Fearing he might be inconvenienced from want of money—having heard him say, at their first meeting on Westminster Bridge, that he had none—the worthy stonemason, with great consideration, volunteered to lend him five pounds, on the simple understanding that this sum was to be repaid when Walter had earned so much wages.
Thus amply provided with funds, Walter sallied forth after breakfast to make a few necessary purchases preparatory to entering upon the situation, should he obtain it—and telling Mrs Hartley what to say to Mr. Tankard, in case that obliging person should call during his absence.
His first business was to seek out a hair-dresser's shop; and, hearing there were several in the Lambeth Road, he went thither.
He had not proceeded far, when he came to an establishment that bore the nameSigebert Smart, in large gilt letters, above the window, and promised all he desired.
Entering the shop, he perceived two persons—one a showy-looking female, stationed behind a counter laden with pots of pomade, flacons of oil, brushes, sponges, and perfumery; the other, a dapper, fair-complexioned young man, with his blonde hair brushed back from his forehead.
This was Sigebert Smart in person. Having been for a year in Paris, at a large shop in the Rue St. Honoré, he considered himself perfectly versed in all the arts and mysteries of a French coiffeur, and incomparably superior to any of his rivals in the Lambeth Road.
Walter thought the hairdresser stared at him rather inquisitively as he entered the shop; but the man's manner was perfectly polite, and, on learning his customer's requirements, he begged him to step into an inner room, communicating by a glass-door with the shop.
“Pray be seated, sir!” said Sigebert, pointing to a well-stuffed arm-chair. “Shaved, I think you said, sir?”
“Shaved!” repeated Walter.
“Before taking the irreparable step,” said Sigebert, placing himself in front of his customer, and regarding him steadfastly, “let me ask if you have reflected?”
“What d'ye mean?” cried Walter, staring at him in surprise.
“Excuse me, sir,” rejoined the hairdresser, “but have you positively determined to part with that magnificent beard?”
“I don't like to lose it, I confess,” replied Walter. “But I have no choice.”
“That's hard. Never in my experience have I beheld a finer beard, nor better grown. I shall be loth to cut it.”
“You are pleased to compliment me,” said Walter.
“It is not my habit, sir, I assure you. Generally I am frank to a fault.Apropos des barbes, I will tell you a curious story. A gentleman called here last evening, and inquired whether a very tall young man, dressed in a grey tweed suit, exactly like yours, sir, and having a particularly handsome brown beard, the very ditto of yours, sir, lodged in the Lambeth Road, or hereabouts. I told him I had not remarked any such person; but you, sir, answer precisely to the description. Strange you should put in an appearance next day!”
“That's why you stared at me so hard when I entered the shop?” cried Walter.
“Couldn't help it, sir. Quite startled.”
“And now for a description of the individual who has taken the liberty to inquire about me?” said Walter.
“Tall, thin, sharp features; long, straight nose; professional-looking,” replied Sigebert.
“I know him,” said Walter. “I saw him yesterday.”
“At Lambeth Pier; he said he caught sight of you there. He appears most anxious to find you, and has been making inquiries about you in the neighbourhood.”
“Did he mention any name?”
“No; he was exceedingly reserved on that point. But I think he'll call again.”
“I've no especial desire to see him. But now to work.”
“Must I really commit this outrage?” cried Sige-bert, flourishing his scissors. “My soul revolts at the deed.”
Walter, however, insisted, and, in a very few minutes, his luxuriant beard had vanished, and his cheeks and chin were perfectly smooth.
He had just got up from the arm-chair, when the glass-door opened, and a tall man came in.
“You have found your friend at last, sir,” cried Sigebert, on beholding him. “I suppose my wife told you he was here?”
“She did,” replied the other.
Walter, however, did not seem willing to acknowledge the intruder as a friend, but drew himself up, and regarded him sternly—almost angrily.
“Perhaps I had better retire, gentlemen,” said Sigebert. “You may wish to have a little private converse.”
With this, he went out, but we rather fancy the door was left slightly ajar.
“How is it that you have presumed to follow me about in this way?” asked Walter, in an offended tone.
