CHAPTER XX. AN UNEXPECTED CATASTROPHE. As some grave gentleman in Terence says COWPER. THINGS went on in their usual course for some time, Mr. Hammond becoming more respected and beloved the more he was known ;-Mr. Walton growing daily more fond of his young friend, and delighting more in his society. But in this uncertain world of ours the calm course of human enjoyment cannot last for ever,-misunderstandings, jealousies, or vexations will arise, or death will separate the warmest friends. "I wonder why Charles Hammond does not come in to tea this evening," said Mr. Walton, rather impatiently. "That was an admirable sermon of his this evening; but I thought him looking rather ill and nervous. He has hardly been at the house this week; and, now I think of it, he seemed very different the last time he was here. I am afraid, poor young man, he overworks himself." Full of benevolent intentions, Mr. Walton went the next morning to his young friend's lodgings. "Well, Mrs. Jones," said he, to the good woman of the house, "I am come to look after your young lodger; I am afraid you do not take proper care of him; good people are scarce, Mrs. Jones." "It is not for want of care, I can assure you, sir," said the good landlady; "I do as much for him as if he were my own son; and cheerfully too, for he is indeed a good gentleman: but I am sorry to say he has certainly not looked so well for the last fortnight, and he has lost his appetite sadly." 66 Well," said Mr. Walton, "I'll go up and ask him how he does; I suppose I shall find him, as usual, poring over his books and papers." "Oh, sir," replied the landlady, "he is gone; he set off by the coach at six o'clock this morning." "Gone! And did he leave no message for me?" "Yes, sir; he desired me, if you called, to give his kind regards, and say, that some matter of business required his absence; and he thought a visit to his friends for a fortnight or three weeks would be of service to his health." Mr. Walton left the house still more embarrassed and anxious than before. He had observed an unusual flush on his young friend's cheek, and a restlessness of manner. Could it really be the hectic of consumption? How mysterious are the ways of Providence (thought the kind old man), which calls away the amiable and good, the useful and active, and leaves an old, worn-out, world-hardened body like mine! There was an unusual gloom in the family during the absence of Charles Hammond; and others besides Mr. Walton regretted the absence of the young clergyman. On the fourth Sunday Mr. Hammond appeared again in his usual place at church, animated and impressive as ever, but still looking anxious and unwell. On the following morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Mr. Walton was preparing to make another visit to his young friend's lodgings, when Mr. Hammond himself was announced. Mr. Walton was too kind-hearted to alarm him by expressing his appre hensions for his health, and therefore addressed him in his usual cheerful tone. "Well, sir, I am glad to see you back again, and hope you have had a pleasant excursion; you have come, I suppose, to make some good excuse for cutting your old friends, and leaving us all without letting us know a word about it.” Charles Hammond grasped his extended hand, and remained silent for a few moments, as if struggling with some deep emotion, and not knowing how to express all he had to say. "I fear that you must have thought my conduct strange," said he, at last; "but I beg you will set it down to any cause rather than to want of gratitude for your many kindnesses. Indeed, the real cause of my perplexity has been, that I have found your hospitable house and amiable family only too agreeable." Mr. Walton looked earnestly at his young friend, and a sudden thought struck him, which we may wonder had never occurred before; but it sometimes happens that the wisest men are not observant of trifles. "Well," said he, "you will have to give account to others besides myself for your unceremonious departure; I was just setting out, when you came in, with a commission from Mrs. Walton to bring you home to dinner; and Anna said that I must take no refusal; and," he added, rather pointedly, "I think Elizabeth would have joined in the request, but she was so busy with a drawing, which, I believe, is intended for your room, that she did not seem to notice what we were talking about." "Ah, sir," said the young clergyman, " I perceive by your manner that you have guessed my secret, which I have hitherto kept concealed within my own breast. It is indeed most true, that I have been presumptuous enough to entertain hopes of one day aspiring to the hand of your youngest daughter, Elizabeth. But, without fortune or interest, dependent for subsistence almost entirely on the small stipend which I receive for my services in this parish, it would have been ungrateful in me to have abused your confidence by endeavouring to win the affections of your daughter; and I had come to the resolution of leaving a place where every scene reminds me of happy moments passed in her society." The good old man was much relieved when he discovered what was the real cause of his young friend's altered appearance and manner. He looked at him with a mixture of kindness and admiration, and paused for a while, as was his custom, before he delivered himself of his opinion. "You have been more scrupulous, my good friend," said he, "than many young curates would have been under your circumstances. But you have acted an honourable part, and I like you the better for it. We live in a state of society, in which it is necessary for young people to be very cautious as to the attachments which they form. It is obviously an act of folly, in the present day, for two young persons to marry, without sufficient fortune to maintain that position in life to which they have been accustomed. It is sure to cause unhappiness in the end. A young man, who engages the affections of a girl, without having the means to support her, acts, to say the least, a very inconsiderate and selfish part. However, such is not the case in the present instance. I am, thank God, able and willing to give my daughter a handsome maintenance, if the husband she chooses is one whom a father can approve. Allow me to say that I respect you for your profession, I admire your talent and devotion, I like you for your honourable conduct on this as well as on all other occasions; and if Elizabeth likes you too, so far from standing in your way, I shall consider her fortunate in having won the affections of so excellent a man." Here Mr. Walton shook him heartily by the hand. "A thousand thanks, my excellent friend," said Charles Hammond, "for your kindness, which is the more acceptable, as being so freely rendered to a poor friendless curate. However, I am now able to inform you, that my situation in life is much improved since I last saw you. My absence from Churchover was caused by the death of a distant relative, who had long been in India, and has most unexpectedly left me his heir; and though my fortune is not of that description which perhaps you might expect in the heir of an East Indian, yet it is such as, I hope, would have authorised me to offer myself without impropriety as your son-in-law: and, to say the truth, such was the object of my present visit." "I congratulate you very sincerely," said the old gentleman, "on your good fortune; and if I should have been delighted to receive you as my son-in-law when you were poor, of course the alteration in your circumstances does not change my opinion of you. However, after all, we are very coolly settling all this without the concurrence of one who has most right to be consulted, though I do not anticipate much difficulty there. It is time now that you went to account for your conduct to the ladies." So saying, he led the way to the drawing-room. The frank and cordial reception with which he was welcomed by both the mother and daughtersthe blush which tinged the cheek of Elizabeth, as he |