The Dudleys

Chapter I. The Dudley Family

In a handsomely furnished house, in a handsome square, situated in a handsome town, lived the Dudley family. Although the name of Dudley might not have been very well known all over the kingdom, it was quite familiar to every one in this toAvn. The pedigree, a long slip of parch ment, written over in different kinds of ink, black and blue, showing a Arariety of men by whom it had been written on at different periods, was kept in an old oak chest, small in size and ancient in appearance. It is probable that this old oak chest would have been sent to the British B Museum had it not kept such a priceless treasure within it ; for that treasure's sake it was left undisturbed in its soliloquy over the ages through which it had passed, in a silent apartment in its master's home. It had outlived empires, constitutions, and monarchs, and there was rarely any thing that the old oak chest had not survived.

It now seemed to be slowly and deliberately attempting to outlive Time himself! On the lid of the chest were a few indistinct worn-out figures, recording a date unknown to any of the surviving Dudleys ; although Mrs. Dudley had often remarked that she had discovered the tail of a 7, and the body of a 5, and many times protested she had found the head of a 2. But the old oak chest heeded nothing that was said concerning its age or appearance, so long as its OAvner's priceless treasure was in it. Mr. Dudley had four children — two sons and two daughters : their names and ages were as follows. Reginald, twenty eight ; Louisa, twenty-seven ; Arabella, twenty-three ; and Austin, twenty-one. Mr. Dudley was a gentleman — a born gentleman — and a man who had never seen himself anything else but a gentle man.

He was aristocratic and wished his children to be like him. The young Dud leys (that was, when they were little) were allowed nothing else in the way of reading when they returned from school in the holidays, but books relating to the English Peerage, histories of the British nobility, and lives of eminent noblemen ; until acquainted at a very premature age with the degrees of comparison of a peer as well as those of an adjective. But one of the youngest Dudleys, after going up a great number of steps, in reciting a long " Table of Precedency," which he began at the bottom, and climbed up to what he thought was the top of the stairs, on being once asked by his father, "What is higher than a duke ? " answered " Saint Paul's steeple." Mrs. Dudley had been dead for four years. In addition to Mr. Dudley's grief after his beloved partner, twelve months did not pass after her decease before his b2 youngest son was expelled from school for the base crime of theft.

Fearing the cen sure of a rigorous father, he fled — to where, his relatives could not ascertain — and more than three years had passed since he left his home. Mr. Dudley's high spirit was changed into calm depression : care and sorrow had impressed their stamp on his features. Every man has his share of trouble, but Mr. Dudley seemed to have had more than the usual quantum. He had been a strict man and a severe parent, but he was not so now : an obvious change had come over him within the few preceding years. Misfortune had not visited him without leaving traces of the visit behind it. There was a day when he was as high-spirited as any man in Warlington ; but that day, which was well remembered by the elder portion of the townspeople, was, as they clearly perceived, passed for ever. "And is this — Mr. what did you call him? an agreeable young man, Reginald?"

The speaker sat sideways in his chair before a blazing fire, and rubbed his hands as he spoke. The time was a cold winter evening. The scene was a drawing-room in Mr. Dudley's house, and the speaker was Mr. Dudley himself — a man of the medium height, probably about fifty or fifty-five He had not lost any of his hair, it had only undergone a partial change of colour. Time had taken a brush which he has always in his hand, white with the hoar of years, and was gradually drawing it over Mr. Dudley's head of black hair. More than half the hairs had escaped untouched, yet it was very certain that Time would not be long before painting them all. Mr. Dudley's nose was almost Roman : it seemed as if its primary design was to be Roman, but afterwards altered its intention and completed itself in ano ther style.

"His name is Grenliman," returned Reginald. " I think it very pleasant to be in his society. He is a fine-looking fellow, and he has plenty to talk about everything — he is a clever hand at con versing, too. Have you seen him, father ? " Mr. Dudley replied by saying he supposed he had seen him once or twice in the street; or at least a certain person who was pointed out to him as the strange gentleman from London. '.' Doctor Matlock told me this morning that he had heard that Mr. . Grenliman is the son of an earl," said Reginald; "but I don't believe it, for if he was he would be an ' honorable.' The doctor did not quite believe it either." Mr. Dudley silently contemplated the probability of Mr. Grenliman being of such noble family, and tried to weigh the mat ter by balancing the evidence pro and con in his mind.

