FOOTNOTES:[2]From "The Romance of Britomart," not the least stirring of those spirited verses called "Bush Ballads and Galloping Rhymes," composed by the late A. Lindsey Gordon, and published at Melbourne, Australia, 1870.
[2]From "The Romance of Britomart," not the least stirring of those spirited verses called "Bush Ballads and Galloping Rhymes," composed by the late A. Lindsey Gordon, and published at Melbourne, Australia, 1870.
[2]From "The Romance of Britomart," not the least stirring of those spirited verses called "Bush Ballads and Galloping Rhymes," composed by the late A. Lindsey Gordon, and published at Melbourne, Australia, 1870.
CHAPTER VI
CUTTING FOR PARTNERS
"Then you'll—ask a man?"
"I'll ask a man."
The first speaker was Miss Douglas, the second Mrs. Lushington. These ladies, having agreed to go to the play together, the former at once secured adjoining stalls, for herself, her admirer, her friend, and her friend's admirer. Only in such little parties of four can the modern drama be appreciated or enjoyed.
Miss Douglas had long promised General St. Josephs that she would accompany him to the performance of a popular farce calledUncle Jack, whereof the humour consisted in an abstraction by "Boots" of a certain traveller's garments at his hotel, and consequent engagement of this denuded wayfarer to the lady of his affections. The General would have walked barefoot to Canterbury for the delight of taking Miss Douglas to the play; and, after many misfires, a night was at length fixed for that treat, of course under the supervision of a chaperon.
Like others who follow "will-o'-the-wisps," St. Josephs was getting deeper into the mire at every step. Day by day this dark bewitching woman occupied more of his thoughts, wound herself tighter round his weary heart. Now for the first time since she died he could bear to recall the memory of the blue-eyed girl he was to have married long ago. Now he felt truly thankful to have baffled the widow at Simla, and behaved like "a monster," as she said, to the foreign countess who used to ride with him in the Park.
Hitherto he was persuaded his best affections had been thrown away, all the nobility of his character wasted and misunderstood. At last he had found the four-leaved shamrock. He cared not how low he stooped to pluck it, so he might wear it in his breast.
For one of his age and standing, such an attachment has its ridiculous as well as its pitiful side. He laughed grimly in his grizzled moustache to find how particular he was growing about the freshness of his gloves and the fit of his coat. When he rode he lengthened his stirrups, and brought his horse more on its haunches. He even adopted the indispensable flower in his button-hole; but could never keep it there, because of his large circle of child-friends, to whom he denied nothing, and who regularly despoiled him of any possession that took their fancy. There was one little gipsy, a flirt, three years of age, who could and would, have coaxed him out of a keepsake even from Miss Douglas herself.
Nobody, I suppose, is insane enough to imagine a man feels happier for being in love. There were moments when St. Josephs positively hated himself, and everybody else. Moments of vexation, longing, and a bitter sense of ill-usage, akin to rage, but for the leavening of sadness, that toned it down to grief. He knew from theory and practice how to manage a woman, just as he knew how to bridle and ride a horse. Alas! that each bends only to the careless ease of conscious mastery. He could have controlled the Satanella on four legs almost as well as reckless Daisy. He had no influence whatever over her namesake on two.
Most of us possess the faculty of looking on those affairs in which we are deeply interested, from the outside, as it were, and with the eyes of an unbiassed spectator. Such impartial perception, however, while it increases our self-reproach, seems in no way to affect our conduct. General St. Josephs cursed himself for an old fool twenty times a day, but none the more for that did he strive or wish to put from him the folly he deplored.
It was provoking, degrading, to know that, in presence of Miss Douglas he appeared at his very worst; that when he rode out with her, he was either idiotically simple, or morosely preoccupied; that when he called at her house, he could neither find topics for conversation, nor excuses to go away; that in every society, others, whom he rated as his inferiors, must have seemed infinitely pleasanter, wiser, better informed, and more agreeable: and that he, professedly a man of experience, and a man of the world, lost his head, like a raw boy, at the first word she addressed him, without succeeding in convincing her that he had lost his heart. Then he vowed to rebel—to wean himself by degrees—to break the whole thing off at once—to go out of town, leaving no address—to assert his independence, show he could live without her, and never see her again! But when she asked him to take her to the play, he said he should be delighted, andwas!
Among the many strange functions of society, few seem more unaccountable than its tendency to select a theatre as therendezvousof sincere affection. Of all places, there is none, I should imagine, where people are moreen evidence—particularly in the stalls, a part of the house specially affected, it would seem, as affording no protection to front or rear. Every gesture is marked, every whisper overheard, and even if you might speak aloud, which you mustn't, during the performances, you could hardly impart to a lady tender truths or falsehoods, as the case may be, while surrounded by a mob of people who have paid money with the view of keeping eyes and ears wide open till they obtain its worth.
Nevertheless, and notwithstanding all these drawbacks to confidential communication, no sooner does a fair angler of the present day feel that, in fisherman's language, she "has got a bite," than straightway she carries her prey off to a minor theatre, where by some inexplicable method of her own, she proceeds to secure the gudgeon on its hook.
St. Josephs got himself up with extreme care on the evening in question. He was no fadedpetit maître, no wrinkled dandy, curled, padded, girthed, and tottering in polished boots towards his grave. On the contrary, he had the wisdom to grow old gracefully, as far as dress and deportment were concerned, rather advancing than putting back the hand of time. Yet to-night hedidregret the lines on his worn face, the bald place at the crown of his head. Ten years, he thought, rather bitterly, only give him back ten years, and he could have held his own with the best of them! She might have cared for him ten years ago. Could she care for him now? Yes, surely she must, he loved her so!
"Your brougham is at the door, sir," said his servant, once a soldier, like himself, a person of calm temperament and a certain grim humour, whose private opinion it was that his master had of late been conducting himself like an old fool.
The General got into his carriage with an abstracted air, and was driven off to dine nervously and without appetite at the Senior United.
How flabby seemed the fish, how tasteless the cutlets, how insufferably prosy the conversation of an old comrade at the next table—a jovial veteran, who loved highly-seasoned stories, and could still drink thequantumhe was pleased to call his "whack of Port." Never before had this worthy's discourse seemed so idiotic, his stomach so obtrusive, his chuckles so fatuous and inane. Whatdid he mean by talking about "fellows ofourage" to St. Josephs, who was seven years his junior in the Army List, and five in his baptismal register? Why couldn't he eat without wheezing, laugh without coughing; and why, oh! why could he not give a comrade greeting, without slapping him on the back? St. Josephs, drinking scalding coffee before the other arrived at cheese, felt his sense of approaching relief damped by remorse for the reserve and coldness with which he treated his old, tried friend. Something whispered to him, even then, how the jolly gormandising red face would turn to him, true and hearty, when all the love of all the women in London had faded and grown cold.
