University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.
THE WINKLE CHATEAU—THE GAME RESUMED.

Mr. Roland's carriage, containing Miss Wilsome Winkle and
her neice, Mr. Lowe and Gusset, drove up to the portico of
Mr. Napoleon Winkle's fine mansion. Sentinels, in trappings
resembling the uniform of the imperial guard, were promenading
in front. These were some of Mr. Winkle's tenantry,
who had been drilled that morning by Sergeant Blore.

Mr. Winkle was seated in his great chair in his library,
looking over sundry charts spread out on a table. He was
dressed in the old style, wearing tight breeches, silk stockings,
and shoes and buckles. We have said he was fat. He was
also nearly bald.

When the company was announced, he arose and advanced
with dignity. But the one whom he first accosted with friendly
greeting was Gusset.

“Why, brother,” said Miss Wilsome, “where are your
glasses? That is Gusset! Don't you know me?”

“Certainly I do, sister,” he replied, shaking her hand very
heartily—“I did not look at her face, and supposed it was my
niece.”

“She don't resemble Lucy. But let me introduce Mr.
Lowe, my partner at whist.”

“I am happy to see you, Mr. Lowe,” said Mr. Winkle,
with great politeness; and then, a moment after, added:
“Lowe—Lowe—I have heard that name before—”

“Oh, very likely, sir, as I have been residing in Babbleton
a number of weeks,” remarked the young man.

“Lowe! I hope, sir, your first name is not Hudson?”

“It is not, sir. It is Edmund.”

“You are not a son of Sir Hudson's?”

“I am not, indeed,” continued Lowe, smiling.

“What nonsense, brother,” said Miss Wilsome. “Sir
Hudson was a middle-aged man when Governor of St. Helena;
and as Bonaparte died a quarter of a century ago—”

“Very true, Wilsome—very true. Come, have my arm.
The table is in the next room, and the cards and counters on

it. And there are refreshments on the sideboard. Let the
young people follow.”

“Where is Mr Roland?” asked Wilsome, looking round
in vain for that gentleman, upon entering the room in which
they were to play.

“I have a note from him,” said her brother, fumbling
for it in his vest pocket. “He says he has been suddenly
called away in a matter of great urgency and importance; and
that he may not possibly be able to return before the evening.”

“No matter!” said Wilsome, in her masculine voice.
“He pays no attention to the game. What shall we do?
Lucy is not fond of whist, and would rather be rambling about
the grounds. Mr. Lowe plays admirably, but he is my partner.
How shall we be matched?”

“I'll have Miss Gusset—and see if we don't beat you the
first rubber! Where is she? Left in the library! What
barbarians we are! But, n'importe; I will conduct her
hither.”

Mr. Napoleon Winkle withdrew for that purpose, and
seemed to remain away something longer than his sister
deemed necessary, and she awaited him with a fretful impatience,
while Lucy and Lowe admired the prospect from a
window.

The lagging behind in the library had not been accidental
on the part of Gusset. But what transpired there, between
herself and Mr. Winkle, must remain among the undeveloped
secrets of diplomacy, for there were no witnesses present to
divulge it. Yet it might have been surmised from the agreeable
expression of their countenances when they finally appeared
and assumed their places at the table, that the brief conference
which had been held, like that of the famous emperors at Tilsit,
had not been an unpleasant one.

When they commenced the game, Lucy escaped through
the large French window, and was soon careering over the
lawn, followed by her faithful spaniel. When, panting with
the exercise, and laden with roses, she ascended a small knoll
a hundred paces from the house, and rested in a turret or pavilion,
which had been constructed by her uncle for his own
convenience. This small isolated building, resembling a lighthouse,
in having windows on every side, was so thickly overgrown
with vines that one could view from within it every field

on the plantation (or country in Europe), and remain himself
unseen. From this place most of (the Winkles) Napoleon's orders
of a military character were issued.

Lucy, amidst the perfume of her roses and honeysuckles,
the thrilling echoes of the orioles from the tall elms, the pure
sunlight of a calm day, the harmonious buzzing of insects
through the peaceful air, yielded to the influence of the moment,
and almost unconsciously warbled one of the happy
songs which occasionally gushed forth from her innocent heart.

“Why, Dew!” said she, ceasing abruptly in the midst of a
stanza, as she heard a low growl from her spaniel; “that is a
horrid accompaniment. If my ditty is displeasing, you shall
hear no more of it. What is the matter? How his eyes do
gleam! Dew!” The spaniel sprang up and barked fiercely;
and the next moment Mr. Ralph Roland emerged from a cluster
of lilac bushes near the pavilion.

“Be quiet, Dew,” said he. “Don't you know me?” he continued,
ascending the steps of the pavilion, and casting a half-careless
glance at the still threatening dog, as it growled and
whined after returning to the feet of its mistress.

“Mr. Roland,” said Lucy, “I thought you were to be absent
to-day. Did you not say so in a note to my uncle?”

“I did, my dear creature,” said he, throwing himself into
a rustic seat beside her; “but it was merely a stratagem for
your benefit.”

“My benefit! How, sir?”

“You know, if I had been present, your aunt would have
compelled me to play; and so you would have been under the
necessity of entertaining your uncle, or of being entertained by
him.”

“And I assure you I am always very agreeably entertained
by him! Yet I am not quite certain your presence would
have released my uncle from the game. He seemed to be enjoying
it very heartily when I left them.”