Although it is true a man is not always what he appears to be, Mr. Dudley would not believe less than that he would, after a philosophical analysis of facts, attain the truth regarding Mr. Gren liman's connexion Avith the nobility. Mr. Dudley's eldest son, who was called Reginald after his father, had married the daughter of a Captain Penrich, an officer in the army. Nearly seven years had passed since he was joined in a matrimo nial alliance to Jane Penrich. Mr. Dudley's aristocratic wishes had formed an imaginative betrothal of his son to Captain Penrich's daughter long before the idea was realized. He was determined to keep up the respectability of the Dudley family. Money could not iuwe been the cause of this desire to wed Miss Penrich to his son, for she had none ; but it was because she was of high family and a descendant of some great knight or baron, whose history was quite familiar to Mrs. Penrich, who had repeatedly stated that John Laine Penrich, her husband, had an ancestor, Sir Gilbert de Laine, who was knight in the court of Henry the Eighth, and a very distinguished general.

Nine long years had passed since Cap tain Penrich left England for India. They heard nothing of him after his departure before intelligence arrived home, to say that he was killed on the battle-field. The Captain and his wife had not lived together for several years previous to his leaving this country. They separated in consequence of a quarrel ; but the law of the land compelled him to support his Aviso on a stated income. He died a wealthy man, but Mrs. Penrich had only sufficient to keep herself and her daughters in a style that became her rank and station. "Arabella," said Mr. Dudley, "what are you thinking about ? You seem to be in deep meditation." I was thinking about Austin, papa. How long it is since we saw him last ! " " Ah, poor fellow ! " returned the father Avith a sigh, "he is dead, very likely."

He was so overcome by emotion that he could say no more. Of Mr. Dudley's children, only two remained in their native toAvn. Louisa, the eldest daughter, was put to a boarding school in London, Avhere, at an early age, and almost before she completed her education, her uncle George, who resided in Edinburgh, took her to live with him on the death of his wife. His wealth was great, but he had no child to succeed him in it. He asked permission of her parents to let Louisa reside Avith him, as he felt it lonesome to live by himself; and promised to give her a handsome fortune at his decease. Her father, not being accustomed to reject beneficent proposals, determined to answer in the affirmative. Accordingly, Louisa was taken to Edinburgh — not at all contrary to her desire, as Edinburgh was a very fashionable town, and she had exhibited an inclination to "high life" and luxury.

Austin, the youngest son, as I have before intimated, left his native toAvn also— but his deserting it was very disreputable to him. He was probably ten, and Louisa sixteen, when they were estranged one from the other, on the occasion of Louisa going to Edinburgh. He had ever seen but very little of her ; for during the whole period of her education she was not at home more than about two months out of twelve. Arabella lived Avith her father, in a fashionable place, in Warlington, called Berk Square, where there resided a few families of dignity, and a few gentlemen who had "retired from business." No poor men had houses in Berk Square ; they were barely allowed to enter it Avith their ragged clothes and dirty faces, lest the sight of them would shock the respectable inhabitants. No plebeian huts for human flesh and bones and intellect to spend their weary nights and scarce hours of rest, in a shadow of repose ; no small habitations, that looked as if they had generated from the echos of the larger houses when building ; no cots that a gentleman's pig Avould object to spend a night in.

All those were in another part of the town. Reginald and his wife lived in a house situated at the length of about ten mi nutes' walk from his father's. He was a "fast man." He lived so fast that his money could not follow him. He was continually spending, and always in debt. "Father," said Reginald, "would it be convenient with you just at present to spare me a draft for a trifle — say fifty ? " "Reginald," replied Mr. Dudley, "you astonish me ! " " Why ? Other fellows, in my position, have as much as they require with their parents, and Avhy am I not allowed a little noAV and then when I am in need of it ? " "It is not now and then you want it, but continually — continually, sir ! You ought to consider the trouble you give your father — he shall not have a moment's peace Avith you. You are not like other children — they don't spend all they have."

It was Mr. Dudley's invariable custom to call his son a " child," although he was eight or nine and twenty. Sons or daugh ters, good or bad, old or young, they were all children, and he was determined to designate them so, as long as he lived. "But you must consider too," rejoined the dissatisfied son, "that I am very hard up. It is now Christmas — bills are coming in, and how am I to pay them ? " " I have not got the means," said the father, angrily. " I have told you that several times before ; then, why do you trouble me about it ? " " Good evening, father. Good evening, Arabella," returned Reginald, putting on his hat to leave the room. His father's refusal to comply with his request had not put him into an indignant mood. It was very little disappointment to him. He was used to such answers, as they were no other than what he expected, and what he was taught to expect, from having similar replies several times before, so that this answer would not overthrow his intellectual senses, or damage his physical con stitution. Being hardened by previous treatment of the same kind, he was proof against all such things that might after wards come to pass.

