Chapter XIX

SIR HUGO WILLOUGHBY ENTERS THE LISTS, AND IS CAPTIVATED BY THE
MERCHANT PRINCES.

Glasgow is not the most aristocratic city in her Majesty’s dominions. Her merchant princes may be lavish of that wealth which commands so much; their establishments, both in town and country, may have passed beyond the stage of soulless luxury and sumptuousness, and attained the higher distinction of intellectual culture. The West-End clubs may be exclusive; the city may have resources within herself, which do something to counterbalance the disadvantages of enormous traffic. Glasgow society, hospitable in every walk, may, in the upper classes, be only too flatteringly kind to sprigs of gentility. For some of them do find their way to a field where they receive so much favour--condescend to bask in its sunshine, and profit by its substantial benefits. Witness the Miss Vaughans, Lady Semple’s cousins, who were not disinclined to consider overtures of alliance, backed by full purses, from the sons of commerce. Still, as a matter of fact, Glasgow is not the haunt of the nobility and gentry of the United Kingdom. Titles, except in the case of Lord Provosts, or of titled men and women appearing at civic feasts, election and volunteer balls, or charitable breakfasts, rarely figure in the lists of company at this or that table.

For a real live baronet of ancient line and good estates, one who was neither a blackleg nor a prodigal, to alight and abide for any length of time--not merely to be passing a night in one of the best hotels, on his way to the Highlands--was for a rara avis to show himself, when a flutter of wings from all the common birds called attention to the fact. If the baronet happened to be young, and a bachelor, the flutter, which was always better defined in feminine quarters, became twenty times more eager and animated. The excitement referred to an event which did not happen often, but had been known to occur, and to produce the most charming consequences. Daughters of St. Mungo’s city, like the daughters of Augsburg of old, had departed ere now with their tochers, to gild afresh old titles, to appear no more in commercial circles, but to be heard of from afar as denizens of the politest regions.

Public feeling pointed in this direction when the news spread abroad that young Horsburgh--of ‘Horsburgh and Tennant,’ the great West Indian merchants--who had been to Cambridge, had brought back with him for his Easter holidays his college chum, Sir Hugo Willoughby, of Willoughby Court. Sir Hugo was reported young, handsome, intelligent, agreeable, of a race dating from the Conquest--which is a great deal better than dating from Adam--with a rental that, though it did not come within a tenth or twentieth part of the profits of some of the larger city firms, was perhaps safer, and was certainly not to be despised. In addition, the rental was said to be accompanied by such a perfect old Court in Lincolnshire, that the mere possession of it conferred the finest odours of gentility on its fortunate owner.

Moreover, Sir Hugo was likely to remain for a time. He was understood to have a laudable curiosity about city life and trade centres. He would not only inspect warehouses, he would ride to cover with the Lanarkshire hunting men; he might take a run in Guy Horsburgh’s yacht. Early as the season was, he would be seen at the dinners and balls of the select traders who could claim the acquaintance of the family in which Sir Hugo was staying. And, as if to render the public good greater, and the chances of war fairer for all, Guy Horsburgh had no unmarried sisters. There was no dangerous propinquity settling the question at once, and leaving hardly the ghost of an opportunity for any other girl.

Is it wonderful that the maiden heart of richest Glasgow heaved high, like the breast of Major Macpherson in the song, that many a council of war was held between mothers and daughters and sisters, this windy March, and many a box from court milliners in London, and even from Worth in Paris, was hastily conjured up with materials for the short but what might be the momentous campaign?

Really, Sir Hugo was worthy of it on his own individual merits. He was a fine young fellow. The foundation of his principles had been laid by a good mother--a widow who had never ceased to mourn for the husband of her youth, whose son, her only child, was the apple of her eye. From her he had derived a remarkable amount of ingenuousness and a dash of enthusiasm, which such intercourse with the world as he had commanded had failed to extinguish. He was regarded as something of a young Quixote at his University, which had been his world for the most part, but he had possessed wit to defend his views. He was manly, rather rash, and a little thoughtless; but in his very thoughtlessness he was generous and honest--a lad to be liked first and trusted afterwards. He was unconventional--reckoning according to the last, the Eneas Mackinnon, pattern of young men.