“You must forgive me, sir. I saw you yesterday, and have searched for you here to-day. It is my earnest desire to induce you to return to your relatives and friends. They feared something terrible had happened to you.”
“They need not trouble themselves about me,” rejoined Walter. “I shall not trouble myself about them.”
“But I have certain propositions to make to you.”
“I reject all propositions. It is useless to talk to me.”
“I have, also, a sum of money at your disposal. Will you not receive it?”
“If it comes from a particular quarter, and as an allowance, no!”
“Permit me to say, sir,” remarked the tall gentleman in a grave tone, “that you are acting very injudiciously, and are throwing away a great piece of good fortune. All can be easily put to rights if you will only allow me to do it. And there are many other advantages that might accrue to you, to which I cannot now more particularly advert.”
“I am the best judge of what concerns myself, sir.”
“I don't think so,” rejoined the other. “You seem obstinately bent upon pursuing a wrong course. Have you any debts?”
“None!”
“Any liabilities?”
“None!”
“Then why not assume your proper position? You will have every aid. I understand your objections, and though I deem them ridiculous, I shall not attempt to combat them at this moment. But there are friends willing and anxious to assist you. Amongst others,” he added, lowering his voice, “Sir Bridgnorth Charlton.”
“Sir Bridgnorth is an excellent man—one in a thousand!”
“Then you cannot distrust him?”
“I do not distrust him! On the contrary, I have entire confidence in him! He is a gentleman and a man of honour!”
“Let him have the management of your affairs.”
“Do you come from Sir Bridgnorth?”
“Sir Bridgnorth is not certain you are alive. He fears you have committed suicide. It will be a great satisfaction to him and several others to learn that you have not executed your fell purpose.”
“Suffer them to remain in ignorance. I would rather they supposed me dead. Keep this secret for me, I beg of you. It is the sole favour you can do me. I will reappear at the proper time.”
“But, meanwhile, you will make several persons very unhappy—your sister, who has the greatest affection for you, as I can testify—and Miss Barfleur.”
“Miss Barfleur!” exclaimed Walter, starting. “She has no interest in me.”
“You are mistaken,” replied the other. “Sir Leycester Barfleur having recently died, she is now a great heiress.”
“The very reason why she should not think of me.”
“Don't despair! Make your appearance!”
“I have said I will appear at the proper time—not before.”
“Won't you give me any idea of your projects?”
“No.”
“Do you want money? I am ready to advance it to you.”
“I want none.”
“Then our interview is at an end.”
“Once more, I must ask you not to mention that you have seen me.”
“I cannot consent to keep those persons who are attached to you in doubt—nor ought you to ask it. If, for reasons of your own, you choose to live in concealment and under a feigned name, however I may regret your determination, I shall not attempt to interfere with it. But I am persuaded you will speedily change your mind.”
“If I do, I'll write to you.”
“No; write to Sir Bridgnorth. He is searching for you. He ought to have a letter. Address him at the 'Grosvenor Hotel.' He is now in town.”
“I will do it. Before we separate, give me your word that you won't follow me, nor attempt to find out my abode. You will gain nothing by the discovery.”
“I give you my word,” replied the other. “Enough,” said Walter. “I thank you heartily for the trouble you have taken about me. Adieu!”
On issuing forth into the shop, Walter found the hairdresser standing rather suspiciously near the glass-door. But he seemed to have some employment at the counter. Walter, however, could not help remarking that Sigebert's manner towards him seemed more respectful than it had been.
As he received payment for the task he had performed, the hairdresser exclaimed:
“Ah, sir, I fear you'll regret the loss of your beard. Your best friend wouldn't recognise you—you're so much changed. But don't lay the blame on me. I did my best to dissuade you.”
As he bowed the young man out, he looked after him for a moment, and saw that he proceeded towards the bridge, whereupon the wily Sigebert made a significant gesture to his wife as he returned.
At this juncture, the tall, professional-looking gentleman came forth, and having nothing to pay, merely offered his thanks as he went out.
A hansom cab chancing to pass at the moment, he immediately got into it, and ordered the driver to go to the “Grosvenor Hotel.”
