Chapter XIV

Scythrop was still in this position when Raven entered to announce

that dinner was on table.

'I cannot come,' said Scythrop.

Raven sighed. 'Something is the matter,' said Raven: 'but man is born

to trouble.'

'Leave me,' said Scythrop: 'go, and croak elsewhere.'

'Thus it is,' said Raven. 'Five-and-twenty years have I lived in

Nightmare Abbey, and now all the reward of my affection is--Go, and

croak elsewhere. I have danced you on my knee, and fed you with

marrow.'

'Good Raven,' said Scythrop, 'I entreat you to leave me.'

'Shall I bring your dinner here?' said Raven. 'A boiled fowl and

a glass of Madeira are prescribed by the faculty in cases of low

spirits. But you had better join the party: it is very much reduced

already.'

'Reduced! how?'

'The Honourable Mr Listless is gone. He declared that, what with

family quarrels in the morning, and ghosts at night, he could get

neither sleep nor peace; and that the agitation was too much for his

nerves: though Mr Glowry assured him that the ghost was only poor Crow

walking in his sleep, and that the shroud and bloody turban were a

sheet and a red nightcap.'

'Well, sir?'

'The Reverend Mr Larynx has been called off on duty, to marry or bury

(I don't know which) some unfortunate person or persons, at Claydyke:

but man is born to trouble!'

'Is that all?'

'No. Mr Toobad is gone too, and a strange lady with him.'

'Gone!'

'Gone. And Mr and Mrs Hilary, and Miss O'Carroll: they are all gone.

There is nobody left but Mr Asterias and his son, and they are going

to-night.'

'Then I have lost them both.'

'Won't you come to dinner?'

'No.'

'Shall I bring your dinner here?'

'Yes.'

'What will you have?'

'A pint of port and a pistol.'[14]

'A pistol!'

'And a pint of port. I will make my exit like Werter. Go. Stay. Did

Miss O'Carroll say any thing?'

'No.'

'Did Miss Toobad say any thing?'

'The strange lady? No.'

'Did either of them cry?'

'No.'

'What did they do?'

'Nothing.'

'What did Mr Toobad say?'

'He said, fifty times over, the devil was come among us.'

'And they are gone?'

'Yes; and the dinner is getting cold. There is a time for every

thing under the sun. You may as well dine first, and be miserable

afterwards.'

'True, Raven. There is something in that. I will take your advice:

therefore, bring me----'

'The port and the pistol?'

'No; the boiled fowl and Madeira.'

Scythrop had dined, and was sipping his Madeira alone, immersed in

melancholy musing, when Mr Glowry entered, followed by Raven, who,

having placed an additional glass and set a chair for Mr Glowry,

withdrew. Mr Glowry sat down opposite Scythrop. After a pause, during

which each filled and drank in silence, Mr Glowry said, 'So, sir,

you have played your cards well. I proposed Miss Toobad to you: you

refused her. Mr Toobad proposed you to her: she refused you. You fell

in love with Marionetta, and were going to poison yourself, because,

from pure fatherly regard to your temporal interests, I withheld my

consent. When, at length, I offered you my consent, you told me I was

too precipitate. And, after all, I find you and Miss Toobad living

together in the same tower, and behaving in every respect like two

plighted lovers. Now, sir, if there be any rational solution of all

this absurdity, I shall be very much obliged to you for a small

glimmering of information.'

'The solution, sir, is of little moment; but I will leave it in

writing for your satisfaction. The crisis of my fate is come: the

world is a stage, and my direction is exit.'

'Do not talk so, sir;--do not talk so, Scythrop. What would you have?'

'I would have my love.'

'And pray, sir, who is your love?'

'Celinda--Marionetta--either--both.'

'Both! That may do very well in a German tragedy; and the Great Mogul

might have found it very feasible in his lodgings at Kensington; but

it will not do in Lincolnshire. Will you have Miss Toobad?'

'Yes.'

'And renounce Marionetta?'

'No.'

'But you must renounce one.'

'I cannot.'

'And you cannot have both. What is to be done?'

'I must shoot myself.'

'Don't talk so, Scythrop. Be rational, my dear Scythrop. Consider, and

make a cool, calm choice, and I will exert myself in your behalf.'

'Why should I choose, sir? Both have renounced me: I have no hope of

either.'

'Tell me which you will have, and I will plead your cause

irresistibly.'

'Well, sir,--I will have--no, sir, I cannot renounce either. I

cannot choose either. I am doomed to be the victim of eternal

disappointments; and I have no resource but a pistol.'

'Scythrop--Scythrop;--if one of them should come to you--what then?'

'That, sir, might alter the case: but that cannot be.'

'It can be, Scythrop; it will be: I promise you it will be. Have but a

little patience--but a week's patience; and it shall be.'

'A week, sir, is an age: but, to oblige you, as a last act of

filial duty, I will live another week. It is now Thursday evening,

twenty-five minutes past seven. At this hour and minute, on Thursday

next, love and fate shall smile on me, or I will drink my last pint of

port in this world.'

Mr Glowry ordered his travelling chariot, and departed from the abbey.

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