Nevertheless, at the doors of the theatre his pulses leapt with delight. So well timed was his arrival, that Mrs. Lushington and Miss Douglas were getting out of their carriage when his own stopped. Pleased, eager as a boy, he entered the house with Satanella on his arm, placing himself between that Lady and her friend, while he arranged shawls, foot-stools, scent-bottles, and procured for them programmes of the entertainment; chary, indeed, of information, but smelling strong of musk.
Need I say that he addressed himself at first to Mrs. Lushington? or that, perceiving a vacant stall on the other side of Miss Douglas, his spirit sank within him while he wondered when and how it would be filled?
Satanella seemed tired and abstracted. "Uncle Jack's" jokes fell pointless on her ear. When St. Josephs could atlast think of something to say, she bent her head kindly enough, but persistently refused to accept or understand his tender allusions, interesting herself, then, and then only, in the business of the stage. In sheer self-defence, the General felt obliged to do the same.
The house roared with laughter. A celebrated low comedian was running up and down before the foot-lights in shirt and drawers. The scene represented a bedroom at an inn. The actor rang his bell, tripped over his coal-scuttle, finally upset his water-jug. Everybody went into convulsions, and St. Josephs found himself thinking of the immortal Pickwick, who "envied the facility with which the friends of Mr. Peter Magnus were amused." Turning to his tormentor, he observed the place by her side no longer vacant, and its occupant was—Daisy!
Mischievous Mrs. Lushington had "asked a man," you see, and this was the man she asked.
Captious, jealous, sensitive, because he really cared for her, St. Josephs' vexation seemed out of all proportion to its cause. He felt it would have relieved him intensely to "have it out" with Miss Douglas—to scold her, take her to task, reproach her roundly—and for what?Shehad never asked Daisy to come;shehad not kept a seat for him at her elbow. From her flushed cheek, her bright smile, it could not but be inferred that this was an unexpected meeting—a delightful surprise.
Calm and imperturbable, Daisy settled himself as if he were sitting by his grandmother. Not till he had smoothedhis moustache, buttoned his gloves, and adjusted his glasses, did he find time to inform Miss Douglas "that he knew she would be here, but did not think she could have got away from dinner so soon; that the house was hot, the stalls were uncomfortable, and this thing was not half bad fun if you'd never seen it before." The General, cursing him for "a cub," wondered she could find anything in such conversation to provoke a smile on that proud beautiful face.
What was it she whispered behind her fan?—the fan he loved to hold because of the fragrance it seemed to breathe fromher. He scarcely knew whether to be relieved or irritated when he overheard certain questions as to the progress of the black mare. It vexed him to think these two should have a common interest, should find it so engrossing, should talk about it so low. Why couldn't they attend to the farce they had come on purpose to see?
Mrs. Lushington, although she must have been surfeited with that unmeaning and rather tiresome admiration which such ladies find floating in abundance on the surface of London society, was yet ready at all times to accept fresh homage, add another captive to the net she dragged so diligently through smooth and troubled waters alike. Till the suggestion came from her friend, it had never occurred to her that the General was worth capturing. She began now in the usual way.
"What a number of pretty women!" she whispered,"Don't you think so, General? I haven't seen as much beauty under one roof since Lady Scavenger's ball."
Abstracted though he was, her companion had those habits of society which of all others seem to be second nature, so he answered:—
"There are onlytwopretty women in the house as far as I can see; and they asked me to come to the play with them to-night."
She had a fascinating way of looking down and up again, very quick, with a glance, half shy, half funny, but altogether deadly. Even her preoccupied neighbour felt its influence, while she replied:—
"You say so because you think all women are vain, and like to be flattered, and have no heart. It only shows how little you know us. Do you mean to tell me," she added, in a lighter tone, "that'snot a pretty girl, in the second row there, with amauveribbon through her hair?"
Shewaspretty, and he thought so; but St. Josephs, being an old soldier in more senses than one, observed sententiously:—
"Wants colouring—too pale—too sandy, and I should say freckled by daylight."
"We all know you admire dark beauties," retorted the lady, "or you wouldn't be here now."
"You'renot a dark beauty," returned the ready General; "and I knew you were coming too."
"That 'too' spoils it all," said she, with another of her killing glances. "Hush! you needn't say any more. If you won't talk toher, at least attend to the stage."
Satanella meanwhile was perusing Daisy's profile as he sat beside her, and wondering whether anybody was ever half so good-looking and so unconscious of his personal advantages. Not in the slightest degree embarrassed by this examination, Mr. Walters expressed his entire approval of the farce as it proceeded, laughing heartily at its "situations" and even nudging Miss Douglas with his elbow, that she might not miss the broadest of the fun. Was there another man in the house who could have accepted so calmly such an enviable situation? and did she like him more or less for this strange insensibility to her charms? The question must be answered by ladies who are weary of slaughter, and satiated with victory.
"Will she win, Daisy?" hazarded Miss Douglas at last, in a low whisper, such as would have vibrated through the General's whole frame, but only caused Daisy to request she would "speak up." Repeating her question, she added a tender hope that "it was all right, and that her darling (meaning the black mare) would pull him through."
"If she don't," replied Daisy, "there's no more to be said. I must leave the regiment. 'Soldier Bill' gets the troop; and I am simply chawed up."
"Oh, Daisy," she exclaimed earnestly, "how much would it take to set you straight?"
Mr. Walters worked an imaginary sum on the gloved fingers of his right hand, carried over a balance of liabilities to his left, looked as grave as he could and replied, briefly, "Two thou—would tide me over. It would takethreeto pull me through."
Her face fell, and the rich colour faded in her cheek. He did not notice her vexation; for the crisis of the farce had now arrived, and the stage was crowded with all itsdramatis personæ, tumbling each other about in the intensely humorous dilemma of a hunt for the traveller's clothes; but hedidremark how grave and sorrowful was her "good-night," while she took the General's proffered arm with an alacrity extremely gratifying to that love-stricken veteran. She had never before seemed so womanly, so tender, so confiding. St. Josephs, pressing her elbow very cautiously against his beating heart, almost fancied the pressure returned. He was sure her hand clung longer than usual in his clasp when the time came to say "Good-bye."
In spite of a headache and certain angry twinges of rheumatism, this gallant officer had never felt so happy in his life.
CHAPTER VII
GETTING ON
Outside the theatre the pavement was dry, the air seemed frosty, and the moon shone bright and cold. With head down, hands in pockets, and a large cigar in his mouth, Daisy meditated gravely enough on the untoward changes a lowered temperature might produce in his own fortunes. Hard ground would put a stop to Satanella's gallops, and the horses trained in Ireland—where it seldom freezes—would have an unspeakable advantage. Thinking of the black mare somehow reminded him of Miss Douglas, and pacing thoughtfully along Pall Mall, he recalled their first meeting, tracing through many an hour of sunshine and lamplight the links that had riveted their intimacy and made them fast friends.