Chapter II. The Lost Son

A cold, snoAvy day in London. In where ? In the city of business, traffic, and trade, of noise and bustle, of smoke and fog, of immense Avealth and miserable poverty — the city of millions — the city of cities ! The multitudinous snow-cladden lamp posts looked like so many white-gowned, tall, grotesque priests, with large heads, staring steadfastly at every passer by. Church-spires, house-tops, chimneys, coaches, and waggons, were white. It would be difficult to find many things in the open ah' that were not white. In fact, the weather was a very liberal contri butor of winter clothing. Why did the coachman throw down the reins and whip to beat his arms together? Was he not warm enough in that sublime white over coat ? Did he not thank Nature for her gift? No : the weather-beaten coachman loved not Christmas presents of every sort, al though he adored many of a certain kind, but he had a choice in those, as well as in the beers of various inns.

Reclining, in a half sitting, half lying posture, on a sofa of rather small dimensions, was a rich-brown haired young man, of about one-and-twenty. His forehead, high and classical. His firmly-set features, which cannot be denominated handsome, plainly denoted an undaunted resolution ; and appropriate to those were his powerful, keen, piercing eyes. His grave, mild countenance had something peculiarly interesting in it. This young man was Austin Dudley. The apartment was a comparatively warm little parlour, neatly, but not elegantly furnished ; yet, although it had no pretensions to grandeur, it had every domestic comfort. His salary would not afford him lodgings of a higher order. It was the evening of a cold winter's day his twenty-first birth-day ! He made several attempts to read : having got tired of one book in a few minutes, he took up another, and changed that again for a third, but again without success ; he finally betook himself to a newspaper.

The truth is, he felt drowsy after working unusually busy all day ; he now felt stupid and sleepy, and would haATe fallen asleep had not his thoughts kept him awake. As each thought flashed with dreaded importance across his mind, he started fi'om his drowsy state, but soon again relapsed into the same. Although his eyes were on the newspaper, his mind wandered far astray — to Warlington, his native town ; into years gone by ; and into his future life. How was that to be spent ? " I am of age ! " thought he to himself. " Surely those words have a meaning, as well as all other words. And this is what they mean — that I became this day posses sor of the well-known Nihil estate. Many hundreds of my fellow-creatures are made sole recipients of an income of a thousand a year ; yet, vastly greater are the number of those who, like myself, derive not a penny from any hereditary source, but are doomed to a life of labour, and if they work not they become sure victims of starvation.

This day I buried the last rem nants of twenty-one years. It is of no importance" to me ; I am not freed from the government of parents or guardians, because I have not been under their con trol for the last three years ; this day is momentous to me only on account of the heart-rending thoughts it brings me." Thus thought the lost son ! "Who's there?" inquired Austin, on hearing a knock at the door of the room. "I'm here, sir," responded the servant, partially opening the door, so as to admit of his head, which he poked in through the aperture. " Mr. Denton wants to see you." " Show him in here." The servant's departure to execute the command was soon followed by the appearance of a short, stout gentleman, seemingly some few years upwards of forty. He was very lively, and his full, round, red face wore a cheerful expression, though it was rather blue from the effects of the inclement weather.

"Well, Sehvyn," began the short, stout gentleman, apparently in a merry mood, and on exceedingly good terms with him self, "reading, studying, or what are you doing ? Any thing A'ery learned in hand, that you confine yourself in here ? " "No, sir, nothing particularly — in fact, nothing at all," replied Austin, rising from the sofa, and placing a chair by the fireside for Mr. Denton. "Please to be seated, sir." " Thank you, not now. I am not come here to partake of your hospitality, but to unite you to dine with me this evening, as it is your birthday. It's Christmas time now, and a young man like you ought to be enjoying himself. Don't shut yourself up in this close place, or else, upon my word, you'll die of hypochondria ; what would I do for a clerk then, eh ? I think you told me that to-day was your birthday, didn't you ?

" c "Yes, sir." " Come along with me now. I expect your friend Mr. Rutland to dinner too — and his handsome wife," returned Mr. Denton. " Come on, Selwyn." Austin immediately obeyed, departed from his lodgings, and accompanied Mr. Denton to his home. Mr. Denton's stout figure seemed to SAvell as he walked along the streets. They met two or three sailors belonging to Mr. Denton's ships, who lifted their hats as a token of obeisance, of which Mr. D. was very proud. But what was that name by which Mr. Denton called Austin Dudley ? The care of Austin's education was sub mitted to Doctor Matlock, who kept a respectable school in his native town. When Austin was somewhere from seven teen to eighteen, and on the point of leaving this school for another and higher establishnient for the cultivation of learn ing, an unfortunate occurrence took place.

