the indignity he had received was so vexing, that he knew not on whom to wreak his anger—at all events, it gave him a great dislike to the colonel, which would require a considerable time to overcome.
He sat there, waiting for Mrs. Meredith, who was then engaged somewhere else; but it was not long before she entered the apartment in which Mr. Twissel sat meditating upon his misadventure, and considering in his own mind what would be the best course to pursue.
“Oh, Mr. Twissel!” she said, “I hope you have not been waiting long for me.”
“Not long, ma’am.”
“And how have you got on to-day, Mr. Twissel?”
“Rather indifferently indeed,” said Twissel, with a groan; “I may say very indifferently indeed. I have had plenty of incident—I may say of adventure—I ought to say misadventure, which appears to have dogged me step by step in this affair.”
“Indeed! I am amazed at that,” said Mrs. Meredith.
“You would be more so if you knew all.”
“Tell me what has happened, Mr. Twissel,” said Mrs. Meredith. “I am anxious to hear what can have happened to you of this character. I hope it did not happen in consequence of your doing anything in this affair of Colonel Deverill’s.”
“Indeed it did, Mrs. Meredith,” said the attorney, solemnly. “I have been sedulously engaged in this affair, and I have been seriously inconvenienced by it.”
“I regret it very much.”
“But you could not have helped it, Mrs. Meredith,” said Twissel. “You could not have helped it at all. I know that very well, therefore there is no blame attached to you. You are free; but I have suffered, nevertheless. I have suffered.”
“Dear me, how sorry I am, to be sure.”
“Yes, ma’am, but it can’t be helped. I was taken into custody as a suspicious person, and had some difficulty in getting my release from custody.”
Mrs. Meredith lifted her hands and her eyes to express the amount of astonishment she felt.
“Yes, Mrs. Meredith. I followed the colonel into the Bank of England, and there I saw him enter, but by some wonderful means he suddenly disappeared. I missed him, and could not again obtain the slightest clue to him. I did not again set eye upon him, and while endeavouring to regain the track, I was taken into custody for loitering about.”
“Indeed. Then you have learned nothing about the colonel?”
“Nothing at all. I missed him. I saw him going into the bank, and that was all.”
“Well, he has come back, and appears to have received money. I should think there could be doubt as to where he got it from.”
“It is a mystery.”
“Indeed. I should hardly think it possible, as you saw him go in. What would he go there for but for money matters? It seems clear enough to me. I have no doubt in my own mind—everything appears to be straightforward and plain.”
“Indeed,” muttered the attorney; “there is much truth in that. I have had a straightforward intimation that I have been considered a suspicious person.”
“I regret it very much; but here’s Margaret.”
At that moment Margaret entered the apartment in which her mother and Mr. Twissel were seated. There was an air of triumph in her eye when she entered, and her mother at once divined the cause; but she said nothing, and waited until Margaret spoke.
“Ma,” she said, “it is tea-time, and the colonel expects you up stairs; and if you had any friends, he hoped you would not deprive him of your company on that account, but bring them up stairs to tea. He is particularly good-humoured to night.”
“Curse him,” involuntarily exclaimed the attorney, as he heard of the good-humour the colonel was in, and he had so much cause to be vexed himself.
“Will you come with us, Mr. Twissel?”
“I will, thank you, ma’am. I am very tired,” said Twissel, as he thought it would afford him some opportunity of discovering something that would enable him to be revenged, and at the same time do a seeming service to the other party.
“At all events,” he muttered, “it will give me a chance of making a more intimate and useful acquaintance with him. I must do something or other, and I may as well make a good thing of it as well as a bad one. That wouldn’t be bad policy.”
“Then you had better come up at once,” said Margaret, “for the tea is waiting.”
Thus urged, Mrs. Meredith and Mr. Twissel followed Margaret, and walked up to the drawing-room, where the colonel was, as before, seated in an easy chair, with the green shade still over one eye, and his arm carried in a sling, though he did not appear to have lost the entire use of it, and by his side was his stick, a valuable Malacca cane, with which he walked, and his lame foot was supported by an ottoman.
“Well, sir,” said the colonel, “I have the extreme felicity of meeting you again; be seated. It is a very charming day, the most comfortable that I recollect since I have returned to England.”
“It is remarkably fine,” said the attorney, shrugging his shoulders, and giving a suspicious glance towards the colonel, as if he thought there was a latent smile lurking upon the colonel’s countenance; but he could not detect it, and yet he felt very much aggravated.
“There is, even in this climate,” continued the colonel, “some decent weather; but then, when matters go on happily and cheerfully, then the climate appears more genial and kind.”
“Strange that it should be so,” said Mr. Twissel; “but I can’t help thinking he looks more provoking than ever I saw in my life.”
As he muttered, the colonel said,—
“What did you say, sir?”