Sir Hugo had sufficient brains to seek to extend his knowledge of humanity. It was true that he had come to Glasgow with an ardent desire to learn all he could pick up about one of the wonderful man-hives of Britain and the world, as unlike as possible in its ceaseless stir among all classes, and recurring flights and falls, to the traditions of his order. These pointed to dignified quiet and leisure, an established order of things, a God-appointed institution of rulers and ruled, of different sorts and conditions of men, who were to govern and obey, to amuse themselves and to work, to be helpful to each other while they remained far apart--above all, to rest content with the very different lots which Providence had assigned to them.

It is impossible to deny another motive which had brought Sir Hugo to Glasgow. He was young, and therefore merry, facile, and so open to temptation. He had heard amazing and unsurpassable stories of the incongruities and absurdities of Glasgow life, as of life at the diggings, of the gulf between the _nouveaux riches_ and their former habits, and the blunders these lucky men and women committed. He was fain to test for himself the truth or falsehood of these travellers’ tales, to have his share of the laugh that was habitually playing round the comedy, in the better-informed world. But his native generosity caused him to repent of the deed before it was committed; and if he should see the slightest reason to qualify his impressions, he would be the first to renounce them.

As it chanced, Sir Hugo was delighted with Glasgow life. Its powerful vitality, innumerable lights and shades, and the magnitude of its achievements, took hold of his large stock of sympathy, and made a mark on what was at this time his rampant imagination. He was quite capable of going out of himself and his order to appreciate qualities and conditions which, however admirable in themselves, were foreign to his earlier experience. Indeed, the novelty of the situation was one of its chief attractions.

Young Horsburgh was not without _amor patriæ_. He had been a good deal aggrieved by the estimation in which he had found his native city held in other regions, and by the chaffing which he had been called on to endure on its account. One of his purposes in bringing Sir Hugo down with him had been to open his eyes, by showing him what St. Mungo’s city really was, and by proving that there were not only as wealthy citizens, but as good men and educated gentlemen within its bounds, as were to be found in or out of any city in Christendom.

Sir Hugo had not been a week in Glasgow before his volunteered recantation out-stripped the mark. He out-Heroded Herod, and went far ahead of Guy Horsburgh in his extravagant regard for Glasgow. There was no enterprise like Glasgow enterprise; there were no manufactures like Glasgow manufactures; no men and women like those of Glasgow, wherever the light of day shone.

It was only ordinary gratitude in Glasgow, especially young Glasgow, to make an idol of Sir Hugo in return, to say there never had been a ‘Prince Charming’ like him. He was so perfect a gentleman, so good-looking. He was a little of a thread-paper as yet, but that defect was mending daily since he had attained his majority; besides, the slimness stood out in agreeable relief to the early tendency to heavy weights and large outlines on the part of the city men. And nobody could refuse to grant that Sir Hugo’s clear olive skin, high nose, open forehead and peaked chin became him exceedingly. He was clever, pleasant, and high-bred. In short, he had only one fault; he was too easily pleased, too much inclined to be everybody’s body--so that his conquest, if he were conquered in a special sense, would argue rather a piece of good luck, a happy accident, than a decided choice where he was concerned, and a triumphant victory for his conqueror. But could there ever be a smaller spot on the sun?

The commotion occasioned by the advent of Sir Hugo Willoughby disturbed the equanimity of even so self-controlled a young lady as Claribel Drysdale. She was conscious of a wish to be introduced to the stranger. She studied her toilet as other Glasgow girls--competitors for his ready smiles--studied theirs. She was gratified by receiving his tribute of admiration. She listened complacently to the little meaning suggestions and half-veiled prophecies of her friend, Lady Semple.

