The Winkles, or, The merry monomaniacs :: :: University of Virginia Library

When Walter descended from the cars in front of the inn,
he espied Sergeant Blore peeping at him through the bar-room
window, and he beckoned him to come out. Blore, after a
hasty reconnoissance from the door ventured forth, bestowing
many military salutations on our hero. Walter put an end to
the company by taking the sergeant's hand between both of his,
and shaking it heartily.

“How is my uncle?” was Walter's first question.

“In great danger of being taken,” said the sergeant.

“Danger of being taken?”

“Yes, he is surrounded and undermined, and would not
have held out this long, if it hadn't been for Bawson, who is
a spy in both camps, and serves the party best which pays
the most. It is fortunate that the enemy is miserly, or my
chest would soon be exhausted.”

“But how is my uncle's health?”

“Worse and worse. Every day the doctor comes and says
he's no better. Then what does he come for? Why, to kill
him! And the sheepskin-faced priest is there, too, and of
course the patient will die! But you will revive him a little.
He's always babbling about you, and Lucy, who arrived this
morning.—The enemy!”

When Blore made the last exclamation he sprang behind
Walter, and endeavored to cover his body from the observation

401

of Mrs. Edwards, who was standing in the door of Lowe's
cottage and gazing towards the inn.

“Don't be alarmed, sergeant; I did not think mortal woman
could so terrify a brave soldier.”

“Neither mortal man or woman can frighten me,” said
the sergeant. “But that is a she-devil! You should have
heard her tongue in the camp. I've seen a whole mess put to
flight by her, the next hour after they had gained a great victory
over the enemy. If she sees us, Walter, you must protect me,
won't you?”

“Certainly. But if you would carry with you a long
hickory switch—”

“I tried it.—You might as well cut a shadow. The devil
is in her, you may rely upon it. She's nothing but a shadow
herself, a mere skeleton—a bundle of bones tied up in a
bag of skin. But she has the voice of a volcano, and the
strength of a roaring lion. I have her stripes on my body!
She's gone in — her! And now we are safe.”

But Mrs. Edwards had caught a glimpse of the sergeant
as she was closing the door, and immediately re-opened it.
“The she-devil saw me through the door!” said the sergeant.
“I'll run in here, and enter by the back way.” He dodged
into the yard through a small gate he found open, which he
closed and bolted behind him.

Walter stumbled over the leaping and barking Dew at the
door, and the next moment was embraced by his mother and
sister.

“Lucy!” said he, after they were seated in the parlor,
“you cannot know how much you have improved in appearance!”

“That is precisely what I have been saying,” said Mrs.
Winkle.

“She is the most lovely creature I ever saw!” continued
Walter. “Lowe shall not have her, unless he stays—”

“Such language—even from us—” said Mrs. W. “makes
the poor child blush, although she knows it is not flattery.
What you say about Mr. Lowe, Walter—”

“Is Walter's nonsense!” said Lucy. “He knows he is
opposed to foreigners exercising any rights in this country.”

“Rites, you mean, eh?”

“No matter—I don't belong to your party—you Know
Nothing—”

“We'll see! But—”

402

“Who's there, Biddy?” asked Mrs. W. of the maid who
appeared at the door.

“Dill Bizzle, mam.”

“She will never learn his name,” said Lucy, as often as
she repeats it. Well, what does Bill want?”

“He's brung two ducks and a pike, which he begs with his
comp'ments for you except.”

“No,” said Walter—“Bill must be paid. I'm rich. Give
him that, Biddy. “He sent Bill a quarter-eagle.”

“And pray how did you become rich?” asked Mrs. W.

Walter informed his mother and sister of his reconciliation
with his Aunt Wilsome, who had given him a check for
$500, and he had drawn the money that morning. He told
them, moreover, that his aunt would be at his wedding.

“Your wedding!” said Lucy.

“Yes, and yours. She sanctions both matches, and says
she knew Lowe was a gentleman. She shed tears when she
saw me in prison.”

“Wilsome never does any thing by halves,” said Mrs. W.,
“her heart melted when your father died, and it was with
difficulty I could prevent her from bestowing her fortune on
me, although neither of us knew the embarrassed condition of
her brother's estate.”

“And she has forgiven Uncle Napoleon,” added Walter.
“She believes he will not survive long, and is ready to see
him whenever he desires it. I must hasten to his side, and
you must accompany me, Lucy, for if the sergeant's tale be
true, he is in a dangerous condition.”

“You must wait until John Dowly comes,” said Mrs.
Winkle. “He will be here soon, and then you can use his
gig.”