Meanwhile, Sigebert, having divested himself of his apron and put on a hat, nodded to his wife, and followed Walter, who was not yet out of sight—his tall figure rendering him easily distinguishable.
On his way back, Walter stopped at a large linen-draper's shop to purchase some shirts and other articles, never dreaming he was followed by Sigebert. Having provided himself with all he required, and given orders where the parcel should be sent, he proceeded on his course.
Not till he had fairly housed him did the hairdresser discontinue the quest, and he then hovered near the spot for some time.
There was a mystery about Walter that greatly excited Sigebert's curiosity, and he determined to unravel it.
“Why, what have you done with your beard, sir?” cried Mrs. Hartley, as Walter entered the house.
“Left it at the hairdresser's!” he replied, with a laugh.
“Well, I can't say your appearance is much improved. I wish Rose had seen you as you were.”
“What! has your daughter come back?” cried Walter.
“No; but I expect her very shortly. She has been at Harrow-on-the-Hill, on a visit, as I think I told you, and I've just got a letter from her, telling me she will return to-day. 'Father must meet me at Lambeth Pier at noon, and carry my carpet-bag'—that's what she says; but I don't think he'll be back in time.”
“Well, I'll meet her, and carry the carpet-bag, with the greatest pleasure!” said Walter.
“But you won't know her.”
“Describe her, and I shall. Not very tall, I suppose?”
“Not very—rather short.”
“Pretty figure?”
“I think so.”
“Blooming complexion?”
“Odd you should guess that. Well, she has a pink complexion.”
“That's why you call her Rose. What sort of eyes?—black, blue, grey, or nondescript?”
“I never heard of nondescript eyes. Rose's are light blue. But how stupid I am! Here's her photograph. Very like her it is.”
“And a very pretty girl it represents,” replied Walter, examining it. “You might have said a great deal more in her praise without being charged with maternal vanity. Having seen this, I can make no mistake.”
“Not easily; for she wears the same blue serge dress, and the same hat. I'm sorry you'll lose your room, but we'll find a bed for you.”
“Oh, it can't be helped!” he cried, affecting an indifference he did not feel. “Pray has Mr. Tankard been here to-day?”
“I've seen nothing of him as yet,” she replied.
“Well, then, I'll be off. I'll soon bring your daughter back to you.”
“Dear me, how surprised she'll be!” cried Mrs. Hartley. “She'll wonder who you are.”
“Don't be afraid. I'll explain matters.”
As Walter went forth, he noticed a stout ash-plant hanging up in the passage, and took it with him—very fortunately, as it turned out.
Pleased with the task he had undertaken, he marched along quickly, and did not remark that Sigebert, who had seen him come out, was on his track.
A boat had just landed its passengers as Walter reached the pier, but he saw no one among them bearing the slightest resemblance to the pretty damsel he was looking for. However, it was not yet twelve o'clock.
About a quarter of an hour later on, another steamboat could be seen crossing the river; and on a near approach of the vessel, the deck not being crowded, he easily made out Rose.
Her photograph did not do her justice. She was even handsomer than he anticipated, and her good looks had evidently gained her the unwelcome attentions of a young but dissipated-looking individual, who was standing near her.
This person, whose looks, gait, dress, and manner showed that he belonged to the Turf, was well known to Walter, and with good reason, since he had won large sums of money from him. The young man's name was Romney; and though he contrived to hold up his head in the betting-ring, he was not in very good repute, and was regarded as a blackleg. Walter held him in detestation, for he mainly attributed his ruin to him.
Though he must have perceived that his attentions were annoying to Rose, Romney did not discontinue them, but became more impertinently assiduous as the boat neared the pier, and seemed determined not to part with her.
Rose looked out anxiously for her father, but could not discover him, nor did she perceive any person she knew, or whose protection she could claim.
Stepping on shore before her, Romney offered her his hand, but she refused to take it, and his proposal to carry her bag was peremptorily declined.
At this juncture, Walter came up, and pushing the intruder forcibly aside, bade him begone, and no longer molest the young lady.
“What business have you to interfere?” cried Romney, furiously. “Who are you? Do you know him?” he added, to Rose.
“I never saw the gentleman before,” she rejoined. “But I am greatly obliged by his assistance.”