It was almost two years ago—though it seemed like yesterday—that, driving the regimental coach to Ascot, he had stopped his team with considerable risk at an awkward turn on the Heath, to make room for her pony-carriage; a courtesy soon followed by an introduction in the enclosure,not without many thanks and acknowledgments from the fair charioteer and her companion. He could remember how she kept him talking till it was too late to back Judæus for the Cup, and recalled his own vexation when that gallant animal galloped freely in, to the delight of the chosen people.
He had not forgotten how she asked him to call on her in London, nor how he went riding with her in the morning, meeting her at balls and parties by night, inaugurating a pic-nic at Hampton Court for her especial benefit, while always esteeming her the nicest girl out, and the best horse-woman in the world. He would have liked her to be his sister, or his sister-in-law; but of marrying her himself, the idea never entered Daisy's head. Thinking of her now, with her rich beauty, and her bright black hair, he neither sighed nor smiled. He was calculating how he could "put her on" for a good stake, and send her back their mutual favourite none the worse in limbs or temper for the great race he hoped to win!
All Light Dragoons are not equally susceptible, and Mr. Walters was a difficult subject, partly from his active habits of mind and body, partly from the energy with which he threw himself into the business of the moment whatever it might be.
Satanella's work, her shoeing, her food, her water, were such engrossing topics now, that, but for her connection with the mare, the lady from whom that animal took its name would have had no chance of occupyinga place in his thoughts. He had got back to the probability of frost, and the possibility of making a tan-gallop, when he turned out of St. James's Street into one of those pleasant haunts where men congregate after nightfall to smoke and talk, accosting each other with the easy good-fellowship that springs from community of tastes, and generous dinners washed down with rosy wine.
Notwithstanding the time of year, a member in his shirt-sleeves was sprawling over the billiard-table; a dozen more were sprinkled about the room. Acclamations, less loud than earnest, greeted Daisy's entrance, and tumblers of cunning drinks were raised to bearded lips, in mute but hearty welcome.
"You young beggar, you've made me miss my stroke!" exclaimed the billiard-player, failing egregiously to score an obvious and easy hazard. "Daisy, you're always in the way, and you're always welcome. But what are you doing out of the Shires in such weather as this?"
"Daisy never cared a hang forhunting," said a tall, stout man on the sofa. "He's only one of your galloping Brummagem sportsmen, always amongst the hounds. How many couples have you scored now, this season—tell the truth, my boy—off your own bat?"
"More thanyouhave of foxes, counting those that were fairly killed," answered Daisy calmly. "And that is not saying much. Seriously, Jack, something must be done about those hounds of yours. I'm told they'vegot so slow you have to meet at half-past ten, and never get home till after dark. I suppose if once you began to draft there would be nothing left in the kennel but the terrier!"
"You be hanged!" answered the big man, laughing. "You conceited young devil, you think you're entitled to give an opinion because you're not afraid to ride. And, after all, you can't half do that, unless the places are flagged out for you in the fences! If you cared two straws about therealsport, you wouldn't be in London now."
"How can I hunt without horses?" replied Daisy, burying his fair young face in an enormous beaker. "Allhounds are not like yours, you know. Thick shoes and gaiters make a capital mount in some countries; but if Iamto put on boots and breeches I want to go faster than a Paddy driving a pig. That's why I've never been to payyoua visit."
"D—n your impudence!" was all the other could find breath to retort, adding, after a pause of admiration, "What a beggar it is to chaff! But I won't let you off all the same. Come to me directly after Northampton. It's right in your way home."
"Nothing I should like better," answered Daisy. "But it can't be done. I'm due at Punchestown on the seventeenth, and I ought to be in Ireland at least a fortnight before the races."
"At Punchestown!" exclaimed half-a-dozen voices."There's something up! You've got a good thing, cut and dried. It's no use, Daisy! Tell us all about it!"
Walters turned from one to another with an expression of innocent surprise. He looked as if he had never heard of a steeple-chase in his life.
"I don't know what you fellows call 'a good thing,'" said he. "When I drop into one I'll put you all on, you may be sure. No. I must be at Punchestown simply because I've got to ride there."
"I'm sorry for the nag," observed the billiard-player, who had finished (and lost) his game. "What is it?"
"She's a mare none of you ever heard of," answered Daisy. "They call her Satanella. She can gallop a little, I think."
"Is she going for this new handicap?" asked a shrill voice out of a cloud of tobacco smoke in the corner.
"It's her best chance, if she ever comes to the post," replied Daisy. "They're crushing weights, though, and the course is over four miles."
"Back her, me boy! And I'll stand in with ye!" exclaimed an Irish peer, handsome in spite of years, jovial in spite of gout, good-hearted in spite of fashion, and good-humoured in spite of everything. "Is she an Irish-bred one? Roscommon did ye say? Ah, now, back for a monkey, and I'll go ye halves! We'll let them see how we do't in Kildare!"
Daisy would have liked nothing better; but people donot lay "monkeys" on steeple-chases at one o'clock in the morning. Nevertheless curiosity had been excited about Satanella, and his cross-examination continued.
"Is she thorough-bred?" asked a cornet of the household cavalry, whose simple creed for man and beast, or rather horse and woman, was summed up in these two articles—blood and good looks.
"Thoroughbred?" repeated Daisy thoughtfully. "Her sire is I'm sure, and she's out of a 'Connemara mare,' as they say in Ireland, whatever that may be."
"I know," observed the peer, with a wink. "Ah, ye divil, ye've got your lesson perfect annyhow."
"Do you want to back her?" asked a tall, thin man, who had hitherto kept silence, drawing at the same time a very business-like betting-book from his breast-pocket.
"You ought to lay long odds," answered Daisy. "The race will fill well. There are sure to be a lot of starters, and no end of falls. Hang it! I suppose I am bound to have something on. I'll tell you what. I'll take twelve to one in hundreds—there!"
"I'll lay you ten," said the other.
"Done!" replied Daisy. "A thousand to a hundred." And he entered it methodically in his book, looking round, pencil in mouth, to know "if anybody would do it again?"
"I'll lay you eight to one in ponies." Daisy nodded, and put down the name of the billiard-player. "And I in tens!" exclaimed another. "And I don't mind laying you seven!" screamed a shrill voice from the corner, "ifyou'll have it in fifties." Whereat Daisy shook his head, but accepted the offer nevertheless ere he shut up his book, observing calmly that "he was full now, and must have something more to drink."
"And who does this mare belong to?" asked a man who had just come in. "It's a queer game, steeple-chasing, even with gentlemen up. I like to know something about owners before I back my little fancy, for or against."
