Between ten and eleven that night Sir Nugent Uffington presented himself at the house No. 240 Avenue Marigny, and asked, as he had been instructed, for Madame de Nerval. The porter having told him that it wasau premier, Uffington proceeded thither up a broad and splendidly carpeted staircase, and, touching the plated bell, was immediately confronted by an immensehuissierin gorgeous uniform. This magnificent creature, whose manners were much milder than his appearance denoted, bowed the guest into the vestibule, and there handed him over to the care of the groom of the chambers. On giving his name, Uffington learned that he was expected, and the servant, begging him to follow, led the way, along a passage brilliantly lighted and decorated with stags'-heads and other trophies of the chase, towards an apartment at the farther end, whence came roars of laughter intermixed with occasional snatches of singing.
So thick was the tobacco smoke in this apartment that on the first opening of the door it was almost impossible to ascertain the features of its denizens; but on hearing the name of the visitor a lady rose from a low ottoman, on which, in company with two or three of her friends, she had been seated, and approaching Uffington offered him welcome, announcing herself at the same time as Madame de Nerval, the hostess.
'Your friend, Lord Forestfield, told me you had promised to do me this honour, Sir Nugent,' said she, speaking in excellent English, 'and I assure you I was quite looking forward to it. I know many of your acquaintance, and have often heard you spoken of, but always as a misanthrope; consequently, you see, I value this honour more highly.'
'Those who described me as such knew that I had not yet had the pleasure of seeing you, madame, and that therefore I hadn't had any temptation to give up my solitary manner of life.'
'Your language is rather that of a courtier than that of a hermit, Sir Nugent,' said Madame de Nerval. She was a tall, handsome, large-framed woman of about five-and-thirty, with bold black eyes, which she used with great effect. 'But come, let me introduce you to my friends--Madame Pierotte, Madame Chauvain--Sir Nugent Uffington.'
Two rather pretty women--both with very fair hair; one in rose-coloured satin, the other in green silk; both very muchdécolletées, very much powdered, and wearing a vast number of rings--bowed at the presentation.
'Now for the gentlemen,' said Madame de Nerval, continuing the introduction. 'The gentleman on the ottoman is M. le Comte de Gerfuzet; next to him Alexis Eyma, thefeuilletoniste, who is of course known to you by repute; and this is,' she added, bending forward and playfully patting the close-cut silver-white hair of a big handsome old man, who stooped his massive head for the purpose,--'this is my grandpapa, the Baron von Höchstadt.'
Each of these gentlemen bowed as his name was pronounced; and when Madame de Nerval spoke of the Baron as her grandfather, there was a universal roar of laughter, in which the Baron himself bore the principal part.
'Zee Count ee eez to me,' said Madame Pierotte, nestling down on the ottoman, and lighting her cigarette from her friend's cigar; 'ee eez mai lofe.'
'Tiens, Rosette; oublie-t-on les convenances ici, par exemple?' cried the Count, elevating his eyebrows, and causing immense delight to his companions by adding, 'Eet eez shocking!'
'You must erlaub, Sir Nugent Uffington,' said Baron Höchstadt, 'that mein gross-child is what you call very pretty.'
'I think it will be better,' said Madame de Nerval, smiling, and administering to the Baron a reproving slap, 'that we should make up our minds to talk French, which I am sure Sir Nugent Uffington speaks perfectly. I don't think, from the specimens I have heard, that you are to be trusted with English any longer.'
'You will do me the justice to say, Mélanie,' said M. Alexis Eyma, 'that during our long acquaintance you have never heard me attempt to pronounce a word of English except "jockei" and "come up." There is no language a horse understands so well; but I doubt whether it is of much use for other purposes.'
'And yet, monsieur, Shakespeare wrote in it,' said Uffington, turning towards him, 'and Walter Scott; you may possibly have heard of them?'
'As for Shakespeare, monsieur,je m'en fiche. I have read him in translation, and he is veryennuyeux; and Walter Scott was merely an inferior Dumas of the last century.'
'Let us go and find your friend Lord Forestfield, Sir Nugent,' said Madame de Nerval, interposing; 'he is in the other room, I think. Is it not curious,' she said, as she passed through the velvetportièreinto the antechamber, 'that that horrid little man cannot be quiet, even in the houses of friends, but must endeavour at all risks to make himself conspicuous? Nothing in the world would please him better than to force you into a duel, even upon the most ridiculous questions. He is as brave as a lion, and has been out many times.'
'I think it would be better for his own comfort,' said Uffington, with a grim smile, 'if he wishes to make an Englishman his victim, to try his hand on Forestfield rather than on me. I have had a tolerable amount of practice both with sword and pistol, and my honour would not find itself satisfied after I had given or received a simple scratch. I should kill that little man, madame, and that would pain me very much after having had the pleasure of meeting him at your house.'
Madame de Nerval looked at him with great interest. 'They told me I should find you very eccentric,' she said, 'and they certainly were not wrong. Have you been intimate with Lord Forestfield?'
