Here come we to our close — for that which follows
Is but the tale of dull, unvaried misery1.
Steep crags and headlong linns may court the pencil,
Like sudden haps2, dark plots, and strange adventures;
But who would paint the dull and fog-wrapt moor4,
In its long track of sterile5 desolation?
Old Play.
When Mowbray crossed the brook6, as we have already detailed7, his mind was in that wayward and uncertain state, which seeks something whereon to vent3 the self-engendered rage with which it labours, like a volcano before eruption8. On a sudden, a shot or two, followed by loud voices and laughter reminded him he had promised, at that hour, and in that sequestered9 place, to decide a bet respecting pistol-shooting, to which the titular10 Lord Etherington, Jekyl, and Captain MacTurk, to whom such a pastime was peculiarly congenial, were parties as well as himself. The prospect11 this recollection afforded him, of vengeance12 on the man whom he regarded as the author of his sister’s wrongs, was, in the present state of his mind, too tempting13 to be relinquished14; and, setting spurs to his horse, he rushed through the copse to the little glade15, where he found the other parties, who, despairing of his arrival, had already begun their amusement. A jubilee16 shout was set up as he approached.
“Here comes Mowbray, dripping, by Cot, like a watering-pan,” said Captain MacTurk.
“I fear him not,” said Etherington, (we may as well still call him so,) “he has ridden too fast to have steady nerves.”
“We shall soon see that, my Lord Etherington, or rather Mr. Valentine Bulmer,” said Mowbray, springing from his horse, and throwing the bridle17 over the bough18 of a tree.
“What does this mean, Mr. Mowbray?” said Etherington, drawing himself up, while Jekyl and Captain MacTurk looked at each other in surprise.
“It means, sir, that you are a rascal19 and impostor,” replied Mowbray, “who have assumed a name to which you have no right.”
“That, Mr. Mowbray, is an insult I cannot carry farther than this spot,” said Etherington.
“If you had been willing to do so, you should have carried with it something still harder to be borne,” answered Mowbray.
“Enough, enough, my good sir; no use in spurring a willing horse. — Jekyl, you will have the kindness to stand by me in this matter?”
“Certainly, my lord,” said Jekyl.
“And, as there seems to be no chance of taking up the matter amicably,” said the pacific Captain MacTurk, “I will be most happy, so help me, to assist my worthy20 friend, Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan’s, with my countenance21 and advice. — Very goot chance that we were here with the necessary weapons, since it would have been an unpleasant thing to have such an affair long upon the stomach, any more than to settle it without witnesses.”
“I would fain know first,” said Jekyl, “what all this sudden heat has arisen about.”
“About nothing,” said Etherington, “except a mare’s nest of Mr. Mowbray’s discovering. He always knew his sister played the madwoman, and he has now heard a report, I suppose, that she has likewise in her time played the —— fool.”
“O, crimini!” cried Captain MacTurk, “my good Captain, let us pe loading and measuring out — for, by my soul, if these sweetmeats be passing between them, it is only the twa ends of a hankercher than can serve the turn — Cot tamn!”
With such friendly intentions, the ground was hastily meted22 out. Each was well known as an excellent shot; and the Captain offered a bet to Jekyl of a mutchkin of Glenlivat, that both would fall by the first fire. The event showed that he was nearly right; for the ball of Lord Etherington grazed Mowbray’s temple, at the very second of time when Mowbray’s pierced his heart. He sprung a yard from the ground, and fell down a dead man. Mowbray stood fixed23 like a pillar of stone, his arm dropped to his side, his hand still clenched24 on the weapon of death, reeking25 at the touch-hole and muzzle26. Jekyl ran to raise and support his friend, and Captain MacTurk, having adjusted his spectacles, stooped on one knee to look him in the face. “We should have had Dr. Quackleben here,” he said, wiping his glasses, and returning them to the shagreen case, “though it would have been only for form’s sake — for he is as dead as a toor-nail, poor boy. — But come, Mowbray, my bairn,” he said, taking him by the arm, “we must be ganging our ain gait, you and me, before waur comes of it. — I have a bit powney here, and you have your horse till we get to Marchthorn. — Captain Jekyl, I wish you a good morning. Will you have my umbrella back to the inn, for I surmeese it is going to rain?”
Mowbray had not ridden a hundred yards with his guide and companion, when he drew his bridle, and refused to proceed a step farther, till he had learned what was become of Clara. The Captain began to find he had a very untractable pupil to manage, when, while they were arguing together, Touchwood drove past in his hack27 chaise. As soon as he recognised Mowbray, he stopped the carriage to inform him that his sister was at the Aultoun, which he had learned from finding there had been a messenger sent from thence to the Well for medical assistance, which could not be afforded, the Esculapius of the place, Dr. Quackleben, having been privately28 married to Mrs. Blower on that morning, by Mr. Chatterly, and having set out on the usual nuptial29 tour.
In return for this intelligence, Captain MacTurk communicated the fate of Lord Etherington. The old man earnestly pressed instant flight, for which he supplied at the same time ample means, engaging to furnish every kind of assistance and support to the unfortunate young lady; and representing to Mowbray, that if he staid in the vicinity, a prison would soon separate them. Mowbray and his companion then departed southward upon the spur, reached London in safety, and from thence went together to the Peninsula, where the war was then at the hottest.