"Well, she's more mine than anybody else's," answered Daisy, buttoning his overcoat to depart. "There's only one thing certain about her, and that is—she'll start if she's alive, and she'll win if shecan!"
With these words he disappeared through the swing-doors into the empty street, walking leisurely homeward, with the contented step of one who has done a good day's work, and earned his repose.
In Piccadilly he met a drunken woman; in Curzon Street, a single policeman; by Audley Square a libertine cat darted swiftly and noiselessly across his path. Working steadily northward, he perceived another passenger on the opposite side of the way. Passing under a lamp, this figure, in spite of hat pushed down and collar pulled up, proved to be none other than St. Josephs, wrapped in a brown study, and proceeding as slowly as if it was the hottest night in June.
"Now what canhebe up to?" thought Daisy, deeming it unnecessary to cross over at so late an hour for polite salutation. "Ought to have had his nose under theblankets long ago. It must be somethingverygood to take an old duffer like that out in an east wind at two in the morning. Might have sown his wild oats by this time, one would think! Well, it's no business of mine, only I hope he wears flannel next his skin, and won't catch cold. It would almost serve him right, too, if he did!"
Sticking his hands in his pockets, Daisy shook his head in virtuous disapproval of his senior, never dreaming that a man of the General's age could be fool enough to pace a wind-swept street under a lady's window for an hour after she had retired to bed.
CHAPTER VIII
INSATIABLE
"My Dear General,
"As I know it is impossible to catch you for luncheon, come and see me at three, before I go out.
"Yours most sincerely,"Clara Lushington."
No date, of course. The General, nevertheless, ordered his hack at half-past two, in confident expectation of finding his correspondent at home.
He was ushered into, perhaps, the prettiestboudoirin London—a nest of muslin, fillagree, porcelain, and exotics, with a miniature aviary in one window, a miniature aquarium in the other, a curtain over the door, and a fountain opposite the fire-place. Here he had an opportunity of admiring her taste before the fair owner appeared, examining in turn all the ornaments on her chimney-piece and writing-table, amongst which, with pardonable ostentation, a beautifully-mounted photograph of her husband was put in the most conspicuous place.
He was considering what on earth could have induced her to marry its original, when the door opened for the lady in person, who appeared, fresh, smiling, and exceedingly well-dressed. Though she had kept her visitor waiting, he could not grudge the time thus spent when he observed how successfully it had been turned to account.
"You got my note," said she, pulling a low chair for him close to the sofa on which she seated herself. "I wonder, ifyouwondered why I wanted to see you!"
The experience of St. Josephs had taught him it is well to let these lively fish run out plenty of line before they are checked, so he bowed, and said, "He hoped she had found something in which he could be of use."
"Use!" repeated the lady. "Then you want me to think you consider yourself more useful than ornamental. General, I should like to know if you are the least bit vain?"
"A little, perhaps, of your taking me up," he replied, laughing; "of nothing else, I think, in the world."
She stole a glance at him from under her eyelashes, none the less effective that these had been darkened before she came down. "And yet, I am sure, you might be," she said softly, with something of a sigh.
The process, he thought, was by no means unpleasant; a man could undergo it a long time without being tired.
"Do you know I'm interested about you?" she continued, looking frankly in his face. "For your own sake—a little; for somebody else's—a great deal. Haveyou never heard of flowers that waste their 'sweetness on the desert air?'"
"And blush unseen?" he replied. "I'm blushing now. Don't you think it's becoming?"
"Do be serious!" she interposed, laying a slim white hand on his sleeve. "I tell you I have your welfare at heart. That's the reason you are here now. If I cannot be happy myself, at least I like to help others. Everybody ought to marry the right person. Don't you think so? You've got a right person. Why don't you marry her?"
Watching him narrowly, she perceived, by the catch of his breath, the quiver of his eyelid, that for all his self-command her thrust had gone straight home.
His was too manly a nature to deny its allegiance.
"Do you think she would have me," said he simply and frankly, "if I was to ask her?"
Mrs. Lushington never liked him better than now. To this worldly, weary, manœuvring woman, there was something inexpressibly refreshing in his unaffected self-depreciation. "What a fool the girl is!" she thought; "why, she ought tojumpat him!" But what she said, was—"Qui cherche trouve.If you don't put the question, how can you expect to have an answer? Are you so spoilt, my dear General, that you expect women to drop into your mouth like over-ripe fruit? What we enjoy is, to be worried and teased over and over again, till at last we are bored into saying "Yes" in sheer weariness, and to getrid of the subject. How can you berefused, much moreaccepted, if you won't even make an offer?"
"Do you know what it is to care for somebody very much?" said he, smoothing his hat with his elbow, as a village-maiden on the stage plaits the hem of her apron. "What you suggest, seems the boldest game, no doubt; but it is like putting all one's fortune on a single throw. Suppose the dice come up against me—can you wonder I am a little afraid to lift the box?"
"I cannot fancyyouafraid of anything," she answered with an admiring glance; "not even of failure, though it would probably be a new sensation. You know what Mr. Walters says—(he winced, and she saw it)—'When you go to a fighting-house, you should take a fighting man.' So I say, 'When you are in a tangle about women, ask a woman to get you out of it.' Put yourself in my hands, and when you dress for dinner, you shall be a proud and a happy General!"
His face brightened. "Ishouldbe very happy," said he, "I honestly confess, if Miss Douglas would consent to be my wife. Do you advise me to ask her at once?"
"This very day, without losing a minute!" was the answer. "Let me have to congratulate her, when I call to drive her out at half-past five."
The General looked at the clock, smoothing his hat more vigorously than ever. "It's nearly four now," said he, in a faltering voice. "Mrs. Lushington, I am really most grateful. It's too kind of you to take such aninterest in my affairs. Would you mind telling me? Women understand these things much better than men. If you were in my place, do you think I ought? I mean what is the best plan? In short, would you advise me to call, and ask her point-blank, or to—write a line, you know—very explicit and respectful, of course, and tell the servant to wait for an answer?"
She was very near laughing in his face, but mastered her gravity, after a moment's reflection, and observed sententiously—
"Perhaps in your case a few lines would be best. You can write them here if you like, or at your club. The shorter the better. And," she added, shaking hands with him very kindly, while he rose to take leave, "whichever way it goes, you will let me know the result."
As the street-door closed, she opened her blotting-book, and scribbled off the following dispatch—
"Dearest Blanche,
"Alarms! A skirmish! I write to put you on your guard. The General,yourGeneral, has been here for an hour. He seems to have made up his mind, so prepare yourself for it at any moment. I think yououghtto accept him. He would relapse into a quiet, kind, and respectable husband. Your own position, too, would be improved and what I call established. Don't be obstinate, there's a dear. In haste. Ever your own loving
"Clara L——.