“I merely said that we, who are used to it, look upon it in some other light than that of a merely negative character; that is, we look upon some of it as positively good—nay, we are apt to call it beautiful, especially when it continues fine.”
“Continues fine!” said the colonel; “does it really continue fine in this climate?”
“Why, one would think, colonel, you have never been in this country before, to hear you talk; and yet you are a native of this country.”
“Yes, I am; that is, I believe so; but I have spent so many years in Asia, that I am more a native of India than this country. However, I believe what you say to be correct; but, you see, the slightest change of weather affects my wounds, when you could not believe any change that had taken place; or, at all events, the change would be so slight as to cause no difference to you, and yet, even before that comes, I feel the approaching change.”
“I day say you do, sir; but it must be unpleasant in the extreme.”
“It certainly is; and I have found it so. Mrs. Meredith, I hope you enjoyed your walk; did you go far?”
“No, Colonel, I did not; else I had not been back so soon. By the way, how do you feel after your walk, or, rather, ride? I had not time to ask you before.”
“Oh, I am very well; I enjoyed it much; but I must take another the day after to-morrow,” said the colonel. “That is, another ride; for I cannot walk far.”
“Do you intend going far?”
“To the South Sea House,” replied the colonel.
“To the South Sea house,” repeated the attorney to himself, as he sipped his tea; “he has some of the stock on his hands. Well, I dare say that is likely; people belonging to these companies generally prefer them to any other stock. However, I will follow him there, and see if I can’t do better. I will tread upon his heels but what I will find out something this time, at all events.”
“Are you acquainted with that stock?” he inquired, after a pause.
“What, the South Sea stock?” inquired the colonel.
“Yes.”
“Not much; but I believe it to be a good, steady stock—a very good investment; it will pay you a better interest than the funds.”
“But is it as secure?”
“Well, that is a very difficult thing to answer,” said the colonel; “but I think is safe enough. I have that opinion of it that I do not object to hold it.”
“That, of course, is the best answer one can have to its presumed security.”
“Yes, I have a good opinion of it, and do not object holding it, as I said before; and that is the best opinion that can well be offered. Have you any?”
“None, sir; but I have a friend, who wanted to purchase stock of some kind, or to place money out to advantage, and I wished to learn a little more concerning it.”
“I do not mean to say there is no better; but when you have once invested your money, you do not like to change the stock.”
“Certainly not; it is unadvisable,” said the attorney, “unless you have some specific reason for so doing at the best of times. You are the loser by the expenses.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Meredith, “I am very glad to see you are so well after your journey.”
“Journey, do you call it? Why ma’am, I cannot call anything less than some few hundred miles a journey; anything less is a mere bagatelle.”
“Dear me, colonel; what journeys you must have travelled.”
“Indeed I have, madam; some of them beautiful and romantic, and some of them dreary, and some terrible, from the obstacles that opposed us, and others, from the nature of the ground that we had to go over, and the dangers attendant from fatigue, climate, and the enemy.”
“It must be a terrible thing; females in those parts are out of the question.”
“Oh! dear, no; there are ladies, and English ladies, too, who live there for years, and who follow their husbands’ movements with the camp, and who undergo all the dangers and fatigues merrily and cheerfully, and even put some of the best of us to the blush for fortitude.”
“Well, I am glad we have a good character, even so far off as India.”
“It cannot but be expected but the mothers of such men can bear fatigue and hardship, else their sons could never be what they are. However, we have many examples of heroism in India, not of men only, but women also.”
“Then there are many interesting points for us to hear explanation about India,” said Margaret; “I love to hear such things, especially from those who have been there, and mixed up among the people who live here, and who have had much experience with them.”
“I hope we shall have ample time to talk over many such matters,” returned the colonel, “for to me it is pleasant to speak of the past, and relate all I have seen, known, and taken part in, in a place so distant from us all, as our Eastern empire.”
“Indeed, I love to hear them,” said Margaret.
“I am afraid she will keep you pretty constantly employed in relating all that you have ever seen, colonel,” said Mrs. Meredith; “she’s a strange girl, and has many fancies that way; she is fond of the wild, irregular life that you describe; she would have made an excellent soldier’s wife, I am sure; she’s so fond of that kind of thing.”
“I hope she will do so now, madam; and that she will have less of the fatigue and danger that fall to the lot of a good many, for I candidly tell you it is one thing to hear these things talked of, and another to bear with them. Plains of burning sand, and want of water, mountainous regions covered with snow, and no means to obtain warmth and shelter,—these are things exciting enough in a narrative, and yet heartbreaking to experience.”
“Oh!” said the attorney; “there can be no doubt it’s much better in perspective, than it is to experience. I can easily imagine when you hear of battles and sieges, how they wish they had been there; and how much would have been done by our individual exertions. But, dear me, that’s as different from being shot in the beginning, and so seeing none of the fun that was to follow. Lord bless my heart, being put out of the way in that manner, positively makes me nervous, I do believe. I could be hanged before I marched up to the breach.”
