The Smuggler: A Tale. Volumes I-III. G. P. R. James
Digby than anywhere else. He now, however, seemed inclined to take part in that officer's conversation with the youngest Miss Croyland, and did not appear quite pleased to find her attention so completely engrossed by a stranger. To Edith he vouchsafed not a single word; but hearing the fair lady next to him reply to something which Sir Edward Digby had said. "Oh, we go out once or twice almost every day; sometimes on horseback; but more frequently to take a walk," he exclaimed, "Do you, indeed, Miss Zara?--why, I never meet you, and I am always running about the country. How is that, I wonder?"
Zara smiled, and replied, with an arch look, "Because fortune befriends us, I suppose, Mr. Radford;" but then, well knowing that he was not one likely to take a jest in good part, she added--"we don't go out to meet anybody, and therefore always take those paths where we are least likely to do so."
Still young Radford did not seem half to like her reply; but, nevertheless, he went on in the same tone, continually interrupting her conversation with Sir Edward Digby, and endeavouring, after a fashion not at all uncommon, to make himself agreeable by preventing people from following the course they are inclined to pursue. The young baronet rather humoured him than otherwise, for he wished to see as deeply as possible into his character. He asked him to drink wine with him; he spoke to him once or twice without being called upon to do so; and he was somewhat amused to see that the fair Zara was a good deal annoyed at the encouragement he gave to her companion on the left to join in their conversation.
He was soon satisfied, however, in regard to the young man's mind and character. Richard Radford had evidently received what is called a good education, which is, in fact, no education at all. He had been taught a great many things; he knew a good deal; but that which really and truly constitutes education was totally wanting. He had not learned how to make use of that which he had acquired, either for his own benefit or for that of society. He had been instructed, not educated, and there is the greatest possible difference between the two. He was shrewd enough, but selfish and conceited to a high degree, with a sufficient portion of pride to be offensive, with sufficient vanity to be irritable, with all the wilfulness of a spoiled child, and with that confusion of ideas in regard to plain right and wrong, which is always consequent upon the want of moral training and over-indulgence in youth. To judge from his own conversation, the whole end and aim of his life seemed to be excitement; he spoke of field sports with pleasure; but the degree of satisfaction which he derived from each, appeared to be always in proportion to the danger, the activity, and the fierceness. Hunting he liked better than shooting, shooting than fishing, which latter he declared was only tolerable because there was nothing else to be done in the spring of the year. But upon the pleasures of the chase he would dilate largely, and he told several anecdotes of staking a magnificent horse here, and breaking the back of another there, till poor Zara turned somewhat pale, and begged him to desist from such themes.
"I cannot think how men can be so barbarous," she said. "Their whole pleasure seems to consist in torturing poor animals or killing them."
Young Radford laughed. "What were they made for?" he asked.
"To be used by man, I think, not to be tortured by him," the young lady replied.
"No torture at all," said her companion on the left. "The horse takes as much pleasure in running after the hounds as I do, and if he breaks his back, or I break my neck, it's our own fault. We have nobody to thank for it but ourselves. The very chance of killing oneself gives additional pleasure; and, when one pushes a horse at a leap, the best fun of the whole is the thought whether he will be able by any possibility to clear it or not. If it were not for hunting, and one or two other things of the sort, there would be nothing left for an English gentleman, but to go to Italy and put himself at the head of a party of banditti. That must be glorious work!"
"Don't you think, Mr. Radford," asked Sir Edward Digby, "that active service in the army might offer equal excitement, and a more honourable field?"
"Oh, dear no!" cried the young man. "A life of slavery compared with a life of freedom; to be drilled and commanded, and made a mere machine of, and sent about relieving guards and pickets, and doing everything that one is told like a school-boy! I would not go into the army for the world. I'm sure if I did I should shoot my commanding officer within a month!"
"Then I would advise you not," answered the young baronet, "for after the shooting there would be another step to be taken which would not be quite so pleasant."
"Oh, you mean the hanging," cried young Radford, laughing; "but I would take care they should never hang me; for I could shoot myself as easily as I could shoot him; and I have a great dislike to strangulation. It's one of the few sorts of death that would not please me."
"Come, come, Richard!" said Sir Robert Croyland, in a nervous and displeased tone; "let us talk of some other subject. You will frighten the ladies from table before the cloth is off."
"It is very odd," said young Radford, in a low voice, to Sir Edward Digby, without making any reply to the master of the house--"it is very odd, how frightened old men are at the very name of death, when at the best they can have but two or three years to live."
The young officer did not reply, but turned the conversation to other things; and the wine having been liberally supplied, operated as it usually does, at the point where its use stops short of excess, in "making glad the heart of man;" and the conclusion of the dinner was much more cheerful and placable than the commencement.
The ladies retired within a few minutes after the desert was set upon the table; and it soon became evident to Sir Edward Digby, that the process of deep drinking, so disgracefully common in England at that time, was about to commence. He was by no means incapable of bearing as potent libations as most men; for occasionally, in those days, it was scarcely possible to escape excess without giving mortal offence to your entertainer; but it was by no means either his habit or his inclination so to indulge, and for this evening especially he was anxious to escape. He looked, therefore, across the table to Mr. Croyland for relief; and that gentleman, clearly understanding what he meant, gave him a slight nod, and finished his first glass of wine after dinner. The bottles passed round again, and Mr. Croyland took his second glass; but after that he rose without calling much attention: a proceeding which was habitual with him. When, however, Sir Edward Digby followed his example, there was a general outcry. Every one declared it was too bad, and Sir Robert said, in a somewhat mortified tone, that he feared his wine was not so good as that to which his guest had been accustomed.
"It is only too good, my dear sir," replied the young baronet, determined to cut the matter short, at once and for ever. "So good, indeed, that I have been induced to take two more glasses than I usually indulge in, and I consequently feel somewhat heated and uncomfortable. I shall go and refresh myself by a walk through your woods."
Several more efforts were made to induce him to stay; but he was resolute in his course; and Mr. Croyland also came to his aid, exclaiming, "Pooh, nonsense, Robert! let every man do as he likes. Have not I heard you, a thousand times, call your house Liberty Hall? A pretty sort of liberty, indeed, if a man must get beastly drunk because you choose to do so!"
"I do not intend to do any such thing, brother," replied Sir Robert, somewhat sharply; and in the meanwhile, during this discussion, Sir Edward Digby made his escape from the room.
On entering the drawing-room, towards which Sir Edward Digby immediately turned his steps, he found it tenanted alone by Mrs. Barbara Croyland, who sat in the window with her back towards the door, knitting most diligently, with something pinned to her knee. As it was quite beyond the good lady's conception that any body would ever think of quitting the dining-room so early but her younger brother, no sooner did she hear a step than, jumping at conclusions as she usually did, she exclaimed aloud, "Isn't he a nice young man, brother Zachary? I think it will do quite well, if that----"
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