"You mustn't forget you dine here. Nobody but ourselves, Uncle John, the two Gordon girls (Bessie has grown so pretty), and Daisy Walters, who starts for Ireland to-morrow. As soon after eight as you can."
Then she rang the bell, and sent off her note with directions for its immediate transmission. Henry must take it at once. If Miss Douglas was not at home, let him find out where she had gone, and follow her. There was no answer. Only he must be quite sure she got it;—and pretty Mrs. Lushington sank back on her sofa, with the pleasing reflection that she had done what she called "a neat stroke of business, vigorous, conclusive, and compromising nobody if it was ever found out!"
She saw her way now clearly enough. On Satanella's refusal of her veteran admirer, she calculated as surely as on her acceptance of an invitation to meet Daisy at dinner, particularly with so dangerous a competitor as Bessie Gordon in the field. That last touch she considered worthy of her diplomacy. But, judging by herself, she was of opinion that Miss Douglas would so modify her negative as to retain the General in the vicinity of her charms, contemplating from day to day the fair prospect that was never to be his own. In such an ignominious state men are to be caught on the rebound, and he must ere long prove an easy victim to her kinder fascinations, take his place, submissively enough, with the other captives in the train of his conqueror. It would be very nice, she thought, tosecure him, and after that she could turn her attention to Daisy, for Mrs. Lushington was never so happy as when she had succeeded in detaching a gentleman from the lady of his affections, if, in so doing, she inflicted on the latter the sorrow of a wounded spirit and the pain of a vexed heart.
Therefore had she many enemies of her own sex, ever on the watch to catch her tripping, and once down must have expected no quarter from these gentle combatants.
A generous, masculine-minded woman, who is above these pretty vanities and rivalries, enjoys considerable immunity in that society, of which the laws are made by her sisters-in-arms, but they willnotforgive the greedy, unreasonable spoiler, who eyes, covets, and abstracts the property of others—who, to use their own expressive words, "takes their men from them, while all the time she has got enough and to spare of her own!"
CHAPTER IX
OFF AND ON
But even a woman cannot calculate with certainty on what another woman will or will not do under given circumstances. The greatest generals have been defeated by unforeseen obstacles. A night's rain or a sandy road may foil the wisest strategy, destroy the nicest combinations.
Miss Douglas never came to dinner after all, and Daisy, too, was absent. Mrs. Lushington, outwardly deploring the want of a "young man" for the "Gordon girls," inwardly puzzled her brains to account for the joint desertion of her principal performers, a frightful suspicion crossing her mind that she might have been too vigorous in her measures, and so frightened Satanella into carrying Daisy off with her,nolens volens, once for all. She had short notes of excuse, indeed, from both; but with these she was by no means satisfied: the lady pleading headache, the gentleman a pre-engagement, since called to mind—this might mean anything. But if theyhadgone away together, she thought, never would she meddle in such matters again!
Not till dinner was over, and Bessie Gordon had sat down to sing plaintive ballads in the drawing-room, did she feel reassured; but the last post brought a few lines from the General in fulfilment of his pledge to let her know how his wooing had sped.
"Congratulate me," he wrote, "my dear Mrs. Lushington, on having taken your advice. You were right about procrastination" (the General loved a long word, and was indeed somewhat pompous when he put pen to paper). "I am convinced that but for your kind counsels I should hardly have done justice to myself or the lady for whom I entertain so deep and lasting a regard. I feel I may now venture to hope time will do much—constant devotion more. At some future period, not far distant, it may be my pride to present to you your beautiful young charge in a new character, as the wife of your obliged and sincere friend—V. St. Josephs."
"V. St. Josephs?" repeated Mrs. Lushington. "I wonder what V. stands for. Valentine, if I remember right. And I wonder what on earth he meansmeto gather from his letter! I cannot make head or tail of it. If she has accepted him, what makes him talk about time and devotion? If she has refused him, surely he never can intend to persevere! Blanche, Blanche! if you're playing a double game, it will be the worse for you, and I'll never trust a woman with dark eyes again!"
The Gordon girls, going home in their hired brougham, voted that "dear Mrs. Lushington had one of her headaches; that Mr. L. was delightful; that after all, it seemed very selfish of Clara not to have secured them a couple of men; finally, that they had spent a stupid evening, and would be too glad to go to bed!"
All details of love-making are probably much alike, nor is there great room for variety in the putting of that direct question, to which the path of courtship necessarily conducts its dupe. General St. Josephs kept no copy of the letter in which he solicited Miss Douglas to become his wife. That lady tore it immediately into shreds, that went fluttering up the chimney. Doubtless it was sincere and dignified, even if diffuse; worthy, too, of a more elaborate answer than the single line she scribbled in reply:—
"Come and talk it over. I am at home till seven."
His courage rose, however, now he had got fairly into action, and never had he felt less nervous while dismounting at the well-known door, than on this supreme occasion, when he was to learn his fate, as he believed, once for all, from the lips of the woman he loved.
Like most men trained in the school of danger, strong excitement strung his nerves and cleared his vision, he no longer averted his eyes from the face that heretofore so dazzled them; on the contrary, entering the presence of Miss Douglas, he took in her form and features at a glance, as a man scans the figure of an adversary, while he prepares for attack.
It did not escape him that she looked flurried and depressed, that her hand trembled, and her colour went and came. Arguing favourably from these symptoms, he was somewhat disappointed with the first sentence she addressed to him.
"You wrote me a letter, General," said she, forcing a nervous little laugh. "Such a funny letter! I didn't quite know what to make of it!"
A funny letter! And his heart had beat, his eyes had filled, his highest, noblest feelings had been stirred with every line!
He was conscious that his bow seemed stern, even pompous, while he answered with exceeding gravity—
"Surely I made my meaning clear enough. Surely, Miss Douglas—Blanche; may I not call youBlanche?"
"Yes; if you like," said she impatiently. "It's a hateful name, I think. That's not my fault. Well, General, what were you going to say?"
He looked and indeed felt perplexed. "I was going to observe," said he, "that as my question was very straightforward, and very much in earnest, so all my future happiness depends on your reply."
"I wonder what there is you can see in me to like!" she retorted, with an impatient movement of her whole body, as if she was in fetters, and felt the restraint. "I'm not good enough for anybody to care for, that's the truth, General. There's hardly a girl in London who wouldn't suit you better than me."
He was looking in her face with sincere admiration.
"That is not the question," he replied. "Surely I am old enough to know my own mind. Besides, you do not seem conscious of your power. You could make a bishop fall in love with you in ten minutes, if you chose!"
There came a depth of tenderness in her eyes, a smile, half sad, half sweet, about her lips, which he interpreted in his own way.