“Gentleman!” echoed Romney, scornfully. “He doesn't deserve the term!”
“Blackleg and scoundrel!” vociferated Walter. “Do you dare to speak thus of one you have cheated and plundered?”
And seizing him by the throat, he applied the ash-plant vigorously to his shoulders.
No one attempted to interfere; and when Romney was released, he made himself scarce as soon as he could; perceiving, from the observations that reached his ears, that the feeling of the bystanders was decidedly against him. He was followed by Sigebert, who had witnessed the encounter, and determined to have a word with him.
Meanwhile, Rose had found another protector. Mr. Tankard had come up, and was standing with her at a short distance. He had given her all needful explanation respecting Walter; and when the latter joined them, after the scuffle, she said to him:
“I never imagined you came from our house, Mr. Liddel. You have really done me a great service. But how on earth did you know me? I never remember seeing you before.”
“I don't suppose you ever did,” he replied. “I knew you from the photograph your mother showed me when I offered to go and meet you at the pier, in place of your father.”
“Well, I declare, thatiscurious!” she cried.
“And I promised to carry your carpet-bag; but Mr. Tankard, I'm sure, is too gallant to surrender it.”
“Quite right,” replied the other. “I'm proud to be of use to Miss Rose. I was just coming to call upon you, Mr. Liddel. I've been to Belgrave Square, and have got you the situation. I saw Mr. Higgins, the butler, and he says you're to enter upon your duties the day after to-morrow.”
“Quite soon enough,” remarked Walter, laughing.
“There's something about the livery that I have to tell you; but that will do by-and-by,” added Tankard.
“Dear me, Mr. Liddel!” exclaimed Rose, raising her finely-arched eyebrows in surprise; “you're not going to wear a livery, are you?”
“Livery and powder,” supplied Tankard.
“Impossible!” exclaimed Rose.
“No; it's too true,” said Walter.
By this time they had reached the house. Rose rushed in, and was welcomed by her mother with kisses and embraces.
A remarkably neat, but rather plump, figure, comely features, brilliant complexion, sparkling eyes, nut-brown hair and particularly small feet, constituted the sum total of her charms; and she had considerably more than fall to the lot of nine girls out of ten.
Rose was puzzled upon one point. She could not exactly understand how Walter had found his way to her father's house; and her mother did not care to enlighten her. However, his appearance and manner pleased her, and she felt sure she should soon learn all about him.
“Mr. Tankard.” said Mrs. Hartley, “I must get you to help us out of a difficulty.”
“With the greatest pleasure, my dear madam, if it lies in my power.”
“I needn't tell you our accommodation is very limited; and now Rose has returned, I fear——”
“I know what you are going to say,” interrupted Tankard. “You wish Mr. Liddel to have a bed at my house. I expected the request, and am, luckily, able to comply with it. Heshallhave a room.”
“Upon my word, Mr. Tankard, I'm very much obliged to you,” said Walter.
“Not in the least,” rejoined Tankard. “But we must have a merry meeting to-night, Mrs. Hartley. You must all come and sup with me. Mr. Higgins, Lady Thicknesse's butler, has promised to give the pleasure of his company; and, since Miss Rose has returned, I'll ask Harry Netterville, of Gray's Inn, as I'm well aware she likes the society of that amiable and agreeable young man.”
“Pray don't ask Mr. Netterville on my account, Mr Tankard!” observed Rose, with affected indifference. “I'm not particularly anxious to meet him.”
Mr. Tankard, however, knew better; and said that as soon as he got back, he would send off a note to the young gentleman in question. Mr. Netterville, he explained to Walter, belonged to the legal profession, being clerk to an eminent solicitor in Gray's Inn.
“And now, Mr. Liddel, I must take you with me,” said Tankard. “I've got some arrangements to make with you. If we don't meet before,” he added to Rose and her mother, “I shall see you all at nine this evening—that's understood.”
Rose would have preferred Walter remaining a little longer, but as he promised to come round in the course of the afternoon, she felt quite reconciled to his departure.
