CHAPTER I.

_Morgan of Glen Morgan arrives at Kray Castle._

The preparations, requisite for John De Lancaster’s departure, necessarily involved a delay of some two or three days, and every hand, as well as every heart, was occupied in that interesting business. The cheerfulness of Major Wilson kept up the spirits of the ladies, except upon one occasion, when he launched out so vehemently in his description of Miss Devereux’s charms, that, if he had not been so wholly taken up with his subject, he might have discovered one countenance at least in the circle of his hearers, that was not much enlivened by his raptures.

In the afternoon a messenger from Glen Morgan arrived with the following letter addressed to Colonel Wilson--

“Dear Colonel,

“My gout has left me, and if he never troubles me with his company again, he has my free leave to keep away. I meditate to take advantage of his absence, and pay a visit to my good brother at the castle before his dinner hour to-morrow, _Deo volente_. I shall bring my live-lumber Mother Richards in the coach with me, as her small wits just serve her to descant with due precision upon warm nightcaps and a well-aired bed: she will pester the poor folks in the castle with her clack, but I shall profit by her care; and you know there is not a more selfish fellow living than your humble servant. As my rascally passion for hoarding money has no longer any object, since you won’t help me off with any of my savings, I shall tack two more dog horses to my scurvy team, and come in state like Sir Francis Wronghead, with Giles Joulter riding postillion: the cattle will get a belly-full in De Lancaster’s stables, and that is what they don’t often meet with in their own. I have bought a flaming fine watch of a pedling Jew, which I dare say won’t go; but it will do for Amelia Jones, if she behaves well, and does not slight me for that puppy John, for whom I do not care a rush, as you well know, having lived in solitude till I am unfit for society, and as cold at heart as the top of a Welch mountain. I am very glad my brother Lancaster has so much abated of his learned dissertations, for I have no reading beyond that of a trumpery story book, and am in as profound a state of blessed ignorance, as any gentleman in Wales can boast of. Yet Robert surely is an incomparable man; his honour is so nice, his nature so divine, that I am almost ready to adore him till he talks Greek, and then it’s over with me; I know no more of the matter than a blind man does of colours.

“Your son Edward is the very _beauty of holiness_: he not only does faithful service to religion by the strong reasoning powers of his mind, but renders it lovely by the gracefulness of his manners. My spiritual pastor and teacher takes quite as much care of his own body, as he does of my soul: he is silent at his meals, but loud in talk and positive in argument, when he has satisfied his craving: He can’t keep his temper at backgammon, when the dice go against him; yet if I ever slip out a hard word, as we soldiers are too apt to do, he takes up their cause at once and sermonizes against swearing. I don’t think this is quite fair; for he swallows his oaths out of compliment to his cloth, and I from the habits of mine make it a point of honour to say nothing behind a gentleman’s back that I won’t say before his face. One day by chance he had not dined with me, and I sent to him to come and read the evening prayers to my crew of sinners as usual; for which, by the way, I pay him an annual stipend: He sent for answer it was not his custom to turn out after dinner; he has never had it in his power to make that excuse again, and of course has regularly lulled dame Richards and the old butler to sleep with his soporiferous homily as surely as the evening comes. I do not think there is in existence a worse enemy to edification than metheglin.

“Lord have mercy on me, what a household of idlers do I keep! I would make a total reform in my family, if I could flatter myself that I should live to reap the benefit of it; but that is not upon the chances, and I am such a lazy blockhead, so mere a caput mortuum, that I let them work their own will, and am content to lie at my length, like Sampson’s lion, for the bees to make honey in my carcase.

“You must be sure to lay me at the feet of the divine Cecilia; for, if you don’t do it for me, I can’t do it for myself: I am quite as inflexible as the wax-work in Fleet-street; attempt to bend me, and I break asunder. I am absolutely good for nothing, and I dare say the gout only left me because there was no credit to be got by killing me: That same _podagra_ is a purse-proud sycophant, and if he stoop to kiss your toe, were you the pope himself, he will make you pay dear for the compliment.

“I suppose you wonder why I write to you so long a letter--so do I; but though it wearies you with nonsense, it winds up with a truth, when I profess myself your cordial friend

and faithful servant

JOHN MORGAN.”