"Do you think so?" said she. "I wish I could believe you. I've not had a happy youth, and I've not been brought up in a very good school. I often tell myself I could, and ought to have been better, but somehow one's whole life seems to be a mistake!"
"A mistake I could rectify, if you would give me the right," answered St. Josephs, disheartened, but not despairing. "I only ask you to judge me fairly, to trust me honestly, and to love me some day, if youcan!"
She gave him her hand. He drew her towards him, and pressed his lips to her cold, smooth brow. No more, and yet he fancied she was his own at last. Already half pledged, already half an affianced wife. She released herself quickly, and sat down on the farther side of her work-table.
"You are very generous," she said, "and very good. I still maintain you deserve somebody far superior to me. How odd these sort of things are, and why do they never turn out as one—expects?"
She was going to say "wishes," but stopped herself in time.
He wouldnotunderstand.
"Life is made up of hopes and disappointments," he observed. "You do not seem to hope much, Blanche. I trust, therefore, you will have less cause for disappointment. I will do all inmypower. And now, dearest, do not call me impatient, fidgetty; but, when do you think I may look forward to—to making arrangements in which we are to be equally interested?"
"Oh! I don't know!" she exclaimed, with considerable emphasis. "Not yet, of course: there's plenty of time. And I'm so hurried and worried, I can hardly speak! Besides, it's very late. I promised to dine with Mrs. Lushington, and it's nearly eight o'clock now."
Even from a future help-meet, so broad a hint could not be disregarded. The General was forced to put on his gloves and prepare for departure.
"But I shall see you again soon," he pleaded. "Shall you be at the opera—at Mrs. Cramwell's—at Belgrave House?"
"Certainly not at Belgrave House!" she answered impatiently. "I hate a crush; and that woman asks all the casuals in London. It's a regular refuge for the destitute. I'm not going thereyet. I may, perhaps, when I'm destitute!"
There was a hard ring in her voice that distressed him, and she perceived it.
"Don't look so wretched," she added kindly. "There are places in the world besides Belgrave Square andCovent Garden. What do you say to Punchestown? It's next week, and I'm sure to bethere!"
He turned pale, seeming no whit reassured. "Punchestown," he repeated. "What on earth takes you to Punchestown?"
"Don't you know I've got a horse to run?" she said lightly. "I should like to see it win, and I donotbelieve they have anything in Ireland half as good as my beautiful Satanella!"
"Is that all?" he asked in a disturbed voice. "It seems such an odd reason for a lady; and it's a long journey, you know, with a horrible crossing at this time of year! Blanche, Miss Douglas, can you not stay away, as—as a favour tome?"
There was an angry flush on her cheek, an angry glitter in her eyes, but she kept her temper bravely, and only said in mocking accents—
"Already, General! No; if you mean to be a tyrant you must wait till you come to the throne. I intend to show at Punchestown the first day of the races. I have made an assignation withyou. If you like to keep it, well and good; if you like to let it alone, do! I shall not break my heart!"
He felt at a disadvantage. She seemed so cool, so unimpressionable, so devoid of the sentiment and sensibility he longed to kindle in her nature. For a moment, he could almost have wished to draw back, to resume his freedom, while there was yet time; but no, she looked sohandsome, so queenly—he had rather be wretched withherthan happy with any other woman in the world!
"Of course, I will not fail," he answered. "I would go a deal further than Punchestown, only to be within hearing of your voice. When do you start? If Mrs. Lushington, or anybody you knew well, would accompany you, why should we not cross over together?"
"Now, you're too exacting," she replied. "Haven't I told you we shall meet on the course, when the saddling-bell rings for the first race. Not a moment sooner, and my wish is the law of the Medes and Persians—as yet!"
The two last words carried a powerful charm. Had he been mature in wisdom as in years, he ought never to have thought of marrying a woman who could influence him so easily.
"I shall count the days till then," he replied gallantly. "They will pass very slowly, but, as the turnspit says in the Spanish proverb, 'the largest leg of mutton must get done in time!' Good-bye, Miss Douglas. Good luck to you; and I hope Satanella will win!"
He bowed over the hand she gave him, but did not attempt to kiss it, taking his leave with a mingled deference and interest she could not but appreciate and admire.
"Whycan't I care for him?" she murmured passionately, as the street-door closed with a bang. "He's good, he's generous, he's agentleman! Poor fellow, he loves me devotedly; he's by no means ugly, and he's not soveryold! Yet I can't, I can't! And I've promised him,almostpromised him! Well, come what may, I've got a clear week of freedom still. But what a fool I've been, and oh! what a fool Iam!"
Then she sent her excuse to Mrs. Lushington, declined dinner at home, ordered tea, didn't drink any, and so crept sorrowful and supperless to bed.
CHAPTER X
AT SEA
In the British army, notwithstanding the phases and vicissitudes to which it is subjected, discipline still remains a paramount consideration—the keystone of its whole fabric. Come what may, the duty must be done. This is the great principle of action; and, in obedience to its law, young officers, who combine pleasure with military avocations, are continually on the move to and from head-quarters, by road, railway, or steam-boat—here to-day, gone to-morrow; proposing for themselves, indeed, many schemes of sport and pastime, but disposed of, morally and physically, by the regimental orders and the colonel's will.
Daisy, buried in Kildare, rising at day-break, going to bed at nine, looking sharply after the preparation of Satanella, could not avoid crossing the Channel for "muster," to re-cross it within twenty-four hours, that he might take part in the great race on which his fortunesnow depended—to use his own expression, which was to "make him a man or a mouse."
Thus it fell out that he found himself embarking at Holyhead amongst a stream of passengers in the mid-day boat for Dublin, having caught the mail-train at Chester by a series of intricate combinations, and an implicit reliance on the veracity of Bradshaw. It rained a little, of course—it always does rain at Holyhead—and was blowing fresh from the south-west. The sea "danced," as the French say; ladies expressed a fear "it would be very rough;" their maids prepared for the worst; and a nautical-looking personage in a pea-coat with anchor buttons, who disappeared at once, to be seen no more till he landed, pale and dishevelled, in Kingstown harbour, opined first that "there was a capful of wind," secondly, that "it was a ten-knot breeze, and would hold till they made the land."
With loud throbs and pantings of her mighty heart, with a plunge, a hiss, a shower of heavy spray-drops, the magnificent steamer got under way, lurching and rolling but little, considering the weather, yet enough to render landsmen somewhat unsteady on their legs, and to exhibit the skill with which a curly-haired steward balanced himself, basin in hand, on his errands of benevolence and consolation.
Two ladies, who had travelled together in a through carriage from Euston Square, might have been seen to part company the moment they set foot on board. Oneof these established herself on deck, with a multiplicity of cushions, cloaks, and wrappings, to the manifest admiration of a raw youth in drab trowsers and highlows, smoking a damp cigar against the wind; while the other vanished into the ladies'-cabin, there to lay her head on a horse-hair pillow, to sigh, and moan, and shut her eyes, and long for land, perhaps to gulp, with watering mouth, short sips of brandy and water, perhaps to find the hateful mixture only made her worse.