Mr. Tankard first took his companion to the shop of Mr. Pledger Dapp, in the York Road. Mr. Dapp, as we have said, was a pastrycook and confectioner, and the numerous good things on the counter looked very tempting at that hour.
Mr. Dapp was delighted to see them, insisted on serving each with a basin of mock-turtle soup, and stood beside them while they discussed it at a small table at the further end of the room.
“Well, is all satisfactorily settled, may I inquire, Mr. Liddel?” he said.
“Yes; all's settled, Dapp,” said Tankard, answering for his friend. “The very livery is ready!”
“Indeed!” cried Walter, looking up in surprise. “Has it appeared by magic?”
“I've not yet had time to enter into details,” rejoined Tankard; “but when I saw Higgins this morning, he told me Lady Thicknesse had left the arrangements entirely to him, so we had only to talk them over together; and it was then agreed that he should come to my house this evening, where he could have an opportunity of meeting you, and judge for himself, though he entertained no doubt, from description, that you would suit.”
“So far good,” remarked Walter. “But about the livery?”
“You shall hear,” replied the other. “It seems that Charles Brownlow, the late footman, who was as near as possible your height and figure, was discharged at a moment's notice for impertinence. His livery, no doubt, will fit you.”
“But has he worn it?” cried Walter.
“No; it has not been delivered. Higgins will order the suit to be sent to me, so that you can try it in the evening, and we can judge of the effect.”
“A capital plan,” laughed Dapp.
“A dress rehearsal, in fact,” said Walter. “Well, it may be useful.”
“No doubt you'll play your part to perfection,” said Tankard.
“I shall see how I like it myself,” rejoined Walter. “This is why you've invited the party to supper, I conclude?”
“Exactly,” replied Tankard, laughing. “You've divined my purpose. By-the-by, Dapp, you must send me a good supper to-night—a very good supper, mind!”
“For how many guests?”
“A dozen; and make one of them yourself. That'll keep you up to the mark.
“I'll give you a supper worthy of the 'Silver Tankard,'” replied Dapp. “At what hour shall it be?
“Ten o'clock precisely. Direct Larkins to send me some flowers—cut flowers; and tell him to come, too. We'll do the thing in style.”
“Nothing shall be neglected. I know how particular you are,” replied Dapp. “But won't you take one of these?” he added, placing a dish of pates before them.
Just then he was obliged to leave his friends to attend to some customers. When a couple of pates had been devoured, Tankard and his companion arose, and quitted the shop.
“Who is that tall young man?” remarked one of the customers at the counter.
“Mr. Walter Liddel,” replied Dapp.
“I don't think that's the name,” said the individual. “I've heard it before, and feel almost certain it's not Liddel.”
Dapp made no remark at the time; but he afterwards pondered a little upon the matter.
“He's a very singular fellow, that Walter Liddel,” he thought. “I expect he'll turn out a Claimant of some sort, or he may be a dook in disguise. Shouldn't wonder.”
Mr. Tankard's establishment was larger and handsomer than Walter expected to find it. In the windows there was a very good display of china and glass, and the shop was tolerably spacious.
Mrs. Tankard, to whom he at once was presented, and who received him very kindly, was still goodlooking, though somewhat on the wane; but she was sharp and intelligent, and evidently very well able to attend to the business in her husband's absence.
The Tankards had an only son—an only child, we ought to say. Tom Tankard was a much smarter man than his father, and much more self-important. Like his father, he had a sobriquet, and was called “Cool Tankard.” Tom ought to have attended strictly to the shop; but being allowed to do pretty much as he liked, as a natural consequence he did little or nothing.
Tom was not handsome. On the contrary, he was decidedly an ugly dog. Short, fat, snub-nosed, round-faced, he had deep-seated, grey eyes, and these had a cunning, though rather comic, expression. His pink cheeks were totally destitute of whisker, and his whity-brown hair was cut extremely short.
A brown Newmarket coat was buttoned over his broad chest, but his shoulders were out of proportion with his spindling legs, which were cased in very tight trousers.
Nevertheless, Tom was a smart fellow in his way, though rather loud in his style, and exceedingly particular about the flaming colour of his tie and the size of his gold pin.
