CHAPTER XVII.

My own flesh and blood to rebel !

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

THE Antelope entered the port at an early hour in the morning, and in the afternoon of the same day Arthur presented himself at Mr. Middleton's door. An interview between the two was unavoidable, in order that Arthur should report to his uncle the information in his power, relative to the mercantile transactions in which he had been engaged for Mr. Middleton's service; as also to account for his protracted absence, and the fate of his vessel the Jessy. This duty performed, it was Arthur's intention to set sail for his native country on the first opportunity,

In answer to Ashmont's request to know if his uncle were at home and willing to see him, the swarthy in dividual who appeared at the door, immediately put on what is usually, called by our neighbours, the French, a "visage d'évènement ;" and indeed it must be confessed, though they are our natural enemies, wę have no phrase that so well renders the peculiar expression of physiognomy it denotes.

"Sahib no be seen now," said the man.

"Is your master at tiffin?" said Arthur.

"No, Sahib no eat tiffin now."

"What! not eat tiffin? He is ill then, I fear."

"No, Sahib no ill, yet no eat tiffin. He stay in room all day, he cry sometimes, he oftener get in rage, he no see nobody."

"What is the meaning of this? Has any accident occurred? Are his daughters well?"

"Miss Jane, Miss Louisa quite well; me can't tell how Miss Anne do, because not here; so massa cry and rage."

"And where is Miss Middleton ?" said Arthur.

"Me can't tell. She run off yesterday with Colonel Maton."

"Miss Middleton eloped with Colonel Maton! And when did this occur?"

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Yesterday! and ever since Massa cry and rage, and no eat tiffin any more."

On receiving this information Arthur retreated, with the resolution of requesting an interview with his uncle, by letter, on the following morning; when the ebullition of feeling, which appeared by the servants account to prevail, might possibly have subsided.

This Colonel Maton was a young officer who had long been attached to Anne Middleton, and who was one of the six whom Mr. Middleton boasted of having rejected for her. His reasons for including that gentleman in his veto were totally inexplicable; for, not only was he unexceptionable as to character and sta. tion, but was also likely to remain in India for an indefinite period. Caprice alone had determined his

rejection; as, indeed, it usually did most other matters of which Mr. Middleton had the direction.

On inquiry of his acquaintances in Bombay, into the circumstances of the case, it appeared that, shortly after Arthur's departure, and in consequence of his quarrel with his uncle, whose anger and unmeasured language had given complete publicity to the circumstances of it, Colonel Maton, in the hope that pique, or resentment, or some other equally adequate reason, might have operated a change in his favour in Mr. Middleton's sentiments, took that opportunity of renewing his proposals for his daughter's hand, being fully empowered by the lady to do so. But on this occasion, Mr. Middleton's bad passions would not serve his turn, and the lover was rejected as unceremoniously as before. Colonel Maton, indignant at this treatment, determined no longer to be the sport of such injustice and caprice, and prevailed upon Anne to consent to a private and clandestine union. Measures were taken accordingly, and the day preceding that on which Ashmont arrived had been selected for the marriage to take place. Anne Middleton left a letter for her father, imploring his forgiveness for the step she had taken, and confessing her long preference for the man she had chosen; at the same time reminding him that she was now no longer a child, but fully competent to judge of that which was most likely to contribute to her future happiness; adding that in her husband her father must gain a dutiful son, and would not lose an affectionate daughter.

This letter, instead of appeasing her father's wrath, or even of softening his displeasure, had the contrary effect of inflaming both. Accustomed to rule in his own house with a despot's sway, to consider his daughters as slaves, only a little less humble than the hummuntoos, rhamaswanees, kissinchumdtis, &c. &c. &c., with which his dwelling was peopled,-to be braved by these same daughters, whom he considered as created for his especial convenience, was considerably more than his irascible temper could endure, and for a while his rage was so great that few of his servants dared approach him. Arthur's visit having occurred during the continuance of the paroxysm, the khitmutgar whom he addressed, would not run the risk of ac quainting his master with his arrival at such a moment, and therefore wisely affirmed that "Sahib no see nobody."

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On the following day Arthur despatched a note to his uncle, acquainting him with his return, and requesting the favour of an interview. To this communication he received a laconic verbal answer in the affirmative.

He had hardly entered his uncle's room, in obedience to the summons, than Mr. Middleton, manifesting a feverish anxiety to tell the news and to obtain the solace of a condolence, apparently forgetful of the difference, that existed between him and his nephew, broke out into mingled accents of anger, provocation, and annoyance.

"Have you heard what has happened? Anne, my daughter Anne

"I am acquainted with the circumstance," answered Arthur.

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Well, and would you have believed it possible? My daughter Anne! By Jove! Upon my soul it is too bad-there's no parallel to it! At her age too; not like a child of sixteen. My daughter Anne is three-and-thirty if she is a day! To run off with a rapscallion in uniform! I hate the fellow !"

Unwilling to enter on the subject of his cousin's delinquency, Arthur here profited by a momentary pause to mention the subject of his visit; but he was quickly cut short by his uncle bursting out

"Don't plague me with a long story about the Jessy and Hawkins now; I don't care a `fig for either one or the other. I have not half done with this confounded runaway."

“I was anxious," said Arthur," to change the conversation; in the conviction that, as the subject was one in which I am not implicated, and which must necessarily be highly disagreeable to you~”

"Disagreeable to me! to be sure it is dsh disagreeable to me, or how should it be otherwise? But you are a pretty fellow to talk of not being implicated in this business-the whole business is your fault."

Arthur began to think his uncle had lost his reason with his temper.

"Yes, your fault; you need not stare. If you had chosen to marry her, instead of pinning your faith upon an English Miss, all this would not have happened."

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