What a situation for Blanche Douglas! How she loathed and despised the lassitude she could not fight against, the sufferings she could not keep down! How she envied Mrs. Lushington the open air, the sea-breeze, the leaping, following waves, her brightened eyes, her freshened cheeks, her keen enjoyment of a trip that according to different organisations, seems either a purgatory or a paradise! Could she have known how her livelier friend was engaged, she would have envied her even more.
That lady, like many other delicate, fragile women of fair complexion, was unassailable by sea-sickness, and never looked nor felt so well as when on board ship in a stiff breeze.
Thoroughly mistress of the position, she yet thought it worth while, as she was the only other passenger on deck, to favour the raw youth before-mentioned with an occasional beam from her charms, and accorded him a very gracious bow in acknowledgment of the awkwardness with which he re-arranged a cushion that slid to leewardfrom under her feet. She was even disappointed when the roll of a cross-sea, combined with the effect of bad tobacco, necessitated his withdrawal from her presence, to return no more, and was beginning to wonder if the captain would never descend from his bridge between the paddle-boxes, when a fresh, smiling face peeped up from the cabin-door, and Daisy, as little affected by sea-sickness as herself, looking the picture of health and spirits, staggered across the deck to take his place by her side.
"Youhere, Mr. Walters!" said she. "Well, this is a surprise! Where have you been? where are you going? and how did you get on board without our seeing you?"
"I've been back for 'muster,'" answered Daisy; "I'm going to Punchestown; and I didn't know you were here, because I stayed below to have some luncheon in the cabin. How's Lushington? Have you brought him with you, or are you quite alone, on your own hook?"
"What a question!" she laughed. "I suppose you think I'm old enough and ugly enough to take care of myself! No, I'mnotabsolutely 'on my own hook,' as you call it. I've given Frank a holiday—goodness knows what mischief he won't get into!—but I've got a companion, and a very nice one, though perhaps not quite so nice as usual just at this moment."
"Then it's a lady," said Daisy, apparently but little interested in the intelligence.
"A lady," she repeated, with a searching look in his face; "and a very charming lady, too, though a badsailor. Do you mean to say you can't guess who it is?"
"Miss Douglas, for a pony!" was his answer; and the loud, frank tones, the joyous smile, the utter absence of self-consciousness or after-thought, seemed to afford Mrs. Lushington no slight gratification.
"You would win your pony," she replied gently. "Yes, Blanche and I are going over to Ireland, partly to stay with some very pleasant people near Dublin, partly—now, I don't want to make you conceited—partly because she has set her heart on seeing you ride; and so have I."
Practice, no doubt, makes perfect. With this flattering acknowledgment, she put just the right amount of interest into her glance, let it dwell on him the right time, and averted it at the right moment.
"She's a deuced pretty woman!" thought Daisy. "How well she looks with her hair blown all about her face, and her cloak gathered up under her dear little chin!" He felt quite sorry that the Wicklow range was already looming through its rain-charged atmosphere as they neared the Irish coast.
"I should like to win," said he, after a pause, "particularly ifyou'relooking on!"
"Don't sayme," she murmured, adding in a louder and merrier voice, "You cannot deny you're devoted to Blanche, and I dare say, if the truth were known, she has made you a jacket and cap of her own colours, worked with her own hands."
"I like her very much," he answered frankly. "It's partly on her account I want to land this race. She's so fond of the mare, you know. Not but what I've gone a cracker on it myself; and if it don't come off, there'll be a general break-up! But I beg your pardon, I don't see why that should interestyou."
"Don'tyou?" said she earnestly. "Then you're as blind as a bat. Everything interests me that concerns people I like."
"Does that mean you likeme?" asked Daisy with a saucy smile, enhanced by a prolonged lurch of the steamer, and the blow of a wave on her quarter, that drenched them both in a shower of spray.
She was silent while he wrung the wet from her cloak and hood, but when he had wrapped her up once more, and readjusted her cushions, she looked gravely in his face.
"It's an odd question, Mr. Walters," said she, "but I'm not afraid to answer it, and I always speak the truth. Yes, Idolike you—on Blanche's account. I think you've a pretty good head, and a very good heart, with many other qualities I admire, all of which seem rather thrown away."
Daisy was the least conceited of men, but who could resist such subtle flattery as this? For a moment he wished the Emerald Isle sunk in the sea, and no nearer termination to their voyage than the coast of Anticosti, or Newfoundland. Alas! the Hill of Howth stood high on the starboard quarter, the Wicklow mountains had risen in all their beauty of colour and majesty of outline, grand,soft, seductive, robed in russet and purple, here veiled in mist, there golden in sunshine, and streaked at intervals with faint white lines of smoke.
"I'm glad you like me," said he simply. "But how do you mean you think I'm thrown away?"
"By your leave!" growled a hoarse voice at his elbow, for at this interesting juncture the conversation was interrupted by three or four able seamen coiling a gigantic cable about the lady's feet. She was forced to abandon her position, and leave to her companion's fancy the nature of her reply. No doubt it would have been guarded, appropriate, and to the point. Daisy had nothing for it, however, but to collect her different effects, and strap them together in proper order for landing, before he ran down to fetch certain articles of his own personal property out of the cabin.
They were in smooth water now. Pale faces appeared from the different recesses opening on the saloon. People who had been sick tried to look as if they had been sleeping and the sleepers as if they had been wide-awake all the way from Holyhead. A child who cried incessantly during the passage, now ran laughing in and out of the steward's pantry; and two sporting gentlemen from the West—one with a bright blue coat, the other with a bright red face—finished their punch at a gulp, without concluding a deal that had lasted through six tumblers, for a certain "bay brown harse by Elvas—an illigant lepped wan," to use the red-facedgentleman's own words, "an' the bouldest ever ye see. Wait till I tell ye now. He's fit to carry the Lord-Liftinint himself. Show him his fence, and howld him if ye can!" As the possible purchaser for whom blue-coat acted, was a timid rider hunting in a blind country, it seemed doubtful whether so resolute an animal was likely to convey him as temperately as he might wish.
"Ah! it's the Captain," exclaimed both these sitters in a breath, as Daisy slid behind them in search of his dressing-case and his tall hat. "See now, Captain, will the mare win? Faith, she's clean-bred, I know well, for I trained her dam meself, whan she cleaned out the whole south of Ireland at Limerick for the Ladies' Plate!" exclaimed one.