Now and then he used to drive in the Park when he could afford to hire a drag, and took some smart young ladies with him. More than once he had ridden at the Croydon Steeple-chases, and he occasionally contrived to attend a meet of the Surrey hounds.
Tom chanced to be in the shop when Walter came in with his father, and, being struck by his appearance, condescended to pay him some attention.
Mr. Tankard lost no time in informing his wife that Mr. Liddel would occupy a bed in the house for a night or two; and then went on to explain that he had invited a few friends for the evening, and had directed Pledger Dapp to send in a little supper—thinking it would save trouble.
Mrs. Tankard received the intelligence with great good nature, and Tom was told to take Mr. Liddel up-stairs and show him the spare room, which proved to be a very neat little chamber.
They were still talking together, when Mr. Tankard came up with a large brown-paper parcel, and, deeming it advisable to mystify his son, winked at Walter, to let him into his plan, and then said to the hopeful youth:
“Do you know, Tom, Mr. Liddel is going to a fancy dress ball?”
“How jolly!” exclaimed Tom. “What costume?”
“As a footman,” replied old Tankard. “Here's his dress.”
“As a footman!” exclaimed Tom, with a droll expression. “Jeames of Buckley Square—or Chawles. Well, he's just the figure for one of those gentry. Is he going to the ball to-night?”
“No; but I've persuaded him to appear in private at my little party this evening, that we may see how he looks.”
“Oh! he can't fail to look well,” said Tom, somewhat sarcastically. “But let's see the dress, guv'nor. Beg pardon, Mr. Liddel! I ought to have asked your permission.”
“Oh, don't stand on any ceremony with me, I beg!” cried Walter.
The parcel was then opened, and a very handsome suit of livery produced. There was likewise another rather smaller parcel inside.
“Here's a gorgeous coat! here's a brilliant pair of plooshes!” exclaimed Tom, holding up the latter. “You'll look uncommon well in these, Mr. Liddel.”
“No doubt he will,” said Mr. Tankard. “But no more of your chaff, sir.”
The smaller parcel was then opened, and was found to contain a pair of thin shoes, buckles, silk stockings, shirt, and white cravat.
“I was going to put you in mind, Mr. Liddel,” observed Tankard, “that you'd want several articles to rig you out completely—but here they all are. I dare say the shoes will fit you.”
“I'm certain of it,” replied Walter, examining them.
“Another thing mustn't be forgotten, Mr. Liddel,” said Tom. “Since you're going to appear as Jeames, or Chawles, you'll want your 'air powderin'. I'll get you acoiffeur. When will you have him?”
“Not till evening,” replied Walter.
“Very good,” said Tom. “He shall be here at eight.”
“Now, go down to the shop, Tom,” cried Mr. Tankard. “Send off a note at once to Harry Netterville, and ask him to supper. Consult your mother, and if she approves, ask Mrs. Tripp and Clotilde, Mrs. Sicklemore and Flora, or anybody else agreeable to her, but don't exceed half a dozen, for we have got five or six already.
“Counting Harry Netterville?”
“No; not counting him.”
“You've seen Rose Hartley, of course, Mr. Liddel?” cried Tom. “Sweet girl, ain't she? Harry Netterville is rather smitten in that quarter.'
“Then give him the chance of meeting her,” said his father.
Thereupon Tom disappeared.
After an early dinner with the Tankards, Walter betook himself to Spencer's Rents, and saw Rose, who was alone in the little parlour. Evidently she regarded him with more interest than she had done.
“My mother has told me all about you, Mr. Liddel,” she said, “at least, all she knows, and I feel exceedingly sorry for you. But I hope all will soon be right. I am neither old enough nor wise enough to give you advice, nor is it right or proper for me to do so, but I am sorry you are thinking of becoming a footman. I feel quite sure you are a gentleman—”
“I have been one,” interrupted Walter. “But I have no money, and must do something. The offer was made me, and I accepted it. Any honest employment is respectable.”
“So it is, undoubtedly. What I fear is that you may hereafter regret having taken the step.”
“I can leave if I don't like the employment. But I must say you talk very sensibly, Miss Rose. I wish I had had such a counsellor a year or two ago, before I committed my worst follies.”
