SAM returned victorious, with an Army List, and the Rector’s compliments, who would call upon Colonel Sutherland presently, in time to wake up the excellent Colonel, who was a little amazed, and a little amused at himself, to be made aware of that unusual indulgence. Sam had his own word of advice and warning against the deceitful blandishments of the “Ould Hunderd,” with which he went away, flattered and ashamed, but by no means cured of his passion for “sodgering.” To the questions of his mother, the hopeful young man only responded, that “the Cornel said th’ army was a noble perfession,” and appended thereto a vow to “break the head of that thundering ‘Ould Hunderd’” at the first opportunity, neither of which conclusions was satisfactory to Mrs. Gilsland. The Colonel had scarcely put on his spectacles, and begun to turn over the leaves of the professional beadroll, when the proprietor of the same made his appearance, very cordial and anxious that the Colonel should dine at the Rectory, where the mother and sisters of “my boy in India” were already preparing themselves with a hundred questions to ask the old Indian officer. Colonel Sutherland, however, had already tasted quite enough of the damp, out-of-doors air for one day. He made the most of his threatening rheumatism by way of apology. He was fatigued with a long drive, and taking leave of friends. The Rector was politely curious; he had no doubt that he had the pleasure of knowing Colonel Sutherland’s friends?
“I think not,” said the Colonel, decidedly; “my brother-in-law is a recluse, and, I fear, keeps his family in the same retirement; besides, it is five miles off.”
“Five miles is nothing in the country,” said the courteous and persistent Rector.
“My relations live at Marchmain,” said Colonel Sutherland, who had still the “Army List” in his hand – “I want to find out if the Sir John Armitage of this neighbourhood is an old friend of mine – Captain Armitage of the 59th – do you happen to know?”
“The very same,” said the Rector; “he succeeded six or seven years ago, but he has not been at the Park for a year back. Bad health, I believe, an unsettled mind – he has never taken kindly to his new position; he thinks it is his duty to marry, and is extremely nervous about it. I thought it proper to pay him a good deal of attention when he was here. Poor man, his anxiety about the young ladies of the neighbourhood, and his terror of them, is something ludicrous to see.”
“You are so fortunate as to have daughters of your own,” said the Colonel, without perceiving the inference, which the other, possibly from a little disagreeable consciousness, applied instantly.
“My daughters were very young at that time,” said the Rector, quickly – “almost children; besides, there are many points in which, though I think it right to show him attention, I do not approve of Sir John. His opinions are not what could be desired, and the father of daughters requires to be very careful whom he commits them to, as perhaps you are aware, Colonel Sutherland.”
Colonel Sutherland bowed very gravely; the appeal touched on griefs too profound to be exposed to the compassion of a stranger. “He was a very good fellow when I knew him,” said the Colonel; “I hear he was on terms of very intimate friendship with a Mr. Musgrave – he who died lately – is that true?”
“Ah, Mr. Musgrave? – yes, I knew him very well; an unfortunate, imprudent man, lavish and foolish,” said the Rector. “He had a very good fortune to begin with, but lived with the most entire recklessness, like a man of three times his means. He brought up a young man, a sort of distant relative, as his heir. Poor man, when the affairs were examined it turned out that the heir had nothing but debt to enter upon; a very sad business altogether. Ah, yes, to be sure, Sir John, now that I recollect, had been to school with him, or something – there was a friendship between them.”
“And does no one in the neighbourhood feel disposed to do anything for the young man?” asked the Colonel.