belong to him, "the fault was in me, and in the indiscretion of my zeal." The lady opposed it; and I joined with her in maintaining it was impossible that a spirit so regulated as his could give offense to any. I knew not that contention could be rendered so sweet and pleasurable a thing to the nerves as I then felt it. We remained silent, without any sensation of that foolish pain which takes place when in such a circle you look for ten minutes in one another's faces without saying a word. Whilst this lasted, the monk rubbed his horn-box upon the sleeve of his tunic; and as soon as it had acquired a little air of brightness by the friction, he made a low bow, and said 'twas too late to say whether it was the weakness or goodness of our tempers which had involved us in this contest, but, be it as it would, he begged we might exchange boxes. In saying this, he presented his to me with one hand, as he took mine from me in the other; and having kissed it, with a stream of good-nature in his eyes, he put it into his bosom and took his leave. I guard this box as I would the instrumental parts of my religion, to help my mind on to something better. In truth I seldom go abroad without it; and oft and many a time have I called up by it the courteous spirit of its owner to regulate my own, in the jostlings of the world: they had found full employment for his, as I learned from his story, till about the forty-fifth year of his age, when, upon some military services ill requited, and meeting at the same time with a disappointment in the tenderest of passions, he abandoned the sword and the sex together, and took sanctuary, not so much in his convent as in himself. I feel a damp upon my spirits as I am going to add that in my last return through Calais, upon inquiring after Father Lorenzo, I heard he had been dead near three months; and was buried, not in his convent, but, according to his desire, in a little cemetery belonging to it, about two leagues off. I had a strong desire to see where they had laid him, when, upon pulling out his little horn-box, as I sat by his grave, and plucking up a nettle or two at the head of it, which had no business to grow there, they all struck together so forcibly upon my affections that I burst into a flood of tears; but I am as weak as a woman; and I beg the world not to smile, but pity me. 80 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD1 George Meredith VAN HARRINGTON, a young "gentleman" in appearance and manner, but by birth the son of a tailor, is on his way to Lymport to attend his father's funeral. He has missed the coach he should have taken, and has engaged a conveyance to enable him to catch up with it. Unhappily, however, he does not think to inquire into the contents of his purse until he is some distance on the road, when, on doing so, he finds himself in an embarrassing predicament. The postillion had every reason to believe he carried a real gentleman behind him; in other words, a purse long and liberal. He judged by all the points he knew of: a firm voice, a brief commanding style, an apparent indifference to expense, and the inexplicable minor characteristics, such as polished boots, and a striking wristband, and so forth, which will show a creature accustomed to step over the heads of men. He had, therefore, no particular anxiety to part company, and jogged easily on the white highway, beneath a moon that walked high and small over marble clouds. About an hour after midnight pastoral stillness and the moon begat in the postillion desire for a pipe. Daylight prohibits the dream of it to mounted postillions. At night the question is more human, and allows appeal. The moon smiles. assentingly, and smokers know that she really lends herself to the enjoyment of tobacco. The postillion could remember gentlemen who did not object: who had even given him 1 From Evan Harrington. A passage following the first paragraph is here omitted. cigars. Turning round to see if haply the present inmate of the chariot might be smoking, he observed a head extended from the window. "How far are we?" was inquired. The postillion numbered the milestones passed. "Do you see anything of the coach?" "Can't say as I do, sir." He was commanded to stop. Evan jumped out. "I don't think I'll take you any farther," he said. The postillion laughed to scorn the notion of his caring how far he went. With a pipe in his mouth, he insinuatingly remarked, he could jog on all night, and throw sleep to the dogs. Fresh horses at Hillford; fresh at Fallowfield: and the gentleman himself would reach Lymport fresh in the morning. "No, no; "I'd rather go on as I am. to take you the whole way." I-a-made no arrangement "Oh!" cried the postillion, "don't you go troublin' yourself Master knows it's touch-and-go about catchin' about that, sir. the coach. I'm all right." So infatuated was the fellow in the belief that he was dealing with a perfect gentleman-an easy pocket! Now you would not suppose that one who presumes he has sufficient, would find a difficulty in asking how much he has to pay. With an effort, indifferently masked, Evan blurted: "By the way, tell me— -how much-what is the charge for the distance we've come?" There are gentlemen-screws: there are conscientious gentlemen. They calculate, and remonstrating or not, they pay. The postillion would rather have had to do with the gentleman royal, who is above base computation; but he knew the humanity in the class he served, and with his conception of Evan only partially dimmed, he remarked: "Oh-h-h! that won't hurt you, sir. Jump along in,settle that by-and-by." But when my gentleman stood fast, and renewed the demand to know the exact charge for the distance already traversed, the postillion dismounted, glanced him over, and speculated with his fingers tipping up his hat. Meantime Evan drew out his purse, a long one, certainly, but limp. Out of this drowned-looking wretch the last spark of life was taken by the sum the postillion ventured to name; and if paying your utmost farthing without examination of the charge, and cheerfully stepping out to walk fifty miles, penniless, constituted a postillion's gentleman, Evan would have passed the The sight of poverty, however, provokes familiar feelings in poor men, if you have not had occasion to show them you possess particular qualities. The postillion's eye was more on the purse than on the sum it surrendered. test. "There," said Evan, "I shall walk. Good night." And he flung his cloak to step forward. "Stop a bit, sir!" arrested him. The postillion rallied up sideways, with an assumption of genial respect. "I didn't calc'late myself in that there amount." Were these words, think you, of a character to strike a young man hard on the breast, send the blood to his head, and set up in his heart a derisive chorus? My gentleman could pay his money, and keep his footing gallantly; but to be asked for a penny beyond what he possessed; to be seen beggared, and to be claimed a debtor-alack! Pride was the one developed faculty of Evan's nature. The Fates who mould us, always work from the mainspring. I will not say that the postillion stripped off the mask for him, at that instant completely; but he gave him the first true glimpse of his condi |