When this letter had been read to De Lancaster, joy brightened in his hospitable countenance: his orders circulated through the Castle for all things and all people to be put in order to pay proper honours to his expected visitor. He commented with great good humour upon some passages in the letter, that seemed to strike his fancy--Though the good man, he said, is so shy of what he calls my learned disquisitions, I believe it is only a copy of his countenance, for in fact he is no mean scholar; but we will muzzle the learned languages, and trust to nothing but our mother tongue; so take notice, my good Colonel, you will incur heavy penalties if you give us any of your heathen Greek, whilst my brother Morgan is in the house.

And if I do when he is out of it, replied the Colonel, I’ll give you leave to hang me.

The next morning when the sun turned out upon the mountain tops, so did the whole Castle garrison from their sky-chambers on the turret tops, and gave cheerful note of preparation--Not indeed by _the armourers accomplishing the knights_, but by the warders and liverymen brushing up their orange tawnies, and by the squeaking of the pigs and quacking of ducks, that came unwillingly to be killed and roasted, whilst the mute inhabitants of the waters resigned themselves to their fate without a murmur.

When the family assembled in the breakfast-room, the Colonel appeared in his uniform, not quite in its first bloom, nor altogether in the last cut of the fashion; whilst Major Wilson, bright as bullion could make him, was perfectly caparisoned for court or camp. This ceremonious kind of etiquette, now thought troublesome and thrown by as obsolete, was understood by the family of Kray Castle as an acceptable attention to the good old lord of the soil upon certain gala days, when he was anxious to receive a visitor with particular respect.

When the approach of Morgan of Glen Morgan was descried from the castle windows, and the green and red liveries began to show their colours in the sunbeams, the alarm bell sounded, the servants mustered in the gothic hall, and David Williams seated himself on his tripod. Coaches were not made, as they are now, to accommodate the horses that draw them, but with due regard to the ease and safety of the company, who were conveyed in them. Old Morgan of course made his landing good, and found himself in the arms of his venerable host, surrounded by his friends, all emulous to greet him with a welcome.

As he leant upon the arms of De Lancaster and his grandson in his passage through the hall, he stopped and looked about him--This is wonderful, he cried; this is above hope, that I should find myself once more under the protection of these hospitable lares. Alas, when I had the honour of your company at Glen-Morgan, I little thought of making any other visit but to the place, from which no traveller returns. Providence has decreed it otherwise--Well, well, well! a man must have a stubborn heart, that could not find some cause to be thankful, when a blessing, such as I am now enjoying is vouchsafed to him. Take notice, brother De Lancaster, I understand my own unworthiness too well to intrude upon Heaven’s mercy with many petitions, but I hope I am not altogether deficient in my thanksgivings. He then addressed himself to some of the old domestics, as he passed them, and particularly to David Williams, whom he greeted cordially and with much respect.

When he entered the drawing-room he turned to Cecilia and said--I now consider myself within the territory and under the command of the most amiable lady living. I shall add no grace to you, madam, as a courtier, but as a subject none can be more loyal. In this manner he paid his compliments round the circle, reserving his last and most affectionate address for his grandson, who, having risen from his seat, whilst his grandfather was speaking to him, when he had concluded, went up to him, and bending his knee, took his hand to kiss it. The action was irresistably affecting, and the old man fell upon his neck and wept. The stillness and silence of the company whilst this was passing made the scene more awful and impressive: At length the good old man, rallying his spirits, thus addressed his grandson--I know, my child, that you are going out of England; therefore it is I am come to take my leave of you; I also know your motive to be truly filial, and of course agree entirely with your worthy grandfather in approving of your undertaking. It is your duty, it is your point of honour, and you have no choice but to obey. Being a selfish pitiful kind of fellow, perhaps I was a little shaken, when I heard of it; so to put myself in heart again, I gave out marching orders, and penned a pacquet to my old comrade the Colonel, in which I did not treat him with one word of common sense. Now therefore, John, I am come for other purposes than to whine and whimper, because forsooth you are going to make a short excursion in good and gallant company, where I wish I was going with you: but as I can’t do that, I come to see you and your comrades start, and after you are gone drink to your good voyage in a glass of old Madeira, and perhaps if my good friend here is not tired of my dull company, I may intrude upon his hospitality, and wait till you return.

Say you so? cried De Lancaster: then I pronounce you to be the kindest friend and the noblest ancient Briton, that draws the breath of life on this side of the Wye--Now tell old David to strike up a welcome in his best bravura.