"Youride her, Captain," added the other. "It's herself that can do't! They've a taste of temper, have all that breed; but you sit still, an' ride aisy, Captain. Keep her back till they come to race and loose her off then like shot from a gun. Whew! She'll come out in wan blaze, and lave thim all behind, as I'd lave that tumbler there, more by token it's been empty this ten minutes. Ye'll take a taste of punch now, Captain, for good luck, and to drink to the black mare's chance?"
But Daisy excused himself, shaking hands repeatedly with his cordial well-wishers ere he hurried on deck to disembark.
Moving listlessly and languidly into upper air, thefigure of a lady preceded him by a few steps. All he saw was the corner of a shawl, the skirt of a dress, and a foot and ankle; but that foot and ankle could only belong to Blanche Douglas, and in three bounds he was at her side. A moment before, she had been pale, languid, dejected. Now, she brightened up into all the flush and brilliancy of her usual beauty, like a fair landscape when the sun shines out from behind a cloud. Mrs. Lushington, standing opposite the companion-way, noted the change. Daisy, in happy ignorance, expressed the pleasure, which no doubt he felt, at a meeting with his handsome friend on the Irish shore.
No woman, probably, likes anything shedoeslike one whit the worse because deprived of it by force of circumstances. The fox in the fable that protested the grapes were sour, depend upon it, was not a vixen. Satanella thoroughly appreciated her friend's kindness and consideration, when Mrs. Lushington condoled with her on her past sufferings, and rejoiced in her recovery, informing her at the same time that Daisy was a capital travelling companion.
"He takes such care of one, my dear." (She spoke in a very audibleaside.) "So gentle and thoughtful; it's like having one's own maid. I enjoyed the crossing thoroughly. Poor dear! I wish you could have been on deck to enjoy it too!"
Done into plain English, the above really meant—"I have been having great fun flirting with your admirer.He's very nice, and perhaps I shall take him away from you some day when I have a chance."
By certain twinges that shot through every nerve and fibre, Blanche Douglas knew she had let her foolish heart go out of her own keeping. If she doubted previously whether or not she had fallen in love with Daisy, she was sure of it now, while wrung by these pangs of an unreasoning jealousy, that grudged his society for an hour, even to her dearest friend.
There was but little time, however, for indulgence of the emotions. Mrs. Lushington's footman, imposing, broad-breasted, and buttoned to the chin, touched his hat as a signal that he had allhisparaphernalia ready for departure. Two ladies'-maids, limp and draggled, trotted helplessly in his footsteps. The steward, who knew everybody, had taken a respectful farewell of his most distinguished passengers, the captain had done shouting from his perch behind the funnel, and the raw youth in highlows, casting one despairing look at Mrs. Lushington, had disappeared in the embrace of a voluminous matron the moment he set foot on shore. There was nothing left but to say good-bye.
Satanella's voice faltered, and her hand shook. How she had wasted the preceding three hours that she might have spent on deck with Daisy! and howmeanof Clara to take advantage of her friend's indisposition by making up to him, as she did to every man she came near!
"I hadn't an idea you were going to cross with us,"said she, in mournful accents, while he took his leave. "Why didn't you tell me? And when shall I see you again?"
"At Punchestown," replied Daisy cheerfully. "Wish me good luck!"
"Not tillthen!" said Miss Douglas. And having so said in Mrs. Lushington's hearing, wished she had held her tongue.
CHAPTER XI
CORMAC'S-TOWN
If amanhas reason to feel aggrieved with the conduct of his dearest friend, he avoids him persistently and sulks by himself. Should circumstances compel the unwilling pair to be together, they smoke and sulk in company. At all events, each lets the other see pretty plainly that he is disgusted and bored. Women are not so sincere. To use a naval metaphor, they hoist friendly colours when they run their guns out for action, and are never so dangerous or so determined, as while manœuvring under a flag of truce.
Mrs. Lushington and Miss Douglas could no more part company than they could smoke. Till they should arrive at their joint destination, they must be inseparable as the Siamese twins, or the double-headed Nightingale. Therefore were they more than usually endearing and affectionate, therefore the carman who drove them through Dublin, from station to station, approved heartily of their "nateral affection," as he called it, wishing, to use his own words, that he was "brother to either of them, or husband to both!"
If they sparred at all, it was with the gloves—light hitting, and only to measure each other's reach. Some day,—the same idea occurred to them at the same moment,—they meant to "have it out" in earnest, and it should be no child's play then. Meantime they proceeded to take their places in a fast train which seemed to have no particular hour of departure, so long was it drawn up beside the platform after the passengers had seated themselves and the doors were locked. Miss Douglas possessed good nerves, no doubt, yet were they somewhat shaken by a dialogue she overheard between guard and station-master, carried on through many shrieks and puffings of the engine at the first halt they made, a few miles down the line.
"Is the express due, Denis?"
"She is."
"Is the mail gone by?"
"She would be, but she's broke intirely."
"Is the line clear?"
"It isnot."
"Go on, boys, an' trust in God!"
Nevertheless, in accordance with an adage which must be of Irish extraction, "Where there is no fear there is no danger," our two ladies, their two maids, and Mrs. Lushington's footman, were all deposited safely at a wayside station in the dark; the last named functionary, a regular London servant, who had never before been ten miles from the Standard, Cornhill, arriving in the laststage of astonishment and disgust. He cheered up, however, to find a man, in a livery something like his own, waiting on the platform, with welcome news of a carriage for the ladies, a car for the luggage, and a castle not more than three miles off!
"Youmustbe tired, dear," said Mrs. Lushington, sinking back among the cushions of an easy London-built brougham. "But, thank goodness, here we are at last. Three miles will soon be over on so good a road as this."
But three Irish miles, after a long journey, are not so quickly accomplished on a dark night in a carriage with one of its lamps gone out. It seemed to the ladies they had been driven at least six, when they arrived at a park wall, some ten feet high, which they skirted for a considerable distance ere they entered the demesne through a stately gateway, flanked by imposing castellated lodges on either side.
Here a pair of white breeches, and the indistinct figure of a horseman, passed the carriage-window, flitting noiselessly over the mossy sward.
"Did you see it, Blanche?" asked Mrs. Lushington, who had been in Ireland before. "It's a banshee!"
"Or a Whiteboy!" said Miss Douglas laughing. "Only I didn't know they wore evenBOOTS, to say nothing of the other things!"
But the London footman, balancing himself with difficulty amongst his luggage on the outside car, was more curious, or less courageous.
"What'sthat?" he exclaimed, in the disturbed accents of one who fears a ghost only less than a highwayman.
"Which?" said the driver, tugging and flogging with all his might to raise a gallop for the avenue.
"That—that objeck!" answered the other.
"Ah! that's the masther. More power to him!" replied the carman. "It's foxin' he'll have been likely, on the mountain, an' him nivir off the point o' the hunt. Divil thank him with the cattle he rides! Begorra! ye nivir see the masther, but you see a great baste!"