“You wouldn't have listened to me,” she replied, shaking her head.
“I don't know—I might have done. But your remarks seem to produce some salutary effect upon me, and that is more than I could say of myself formerly.”
“Then you are improved by misfortune.”
“In some respects, I think I am. But there is considerable room for further improvement.”
“Mr. Liddel, I am convinced you have a great deal of good in you. Only do yourself justice.”
“I will try,” he replied. “But how is it, I must again ask, that you, who are so young, are able to give such sensible advice?”
“I have a good mother,” she replied.
At this very moment Mrs. Hartley came into the room.
“I hope you heard what was said of you, ma'am?” observed Walter. “Your daughter has just been telling me how much she owes you.”
“I owe quite as much to her,” cried the good dame, affectionately. “She is the joy of the house, and I don't know what I shall do when I lose her. But I suppose I must make up my mind to it one of these days.”
“Not yet, dearest mother,” said Rose.
“I suppose we shall meet the fortunate individual this evening?” observed Walter. “Mr. Harry Netterville, eh?”
“Yes, that's the name; and a very nice young fellow he is,” replied Mrs. Hartley. “I only wish he was a little richer.”
“Well, we must wait contentedly till he becomes so,” sighed Rose. “Poverty and happiness don't go together in married life.”
“Again I must compliment you on your good sense, Miss Rose,” remarked Walter.
“That's one of my mother's maxims,” she rejoined. “But don't call meMissRose, please. After the service you rendered me this morning, I shall always regard you as a friend, and so will Harry!”
“I think I told you that Romney, the insolent fellow by whom you were affronted, was one of those who mainly contributed to my ruin?” remarked Walter. “He is a great libertine, and I hope you may experience no more annoyance from him. I may not always be at hand to protect you.”
“Luckily, he doesn't know where I live, or I might feel some uneasiness,” said Rose.
“Ah, those rakes are dreadful—no keeping them off!” cried Mrs. Hartley.
At this moment there was a knock at the outer door.
Rather startled, Mrs. Hartley went to see who it was; and presently returned with a letter in her hand.
“This is for you, Rose!” she cried. “It was left by a stranger, who said no answer was required, and went away immediately.”
“For me!” exclaimed Rose, turning pale. “It is certainly addressed to me, but I don't know the handwriting.”
She then opened the letter, and, after angrily scanning it, read it aloud.
“The gentleman who had the great pleasure of meeting Miss Rose Hartley on the steam-boat this morning, hopes soon to behold her again, as her charms have made an ineffaceable impression upon him. He feels certain that the incident that occurred on the pier must have been as vexatious to her as to him; but she may rest assured that the ruffian who committed the assault shall not pass unpunished.”
“So, then, he has discovered your address!” cried Walter. “I wonder how he learnt it, since he ran off.”
“I could not have credited such audacity, without proof positive!” exclaimed Rose, indignantly. “Does Mr. Romney imagine I will ever exchange another word with him, except to express my anger and scorn? Have I given him any encouragement, that he should dare to write me such a letter?” she added, tears of vexation starting to her eyes.
“No, no! I am sure not,” cried Walter. “But it is part of Romney's system; he believes no woman can resist him. I now begin to think he will persist in the attempt, notwithstanding the chastisement he has received, and the utter want of encouragement on your part.”
“Dear me! I declare I'm all of a tremble!” cried Mrs. Hartley. “I don't know what we shall do to get rid of him.”
“Never mind him,” cried Rose. “I'm not at all afraid.”
“Leave me to deal with him,” said Walter. “Tomorrow I'll look after him.”
“It is Harry Netterville's business to defend me,” cried Rose.
“But I understand the man,” rejoined Walter. “Besides, I have still an account to settle with him. Leave him to me.”
“Yes; Mr. Liddel will manage him best,” said Mrs Hartley. “But I'll go and bring in tea; a cup will do us all good after this bother.”
As the good dame had foreseen, the pleasant beverage soon produced a tranquillising effect, and enabled them to spend an hour or two in cheerful converse.
Walter then thought it time to go back to Mr. Tankard's, but offered to stay and take charge of them if they felt at all afraid. Mrs. Hartley said she expected her husband every minute, and he would bring them to the party.