One of the pupils, named Lannets, lost a purse containing three sovereigns. He lost it from his box ; and the Doctor saw the boxes of all the other pupils searched, for the purpose of detecting the theft, if such it was. Austin, as well as others, took out all the various kinds of articles in his chest ; and lo ! — at the bottom of it lay the lost purse and three sovereigns ! Great Avas the delight and joy, on this occasion, of one named Neats, a fellow pupil and a bitter enemy to Austin — he danced in glee. Austin was instantly ex pelled from thes chool. Shame withheld him front bidding farewell to his dearest friends and companions of his youth, though he sincerely wished it. How many times did he begin his way to seATeral of his schoolfellows, to say adieu ! — and shame compelled him to retrace his steps.

Austin's father was a strict, austere man, and he dared not face him in his disgrace. He would front the wide raving ocean, the world, notwithstanding the waAres would beat tempestuously against him. He would be satisfied in earning a scanty subsistence in tranquillity, and endeavour with his utmost exertion to regain his lost character. That day Austin started by c2 train for London, having in his pocket barely sufficient to pay his travelling ex penses. He went without bidding fare well to his parent, or relatives, or any of his friends that lived in Warlington ; so that when he was missed, no one in the tovra of Warlington knew to where he had gone. Although the train's pace amounted to furious rapidity, Austin's thoughts flew much faster. His mind was in London long before his body arrived there — he thought of that great city, and of the peo ple he would meet.

As he passed over broad heaths he looked out through the carriage-window, and thought of the wide world, into which he was about to dash himself, like a shipwrecked mariner throwing himself from an insulated craggy rock on the surrounding boisterous waves, to be borne he knows not whither ! His position was Avretched, and his soul full of misery. He had a father, hut might as well have been fatherless ; and to be thus estranged from him was more deplorable than if he had really departed from life. Austin had a friend in London, whom he had known from his earliest days, — a young man who assisted his uncle in carrying on an extensive business in the City. He found him a situation as clerk to a respectable merchant named Denton. Austin changed his name, and was Aus tin Dudley no more, but Gerrard Selwyn.

Chapter III. Me

DENTON AND HIS FRIENDS. " It is Mr. Selwyn's birthday, and I wish him many happy returns of it. When you have yours, Mr. Rutland, I will wish you the same — and when Mrs. Rutland has hers also. 'Pon my word, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Rutland, it's not because I am short-sighted and can't see you, that I did not wish you the same at first, or because I think less of you than of your in telligent husband, but in consequence of my absence of mind — absence of mind, ma'am. All the little anecdotes with long morals, twice their own length, that I read, and everything I learnt about 'presence of mind,' when I was young and at school, did me no good, I assure you. To speak plainly; I think children learn but very little in school — merely the way to play and be Avicked. Certainly, they sometimes learn something or other, but many of those things are of no use to them, and they forget all when they leave school.

But, as to myself, my parents couldn't afford me much education. I had to leave my learning very early, and stick to business. We don't spend all our lifetime in school, but we do in business ; therefore, I say that a man ought to think of that more than of learning. Mind what I say, Sel wyn, for I am going to make a business man of you." Here Mr. Denton arrived at the climax of his speech. He returned to Austin, after having looked at his two other guests with an air of satisfaction, and con fidence of the veracity of his words ; and after asking his clerk what was his age, Austin replied that it was his twenty-first birthday. "Then you are of age," said Mr. Den ton, clearing his throat. " But, I suppose, you are unfortunate enough to be very little better because of it than I was when I became of age.

Perhaps you, Mr. Rut land, are acquainted with the fact, that Mr. Selwyn's family have no great wealth, though it is a very distinguished one, I be lieve, and possessed immense property at one time ; but unluckily misfortune visited it. But I am going to instruct Selwyn in the way to wealth. He'll be a rich man, if he lives and minds what I tell him. What was the state of commerce in Scotland, when you were there ? Fates help us ! if it was so bad as it is with us at present. A very few years like these would be enough to do me — I'll be smashed to a farthing, sir." It was evident that Austin's friend had made Mr. Denton understand that pecuniary want had compelled him to earn his bread by labour, and in that way kept him in total ignorance of the veritable reason ; and, it was also evident that such an impression on the employer's mind was the cause of his kindness to his clerk.

