It was one of his
first visits to a theatre, against which places of
entertainment he had a strong prejudice; and his
innocent, pompous talk, innocent old quotations, and
innocent reverence for the character of Hawkshaw
delighted me beyond relief. In charity to myself, I
dwell upon and perhaps exaggerate my pleasures. I have
need of all conceivable excuses, when I confess that I
went to bed without one word upon the matter of
Carthew, but not without having covenanted with my
rascal for a visit to Chester the next day. At Chester
we did the Cathedral, walked on the walls, discussed
Shakespeare and the musical glasses--and made a fresh
engagement for the morrow. I do not know, and I am
glad to have forgotten, how long these travels were
continued. We visited at least, by singular zigzags,
Stratford, Warwick, Coventry, Gloucester, Bristol,
Bath, and Wells. At each stage we spoke dutifully of
the scene and its associations; I sketched, the Shyster
spouted poetry and copied epitaphs. Who could doubt we
were the usual Americans, travelling with a design of
self-improvement? Who was to guess that one was a
blackmailer, trembling to approach the scene of action-
-the other a helpless, amateur detective, waiting on
events?
It is unnecessary to remark that none occurred, or none
the least suitable with my design of protecting
Carthew.
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