MANOEUVRING.
We must return to Uncle Joseph, endeavouring to compose his mind by
riding Punch at an uncomfortable jog-trot along a succession of shady
lanes calculated to bring him back by a roundabout way to his own
dwelling-place. This _détour_, much against the pony's inclination--for
that sagacious animal protested at every homeward turn--he took
advisedly and with deliberation, that he might have time to ponder on
his position and his wrongs. Like most men who have passed middle age,
he set a great value on the blessing of health, and prudently reflected
that a towering passion, an obstinate cob, and a broiling sun, formed a
combination likely to produce one of those bilious attacks which lay the
sufferer on his back for a week, and make him as yellow as a guinea for
a fortnight. Therefore he thought it wise to cool down in solitude, and
consider his own case dispassionately, before deciding on a future line
of conduct. Had he been a young man he would have broken with Jin on the
spot. Storms of invective, reproach, and recrimination, would have
ensued, to be succeeded by thorough reconciliation and a subsequent
state of slavery more degrading than the first, after much unnecessary
wear and tear of body and mind. But Uncle Joseph had arrived at a period
of life when, highly as we prize our hearts, we set also a sufficient
value on our livers, and see no reason why lacerated affections should
be aggravated by an impaired digestion. There is much knowledge of human
nature comprised in Sir John Suckling's shrewd and suggestive stanza:
"Why so pale and wan, fond lover,
Prithee, why so pale?
Will, if looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?"
That is doubtless the least decisive defeat which is most skilfully
concealed, and one of the first principles in manoeuvring is to "show
a front," the steadier the better, however severe may be the loss under
which you are compelled to retire.
By the time Uncle Joseph had ridden a mile (and at Punch's pace, when
turned away from home, this distance afforded some leisure for
reflection) he made up his mind not to put himself in a passion. Ere he
had gone two, and settled another difference with the pony by diverse
jobs in the mouth and kicks in the stomach, he sought and found many
excuses for the young lady's conduct, and almost decided not to quarrel
with her at all.
If less agile and less ardent, these mature lovers are, at any rate,
more patient, more considerate, more forbearing, than their impetuous
juniors. They take thought, they give time, they make allowances, they
have learned one of life's most important lessons, only set forth
towards the end of the chapter, "Not to expect too much." Could they but
keep the smooth skin, the jaunty step, the trim waist, the clear eye,
the glossy locks, the buoyancy, the sparkle, and the bloom! Alas! alas!
turn it how we will, there is no disputing that the one quality of youth
outweighs all advantages of experience, wisdom, fame, intellect; and
that the figure 50, so acceptable in a _rouleau_--
"Sounds ill in love, whate'er it may in money."
While he thus rode along the shady lanes, Uncle Joseph's cogitations,
interrupted only by the carelessness and other short-comings of Punch,
jumbled themselves together into something like the following
soliloquy:
"Comes down to breakfast as sulky as a bear; 'low spirits' the women
call it, and 'over-fatigue,' but I know what that means--restless
manner, wandering eye, and not half an appetite. Scarcely truffles
enough, by the way, in that pie; mustn't forget to write about it. (Hold
up, you brute. Such another as _that_ and you'll be on the top of your
stupid head!) Then off she goes in a desperate fidget to write letters
up-stairs. Up-stairs indeed! I ought to have known at once there was
something wrong, for I never remember her in a fidget before; and as for
letters, I should suppose she was the worst correspondent in Europe!
Then, after everybody's back is turned, off like a shot through the
hay-fields, under a tropical sun, and down to the river. Some sense in
that if she'd jumped in for a cold bath. I shouldn't have pulled her
out; yes, I should! The girl's a dear girl, and a pretty one. It mayn't
be so bad after all. She could _not_ have looked at me as she did last
night, when she pinned the pinks in my button-hole, unless she liked me.