'I am not at all intimate with him,' said Uffington; 'on the contrary, I never spoke to him until yesterday.'
'I am glad of that,' said Madame de Nerval, 'very glad of that. You would not have been the man I had always heard of, and,au reste, the man I take you to be, if you had been a friend of milord's.'
'And yet you must be a friend of milord's, as you call him, and a very intimate friend too,' said Uffington. 'I saw him sitting next to you at the Cirque d'Eté last night, and paying you the most devoted attentions, and he is sufficiently at home here to be able to invite me to your house.'
'Ah,' said Madame de Nerval, with a shrug of her shoulders, 'that is quite a different thing. A woman is often compelled to be intimate with a man because it suits her purpose; in many instances we have not the option of taking or leaving, as is the case with men, and Lord Forestfield istant soit peunecessary to me at the present moment. You are smiling at my frankness, I see. I speak frankly because I had heard so much of you that I have always had a desire to see you, and now that we have met, I am not disappointed.'
'It is pleasant to have such a mark of your confidence,' said Uffington, with a smile; 'though I do not know what people have said of me, or what I can have done, that I should be so distinguished.'
'One word more before we find milord,' said Madame de Nerval: 'do you play cards?'
Uffington's face brightened at once, and the look ofinsouciancewhich it generally wore passed away; but his voice had lost nothing of its ordinary tone of weariness as he replied,
'Occasionally, when I am in the company of card-players.'
'Have you skill or luck, or both?' asked Madame de Nerval.
'Or neither? you might have asked,' said Uffington, with a short laugh, 'for that is often the condition of your inveterate gambler. For my part, I can hold my own with most men that I play with, and occasionally I am exceptionally lucky. Why do you ask?'
'Because a considerable amount of play goes on here,' said Madame de Nerval, 'and if you had objected to it I should have advised your withdrawing at once, before Lord Forestfield knew of your arrival.'
'You are really very good,' said Uffington, 'and I am more than grateful for your thoughtful kindness; but the fact is, that I want a little distraction just now, and I am glad to think that I shall find it at the card-table.'
'Allons, then,' said Madame de Nerval, opening the door as she spoke.
Uffington found himself in a large room, with several card-tables set out and occupied.
At one the three Frenchmen whom he had met at Bignon's at breakfast in the morning were engaged with Forestfield at whist; at anotherbaccaratwas being played, with some ladies, of the same pattern as those in the other room, looking on and occasionally betting, while now and then a Russian exclamation which escaped them betrayed the nationality of the gentlemen. There was a sideboard at one end of the room, on which were heaped various cold delicacies and tall bottles, while from time to time a couple of liveried servants walked round the tables, attending to the wants of the guests.
The rubber at whist was just over, and Lord Forestfield, having won, was pocketing his gains in great good humour, and leaning back in his chair with a saucy laugh of triumph, when Madame de Nerval touched him on the shoulder.
'Hallo, Mélanie, what is it?' he said, looking up. 'I have just finished my rubber, and was going to look after you. I was thinking--'
'I have brought your friend Sir Nugent Uffington, milord,' said Mélanie, interrupting him. 'I have introduced myself, and explained to Sir Nugent how glad I am to see him.'
'Here you are then, my good fellow,' said Forestfield, jumping up; 'I didn't catch sight of you at first behind Mélanie's ample skirts. So you have made acquaintance with her already, have you? that's right. I hate most women--I have reason to; but she is an exception to her sex--true-hearted, staunch, and if she did not understand English so well, I would say devilish handsome!'
'There is no woman, I think, who would not understand a compliment, in whatever language it might be paid to her,' said Mélanie, 'and I don't pretend to be any stronger-minded than the rest. One could tell that your friend was an Englishman, milord,' continued Mélanie, with a touch of coquetry which Uffington had not hitherto remarked in her, and which he soon saw was assumed, 'for we have been full five minutes together, and he has not yet said one pretty thing to me.'
'Has he not?' said Lord Forestfield. 'Well, I can understand that. You said all your sweet things years ago, didn't you, Sir Nugent? and a pretty mess you got into by saying them, I have heard.'
Uffington's face grew very dark; his nostrils dilated and his nether lip quivered; but he checked himself sufficiently to say, without any perceptible tremor in his voice, 'I grieve to hear so bad a character of myself from Madame de Nerval; and though I must own to having been silent about her charms, it was not owing to any want of appreciation of them. There is a proverb in our language, madame, in which it says that passions are like streams, "the shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb." I must ask you to think that that is my case, and also that,
"Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit, The charms of beauty I remember yet."'
'That is all rot about your being so old, Sir Nugent,' said Lord Forestfield gruffly; 'I can guess your age pretty well. I had just gone to Eton when that affair of yours with Mrs. Moggs, or whatever her name was, came off; and I recollect quite well all the fellows talking about it, and I wondered--'
'All the fellows have talked about it rather too much, Lord Forestfield,' said Uffington, touching him lightly on the arm; 'and I object to its being further discussed.'