Would Austin be dining that evening with his employer if he was not believed to be of genteel birth and good breeding ? Would he be sitting in Mr. Denton's richly adorned dining-room, together Avith others who were Mr. Denton's acquaintances, if his master was cognizant of the true reason why he had sought employ ment ? No : Austin knew that very well; and was grateful to his faithful friend for the great good he had done him. " I suppose, sir, it is not so bad as you tell us," said Mr. Rutland. "It is true the times are hard, but still they might be worse." " Might be," interposed Mr. Denton, with a short laugh, pushing his hands into his waistcoat pockets. " Certainly they are not so hard as to oblige us to eat grindstones ; but, what I wanted to imply was, that they are too bad already.

You laAvy ers do very well ; let the prices be high or low, it is of no consequence at all to you ; but merchants lead a dog's life of it in these times." Mr. Denton took out a silvercased pen cil from his pocket, twisted it between his fingers, and gazed at it as it revolved, not because he had never seen it before, but from a purpose unknown to himself and everyone else. "If the times are not prosperous at present, they have been prosperous, and will very likely be so again after this," said Mr. Rutland. "We cannot expect less than for everything to come in its own turn : after a calm we must expect a storm, sir." Mr. Rutland was a fine made man of thirty ; in height, at least five feet ten or eleven, well proportioned, broad-chested, and handsome. He was by profession a barrister. His wife was a graceful lady, possessing no little beauty and elegance of figure.

Austin had not been long in London before he became accidentally acquainted with Mr. Rutland, who was then an un married man. Austin spent much time in his agreeable society ; he seemed to take an interest in the homeless clerk, and in time an intimacy became a friendship. In Mr. Rutland he found a sincere friend. It is true he was his senior by several years, yet Rutland did not consider it any reason why he should not associate with him. Neither did he look on the inferi ority of Austin's situation and pecuniary circumstances — although the one was a professional gentleman, and the other a merchant's clerk. Proofs of Austin's scho lastic attainments convinced him that he was well born — and he wished no more. Somewhere about six months, or more, after Austin Dudley's first appearance in Lon don, Mr. Rutland went from home, whether on business or on pleasure no one knew, but probably on both.

" Killing two birds Avith one stone " is not an unprofit able way to go through the world : how ever, one of the two birds, in this case, was a valuable one — for he came home with a wife. Mr. George Crute was announced. " Crute, you are very late. You are not used to be last either," said Mr. Den ton. The new guest was a young gentleman of one or two-and-twenty. There was something peculiarly broad in his gait; not that he was broad in dimension, but his manner of walking was careless ; and his clothes appeared loose and untidy about him. " Well, I was detained," said Mr. Crute. "You know Miss Nupples, I suppose. She lives in — but if you don't know her, the incident I am about to relate happened to me all the same. I started from home with a — the intention of coming here directly : that is, I need not tell you that stone walls are impenetrable, so that I could not go straight, but was obliged to follow the streets.

As I passed by Miss Nupples' I heard a great row inside, as if some one was chiding and bawling. ' Well,' I thought to myself, ' as long as they are angry already I might as well heighten thenindignation a little ; ' so I tapped the a — Avindow Avith my cane. I am a fellow that is sure to do anything the moment it strikes in my head. However, the window broke, and I ran as fast as ever I could, but in going down Pent Lane — a dark, Avretched way — my feet went against a wheelbarrow, so that I was pitched head long." " And you broke your leg, I suppose," said Mr. Denton. " Not quite that, sir. My trousers were torn a little, and my clothes dirtied, so that Iwas obligedto go home again and change." " You might have broken a limb," suggested Mr. Denton, smiling. " You might choke by eating the dinner you are about sitting to, although it is my wish that you should consume a good por tion of it, without the occurrence of such an accident."

" Hah, hah ! thank you, I wish you the same. Come over to dinner now and run the chance of being choked. You are a wicked fellow to be knocking at people's windows : take care that you don't break one of mine in a similar manner." "What do you think of Colonel Percy, Mr. Rutland?" asked Mr. Denton, after seating himself at the head of the table, sticking his fork into a roasted turkey which lay on a dish before him, at the same time holding a large carving-knife with its shining blade above the object he was about to dissect. "In what way do you mean, sir?" replied Mr. Rutland. "As much as I have seen of him, I think him a nice sort of a man ; the truth is, I have seen but very little of him." " I think that Mrs. Percy is more agreeable than her husband," observed Mrs. Rutland. " He's nearly gone through the whole," resumed Mr. Denton, casting a know ing glance at Mr. Rutland.