Why does my tailor never put a loop in? Does he think I'm so old nobody
gives me flowers, or is he a deep dog, who reflects I ought to have the
pull of their being pinned in? She shall never pin one in again for _me_
though, unless she can give an account of to-day's doings! What was she
about in that cottage, I should like to know, exposing herself to
infection of all kinds, and why did she stay so long? Then, who ever
heard of a young lady rushing down to the water-side, and jumping into
the first boat that passes (I wonder she didn't upset it, and I almost
wish she had!), with a half-naked man she never saw before in her life?
Who _was_ the man, I wonder? I could only make out that he had very few
clothes on! Miss Ross! Miss Ross! you are not treating me well! Perhaps
you think I'm an indulgent old fool, and only too pleased to let you do
as you like. So I would, my pretty Jin, so I would, if I had your
perfect confidence, and felt I could depend upon you. I'm not the least
a jealous fellow, I know, though of course I don't want you to make up
to anybody else; but I shouldn't mind your pretty little coaxing manner,
and your flirting ways. In fact, I rather like them. No, I don't, not a
bit, so it's no use saying so. But I could be very good to her if she
cared for me. Perhaps she doesn't, after all. And yet that seems
unlikely. Julia Bright did, and Jemima Fetters, and I think Miss
Flouncer _would_ have, if I'd been more in her set. Can I be so much
altered since then?" And thus Uncle Joseph, with his reins on the pony's
neck, dropping gradually into a walk, pursued a train of varied
thoughts, retrospective and otherwise, comprising diverse incongruous
subjects--his shares, his dinner, his present hopes, the state of his
health, the increasing proportions of his figure, Punch's failings,
Jin's perfidy, the columns of his banker's book, wine, tradespeople,
double-entry, boyhood's pastimes, manhood's gains, his last investment,
and his first romance.
The afternoon began to wane ere Punch's willing head was in the manger,
and Uncle Joseph rang the bell at his own hall-door. The race-goers
having returned early, because this, the last day, afforded but a meagre
bill of fare for sport, were yet so worn out with the heat that they had
retired to their respective dressing-rooms. Was Miss Ross back? Well,
sir, Miss Ross came home some time ago, but she seemed to have met
with--with something of an accident. No occasion to be alarmed, said the
butler, but miss was wet through, however--not a dry stitch on her, the
maid told him--and went to her own room at once. Could his master see
her? The well-drilled servant thought not. Miss Ross had given orders
she was on no account to be disturbed till dinner; and he, the butler,
rather opined she had gone to bed: adding, with a sense of what was due
to his own importance, that, "for his part, he was thankful it wasn't no
worse!"
But Miss Ross had not the least intention of going to bed, nor could she
have slept a wink on the softest couch that ever was spread. Busy
thoughts were teeming in her brain, strange contradictory feelings
thrilling at her heart. She was half pleased with herself, half angry,
sometimes absolutely revelling in the recollections of the day,
sometimes wishing she had never gone to the cottage at all. In her dark
eyes shone a light that told of some new fire kindled within; on her
delicate cheek, usually so pale, burned that blush of pleasure which is
all the dearer and deeper for being tinged by self-reproach and shame.
Mrs. Lascelles saw the change at a glance, and knew with womanly
instinct that something more had happened to her friend than a common
river accident, however dangerous it might have been. Without removing
her bonnet, she settled herself in an arm-chair the moment she entered
the other's room, determined to find out everything that had taken
place. As the two women sat together in that light, cheerful,
prettily-furnished chamber, they afforded no unsightly study of effect,
as resulting from contrast, of the respective proportion in which
feminine attractions are enhanced by dress and _déshabillé_. The fairer
beauty wore a costume I am constrained to admire, but shrink from
attempting to describe, inasmuch as it seemed to combine the different
attractions by which victory is assured at balls, dinners, regattas,
races, suburban breakfasts, county archery-meetings, the morning
cricket-match, and the afternoon tea. How it was put together, and of
what fabric, I am brutally ignorant: you might as well ask me to
articulate the anatomy of a humming-bird or describe the dress of a
dragon-fly; but I am prepared to protest that it was voluminous,
enchanting, transparent, and that there was _mauve_ in it. To have white
teeth, red lips, dancing blue eyes, rich brown hair, and a bloom like a
peach, is all very well, but does it seem quite fair play to dispose
around these natural advantages certain delicate and filmy draperies,
that set them off as a summer haze glorifies some Devonshire valley
under the noon-day sun? "Scaldings!" quoth honest Jack-tar, creeping
along the deck with anything that may be spilt. "_Væ Victis!_" says
Brennus, turning up his moustache at the gates of Rome. "Look out for
yourselves, gentlemen!" seems to be the interpretation of either
warning, "and make the best terms you can!" For my part, I think it is
wise policy to surrender at discretion, and sink point with the first
clash of steel.