'O, very well; I don't want to say anything more about it,' said Lord Forestfield, with a forced laugh. 'What will you do now? that is the thing. Are you fond of a game at cards? You might like to cut in at this whist-table; I am not going to play any more--these fellows don't play high enough for me--and you can have my place.'
'Thanks,' said Uffington, 'but I confess when I play I like to have some excitement. I like to rise up with the knowledge that I have either won or lost something considerable--not merely a few francs which will pay for my cab home, or which I shall not miss the next morning. The man who said that the greatest pleasure in life next to winning money at cards was losing it, was not far off the truth.'
'Gad, you are full of pluck,' said Lord Forestfield. 'It isn't often you hear fellows talk like that now.'
'That is because the men of the present day go into card-playing as they go into everything else,' said Uffington--'horse-racing, courting, what not, for the mere sordid sake of making money. They care nothing for the excitement of the game; they merely look to its pecuniary results--that is the feeling which, carried to an excess, turns high-bred gentlemen into club sharpers, and destroys the best elements which constitute society.'
'Yes, I daresay,' said Lord Forestfield, with a yawn, having been rather bored with this dissertation, 'no doubt what you say is quite right. By the way, do you play écarté?'
'Yes,' said Uffington, 'I play most games after a fashion.'
'Let us have a turn then,' said Lord Forestfield. 'I rather fancy myself at écarté, do you know?'
'Then you won't mind the stakes being high,' said Uffington. 'As I told you before, it seems to me waste of time to give oneself the trouble of playing with the interchange of a few shillings for the result.'
'O, I am on,' said Lord Forestfield. 'I don't mind particularly what the stakes are--let us say fifty pounds a game; you can raise your interest to what you like by betting on the hand.'
'That will do for me,' said Uffington. Then turning to Madame de Nerval, he said, 'If I had had the good fortune to make madame's acquaintance earlier, I should have asked her to wish me success. Now I have to struggle, not merely against my antagonist's skill, but against the knowledge that your prayers are being preferred in his favour.'
'Come, there is a polite speech for you at last, Mélanie,' said Lord Forestfield. 'Look here, like a good girl; tell one of those fellows to get us a table, and to bring a bottle of champagne and a tankard. I am horribly thirsty, and nothing will satisfy me but a big drink.'
The table was found, and the gentlemen seated themselves, Lord Forestfield having by his side a silver tankard, and at his feet the champagne-bottle in its cooler. Uffington contented himself with a glass of lemonade, which provoked much raillery on the part of his rival.
'You are going in for keeping your head cool, Sir Nugent, I see,' said Lord Forestfield, as he dealt; 'that sort of thing doesn't do for me. I have been so confoundedly bored at that game at whist with those three Frenchmen, though I won their money, that I want something to pick me up. I mark the king. That is not a bad beginning, Sir Nugent; champagne against lemonade any day. Come on.'
'That is owing to the presence of your guardian angel,' said Uffington, pointing to Madame de Nerval, who was standing by Lord Forestfield's side.
'Another compliment for you, Mélanie,' said Lord Forestfield, who was at this moment in high good humour. 'This cold Englishman is coming out--guardian angel, eh? Well, she is a very good girl, I believe,' he continued, tapping Madame de Nerval's hand familiarly. 'They say, don't they, that every man has two guardian angels--one good and one bad--to watch over his life. I have had enough of the bad,' he muttered between his teeth, 'and it is time the luck turned.'
When they fairly settled down to their play it was thought that they were very evenly matched, and that there was but little to choose between them. Lord Forestfield played with some recklessness, but with considerable skill and no small luck; Sir Nugent Uffington's play was cautious and guarded throughout; and so much interest was evoked by the contest, that gradually the other tables were deserted, and the company formed themselves into a circle round the écarté players. A good deal of betting was started, and Lord Forestfield seized every opportunity of backing his own hand to a considerable amount. Uffington, on the other hand, declined to bet, and concentrated his attention on the cards.
The result was that about five in the morning the party broke up; Lord Forestfield rose the conqueror by three games, and the winner of a great many bets. He was as overjoyed at his success as any neophyte, and on bidding Uffington good-night expressed his earnest hope that they should meet again and renew their tournament that evening. Uffington smiled, and declared his perfect readiness; then sauntered home to bed.
The sun was just beginning to rise as he reached his room at Meurice's. He threw open the window and leant out, inhaling the sweet scent which rose from the turf and trees in the Tuileries gardens, and watching the rising rays stealing over the cupolas of the old palace, and bathing them in golden light.