“I love him!” said both Walter and Lucy, for they had
been informed of his acts of generosity.

“Now tell me about the Arums and Crudles,” said
Walter.

Lucy gave him all the information she could in relation to
them, including the most recent conquest of Bell, which was a
tufted cornet-a-piston player, belonging to the orchestra of
the circus. He had passed himself as a French count, and
so adroitly did he play his part, that he absolutely led Miss
Arum to the altar—

“To the altar!” exclaimed Walter.

403

“To the altar!” repeated Lucy. “But when the priest—
a Jesuit, for the count of course was a foreigner—”

“Of course!” said Walter.

“When he called upon the witnesses, if any of them knew
any impediment, to come forward, one did step forward—”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, indeed. It was the noble old Col. Ball, and with
a blow of his cane, he felled the impostor!”

“Capital!”

“He then whispered in Bell's ear that the fellow was a
circus cornet-a-piston player, on a salary of four dollars a
week!”

“What did poor Bell say?”

“Nothing. She grasped the colonel's proffered arm and
hastened out of the church!”

“But what did the priest say?”

“Oh, he was furious. The colonel gave him his card, and
said he should be happy to have the pleasure of shooting him
through the body the next morning at Hoboken. And if he
could not conveniently or consistently meet him himself, he
might send a substitute, or a dozen of them, and he would
fight them all. And I learned afterwards that the colonel did
promenade the bank for an hour the next day, but no antagonist
sought him.”

“After that, I suppose the girls beat a retreat from the
city?”

“Oh, yes. They are here, now. And Susan is in love
with your friend George Parke. She believes he will come
for her some day, and she is determined to wait for him.
Yonder is the old gig!”

They ran to the window and saw old John Dowly descend
from his vehicle. He left his gentle horse unfastened, knowing
he could not be made to run away, and then knocked very
gravely at the door, as he used to do before bells were in
general use.

Lucy was the first to meet the old gentleman, and she
threw her arms round his neck and kissed him!

“My beautiful, lovely child!” said the old man, manifesting
his delight through his tears. “This is the happiest
moment of my life!”

“You have been our benefactor—our protector—the friend
of the widow and her orphans!” said Walter.

404

“I had none of my own—I had none of my own!”

“No widow of his own!” said the widow, smiling.

“I am so happy I don't know what I say!” replied the
old bachelor. “But I have endeavored to do what I felt to
be right, and I shall never regret it.”

“No, Mr. Dowly!” said Walter. “You will never regret
it. Your Maker will reward you, if we should never be
able to do so.”

“Don't say a word about reward! If you knew what
dreams I have every night, you would say I have been already
repaid a thousand fold. I am rich. I have quietly been accumulating
wealth for many years—not as a selfish and
miserable miser, as some in the city suspected—but for a
good purpose. And now my object is accomplished. Lucy
shall have a dowry worthy a countess!”

“Mr. Dowly!” cried Mrs. Winkle.

“She shall! I say she shall! On the day of her marriage
she shall place in her noble husband's hand—I mean
noble in heart, for I know him well, and have known him
long—sterling bills for £50,000!”

“Are you not raving, Mr. Dowly?” asked Walter.

“You'll see! and the remainder of my fortune—”

“What? will there be any left?” asked Mrs. Winkle.

“Shall go to—no matter. But this, I may say: a certain
mortgage for $10,000 has been conveyed to a certain young
lady, loved by a certain young gentleman, of my acquaintance.
It is recorded in the clerk's office.”

“And will you not be a beggar yourself?” asked Lucy,
while she pressed the old gentleman's hand to her lips.

“So far from it, I intend to build a new house, and live
more elegantly than I have done hitherto. And I shall begin
anew this very day, to enjoy the bounties which my Maker has
bestowed upon us for our comfort and happiness. I will dine
here, and drink a cheerful glass of wine, and talk over old
matters with your mother, if she will permit me.”

“Permit you!” said Lucy—and the tears gushed from
her eyes.

“God bless you, John Dowly!” said the widow—“and
may he forgive me, if I did wrong in rejecting so generous
a heart—”

“Tut—tut! Not a word about that! Better as it is! I

405

never could have been so happy. I am now brother, uncle,
father—Bless my life! What a scene!”

He had turned his face towards the window, where he
beheld Mrs. Edwards leading Sergeant Blore by the ear, an
unresisting captive.

“I'll rescue Blore, or die in the attempt!” said Walter.
And he rushed into the street and reprimanded the woman in
terms of indignation.