Mrs. Lascelles, you see, shone in mail and plate; armed, so to speak, at
all points. Miss Ross, on the other hand, was in light skirmishing
order--none the less dangerous, however--and prepared, you may be sure,
for immediate attack. Her black hair fell about her in shining folds,
over a white surface fretted with frills and laces, set off by knots of
cherry-coloured ribbon; a band of the same hue was drawn loosely round
her slender waist; open sleeves disclosed a pair of ivory arms to the
elbows; and she had slippers on, but no stockings. I think I have
described her enough.
"So he pulled you out, dear, just as you were sinking, propped you in
his arms, with your head on his shoulder, and both did the regular stage
business, of course: 'My precious!'--'my preserver!'--'awakened
feelings!'--'eternal gratitude!' and a duet at the foot-lights.
Seriously, Jin, it is quite a romance in these prosaic days."
Mrs. Lascelles found herself amused as well as interested by the glowing
colours, not devoid of caricature, in which Miss Ross described her late
adventure and its hero.
"Nothing of the kind," protested Jin, with energy. "On the contrary, I
never saw a man take anything so quietly. You'd think he pulled people
out of the Thames once a week. I don't suppose the thing will ever enter
his head again."
"That would be very uncomplimentary, my dear," answered Mrs. Lascelles;
"and you can't really suppose anything of the sort. Now, honour! Don't
you expect him to call here to-morrow morning, the very first thing
after breakfast?"
"Why shouldn't he?" replied Jin hotly. "It wouldn't follow that he meant
more than an act of common courtesy, which he must have paid any lady
after so--so ludicrous a performance as ours!"
Here she burst out laughing, but did not thereby in the least deceive
her friend.
"Jin," said the latter, after a pause, during which each had scanned the
other narrowly, "what do you think of him?"
"Think of who?" said Jin. It was bad grammar, but people are very
obstinate about grammar in common conversation, particularly when they
turn away their heads with a blush.
"Who?" repeated Mrs. Lascelles. "Why, this new admirer, of course. This
hero, perhaps I ought rather to say, this Leander, this Windsor Bridge
swan, this duck of a dragoon! Shall you be able to abide by our compact,
and treat him like the rest? Jin, Jin, I should be sorry for you, my
poor girl, very sorry, of course, but yet I should laugh, I am afraid,
too, if you were to be caught at last, and fall in love--souse!--as you
fell into the Thames!"
"I don't know what you mean," answered Miss Ross, with great dignity.
"The one I couldn't help, and it would have been hard on me to be
drowned. If I did the other, I should deserve never to get my head above
water again."
"After all, I don't see why it should be so inexcusable," pursued her
tormentor. "Though they have not had such a chance as yours, depend upon
it, lots of others are after him. He's a strong, enterprising young man,
as you've reason to admit. Nobody can deny his good looks, and though he
hasn't a superfluity of brains, he's always very well dressed."
"You wouldn't have said so if you had seen him to-day," laughed Miss
Ross. "My dear, he was almost ready for bathing long before he jumped
out of the boat. But seriously," she resumed with imposing gravity, "I
have no secrets from _you_, Rose, and I don't wish _you_, of all people,
to carry away a false impression of me or my opinions. About Captain
Vanguard's good looks I know nothing, for I've never considered them,
and as for his being stupid, that I'm sure he's _not_. Decidedly
well-read, I should say, from his conversation. However, that's not the
question. He has done me a very great service, the greatest, probably,
that one human being can do another; for, though I laugh at it now, it
seemed no laughing matter, I assure you, while that dreadful whirl of
water was filling mouth, and nose, and ears; but if you think I am so
missy-ish that I consider it necessary to fall in love with Captain
Vanguard because he saved me from drowning, why you never were more
mistaken in your life. He's a gentleman, Rose, and a fine fellow, I
freely admit. I shall always feel grateful to him, and look on him as a
friend, but as for being in _love_ with him--bosh! Knowing me as well as
you do, Rose, I wonder you can talk such nonsense!"