'Strange,' he said to himself; 'how exactly it has all come about as I could have wished. The meeting with Lydyeard at Torquay with the information of where this man was to be found; the stumbling upon him at once in Paris, and the quasi-intimacy that has ensued; then his newly-developed mania for play, the very means which I had devised for the end which I will most assuredly bring about. He has won to-night, and is exulting in his triumph; but I have no more doubt as to the ultimate result than I have of the right and justice of the cause in which I am engaged. They used to call me a fatalist in Moscow years ago, and I suppose they were not far wrong. This I know--that I have the most perfect faith in my carrying through this project, the most perfect certainty that luck will favour me; simply because I happen for once to be doing the right thing--to be fighting the battle for a woman who is, as I believe, more sinned against than sinning, and who is unable to help herself. This is the first time since I succeeded that I have felt thankful to fate for giving me poor young Mark's inheritance, with power and position and money wherewith to fight this scoundrel, for without them there would be no doing any good. He has no idea how much I know of his pecuniary embarrassments, and how completely he has spoiled his chance of marrying the heiress, as he hoped, by his conduct of the last three months. I am afraid that his recklessness and his fondness for drink must be ascribed to his annoyance at these lost chances. Now if Messrs. Moss only intelligently carry out my instructions, and secure for me the mortgage which Richards holds on the Woodburn property, so that I can foreclose at once, I have my friend in a vice and can screw him up to my terms. I had better get to bed now, and secure all the rest I can, for I have some heavy nights' work before me.'
That day week the Comte de Gerfuzet was busily engaged on his breakfast at the Café Anglais, and had arrived at thetranche-de-melonstage, when the portly old Baron Höchstadt entering begged permission to seat himself at the table. This granted and his own breakfast ordered, the Baron, who was known among his acquaintance as agobemoucheof the first order, assumed his interest-provoking expression, and began to talk.
'You were not at Mélanie's last night,mon cher?' quoth he, tucking a flowing napkin under his pendulous double chin.
'No. We dined at the Moulin Rouge, where it was horribly cold; and afterwards went to Bullier's, where it was hideously dull,' said the Count. 'It is getting too late in the season for open-air amusements. I should have enjoyed myself better at Mélanie's, I daresay. Was anything going on?'
'Anything! everything!' cried the Baron. 'You know that those two Englishmen, Milord Froschfeld and Sir Ofton, have been playing écarté there every night?'
'I know they played one night,' said the Count, 'but I have not been to Mélanie's since first Sir Ofton arrived. And they have been playing écarté,ces gaillards, have they? Which has been the winner?'
'At first milord; but about the third night fortune changed, and milord has losténormément--Mélanie herself sayscinq mille livres sterlings.'
'That is bad for Mélanie,' said the Count, giving the points of his moustaches an insinuating twist, 'for Lor' Frosfeel was very devoted and very generous to her.'
'So I thought, and yet she doesn't seem to feel it much,' said the Baron. 'However, you must come to-night, for they are going to playquitte à quitte, and there are several wagers, amounting to about as much, which milord proposes to settle in the same way.'
'Hein!' said the Count; 'they are curious people these English, certainly the most eccentric nation in the world. I have no great love for them, and shall certainly be present to see one of them ruin the other.'
At three o'clock the next morning, though upwards of fifty people remained in the large room at Madame de Nerval's, standing round a table at which two players were engaged, not a word was spoken, not a sound was heard save that made from time to time by the dealing of the cards. Gradually the interest and expectancy increased; the spectators ppushed forward with held breath and straining eyes. Then suddenly the ccrowd fell back, a long 'A-h!' conveying their pent-up feelings, and Lord Forestfield rose from his seat. He was pale, and had a seared strained look round the eyes, but otherwise was quite calm.
'You have been fortunate, Sir Nugent Uffington,' he said, with a slight tremor in his voice, 'and I am in your debt exactly double the sum for which you hold my acknowledgment. I will do myself the pleasure of calling on you to-morrow;' and with a stately bow to the company he walked out of the room.
'Trés-bien fait!' whispered the Count to his neighbour. 'It is on occasions like this that an Englishman's naturalfroideuris of so much use to him.'
The next morning Sir Nugent Uffington, notwithstanding the late hour at which he had retired to rest, woke early, and stretching out his hand, gathered up some papers which lay on the table by his bedside. The first in his grasp was a crumpled green telegraph form, which, being untwisted and spread out, read as follows:
'Messrs. Moss and Moss, Thavies Inn, London, to Sir Nugent Uffington, Bart., Hôtel Meurice, Paris. Richards has made over to you Woodburn mortgage. We hold it on your account. Foreclosure so soon as orders received.'
'So far so good,' said Uffington, raising himself on his elbow. 'Those charming people, Messrs. Moss, have obeyed my instructions implicitly, and that earth is stopped. By which means by friend will be more readily brought to book, that is all! How right I was years ago to make a resolution never to read letters which I might find awaiting me on my return home late at night, and what singular resolution I must have had to keep to it! It was a sensible thing--the idea of having oneself upset, and one's valuable night's rest scared away, for something which could not be remedied! To be sure, I could not resist a glance at that telegram last night, because I knew it would have no actual effect on the position of affairs; and if it turned out right--as has happily proved the case--could only make me a little more secure in the saddle. But here is something else,' taking up a twisted scrap, 'this note which Madame de Nerval left in my hand when I took my leave of her. Now certainly I deserve credit for having left that unread up to this time. What does it say?