“He is my usband, please sir,” said Mrs. E., relinquishing
Blore's ear, “hand hit his a most hextrahordinary thing hif I
can't harrest my hown desarter!”

“Go in, Mrs. Edwards,” said Walter. “Hide your head
in shame, for you were the first to abandon your conjugal
partner. You married again while he remained true. You
have no just claim upon him now. If you create any disturbance
in the street, I shall have you arrested.”

“Thank you, Walter!” said Blore, when Mrs. Edwards
had vanished. “She wants my money—but you shall have
it—”

“Not I. Keep it for your declining years. But do not
let this woman distress you any more. If she again assaults
you, let me know it.”

“I will. If she was only a man, I would call her out and
settle with pistols. I don't know what would have happened
if she had got me in the house! Such creatures are made to
punish us for our sins! Sometimes I think I will blow out
my brains, and give her the slip that way. But after that,
who knows if I wouldn't some day meet her again?”

“You must not have any such thoughts, sergeant. I will
ask her master to send her home to England.”

“If he does that, I shall be a happy man. Now I must
go to your uncle. I would have been half way there now if
she hadn't waylaid me.”

“I shall follow you soon. Tell him so. And Lucy will
accompany me.”

Blore hurried away under cover of Walter's protection,
though casting an occasional glance behind until he was out
of sight.

Shortly afterwards, Walter and Lucy drove out towards
Mr. Napoleon Winkle's country mansion in Mr. Dowly's old
gig. As the gentle horse moved along at his accustomed easy
pace, Lucy, after exacting a promise from her brother not to

406

use any violence, related the manner of Roland's stratagem
to inveigle her into a clandestine marriage, and all his subsequent
annoyances. Walter, with quivering limbs and a pale
brow, said he would not violate his pledge; but that if he
were not so restrained, he should certainly chastise the villain
with the utmost severity.

When they arrived in front of the stately old mansion, the
industrious Bill Dizzle was already there in readiness to open
the gate. Walter thanked him for his attention, and knowing
that he could bestow no greater pleasure on the frog-hunter
than to employ his services, threw him the reins when they
descended, and requested him to drive back to the village
and leave the vehicle at his mother's door, and to thank Mr.
Dowly in his name for the use of it. Bill soon made the old
horse strike into a brisker gait than the one he had been accustomed
to.

Walter and Lucy passed through a file of Griselda's staring
servants, and mounted the great stairway leading towards
their uncle's chamber. They entered, and beheld Father
Xavier and Griselda standing at the fire-place, one at each
corner of the mantelpiece, with their eyes immovably fixed on
the bed, where the patient was lying. Sergeant Blore was
seated near his friend, holding one of his hands. Mr. Winkle
lay on his back with his eyes closed.

“Is he asleep?” asked Walter, in a whisper.

“Oh, my dear uncle!” said Lucy, in a voice of distress.

“Hush! Make no noise!” said Griselda, coming forward,
and nodding gravely to the visitors. Father Xavier
muttered a benediction in Latin.

“How do you feel, uncle?” asked Walter, seeing the patient
remove his hand, which Blore had been holding, and
silently grasp his own. Walter, in obedience to the patient's
wish, as indicated by his motion, bent down his ear.

“I am better,” whispered he. Walter could not repress a
smile, which Lucy's quick eyes detected, and her heart beat
less violently.

“My uncle desires every one to leave the room,” said
Walter, in a voice of command, “but my sister and myself.”

After lingering a moment, Griselda followed the priest out
of the room; and Blore, comprehending Walter's significant
nod, joined the retiring party, and prevented them from listening
at the key-hole.

407

The old gentleman, with eyes wide open, rose up on his
elbow, and listened to the departing footsteps; and when Walter
turned the key, he sat upright in bed, with a broad smile
on his face.

“I am glad. uncle—” began Lucy.

“Hush!” said he. “Wait a moment!”

“I do not see why you should be in such dread of them,”
said Walter.

“Wait till you are married!” said his uncle.

“But are you not ill?” asked Lucy.

“No! My health is perfect. It is a mere stratagem.
You shall know all. Even Blore is ignorant of my condition
and purpose. He might hold his tongue, but his face speaks
his feelings, and would betray the secret. Dr. Prangle has
been my only confederate.”

“But why should you be reduced to the necessity of resorting
to such expedients?” asked Lucy.