“In that case, you can dispense with me,” said Walter. “We shall meet again before long, and then you'll find me completely transmogrified.”
“I am sorry to hear it,” said Rose; “I like you very well as you are.”
Walter laughed, and set out, taking with him his parcel of purchases.
Preparations for the supper party had already commenced when Walter arrived at Mr. Tankard's. The shop had been closed at an earlier hour than usual, but was lighted up, and so arranged that the company could walk about it if they thought proper.
After casting a look around, and exchanging a word with Mr. and Mrs. Tankard, both of whom seemed very busy, Walter went up-stairs to his own room, which had now been converted into a nice littlecabinet de toilette. No doubt he was indebted for this attention to Mrs. Tankard.
His first business was to try on the livery, and he was quite surprised to find how well it fitted him. We have already said it was a handsome, showy suit; and on Walter, who was very tall and extremely well proportioned, it produced its full effect.
What was his first thought as he contemplated himself in the glass, when thus metamorphosed, may be inferred from the loud laugh into which he burst.
Just at this juncture, Tom Tankard, who was now in evening dress, came into the room, and joined very heartily in the merriment.
“Excuse my laughing, Mr. Liddel,” he said; “but yourself set me off. I never beheld such a swell footman before. You'll astonish 'em down stairs presently. But I've come to tell you thecoiffeuris waiting outside. I suppose you're pretty nearly ready for him?”
The hairdresser proved to be Sigebert Smart; and great was the surprise of that inquisitive individual when he found that the customer who had so much excited his curiosity had assumed a newrôle, and found a new lodging.
“Can I believe my eyes?” he exclaimed, with a theatrical start. “Do I, indeed, behold the gentleman whom I was compelled to deprive of his beard? I now understand the meaning of that order. With a costume like this, a beard would be incongruous. But is the dress worth the sacrifice?”
“Cease this foolery, and begin!” said Tom. “The gent wants his 'air powderin'. He's goin' to a fancy ball, as I told you!”
Begging Walter to take off his coat, and flinging a loose gown over his shoulders, and giving him a napkin to protect his eyes, Sigebert set to work, and carefully powdered the young man's fine brown locks, pausing ever and anon in his task.
At length, he exclaimed, as he laid down the powder-puff:
“Now you'll do, sir—now you'll do! What doyouthink of the effect, Mr. Tom?” he added, appealing to our fat friend.
“Hum!” cried Tom, without delivering an opinion. “Wants a little more at the back, don't it?”
“Not a particle! Couldn't be better!” said Sigebert. “Now, let me help you on with your coat,” he added to Walter.
And having thus aided in arraying him, he exclaimed, in affected admiration:
“Why, you're quite a picture, sir! You eclipse the finest of the Court lacqueys! You'd get a first-rate place, if you wanted!”
“That he would!” laughed Tom. “What's the damage, Sigebert?”
“Would five shillings be too much?” said thecoiffeur, with a droll expression. “It's half a crown for a real footman!”
“Well, here's a crown,” replied Walter.
Sigebert received the money with a bow, and, while putting his things together, said:
“May I inquire where the fancy ball takes place?”
“Not far off,” replied Tom.
“Here?” asked Sigebert.
Tom nodded.
“I guessed as much,” said Sigebert. “Judging from this specimen, it will be very good. But how is it you're not in character, Mr. Tom?”
“Domino and mask easily put on!” replied Tom not caring to enlighten him further.
Upon this, Sigebert bowed and departed, Tom attending him as far as the shop.
As he went out, the hairdresser saw Pledger Dapp, whom he knew, with his assistants, bringing in the supper; and he also saw Larkins, with some flowers, but he did not say anything to either of them. In fact, he was absorbed in thought.
When he got out into the street, he stood still for a few moments, and reflected.
“What the deuce is he doing here?” he thought. “He seems to have changed his quarters. And what's the meaning of this disguise?—for disguise I believe it is. Something may be made of the discovery.”
Having arrived at this conclusion, he hailed a hansom cab, and bade the coachman drive to the Grosvenor Hotel.