“Fortunately, all men are not of that opinion, else we might all of us be murdered in our beds, and no one to protect us,” said Margaret, contemptuously.
“It is necessary,” said the colonel, “that some men should be born for one purpose, and some another. Some are poltroons from their birth, and require better men to take care of them, while others win honour and profit on the field of death and danger, and snatch triumph from the hands of death.”
“Exactly,” said the attorney; “half a loaf is better than no bread; and half a man is better than no man at all; and I believe that many of them leave the field of battle, leave it in a very little better state. Now, I should not care for life upon such terms; it must be such as is worth living for, and such I do not consider life, when one is rendered a cripple all one’s life.”
“Well,” said the colonel, “we all have our different ideas upon that subject; but I rather think the state would be nothing without the profession of arms, and the lawyers would grace the lamp-posts, if I might judge from popular opinion.”
“Popular opinion is nothing in this country upon such matters,” said Twissel, contemptuously.
“It amounts to something,” retorted the colonel; “and you would say so, I imagine, if you felt it clinging to your throat in the shape of a halter, administered by the canaille.”
“Why,” said Mrs. Meredith, “I dare say it isn’t always expressed so forcibly, and Mr. Twissel does not hold it of any importance, so long as it is not expressed so loudly as that.”
“Certainly, Mrs. Meredith; that is my meaning; for an illegal act committed by a contemptible portion of the population becomes of importance.”
“So it does,” said the colonel; “that is easily verified.”
“But still we may be thankful to those who bravely fight and die, that we may be here in ease and quiet, and free from danger, and able to enjoy our lives and homes in peace.”
“That is true,” said the attorney; “the one part of a nation cannot do without another; all are necessary, and produce a powerful kingdom, and not only powerful, but rich and intelligent.”
“No doubt of that,” said the colonel.
Tea was now cleared away, and some wine was placed upon the table, and the colonel took a few glasses of some rare wine, of which he offered the attorney to drink, and the latter willingly accepted, and found it some of the best he had tasted; and he continued to taste it until he got quite talkative, and, to the pain and mortification of Mrs. Meredith, began to talk in a strain that would in a short time have done them much discredit and mischief.
Mrs. Meredith, however, always full of expedient, soon devised on that had the effect of putting an end to a scene she feared would come to an unpleasant act, if continued in; and therefore, left the room for a few minutes, and then when she returned, she said,—
“Mr. Twissel, you have been sent for; you are wanted immediately.”
“I—I sent for?”
“Yes, sir, you are wanted.”
“Nobody knew I was here. Oh, yes, I told my clerk as I came along, confound him! Just as I was so comfortable, too.”
“We can finish this another time,” said the colonel, pointing to the bottle.
“Yes, thank you. Good night, Colonel Deverill.”
“Good evening, Mr. Twissel.”
Mr. Twissel quitted the drawing-room, vowing vengeance to himself against the brute of a clerk of his, who should dare to come and interrupt such an agreeable evening. It was most horribly provoking. He could have called down the vengeance of the universe upon the head of the offending mortal who had come for him, and in this mood of mind he entered the parlour.
“Where is he—where is he?”
“Where is who?” inquired Mrs. Meredith.
“My clerk—the man who came for me.”
“Listen, Mr. Twissel,” said Mrs. Meredith; “I have called you out. No one has been for you; but I had no other means of calling you out, as I wanted to speak to you.”
“Well,” said Mr. Twissel, half surprised and half vexed, “what do you want to say to me now I am here.”
“I want to impress upon you the fact, that the habits of the colonel lead him to retire about this time, and I feared you, not knowing this, might stop beyond the proper moment, and so took this method of telling you what I am sure you would like to know.”
Mr. Twissel could not object; there was something reasonable in it, and yet he was at heart vexed, and could not help saying,—
“I should have thought the colonel would not have been so pleasant and so talkative; if he had not been comfortable, he would have said so.”
“Oh, dear, no, he would not have done that, even if you had remained till daylight; he has too much courtesy towards a stranger to do so.”
“Very well,” said Twissel, “I will be gone. However, I will take care and not forget the South Sea House the day after to-morrow. You must make the best of it you can, and let me know when he is likely to go, so that I may not lose any chance.”
“Certainly not. I’ll do as I did before,” said the lady.
“Do so.”
“And I hope you will meet with better luck than you met with before.”
“I hope so too,” said the attorney, gravely. “However, here I am, and I’ll do all that I can do for you. Good by, Mrs. Meredith—good day—good night.”
“Good night,” said Mrs. Meredith, and the attorney left the house, to their inexpressible relief, for he was growing very talkative and very troublesome too, for the misfortune was, he more than once touched upon forbidden topics.