"I have guessed your secret. YouhateLord Forestfield, and have come here determined to ruin him. There is a woman in this; I know it, my jealousy tells me so. For he is not the only one whose peace of mind you have destroyed. Let me see you very soon.A toi.--M."
'Exactly so,' said Uffington to himself, laying down the paper with a cynical smile. 'To him that hath, &c. The vagrant dies of starvation in the ditch, and the philosopher is too lazy to take his hands from his pockets, but bites at the peaches as they hang a-ripening on the wall. I fear I shall not be able to obey your commands, fair lady, for by this evening I expect my mission will be accomplished and I shall have left Paris. Everything has succeeded with me exactly as I could have wished. Forestfield must be on the brink of ruin, and this news about the mortgage deprives him of his only chance of escape. Will he face ruin, or accept the alternative I offer? The alternative, without a doubt. When I show him, as I shall, that he has not the remotest hope of obtaining that for which he has been playing for the last twelvemonth; when I point out to him, as I shall, that without my aid he must be made a bankrupt, and henceforth live, like other bankrupt peers, on his title and his wits; when I make clear to him how little I require in proportion to what I give--he will come to my terms. And such a success will amply repay the trouble and the cost which have been necessary to secure it. It has been loathsome enough to live once more in what is called society, and to look on at all the miserable meanness and petty spite by which those moving in it are governed. It has been heart-sickening to see this woman shunned, tabooed, and pointed at by a world which still continues to receive this hound, and dares not say openly, "You are a scoundrel, whose ill conduct has driven your wife to do what she has done; and though we must ostracise her, we decline at the same time to have anything more to say to you." It has been weary work to listen to all the old lies, to pretend to be deceived by all the old cajolery, to look on or take part in so-called pleasure, with which one has been surfeited at five-and-twenty; but it has all worked out well, and the end--or I am very much mistaken--will justify the means. Now I will dress myself and prepare for my visitor!'
At twelve o'clock Lord Forestfield was announced, and entered the room, looking worn and ill. The seared strained appearance round the eyes was more marked, and he had lost the self-command which was so conspicuous on the previous evening. From time to time he kept moistening his lips, and there was an involuntary fluttering motion of his hands which he in vain endeavoured to suppress. He fell into a chair, and at once lay back, covering his face with his hands, apparently oblivious of where he was; then, rousing himself with a start, he leant forward, and in an odd abrupt way, totally different from his usual manner, he said:
'Well, Uffington, I'm here as I said I would be. This is a d--d pretty business! You didn't think I'd come, I suppose, eh?'
'Because I didn't ask you for any farther acknowledgment than that which I hold, and which only represents half your debt, is that the reason?' asked Uffington. 'O no, Lord Forestfield, I was sure you would come this morning.'
'How could you be sure'? I suppose you mean that you've heard I always keep my word, and pay my debts, and that kind of thing--is that it?'
'Not exactly. I knew--I felt--you would come; how or why I could hardly explain; and no explanation is necessary since you are here.'
'Yes, that's all devilish fine!' said Lord Forestfield, rising from his chair and pacing the room. 'I heard fellows say you're a fatalist--believe that what will be, will be; and that sort of thing. I suppose you felt certain beforehand that you would win those conquering games?'
'I had an inward conviction that I should obtain what I wanted,' said Uffington quietly.
'What you wanted?' cried Forestfield coarsely. 'What you wanted was my money I presume? Mine or some one else's--it didn't matter much. However, the result of all this fatalism is that I owe you ten thousand pounds, Sir Nugent Uffington.'
'Exactly,' said Uffington, with a cold smile. 'And that being the result, Lord Forestfield, you can scarcely wonder that I am a fatalist.'
'Suppose I were to say that I could not pay you--for the present, at all events,' said Forestfield--'what would you say to that?'
'I should remind you--though I am sure there would be no occasion to do so--that debts of honour alwaysmustbe paid. It would be impossible for you to show your face in society with the rumour that you had played and lost and repudiated hanging round you. Besides, I suppose you do not wish to be added to the distinguished list of peers who have figured in the Bankruptcy Court?'
'Of course not,' said Forestfield, whose pale cheeks were gradually becoming very red; 'but it's all devilish fine to say "pay"--how are you to do it when you have no money? The truth is, I have been disappointed. I've just heard some news which has completely upset my calculations, and I'm infernally disappointed!' And he threw himself into the chair.