From all which vehemence, and especially from the gratuitous energy of
her friend's denial, I think Mrs. Lascelles was justified in
entertaining a strong impression the very reverse of that which was
intended to be conveyed.
Her opinion gained strength from the readiness with which Jin accepted
a suggestion that it might be more prudent to remain another day at the
villa, instead of returning to London on the morrow, taking into
consideration the afternoon's excitement, the hot weather, and the
comfort of their present quarters.
"My dear, I should like to stay a month!" exclaimed Miss Ross. "It's a
paradise on earth for scenery. Uncle Joseph's the best host in the
universe, and we're all so happy. Besides, London is too detestable in
this weather. I declare to you, Rose, it was hotter last week than I
ever felt it in the South of France."
Mrs. Lascelles pondered, reflecting that she, too, had liked her visit
very much. It was pleasant enough to keep her hand in by laying siege to
Sir Henry, no great infliction to accept the slavish adoration of
Goldthred. If these could be induced to remain, a few days might pass
very agreeably at The Lilies, and Uncle Joseph, of course, would only be
too happy to keep them as long as they liked.
"But our London engagements," said she doubtfully.
"There are none for the next week we need mind throwing over," replied
Jin, whose memory was always to be depended on. "A heavy dinner at Lord
Gasper's--twenty people we don't know, not a man under forty, and all
the windows shut. Mrs. Potterton's concert--second-rate company,
third-rate singers, two hundred people asked and sitting-room for fifty.
Lady Jericho's drum--small and early, like young potatoes; she'll be
mortally affronted, and won't ask us again; but she's not going to give
anything more this season, so that don't signify! Dear Rose, it would be
very nice. Let us stay."
Now, in justice to Miss Ross, I feel bound to insist that this sudden
hatred of London gaiety and passion for rural scenery was not due solely
to her adventure with Frank Vanguard. One of the strongest motives that
can sway a woman's feelings prompted her to remain in the neighbourhood
of Mrs. Mole. To have seen her long-lost child for one short hour, to
have held him in her arms, set him on her knees, and folded his curly
little head to her bosom, was like a mouthful of water to a man fainting
from thirst, delightful, invigorating, life-restoring, but creating an
insupportable craving for more.
It may be that this interview had softened Jin's whole moral being,
rendering her more susceptible to the gentler emotions of her nature,
against which she had long waged unnatural war. It may be that in the
subjection of Frank Vanguard she hoped to acquire another vassal, or at
least an ally, against the time when she might want to summon all her
forces for the furtherance of her plans. Perhaps she had many reasons,
perhaps she had none at all, but acted, woman-like, on her instinct and
her desires. However this may be, she brought out all her powers of
persuasion to fortify her friend in the plan that seemed so delightful,
of remaining yet a while longer at The Lilies; but I must leave to those
who understand a woman's nature, if such philosophers there be, the task
of explaining why Jin should have felt at this moment less affection,
less gratitude to Mrs. Lascelles, and altogether less dependence on her
benefactress, than during the whole of their previous acquaintance.
Dinner that day, at least until the champagne had circulated, was less
lively than usual. Everybody seemed silent and pre-occupied. Sir Henry,
to use his own expression, had not "got out" in time on one of the
principal races, and as the favourite was never "in the hunt," being
beaten half a mile from home, the baronet experienced a double
annoyance, of losing his money, and feeling also that he had been less
astute than his neighbours when he suffered Outrigger to carry a large
stake for him in the Thames Handicap. Mrs. Lascelles, watching his face
narrowly, began to torment herself, but taking her tone from his, these
two presently recovered their equanimity. Sir Henry liked champagne, and
drank it freely. The exhilarating tendency of that agreeable wine,
acting on the buoyancy of his disposition, soon put dull care to flight,
and before dinner was half over, he had forgotten ill-luck, losses, and
embarrassments, and disposed himself to grasp the enjoyments of the
present as only such natures can.
