The Great Day arrived at last; and Mr. Richard Avenel, from his dressing-
room window, looked on the scene below as Hannibal or Napoleon looked
from the Alps on Italy. It was a scene to gratify the thought of
conquest, and reward the labours of ambition. Placed on a little
eminence stood the singers from the mountains of the Tyrol, their high-
crowned hats and filigree buttons and gay sashes gleaming in the sun.
Just seen from his place of watch, though concealed from the casual eye,
the Hungarian musicians lay in ambush amidst a little belt of laurels and
American shrubs. Far to the right lay what had once been called
/horresco referens/ the duckpond, where--"Dulce sonant tenui gutture
carmen aves." But the ruthless ingenuity of the head-artificer had
converted the duck-pond into a Swiss lake, despite grievous wrong and
sorrow to the /assuetum innocuumque genus/,--the familiar and harmless
inhabitants, who had been all expatriated and banished from their native
waves. Large poles twisted with fir branches, stuck thickly around the
lake, gave to the waters the becoming Helvetian gloom. And here, beside
three cows all bedecked with ribbons, stood the Swiss maidens destined to
startle the shades with the /Ranz des Vaches/. To the left, full upon
the sward, which it almost entirely covered, stretched the great Gothic
marquee, divided into two grand sections,--one for the dancing, one for
the dejeune.
The day was propitious,--not a cloud in the sky. The musicians were
already tuning their instruments; figures of waiters hired of Gunter--
trim and decorous, in black trousers and white waistcoats--passed to and
fro the space between the house and marquee. Richard looked and looked;
and as he looked he drew mechanically his razor across the strop; and
when he had looked his fill, he turned reluctantly to the glass and
shaved! All that blessed morning he had been too busy, till then, to
think of shaving.
There is a vast deal of character in the way that a man performs that
operation of shaving! You should have seen Richard Avenel shave! You
could have judged at once how he would shave his neighbours, when you saw
the celerity, the completeness with which he shaved himself,--a
forestroke and a backstroke, and /tondenti barba cadebat/. Cheek and
chin were as smooth as glass. You would have buttoned up your pockets
instinctively if you had seen him.
But the rest of Mr. Avenel's toilet was not completed with correspondent
despatch. On his bed, and on his chairs, and on his sofa, and on his
drawers, lay trousers and vests and cravats enough to distract the choice
of a Stoic. And first one pair of trousers was tried on, and then
another--and one waistcoat, and then a second, and then a third.
Gradually that chef-d'oeuvre of civilization--a man dressed--grew into
development and form; and, finally, Mr. Richard Avenel emerged into the
light of day. He had been lucky in his costume,--he felt it. It might
not suit every one in colour or cut, but it suited him.
And this was his garb. On such occasion, what epic poet would not
describe the robe and tunic of a hero?
His surtout--in modern phrase his frockcoat--was blue, a rich blue,
a blue that the royal brothers of George the Fourth were wont to favour.
And the surtout, single-breasted, was thrown open gallantly; and in the
second button-hole thereof was a moss-rose. The vest was white, and the
trousers a pearl gray, with what tailors style "a handsome fall over the
boot." A blue and white silk cravat, tied loose and debonair; an ample
field of shirt front, with plain gold studs; a pair of lemon-coloured kid
gloves, and a white hat, placed somewhat too knowingly on one side,
complete the description, and "give the world assurance of the man."
And, with his light, firm, well-shaped figure, his clear complexion, his
keen, bright eye, and features that bespoke the courage, precision, and
alertness of his character,--that is to say, features bold, not large,
well-defined, and regular,--you might walk long through town or country
before you would see a handsomer specimen of humanity than our friend
Richard Avenel.
Handsome, and feeling that he was handsome; rich, and feeling that he was
rich; lord of the fete, and feeling that he was lord of the fete, Richard
Avenel stepped out upon his lawn.
And now the dust began to rise along the road, and carriages and gigs and
chaises and flies might be seen at near intervals and in quick
procession. People came pretty much about the same time-as they do in
the country--Heaven reward them for it!
Richard Avenel was not quite at his ease at first in receiving his
guests, especially those whom he did not know by sight. But when the
dancing began, and he had secured the fair hand of Mrs. M'Catchley for
the initiary quadrille, his courage and presence of mind returned to him;
and, seeing that many people whom he had not received at all seemed to
enjoy themselves very much, he gave up the attempt to receive those who
came after,--and that was a great relief to all parties.
Meanwhile Leonard looked on the animated scene with a silent melancholy,
which he in vain endeavoured to shake off,--a melancholy more common
amongst very young men in such scenes than we are apt to suppose.
Somehow or other, the pleasure was not congenial to him; he had no Mrs.
M'Catchley to endear it; he knew very few people, he was shy, he felt his
position with his uncle was equivocal, he had not the habit of society,
he heard, incidentally, many an ill-natured remark upon his uncle and the
entertainment, he felt indignant and mortified. He had been a great deal
happier eating his radishes and reading his book by the little fountain
in Riccabocca's garden. He retired to a quiet part of the grounds,
seated himself under a tree, leaned his cheek on his hand, and mused.
He was soon far away;--happy age, when, whatever the present, the future
seems so fair and so infinite!
But now the dejeune had succeeded the earlier dances; and, as champagne
flowed royally, it is astonishing how the entertainment brightened.
The sun was beginning to slope towards the west, when, during a temporary
cessation of the dance, all the guests had assembled in such space as the
tent left on the lawn, or thickly filled the walks immediately adjoining
it. The gay dresses of the ladies, the joyous laughter heard everywhere,
and the brilliant sunlight over all, conveyed even to Leonard the notion,
not of mere hypocritical pleasure, but actual healthful happiness. He
was attracted from his revery, and timidly mingled with the groups. But
Richard Avenel, with the fair Mrs. M'Catchley--her complexion more vivid,
and her eyes more dazzling, and her step more elastic than usual--had
turned from the gayety just as Leonard had turned towards it, and was now
on the very spot (remote, obscure, shaded by the few trees above five
years old that Mr. Avenel's property boasted) which the young dreamer had
deserted.
And then! Ah, then! moment so meet for the sweet question of questions,
place so appropriate for the delicate, bashful, murmured popping
thereof!---suddenly from the sward before, from the groups beyond, there
floated to the ears of Richard Avenel an indescribable, mingled, ominous
sound,--a sound as of a general titter, a horrid, malignant, but low
cachinnation. And Mrs. M'Catchley, stretching forth her parasol,
exclaimed, "Dear me, Mr. Avenel, what can they be all crowding there
for?"
There are certain sounds and certain sights--the one indistinct, the
other vaguely conjecturable--which, nevertheless, we know, by an
instinct, bode some diabolical agency at work in our affairs. And if any
man gives an entertainment, and hears afar a general, ill-suppressed,
derisive titter, and sees all his guests hurrying towards one spot, I
defy him to remain unmoved and uninquisitive. I defy him still more to
take that precise occasion (however much he may have before designed it)
to drop gracefully on his right knee before the handsomest Mrs.
M'Catchley in the universe, and--pop the question! Richard Avenel
blurted out something very like an oath; and, half guessing that
something must have happened that it would not be pleasing to bring
immediately under the notice of Mrs. M'Catchley, he said hastily,
"Excuse me. I'll just go and see what is the matter; pray, stay till I
come back." With that he sprang forward; in a minute he was in the midst
of the group, that parted aside with the most obliging complacency to
make way for him.
"But what's the matter?" he asked impatiently, yet fearfully. Not a
voice answered. He strode on, and beheld his nephew in the arms of a
woman!
"God bless my soul!" said Richard Avenel.