Guy Mannering [209]
accommodation of linen, etc., and now anxiously waited the promised visit of his landlord.
In a short time a gentle tap announced the Colonel, with whom Bertram held a long and satisfactory conversation. Each, however, concealed from the other one circumstance. Mannering could not bring himself to acknowledge the astrological prediction; and Bertram was, from motives which may be easily conceived, silent respecting his love for Julia. In other respects, their intercourse was frank and grateful to both, and had latterly, upon the Colonel's part, even an approach to cordiality. Bertram carefully measured his own conduct by that of his host, and seemed rather to receive his offered kindness with gratitude and pleasure, than to press for it with solicitation.
Miss Bertram was in the breakfast-parlour when Sampson shuffled in, his face all radiant with smiles, a circumstance so uncommon, that Lucy's first idea was, that somebody had been bantering him with an imposition, which had thrown him into this ecstasy. Having sat for some time, rolling his eyes and gaping with his mouth like the great wooden head at Merlin's exhibition, he at length began-- "And what do you think of him, Miss Lucy?"
"Think of whom, Mr. Sampson?" asked the young lady.
"Of Har--no--of him that you know about?" again demanded the Dominie.
"That I know about?" replied Lucy, totally at a loss to comprehend his meaning.
"Yes, the stranger, you know, that came last evening in the post vehicle--he who shot young Hazlewood--ha, ha, ho!" burst forth the Dominie, with a laugh that sounded like neighing.
"Indeed, Mr. Sampson," said his pupil, "you have chosen a strange subject for mirth--I think nothing about the man, only I hope the outrage was accidental, and that we need not fear a repetition of it."
"Accidental! ho, ho, ha!" again whinnied Sampson.
"Really, Mr. Sampson," said Lucy, somewhat piqued," you are unusually gay this morning."
"Yes, of a surety I am I ha, ha, ho! face-ti-ous--ho, ho, ha!"
"So unusually facetious, my dear sir," pursued the young lady, "that I would wish rather to know the meaning of your mirth, than to be amused with its effects only."
"You shall know it, Miss Lucy," replied poor Abel Do you remember your brother?"
"Good God! how can you ask me?--no one knows better than you, he was lost the very day I was born."
"Very true, very true," answered the Dominie, saddening at the recollection; "I was strangely oblivious--ay, ay--too true. But you remember your worthy father?"
"How should you doubt it, Mr. Sampson? it is not so many weeks since--"
"True, true--ay, too true," replied the Dominie, his Houyhnhnm laugh sinking into a hysterical giggle,--"I will be facetious no more under these remembrances--but look at that young man!"
Bertram at this instant entered the room. "Yes, look at him well--he is your father's living image; and as God has deprived you of your dear parents--O my children, love one another!"
"It is indeed my father's face and form," said Lucy, turning very pale; Bertram ran to support her--the Dominie to fetch water to throw upon her face (which in his haste he took from the boiling tea-urn)--when fortunately her colour returning rapidly, saved her from the application of this ill-judged remedy. "I conjure you yet to tell me, Mr. Sampson," she said, in an interrupted, solemn voice, is this my brother?"
"It is--it is!--Miss Lucy, it is little Harry Bertram, as sure as God's sun is in that heaven!"
"And this is my sister?" said Bertram, giving way to all that family affection, which had so long slumbered in his bosom for want of an object to expand itself upon.
"lt is!--it is Miss Lucy Bertram," ejaculated Sampson, "whom by my poor aid you will find perfect in the tongues of France, and Italy, and even of Spain--in reading and writing her vernacular tongue, and in arithmetic and bookkeeping by double and single entry--I say nothing of her talents of shaping, and hemming, and governing a household, which, to give every one their due, she acquired not from me, but
In a short time a gentle tap announced the Colonel, with whom Bertram held a long and satisfactory conversation. Each, however, concealed from the other one circumstance. Mannering could not bring himself to acknowledge the astrological prediction; and Bertram was, from motives which may be easily conceived, silent respecting his love for Julia. In other respects, their intercourse was frank and grateful to both, and had latterly, upon the Colonel's part, even an approach to cordiality. Bertram carefully measured his own conduct by that of his host, and seemed rather to receive his offered kindness with gratitude and pleasure, than to press for it with solicitation.
Miss Bertram was in the breakfast-parlour when Sampson shuffled in, his face all radiant with smiles, a circumstance so uncommon, that Lucy's first idea was, that somebody had been bantering him with an imposition, which had thrown him into this ecstasy. Having sat for some time, rolling his eyes and gaping with his mouth like the great wooden head at Merlin's exhibition, he at length began-- "And what do you think of him, Miss Lucy?"
"Think of whom, Mr. Sampson?" asked the young lady.
"Of Har--no--of him that you know about?" again demanded the Dominie.
"That I know about?" replied Lucy, totally at a loss to comprehend his meaning.
"Yes, the stranger, you know, that came last evening in the post vehicle--he who shot young Hazlewood--ha, ha, ho!" burst forth the Dominie, with a laugh that sounded like neighing.
"Indeed, Mr. Sampson," said his pupil, "you have chosen a strange subject for mirth--I think nothing about the man, only I hope the outrage was accidental, and that we need not fear a repetition of it."
"Accidental! ho, ho, ha!" again whinnied Sampson.
"Really, Mr. Sampson," said Lucy, somewhat piqued," you are unusually gay this morning."
"Yes, of a surety I am I ha, ha, ho! face-ti-ous--ho, ho, ha!"
"So unusually facetious, my dear sir," pursued the young lady, "that I would wish rather to know the meaning of your mirth, than to be amused with its effects only."
"You shall know it, Miss Lucy," replied poor Abel Do you remember your brother?"
"Good God! how can you ask me?--no one knows better than you, he was lost the very day I was born."
"Very true, very true," answered the Dominie, saddening at the recollection; "I was strangely oblivious--ay, ay--too true. But you remember your worthy father?"
"How should you doubt it, Mr. Sampson? it is not so many weeks since--"
"True, true--ay, too true," replied the Dominie, his Houyhnhnm laugh sinking into a hysterical giggle,--"I will be facetious no more under these remembrances--but look at that young man!"
Bertram at this instant entered the room. "Yes, look at him well--he is your father's living image; and as God has deprived you of your dear parents--O my children, love one another!"
"It is indeed my father's face and form," said Lucy, turning very pale; Bertram ran to support her--the Dominie to fetch water to throw upon her face (which in his haste he took from the boiling tea-urn)--when fortunately her colour returning rapidly, saved her from the application of this ill-judged remedy. "I conjure you yet to tell me, Mr. Sampson," she said, in an interrupted, solemn voice, is this my brother?"
"It is--it is!--Miss Lucy, it is little Harry Bertram, as sure as God's sun is in that heaven!"
"And this is my sister?" said Bertram, giving way to all that family affection, which had so long slumbered in his bosom for want of an object to expand itself upon.
"lt is!--it is Miss Lucy Bertram," ejaculated Sampson, "whom by my poor aid you will find perfect in the tongues of France, and Italy, and even of Spain--in reading and writing her vernacular tongue, and in arithmetic and bookkeeping by double and single entry--I say nothing of her talents of shaping, and hemming, and governing a household, which, to give every one their due, she acquired not from me, but