“Oh, Gusset was his partner!”

“How did you know that? Mr. Roland, it seems to me
very mysterious, that you should be observing what passes in
the house—or chateau, as my uncle calls it—remaining yourself
unseen. And, then, appearing suddenly before me from a
covert, unannounced—”

“Dew announced me,” said he, smiling, and taking up one
of the roses Lucy had dropped.

“Yes, he announced you; but it was no friendly greeting.
I have some faith in Dew's discernment.”

“Upon my soul,” said Roland, laughing, “I am inclined
to believe you are serious, for you have done nothing but
frown ever since you beheld me.”

“And Dew has never ceased to show his teeth,” said she.

“Oh, I will love Dew, if he will permit me. You recollect
the saying—`Love me, love my dog.' But, seriously, my
dear Miss Winkle, whether it shall ever be my good fortune
to conciliate Dew or not, believe me, upon the honor of a man,
that I have long loved you—”

“Mr. Roland!” cried she, attempting to rise, while Dew,
not knowing whether or not his mistress was held contrary to
her will, crouched at her feet, his eyes fixed with a steady
fierceness upon Roland's face.

“Stay, my sweet Lucy,” said Roland. “You know I am
rich. I am not old. All I possess—my heart, my hand, my
fortune—are at your feet— Deuce take the dog!” cried he,
starting up, and shaking Dew from the skirt of his coat, upon
which the animal had fastened. Feeling himself slightly
bruised by the teeth of the dog, he bestowed a smart kick upon
him, and sent him yelping under Lucy's chair.

“Mr. Roland—leave me!” said Lucy.

“Be not offended, my sweet girl,” continued the wooer.
“My proposals are honorable, and you shall be—”

“Say no more, sir. It is distressing to me. I cannot love
you. Let that suffice.”

“You might, in time. But if you did not, that would be
my misfortune. As for yourself, be assured I love you now,
have loved you long, and would continue to do so for ever.”

“Cease, cease this conversation, Mr. Roland; and let me
return to the house. It is painful to hear you. I would not
have you love me, and you can never have either my heart or
my hand.”

“Cruel Lucy! But you are now discomposed. Calm reflection,
and the advice of your family, may change your mind.
Recollect that you may be disappointed in your expectations.
Your aunt is capricious, and your uncle may marry.”

“Sir, my mother's humble dwelling would be preferable to
all the wealth in the world, if obtained by means of an alliance
with one whose presence would be an unceasing source of disgust
and misery!”

“Unjust and unreasonable girl! Think that the humble
dwelling and the few pitiful acres you allude to, do not belong
to your mother.”

“How, sir?”

“The property is encumbered. There is a mortgage on it
for three-fourths its value. Then be not so disdainful. You
are poor, and I am rich.”

“Release me, sir!” continued Lucy, striving in vain to
escape, while Dew continued to bark. “If I am poor, sir, I
am independent. Beware how you insult me.”

“I do not insult you, my dearest girl,” said Roland. “I
would save you from the sneers of the world. The offer I
make cannot be deemed an insult. I would save you—”

“From what, sir? Nobody has sneered at me.”

“I would save you from the fatal toils of an impostor—”

“Who?”

“That man now sitting opposite your aunt. You know
not who he is—whence he comes—his occupation—his character—”

“Sir, you do insult me—or at least you grossly offend, by
such gratuitous declaration!” said Lucy, blushing deeply, and
then turning deathly pale.

“I see how it is, Lucy. I should have warned you sooner.
I will release you now. I desire you will consult your mother
and your uncle. In their hands and yours I place my hopes.
Farewell—or if we meet again to-day, pray banish that
frown.”

“Mr. Roland,” replied the girl, now released, but no longer
inclined to fly, “leave me to my solitary meditations. But,
before you go, be assured that I will never love or wed you.
It will not be necessary for me to mention the subject to any
one, unless you resolve to persecute me with your addresses,
which would only give me pain. My mother and uncle, whatever
might be their opinion or desire, would never attempt to
constrain me to any step repugnant to my wishes. Therefore,
if you would have my respect and friendship, never again refer
to the subject.”

“At least, you can have no objection,” said Roland, throwing
a scrutinizing glance at the fair girl as he departed, “to
my unmasking the impostor who has taken such convenient
lodgings in Babbleton?”

“I have no right to object, sir, to any thing in which I am
not interested.”

“Then why that change of color, Lucy?”

“I see it not, sir. Mr. Roland, take care that you do not
injure an innocent person! Mr. Lowe is not the base man
you suppose. Beware how you assail a stranger, of whom you
know nothing, upon the mere conjectures of the idle gossips
of the village! However, I doubt not he will be prepared to
vindicate himself, whenever any one shall venture to charge
him with the commission of a criminal act. And until he
fails to repel any such affronts upon his character, rely upon
it, he will be received as a welcome guest at my mother's
humble dwelling.”

When she ceased speaking, Roland retired without uttering
any reply; and the brave girl immediately bestowed all
her attention upon poor Dew, whom she caressed for his timely
defence of his mistress.

Soon after Roland might have been seen galloping through
a distant lane towards his own estate. And at intervals messengers
on horseback were sent by Sergeant Blore, from different
parts of the Winkle empire, with despatches for his
chief. So that a continual clatter of hoofs was kept up during
the progress of the game.