But not all the wine that ever was corked at Epernay could have
enlivened Uncle Joseph after the disclosures of to-day. He hardly spoke
to Miss Ross before they sat down; and when she offered him the usual
little posy for his button-hole, refused the flowers with a rudeness
that would have been brutal, but for the wounded feelings his petulance
revealed. Truth compels me to admit that, notwithstanding his mercantile
probity, Uncle Joseph scarcely behaved like an honest man in the present
transaction. He was not really half so angry as he pretended to be; but
remembering, in his previous experience, that such little quarrels often
cleared the way to mutual understanding and good-will, he resolved to
stick by the precepts of that great amatory authority, "Ovid with the
Nose," and prepare, by a good dose of sulks to-night, for a
"_redinte-gratio amoris_" to-morrow.
Jin, on the contrary, whose present idea it was to keep all her irons in
the fire, suffering no profusion of birds in the bush to distract her
entirely from the one in hand, proceeded to approach and circumvent her
host as craftily as a Scotch keeper stalks an old cock grouse in
October. She gazed on him at intervals with mournful curiosity,
withdrawing her eyes the instant they met his glance. She sighed, she
talked _at_ him, she even tried to flirt a little with Goldthred,
something in the day's adventures preventing her from sharpening her
weapons on Sir Henry; as a last resource, she affected headache and
extreme fatigue, while she related, with touching frankness, the
accident she had sustained, making light of its danger, and most
ungratefully ignoring the gallantry of her preserver.
But all to no purpose--she deceived nobody. Uncle Joseph grew crustier
every moment, and Sir Henry, who was easily amused, smiled as he
bethought him that, but for the good looks of the lady, this ill-matched
couple reminded him forcibly of a monkey and a bear.
Goldthred, I need hardly observe, was always the same in the presence of
his mistress, absent, confused, over-polite, and prone to blush at short
notice. At no time did he aspire to be a vivacious companion, but in the
company of Mrs. Lascelles he became simply idiotic.
Helen, too, seemed absent and pre-occupied; of course, with the old
excuse, that she was over-tired. The weather had been so hot, the road
so dusty! and if she _had_ indeed expected to meet Captain Vanguard on
the Heath, his absence might perhaps have been accounted for more
satisfactorily than by the recital of his adventure with Miss Ross,
which met her immediately on her return. Dinner, therefore, in spite of
the cook's undoubted talents, progressed but heavily, and with long
intervals of silence, dispiriting in the extreme.
Later, in the drawing-room, it was worse. A light rain prevented egress
on the lawn, intrusive cockchafers, buzzing in at the open windows,
blundered drowsily about the lights; and--an unusual circumstance--when
coffee came, it was not only thick, but cold. The gentlemen were sleepy,
or pretended to be; Miss Ross was too tired to sing; and Helen sat by
herself, turning over the leaves of a photograph book.
Even Mrs. Lascelles found her animal spirits unequal to the pressure,
and, at an earlier hour than usual, made signals to retire for the
night.
Standing on the stairs, with a bedroom candle in her hand, she could
not forbear expressing to Miss Ross the sense of depression and low
spirits under which she laboured.
"If we're all to be as deadly-lively at Cliefden to-morrow," said she,
"our pic-nic won't be much fun. I believe I shall follow your example,
my dear, and drop quietly into the Thames."
"To come up again at Cremorne!" replied Jin, yawning drearily. "I'm
completely done up, Rose, and tired out. Good night."
Notwithstanding this protestation, however, Miss Ross lay awake many a
long hour after the other inmates of The Lilies, thinking, wishing,
doubting, for the first time in her life mistrusting her own powers, and
fearing there was a task before her she would be unequal to perform.