'I know it,' said Uffington, bending towards him across the table, 'and I know you! Know you to be as mean a scoundrel, as contemptible a blackguard, as poor a trickster, as is to be found even in this city! Bah, don't attempt that!' he cried, catching Forestfield's uplifted arm by the wrist and holding it. 'I'm a stronger man than you, though I'm ten years older, and I haven't forgotten the lessons I used to take from Alec Keene in the old days. You would have no chance standing up against me; and as for a duel, I could take care of myself there also if I found--as I very much doubt--that you are in a position to call any gentleman to account. There,' he said, throwing Forestfield's arm away from him, 'I tell you I know you and all your miserable scheming! You say you have been disappointed, and for once you speak the truth. Months since, when you first began to suspect that your treatment of your wife had driven her to wrong-doing, you determined to profit by her sin. You would get her divorced, you said to yourself; and once free you would form an alliance, not again with a pretty trusting girl, but with some woman whose wealth would enable you to indulge in the costly dissipations of play, &c. to which you had become addicted. You looked round and made your selection, working the oracle with all that tact which I grant you possess. When your story became public, and Lady Forestfield was turned from her home, you carried your bleeding heart to Palace-gardens, there to have it bound up by Miss Vandervelde, the American heiress. Ha, ha! you see I am tolerably well informed! They could not show you too much compassion, those kindhearted people; and even when you were bold enough to hint that you would shortly be in a position to bestow your hand and title again, they were not too sensitive to bid you be silent, for they are true Republicans and dearly love a lord. But then your common sense failed you; you thought the game secure, and coming over here, launched out into those pleasures in which alone you have real enjoyment. The manner of your life in Paris has been made known in Palace-gardens, and you have received an intimation that you need show your face there no more.'
'How did you learn that?' said Lord Forestfield, taken off his guard. 'I only got old Vandervelde's letter yesterday morning.'
'I learned it because I made it my business to learn not only that, but everything about you,' said Uffington, speaking with hard earnestness. 'Not from any interest inyou, God knows; for from the first time I saw you, and heard how you treated your wife, I regarded you with a loathing and an aversion so great that they can scarcely be said to have increased now, when we have been thrown so much together. Lady Forestfield's mother was my kindest friend, and seeing how much her daughter wanted an outstretched hand to help her in her solitude and her misery, I determined to repay, so far as I could, the kindness I had experienced when I stood in need of it.'
'And you stretched out your hand to help a very pretty woman, did you?' growled Forestfield. 'What a generous, unselfish creature!'
'Less selfish than appears at first sight,' said Uffington; 'for in carrying out my plan I have had to endure things against which my sense of decency, to say nothing of my pride, revolted; such as putting up with your familiarity, Lord Forestfield, and mixing with a miserable set of Pharisees, who consent to receive you into their society while they scorn your wife, whose crime has been really the outcome of your cruelty.'
'You're a pretty kind of fellow to talk in this way!' said Forestfield, looking up from under his eyebrows and speaking in a thick voice. 'You're a nice lot to preach virtue, and the necessity for domestic happiness, and that sort of thing; and you practise what you preach, don't you, and always did? You never heard of such a thing as a fellow in the Guards running off with another mans wife, say to Switzerland now, and living there with her? That wouldn't enter into your scheme of morality, would it?'
'This is the second time you have dared to make allusion to that event in my life, Lord Forestfield,' said Uffington, with a strong effort at self-control, 'and I advise you not to repeat it. In a blundering way, however, you happen to have hit upon the truth. What promised at the time to be but a mere episode in my reckless youth had its influence on my whole career, and made me what I am; a man neither ashamed to acknowledge his guilt nor professing to be sorry for his misdeeds. If the lady to whom you have made reference lost caste in the eyes of that society of which you still continue a flourishing member, she, at all events, passed the remainder of her life in peace, and was secured from the outrage to which she had been subjected by one whose duty it was to love and protect her. God knows, I set myself up as no judge of my fellow-creatures, but it is from what I knew of that lady's history and what I saw of her sufferings that I have learned to understand and pity your wife.'
'My wife! always my wife!' cried Forestfield, choking with rage. 'Is she to be brought up and thrown in my teeth at every trick and turn? Am I never to hear the last of her?'
'Never,' said Uffington quietly. 'You imagined that, when driven to despair by your cruelty and neglect, she fell into the trap, and gave you the opportunity you had so long sought for, you had got rid of her for ever, and were free to follow your own devices. It is partly to show you how mistaken you were in such an idea that I am here to-day.'
'Don't you think you had better sink all this fine tirade of virtuous indignation, Sir Nugent Uffington?' said Forestfield, with a gleam of his old insolence returning to his face. 'Let us stick to business, please--you are neither my confessor nor my executioner, so far as I know, but merely a gentleman whose hermit-like austerity has not prevented his winning my money at cards--that's what we have to discuss; and, as the lawyers say, we will, if you please, not travel out of the record.'
'I am perfectly willing to confine our discussion to that point,' said Uffington. 'You owe me 10,000l., Lord Forestfield, and you have at once to pay me that amount, or give me an equivalent.'
'An equivalent!' cried Forestfield; 'you mean a mortgage, or something of that sort? Well, then, it is best to say frankly at once that I can do neither. My account at my banker's is overdrawn, and my estate at Woodburn is mortgaged to the value of every acre. The infernal thief who holds it talks about foreclosing; but I am in communication with my lawyers just now, and I am in hopes of getting it held over.'