There remains30 little more to be told. Mr. Touchwood is still alive, forming plans which have no object, and accumulating a fortune, for which he has apparently31 no heir. The old man had endeavoured to fix this character, as well as his general patronage32, upon Tyrrel, but the attempt only determined33 the latter to leave the country; nor has he been since heard of, although the title and estates of Etherington lie vacant for his acceptance. It is the opinion of many, that he has entered into a Moravian mission, for the use of which he had previously34 drawn35 considerable sums.
Since Tyrrel’s departure, no one pretends to guess what old Touchwood will do with his money. He often talks of his disappointments, but can never be made to understand, or at least to admit, that they were in some measure precipitated36 by his own talent for intrigue37 and manoeuvring. Most people think that Mowbray of St. Ronan’s will be at last his heir. That gentleman has of late shown one quality which usually recommends men to the favour of rich relations, namely, a close and cautious care of what is already his own. Captain MacTurk’s military ardour having revived when they came within smell of gunpowder38, the old soldier contrived39 not only to get himself on full pay, but to induce his companion to serve for some time as a volunteer. He afterwards obtained a commission, and nothing could be more strikingly different than was the conduct of the young Laird of St. Ronan’s and of Lieutenant40 Mowbray. The former, as we know, was gay, venturous, and prodigal41; the latter lived on his pay, and even within it — denied himself comforts, and often decencies, when doing so could save a guinea; and turned pale with apprehension42, if, on any extraordinary occasion, he ventured sixpence a corner at whist. This meanness, or closeness of disposition43, prevents his holding the high character to which his bravery and attention to his regimental duties might otherwise entitle him. The same close and accurate calculation of pounds, shillings, and pence, marked his communications with his agent Meiklewham, who might otherwise have had better pickings out of the estate of St. Ronan’s, which is now at nurse, and thriving full fast; especially since some debts, of rather an usurious character, have been paid up by Mr. Touchwood, who contented44 himself with more moderate usage.
On the subject of this property, Mr. Mowbray, generally speaking, gave such minute directions for acquiring and saving, that his old acquaintance, Mr. Winterblossom, tapping his morocco snuff-box with the sly look which intimated the coming of a good thing, was wont45 to say, that he had reversed the usual order of transformation46, and was turned into a grub after having been a butterfly. After all, this narrowness, though a more ordinary modification47 of the spirit of avarice48, may be founded on the same desire of acquisition, which in his earlier days sent him to the gaming-table.
But there was one remarkable49 instance in which Mr. Mowbray departed from the rules of economy, by which he was guided in all others. Having acquired, for a large sum of money, the ground which he had formerly50 feued out for the erection of the hotel, lodging-houses, shops, &c., at St. Ronan’s Well, he sent positive orders for the demolition51 of the whole, nor would he permit the existence of any house of entertainment on his estate, except that in the Aultoun, where Mrs. Dods reigns52 with undisputed sway, her temper by no means improved either by time, or her arbitrary disposition by the total absence of competition.
Why Mr. Mowbray, with his acquired habits of frugality53, thus destroyed a property which might have produced a considerable income, no one could pretend to affirm. Some said that he remembered his own early follies54; and others, that he connected the buildings with the misfortunes of his sister. The vulgar reported, that Lord Etherington’s ghost had been seen in the ball-room, and the learned talked of the association of ideas. But it all ended in this, that Mr. Mowbray was independent enough to please himself, and that such was Mr. Mowbray’s pleasure.
The little watering-place has returned to its primitive55 obscurity; and lions and lionesses, with their several jackals, blue surtouts, and bluer stockings, fiddlers and dancers, painters and amateurs, authors and critics, dispersed56 like pigeons by the demolition of a dovecot, have sought other scenes of amusement and rehearsal57, and have deserted58 ST. RONAN’S WELL.
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1
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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2
haps
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| n.粗厚毛披巾；偶然，机会，运气( hap的名词复数 ) | |
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3
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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4
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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5
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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6
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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7
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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8
eruption
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| n.火山爆发；（战争等）爆发；（疾病等）发作 | |
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9
sequestered
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| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
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10
titular
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| adj.名义上的，有名无实的；n.只有名义（或头衔）的人 | |
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11
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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12
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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13
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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14
relinquished
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| 交出，让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 )； 放弃 | |
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15
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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16
jubilee
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| n.周年纪念；欢乐 | |
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17
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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18
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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19
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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20
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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21
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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22
meted
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| v.（对某人）施以，给予（处罚等）( mete的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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24
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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26
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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27
hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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28
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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29
nuptial
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| adj.婚姻的，婚礼的 | |
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30
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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31
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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32
patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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33
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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34
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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35
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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36
precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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37
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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38
gunpowder
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| n.火药 | |
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39
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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40
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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41
prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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42
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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43
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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44
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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45
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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46
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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47
modification
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| n.修改，改进，缓和，减轻 | |
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48
avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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49
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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50
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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51
demolition
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| n.破坏,毁坏,毁坏之遗迹 | |
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52
reigns
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| n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 )；君主统治时期；任期；当政期 | |
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53
frugality
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| n.节约，节俭 | |
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54
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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55
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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56
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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57
rehearsal
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| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
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58
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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