“Because I have a Tartar for my wife; an instrument of
the Jesuits, with the whole inquisition at her back. I was a
prisoner in effect. I could not live with a sour, dissatisfied,
scolding woman. Well, when I complied with all her caprices,
she was a sugar-plum, or seemed so; but when I opposed her
slightest whim, she was a green persimmon. By this system
she obtained by imperceptible degrees the complete mastery.
Every one yielded to her, and I among the rest. I could not
mount my horse, nor even walk in the orchard or garden,
without incurring her acid looks, and often a storm of bitter
invectives. For the sake of peace, I confined myself to my library,
and read once more the campaigns of the great genius;
when, suddenly, my peace was interrupted by a discovery that
my real estate could not be alienated from the family by my
will. Then I perceived very plainly the game my spouse had
been playing, and comprehended the motive of the Jesuit's
frequent visits. I happened to be reading, just then, the account
of the emperor's attempt to commit suicide, after his
first abdication; and the suggestion of some one that it was
not a serious attempt to take his own life, but done for some
other purpose, caused me to conceive the idea of pretending
to be dangerously ill. After some little persuasion, the doctor
became my confederate. I hear him coming, now!” He resumed
his former attitude, lying on his back with his eyes
nearly closed.

408

“How do you do? How do you do?” said the doctor,
upon entering the room, and shaking hands with Walter and
Lucy. “I am glad to find you with your poor uncle. Illness
is a most distressing affliction, when one's relatives are
not near to nurse him. How do you find yourself this
morning,” continued the doctor, taking the patient's wrist.

“They know all, doctor. No more nonsense,” said the
old gentleman, resuming his upright position. “We must
now begin to look for results, for the critical moment is at
hand. I await only the arrival of my sister Wilsome to
strike the decisive blow. Walter is now writing her to come
to-morrow. Go to the enemy, doctor, and tell them I can't
possibly survive more than another day. You can convince
them of my danger, and leave your prescription with them,
which they will throw in the fire, or if the medicine be procured,
I will throw it out of the window. But you shall be
paid, doctor.”

The doctor smiled, and then adjusting his features into
their accustomed grave expression, sought Griselda, and the
Jesuit priest.

“Uncle!” said Walter, “it seems to me you might have
accomplished your object by a more direct means—”

“You know nothing—”

“He is a Know Nothing, uncle,” said Lucy.

“What's that? I never heard of them before the priest
came here. They seem to frighten him very much.”

“Two thirds of the voters in the county belong to our order,”
said Walter.

“No matter. What I meant to say was that you can
never know the influence of a wife until you have one. But
mine, Inow perceive, is altogether unworthy of me, and I intend
to send her back to her milliner's shop. But there must be
a denouement, an eclaircissement, and her Jesuitical confederate
must be punished. You will like the sport, Walter. I see the
anticipated diversion in your eye. But be grave, and sorrowful
until to-morrow. And in the mean time make the necessary
preparations. You may consult Blore, if you think he won't betray
us by his honest looks. And Lucy must be prepared to
take command of the establishment. Employ a new cook, and
discharge all Griselda's servants. Write to your mother. She
will assist. Send it by Dizzle. Now I must lie down and
close my eyes, and pick the bed-clothes. I hear them coming.

409

Recollect I am not to be left alone again. One of you must
be in the room day and night until the time comes for me to
throw off the mask and resume the command.”

The priest came in chanting certain passages from the
prayer-book, followed by Griselda in tears. Blore's single
eye resembled Mars in hazy weather.

“The doctor says there will be a change at noon!
to-morrow!” said Griselda, in a low voice to Lucy.

“I hope it will be for the better,” said Lucy, hiding her
face.

“He fears the worst—and he tells us to prepare for the
worst!”

Lucy buried her face in the bed-clothes, and remained silent
near her uncle. Blore's eye brightened upon observing
a significant wink from Walter, and he followed him out of
the room and down the stairs.

“Bawson is not here,” said Walter, when they were out
in the lawn.

“No, sir—he can't come till to-morrow. He's taking the
deposition of a sick man who swears he married Ralph Roland
to Bets Dizzle, and that he was a preacher at the time,
with authority to marry. But that makes no difference. Your
uncle has the last will in bed with him under his shirt. But
I'm afraid he won't have an opportunity to sign it! If you
will give the order, I'll march a file of soldiers in with fixed
bayonets, and masks on, so she can never know them. Then
he can sign. And then they won't let him die—I'll answer
for that.”

“I have a still better scheme, sergeant,” said Walter.
He then imparted to the astonished and delighted Blore the
stratagem of his uncle, and they set about concerting the
measures which the circumstances of the case seemed to demand.