Her ladyship had suddenly developed a capacity for match-making on Caribel’s account. It was a shame to her--Lady Semple--the matron told herself, never to have done anything of this kind on Claribel Drysdale’s behalf before. But then Lady Semple knew that Claribel looked high, while, on the other hand, it was not every gentleman in her ladyship’s circle who would care to have Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale, much as Lady Semple herself liked them in their own place, for _beau père_ and _belle mère_. However, Sir Hugo was young, and good-natured, and much in love with Glasgow already, and Lady Semple did not think Lady Willoughby--the dowager in prospect--would make any serious objection, particularly as Claribel Drysdale ought to have quite a handsome fortune, and was in all respects decidedly presentable. Lady Willoughby was too kind and reasonable, and too devoted to her son to form an insurmountable obstacle.

Of course Claribel would not have done for Dick, even if the Honourable Lilias had been out of the question, with the whole Drysdale clan, and all that was objectionable in their rusticity continually turning up. But it was a far cry to Willoughby Court; and if any of the Drysdales, except Claribel, ever found their way there, as certainly they ought to do at some time, seeing they were quite respectable people, it would simply be as birds of passage.

Yes, the match might do very well, though it would not in any circumstances have suited Dick, who had never thought of it. It might be the very thing for Sir Hugo, who, from all Lady Semple could hear, was too impulsive and heedless. He would be all the better for a wife like Clary Drysdale to look after him. She would make him an excellent wife, of whom any man in any position might he proud; and Lady Semple would be very glad to help Claribel to such a position--it would be a graceful act. Her ladyship had found her young friend a great acquisition at Semple Barns. She was exceedingly sensible, and had wonderful powers of adaptation and _savoir faire_.

Lady Semple knew she was standing in her own light, for she would miss Claribel when she was gone; but no selfish consideration ought to be suffered to spoil a young girl’s brilliant prospects. The Vaughan girls need not be disappointed, for it could not be expected that Sir Hugo would think of either of them. They were too old, had no beauty to signify, and no fortune, while their style, which might weigh with city men, was nothing to him.

Claribel Drysdale was proud and delicate-minded. She made no unbecoming advances to Sir Hugo. She vouchsafed him no further encouragement than she allowed to other men beyond the range of merchants and manufacturers; but she consented to meet him wherever he was to be met. She smiled graciously on his acceptance of an invitation to dine at Drysdale Hall, which auld Tam, not to be outdone by his neighbours, had sent Sir Hugo after calling on him. Clary’s smile was in spite of the consideration, which none of the family realized as she comprehended it, that there were halls and halls; that is to say, that Drysdale Hall and Willoughby Court should not be mentioned in the same breath.

In all this Claribel had lost sight of Eneas Mackinnon. He had slipped out of her thoughts, had been superseded by the glamour surrounding another man, who promised to fulfil the desire of the girl’s heart, the dream of her youth. Perhaps it may be said, small blame to her for it, so instantaneously, without any sign of resistance, did the Lieutenant acquiesce in her decision, and withdraw from the faintest approach to competition with his well-endowed rival. Only a shade more weariness in his weary, handsome face, and the dying out of a spark of hope--it had never been more than a spark--in his hopeless, not unkindly eyes, betokened any sense of a change in her manner, and a change in the world to him. But, after all, Claribel, with the exception of young Tam, was the least moved of any in the house by the coming of Sir Hugo.

