This James Burdock was a faithful old country servant, who had come up with Mr. Vane, but left his heart at Willoughby. James Burdock had for some time been ruminating, and his conclusion was, that his mistress, Miss Mabel (as by force of habit he called her), was not treated as she deserved.
Burdock had been imported into Mr. Vane's family by Mabel; he had carried her in his arms when she was a child; he had held her upon a donkey when she was a little girl; and when she became a woman, it was he who taught her to stand close to her horse, and give him her foot and spring while he lifted her steadily but strongly into her saddle, and, when there, it was he who had instructed her that a horse was not a machine, that galloping tires it in time, and that galloping it on the hard road hammers it to pieces. "I taught the girl," thought James within himself.
This honest silver-haired old fellow seemed so ridiculous to Colander, the smooth, supercilious Londoner, that he deigned sometimes to converse with James, in order to quiz him. This very morning they had had a conversation.
"Poor Miss Mabel! dear heart. A twelvemonth married, and nigh six months of it a widow, or next door."
"We write to her, James, and entertain her replies, which are at considerable length."
"Ay, but we don't read 'em!" said James, with an uneasy glance at the tray.
"Invariably, at our leisure; meantime we make ourselves happy among the wits and the sirens."
"And she do make others happy among the poor and the ailing."
"Which shows," said Colander, superciliously, "the difference of tastes."
Burdock, whose eye had never been off his mistress's handwriting, at last took it up and said: "Master Colander, do if ye please, sir, take this into master's dressing-room, do now?"
Colander looked down on the missive with dilating eye. "Not a bill, James Burdock," said he, reproachfully.
"A bill! bless ye, no. A letter from missus."
No, the dog would not take it in to his master; and poor James, with a sigh, replaced it in the tray.
This James Burdock, then, was left in charge of the hall by Colander, and it so happened that the change was hardly effected before a hurried knocking came to the street door.
"Ay, ay!" grumbled Burdock," I thought it would not be long. London for knocking and ringing all day, and ringing and knocking all night." He opened the door reluctantly and suspiciously, and in darted a lady, whose features were concealed by a hood. She glided across the hall, as if she was making for some point, and old James shuffled after her, crying:
"Stop, stop! young woman. What is your name, young woman?"
"Why, James Burdock," cried the lady, removing her hood, "have you forgotten your mistress?"
"Mistress! Why, Miss Mabel, I ask your pardon, madam--here, John, Margery!"
"Hush!" cried Mrs. Vane.
"But where are your trunks, miss? And where's the coach, and Darby and Joan? To think of their drawing you all the way here! I'll have 'em into your room directly, ma'am. Miss, you've come just in time."
"What a dear, good, stupid old thing you are, James. Where is Ernest--Mr. Vane? James, is he well and happy? I want to surprise him."
"Yes, ma'am," said James, looking down.
"I left the old stupid coach at Islington, James. The something--pin was loose, or I don't know what. Could I wait two hours there? So I came on by myself; you wicked old man, you let me talk, and don't tell me how he is."
"Master is main well, ma'am, and thank you," said old Burdock, confused and uneasy.
"But is he happy? Of course he is. Are we not to meet to-day after six months? Ah! but never mind, they _are_ gone by."
"Lord bless her!" thought the faithful old fellow. "If sitting down and crying could help her, I wouldn't be long."
By this time they were in the banqueting-room and at the preparations there Mabel gave a start; she then colored. "Oh, he has invited his friends to make acquaintance. I had rather we had been alone all this day and to-morrow. But he must not know that. No; _his_ friends are _my_ friends, and shall be too," thought the country wife. She then glanced with some misgiving at her traveling attire, and wished she had brought _one_ trunk with her.
"James," said she, "where is my room? And, mind, I forbid you to tell a soul I am come."
"Your room, Miss Mabel?"
"Well, any room where there is looking-glass and water."
She then went to a door which opened in fact on a short passage leading to a room occupied by Mr. Vane himself.
"No, no!" cried James. "That is master's room."
"Well, is not master's room mistress's room, old man? But stay; is he there?"
"No, ma'am; he is in the garden, with a power of fine folks."
"They shall not see me till I have made myself a little more decent," said the young beauty, who knew at bottom how little comparatively the color of her dress could affect her appearance, and she opened Mr. Vane's door and glided in.
Burdock's first determination was, in spite of her injunction, to tell Colander; but on reflection he argued: "And then what will they do? They will put their heads together, and deceive us some other way. No!" thought James, with a touch of spite, "we shall see how they will all look." He argued also, that, at sight of his beautiful wife, his master must come to his senses, and the Colander faction be defeated; and perhaps, by the mercy of Providence, Colander himself turned off.
While thus ruminating, a thundering knock at the door almost knocked him off his legs. "There ye go again," said he, and he went angrily to the door. This time it was Hunsdon, who was in a desperate hurry to see his master.
"Where is Sir Charles Pomander, my honest fellow?" said he.
"In the garden, my Jack-a-dandy!" said Burdock, furiously.
(" Honest fellow," among servants, implies some moral inferiority.)
In the garden went Hunsdon. His master--all whose senses were playing sentinel--saw him, and left the company to meet him.
"She is in the house, sir."
"Good! Go--vanish!"
