Tales and Novels, vol 5 | Page 4

then, that Mrs. Beaumont selects her continually for her
companion."
"She thinks Miss Hunter the most insipid companion in the world; but I
dare not tell you, lest you should laugh at me again, that it was for the
sake of the late Lady Hunter that Mrs. Beaumont was so kind to the
daughter; and now Miss Hunter is so fond of her, and so grateful, that,
as Mrs. Beaumont says, it would be cruelty to shake her off."
"Mighty plausible! But the truth of all this, begging Mrs. Beaumont's
pardon, I doubt; I will not call it a falsehood, but I may be permitted to
call it a Beaumont. Time will show: and in the mean time, my dear
daughter, be on your guard against Mrs. Beaumont's art, and against
your own credulity. The momentary pain I give my friends by speaking
the plain truth, I have always found overbalanced by the pleasure and
advantage of mutual confidence. Our domestic happiness has arisen
chiefly from our habits of openness and sincerity. Our whole souls are
laid open; there is no management, no 'intrigue de cabinet, no 'esprit de

la ligue.'"
Mr. Walsingham now left the room; and Miss Walsingham, absorbed in
reflections more interesting to her than even the defence of Mrs.
Beaumont, went out to walk. Her father's house was situated in a
beautiful part of Devonshire, near the sea-shore, in the neighbourhood
of Plymouth; and as Miss Walsingham was walking on the beach, she
saw an old fisherman mooring his boat to the projecting stump of a tree.
His figure was so picturesque, that she stopped to sketch it; and as she
was drawing, a woman came from the cottage near the shore to ask the
fisherman what luck he had had. "A fine turbot," says he, "and a
john-doree."
"Then away with them this minute to Beaumont Park," said the woman;
"for here's Madam Beaumont's man, Martin, called in a flustrum while
you was away, to say madam must have the nicest of our fish,
whatsomever it might be, and a john-doree, if it could be had for love
or money, for Tuesday."--Here the woman, perceiving Miss
Walsingham, dropped a curtsy. "Your humble servant, Miss
Walsingham," said the woman.
"On Tuesday?" said Miss Walsingham: "are you sure that Mrs.
Beaumont bespoke the fish for Tuesday?"
"Oh, sartin sure, miss; for Martin mentioned, moreover, what he had
heard talk in the servants' hall, that there is to be a very pettiklar old
gentleman, as rich! as rich! as rich can be! from foreign parts, and a
great friend of the colonel that's dead; and he--that is, the old pettiklar
gentleman--is to be down all the way from Lon'on to dine at the park on
Tuesday for sartin: so, husband, away with the john-doree and the
turbot, while they be fresh."
"But why," thought Miss Walsingham, "did not Mrs. Beaumont tell us
the plain truth, if this is the truth?"
CHAPTER II.
"Young Hermes next, a close contriving god, Her brows encircled with

his serpent rod; Then plots and fair excuses fill her brain, And views of
breaking am'rous vows for gain."
The information which Mrs. Beaumont's man, Martin, had learned from
the servants' hall, and had communicated to the fisherman's wife, was
more correct, and had been less amplified, embellished, misunderstood,
or misrepresented, than is usually found to be the case with pieces of
news which are so heard and so repeated. It was true that Mrs.
Beaumont expected to see on Tuesday an old gentleman, a Mr. Palmer,
who had been a friend of her husband's; he had lately returned from
Jamaica, where he had made a large fortune. It is true, also, that this old
gentleman was a little particular, but not precisely in the sense in
which the fisherman's wife understood the phrase; he was not
particularly fond of john-dorees and turbots, but he was particularly
fond of making his fellow-creatures happy; particularly generous,
particularly open and honest in his nature, abhorring all artifice himself,
and unsuspicious of it in others. He was unacquainted with Mrs.
Beaumont's character, as he had been for many years in the West Indies,
and he knew her only from her letters, in which she appeared every
thing that was candid and amiable. His great friendship for her
deceased husband also inclined him to like her. Colonel Beaumont had
appointed him one of the guardians of his children, but Mr. Palmer,
being absent from England, had declined to act: he was also trustee to
Mrs. Beaumont's marriage-settlement, and she had represented that it
was necessary he should be present at the settlement of her family
affairs upon her son's coming of age; an event which was to take place
in a few days. The urgent representations of Mrs. Beaumont, and the