Auld Tam had grown accustomed to ‘Sir Jeames’ as a neighbour and friend; but a fine young English baronet, said to be cousin to an earl, was a guest deserving first-rate entertainment at Drysdale Hall. It was worth while showing to him its unapproachable advantages, and the best of everything which money--its master’s earning--could procure for him. Therefore, Tam was exacting and disposed to be fussy about the feast. He interfered in the matter of the dinner, to the disgust of the trained cook and housekeeper who had been foisted on Mrs. Drysdale. He ordered and counter-ordered--sent out emissaries from Glasgow with the delicacies which were not in season, and then supplanted them by other messengers with more cates which would not go with the first. During the whole time, the man himself would have preferred green kail to turtle soup, and a ‘kipped herring’ to turbot. He changed the wines more than once, putting himself out and overturning the arrangement of his cellar. He fidgeted about the decanting and non-decanting of the bottles, their heating and cooling, with the necessity for keeping the different vintages distinct.

Mrs. Drysdale’s fine temper was as nearly ruffled as it could be. Tam might have had a little consideration for her, she said to herself. He might have thought the burden of the dinner was on her, not on him; that it was trial enough for her to face more fine folk, after she had grown accustomed to ‘Sir Jeames’ and Lady Semple, without making her miserable beforehand. She did not know what had come over Tam. He had got his own way with young Tam, and it was flying in the face of a kind Providence not to be content. She feared prosperity was wasting her Tam. She could have found it in her heart to hate this Sir Hughie--or whatever he might be called--who caused so much trouble.

But the next moment auld Eppie was sharing young Eppie’s joyous excitement about the grand young Englishman. They were deep in a happy consultation as to what flowers the two could coax from the head-gardener--almost as formidable a subordinate as Mrs. Wood--to adorn, according to the women’s pretty devices, not only the drawing-room and the dinner-table, but the picture-gallery, to which Tam always took his cherished guests before or after dinner, as the light suited. The two were like an elder and a younger sister as they ran about, for the bonnie, buxom matron was still light and active, disposing pots of ferns and azaleas, jonquils, hyacinths, and heaths, wherever the pair imagined pots could be set to advantage. If auld Tam could have seen his wife and daughter just then, all his small difficulties would have vanished, everything would have appeared right in a moment.

Young Eppie did not dispute the fiat which had originally come from Clary, that since she--Eppie--was not to be sent to school, she could not appear at dinner when there was company at Drysdale Hall till she had attained the mature age of eighteen. Eppie, like her mother, was a reasonable, submissive being, unless when her affections made her stand at bay. She was perfectly well pleased only to be seen in the drawing-room with the tea and coffee, where, she said, Sir James and Lady Semple would speak to her, and maybe Mr. Horsburgh and ‘Captain Mackinnon,’ for she had seen them before, with any of the other ladies and gentlemen she knew. But she did not expect to be introduced to Sir Hugo Willoughby, for Clary would want him to hand her cup and turn over her music; besides, if he were so very grand, she--Eppie--could not tell what to say to him; she would be frightened out of her wits.

Guy Horsburgh, knowing something of the host and his ways, made an appointment with Tam at his office, and asked him to drive out the two young men to Drysdale Hall in time to see the stables and offices, which were in Sir Hugo’s line.

Naturally, Tam complied with excellent grace, and he had been enabled to discourse, _con amore_, on his outward possessions for three-quarters of an hour before the gentleman entered the house.

Sir Hugo had listened, admired, been interested, been bored, been tolerant, felt that a great deal of trouble was being taken on his account; and thought that Horsburgh had brought it on them, for he himself hated to give trouble. Sir Hugo wished that he had not to suspect the old gentleman--Tam, in his prime, seemed a veteran to the lad, little over twenty--was not blowing his own trumpet. But very likely his cattle and so forth were his hobby. It was not only soldiers and sailors, but men of every calling--tinkers and tailors, too, he dared say--who delighted to turn Cincinnatus when they got the opportunity. He supposed farm-buildings and stables were in his line, but he would rather have seen the dye-works; only, if he had to be shown by demonstration that there were no such vats in the country as the Drysdale Hall vats, and had each appraised at its proper value--well, it was a trifle tedious, begging the old gentleman’s pardon, and he would not broach the subject, but would hold everybody excused for the omission.