'I should advise you not to lean on any such rotten reed,' said Uffington. 'The gentleman who held the mortgage, and whom you are pleased to style an infernal thief, was a Mr. Richards, I believe?'
'That is his name,' said Forestfield; 'how on earth did you know it?'
'Simply from having had a few business transactions with him myself,' said Uffington. 'The fact is, Lord Forestfield, that Mr. Richards has transferred his interest in the Woodburn mortgage to me, and, so far as that is concerned, you are entirely in my power.'
Lord Forestfield's jaw fell and his face became deadly pale. 'This is a devilish deep conspiracy you have been hatching for my ruin, Sir Nugent Uffington,' he said; 'a nice gentlemanly scheme to bring me on my knees for some purpose of your own. What is it all about? What do you want?'
'What I intend to have,' said Uffington; 'your money, or the equivalent. You owe me 10,000l., and if you don't pay it I will post you in every club in London. I hold the mortgage on the Woodburn estate, and can at any moment telegraph to my lawyers to foreclose, and thus deprive you of your patrimony. You see, there is no chance of escape, and that you are completely ruined--unless, indeed, you choose to accept the equivalent.'
'Damn the equivalent!' cried Lord Forestfield, in an access of rage. 'Why don't you tell me what it is, sir? What is the use of beating about the bush in this way?'
'It is merely this,' said Uffington. 'I will tear up your notes of hand which I hold, and will regard the debt as cancelled for ever,--further, I will give you an undertaking that no steps shall be taken in regard to the mortgage on the Woodburn property for a number of years to be agreed upon,--provided that you, take back your wife--'
'What!' cried Lord Forestfield, springing from his seat; 'take back my wife! Is that the game you have been playing for? Take back my wife after all that I have gone through; all the exposure which I have suffered! Not if I know it. You have missed your mark, Sir Nugent Uffington.'
'The exposure which you have suffered is nothing to that which you will have to undergo at my hands if you do not accept these terms,' said Uffington coldly. 'Besides, in your vehemence you interrupted me before I had sufficiently explained myself. Do not think for an instant that I am stipulating for any reconciliation between you and Lady Forestfield. However much you may wish for it at a future time--and that time will surely come--it would be difficult to induce your wife to agree to it. I do not even suggest that there should be any meeting between you, as such a proceeding were much better avoided.'
'You're uncommonly good, I am sure,' said Forestfield grimly. 'What is it, then, that you require, may I ask?'
'I require you to abandon the divorce suit which you have instituted, and to take no further steps for procuring the confirmation of the decreenisiwhich you have obtained. Further, I require that Lady Forestfield be reinstated in her proper position as mistress of your house.'
'I thought you said there was to be no reconciliation, no meeting?' cried Forestfield.
'Nor need there be,' said Uffington. 'My notion is that Lady Forestfield should go to Woodburn and remain there for the present--your people being, of course, there to attend to her, and she being received and recognised as their mistress. She desires to live in the strictest privacy and to interfere with you in no way.'
'And suppose I were to refuse, what then?'
'For you, beggary, outlawry, and exposure--a state of life to which you have not been accustomed, and which I think would scarcely suit you.'
There was a pause for a few moments. Then Lord Forestfield said:
'You take advantage of your position to drive a hard bargain, sir; but I am at your mercy, and I don't see how I can resist. How long will you give me to think it over?'
'Till this afternoon,' said Uffington. 'I have promised my lawyers instructions in regard to the mortgage affair, which admits of no delay. So that I must return to England to-night, and I should be glad if you would accompany me. If I do not hear from you before, I shall expect to meet you at the mail train at the Chemin du Nord.'
'Was there ever such a beaten hound?' said Uffington, after his companion had left him. 'There is no doubt about his accepting my terms. The thought of a future without money to spend in drink and gambling was too dreadful for him to contemplate.'
The pleasant intercourse which had sprung up between Mrs. Hamblin and Mrs. Chadwick lasted throughout the whole of the dead season. For her own purposes Mrs. Hamblin had affected a great interest in all that concerned, not merely the mistress of the house in Fairfax-gardens, but all her family, and Mrs. Chadwick was only too delighted to revel in the friendship thus offered to her. For she was quick-witted enough and sufficiently a woman of the world to see plainly that, although she had secured the attendance of the best people in London at her parties, and in return was regularly invited to their set and formal entertainments, she had as yet no intimacy with any members of that world in which alone she cared to live. Men dropped in to dinner now and then certainly--there were always plenty to whom the boiler-maker's capital cuisine and exquisite wine were sufficient attraction--but there had hitherto been none but the most ceremonious visiting on the part of the ladies, and none of those pleasant gatheringsen petit comitéat which Mrs. Chadwick longed so much to assist, and from which she bitterly felt her exclusion. Mrs. Hamblin's house was one at which, as Mrs. Chadwick knew, there was a constant influx of visitors, and where the coziest little impromptu luncheons, tea-parties, and suppers were frequently taking place, all the guests being people of position in society. Mrs. Hamblin herself looking upon flirtation with a lenient eye, was scarcely likely to disapprove of in others; and the consequence was that many very pleasant meetings took place, apparently quite unexpectedly, in the handsome drawing-rooms of her house in Cumberland-place, or better still in the pretty little boudoir, all green-silk hangings and Dresden china, which was approached by double doors on the first landing, and was only accessible to the initiated. When, therefore, Mrs.. Hamblin was not merely constantly in Fairfax-gardens, but had received Mrs. Chadwick in the most friendly manner at Cumberland-place and made her free, as it were, of the boudoir, the latter lady was surely justified in thinking that when the season arrived she would be permitted to associate on a footing of intimacy with Mrs. Hamblin's friends, who, in their turn, would become intimate friends of her own, and that after this fashion her highest hopes would be realised.
One morning, when one of those opaque yellow fogs which visit London in the early days of November had settled down like a pall over the metropolis, when gas was lighted in the shops, and locomotion rendered next to impossible, Mrs. Hamblin sat in her boudoir in rather a dejected frame of mind. The utter ghastliness of the weather would have been alone sufficient to account for that, but there were other causes. Mrs. Hamblin had become thoroughly sick of London; the letters received each morning from her friends spoke of pleasant times in country houses, where hunting and shooting parties were assembled, and made her long for escape from the dead dull monotony of empty streets and deserted houses to which, for the first time in her life during this season of the year, she had for three months been relegated. She was, moreover, excessively annoyed at having to confess to herself the fact that it was wholly her own fault; that she had no one but herself to blame for the weariness she had undergone. It was true that circumstances had prevented Mr. Hamblin from taking his official holiday at the usual time, but that was no reason why she should have remained in town; they had managed before now to get on very comfortably without seeing each other for three or four months, and indeed when domesticated under the same roof they met but seldom; for Mr. Hamblin, away from his office, was a bibliomaniac, spending most of his time in hunting up rare editions and curious copies, surrounded by which musty old tomes he would sit for hours in his library, perfectly content in looking at his book-treasures, and not taking the slightest notice of whatever fun or festivity might be going on in other portions of the house. So that it was not entirely on her husband's account Mrs. Hamblin had refused the numerous invitations which she had received to stay with friends, and had given up her usual visit to Hombourg. If Spiridion Pratt had been an intending guest at any of the country houses to which she was invited, or had been going, according to custom, to the German spas, assuredly Mrs. Hamblin would not have chosen to immure herself in Cumberland-place during the autumn months; but he, to whom anything like a change was most welcome, even though it involved flying in the face of all conventional and set rules, had determined to see whether London was really habitable in September, and as he had decided upon staying in town, Mrs. Hamblin had concluded it was better she should remain there also. Not that the feeling, which had always been rather a caprice than a passion, which she had at one time entertained for the dilettante little man had not passed away; but her pride was touched at the notion of his escaping her so easily, at his attempt to slip from his bonds without giving her the notice to which she had been accustomed in such cases, and she thought it would be actually worth while to attempt to bring him back into slavery. The season of the year promised well for this project; she would be able to devote all her time to carrying it out, and there would not, as she thought, be any one in town likely to divert her quondam admirer's attention.
The discovery which she had made concerning Eleanor Irvine had entirely dispelled this pleasant idea. Here was a rival on the spot, one to whom she had never given any heed, and of whom, if she had not had evidence which it was impossible to set aside, she could never have had the least fear. To be sure she had done her best to ruin the girl in Spiridion's opinion; all that she had seen during the performance of her self-imposed duties ofespionnagewas not merely constantly hinted at in Spiridion's presence, but actually formed the subject of various anonymous letters which Mr. Pratt was in the habit of receiving, written in an unknown female hand, and posted in the south-eastern district of London. If these communications were intended to frighten the little man, and to induce him to neglect those frequent opportunities of being in Eleanor's society which the assiduous foresight of Mrs. Chadwick provided for him, they failed in their effect. Mr. Pratt was greatly pleased to think that the fact of his paying attention to one woman induced another to resort to such means for undermining her rival. In matters of this kind he was by no means a fool, perfectly understanding whence the letters came, and appreciating the motive which caused them to be sent. He therefore continued without intermission his pursuit of Eleanor, of whom he day by day became, after his queer fashion, more and more enamoured, and made up his mind that he would most certainly propose to her.
Though Mrs. Hamblin was not aware of her former admirer's intention to carry matters to an such serious pitch, she could not but see that her own influence over him was at an end; and she was musing over this, and regretting her misspent autumn, on the foggy morning in November, when a note was handed to her, which, in addition to the usual superscription, bore the words 'Private and immediate' and 'Answer.' Mrs. Hamblin had no difficulty in recognising the rather florid handwriting of Mrs. Chadwick, and the little excitement consequent upon the idea that some one might have returned to town and be coming to see her therefore subsided before she broke the seal. The note ran thus: