_Mr. Ferrers Dines with the Consul_
THE next morning, Mr. Ferrers sent his portfolio to Miss Ponsonby,
to the Consuls house, in the city; and her father called upon him
immediately afterwards, to return his original visit, and to request him
to dine with them. Mr. Ferrers declined the invitation; but begged to be
permitted to pay his respects again at the casino, in the evening. The
major, under the circumstances, ventured to press his new acquaintance
to comply with their desire; but Mr. Ferrers became immediately very
reserved, and the Consul desisted.
Towards sunset, however, mounted on his Barbary ass, Mr. Ferrers again
appeared at the gate of the casino, as mild and agreeable as before.
They drank their coffee and ate their fruit, chatted and sang, and
again repaired to the pavilion. Here they examined the contents of the
portfolio:--they were very rich, for it contained drawings of all
kinds, and almost of every celebrated place in the vicinity of the
Mediterranean shores; Saracenic palaces, Egyptian temples, mosques of
Damascus, and fountains of Stamboul. Here was a Bedouin encampment,
shaded by a grove of palms; and there a Spanish Señorita, shrouded in
her mantilla, glided along the Alameda. There was one circumstance,
however, about these drawings, which struck Miss Ponsonby as at least
remarkable. It was obvious that some pencil-mark in the corner of each
drawing, in all probability containing the name and initials of the
artist, had been carefully obliterated.
Among the drawings were several sketches of a yacht, which Mr. Ferrers
passed over quickly, and without notice. The Consul, however, who was an
honorary member of the yacht club, and interested in every vessel of the
squadron that visited the Mediterranean, very naturally inquired of Mr.
Ferrers, to whom the schooner in question belonged. Mr. Ferrers seemed
rather confused; but at length he said: ‘Oh, they are stupid things: I
did not know they were here. The yacht is a yacht of a friend of mine,
who was at Cadiz.’
‘Oh, I see the name,’ said the major; ‘“_The Kraken_.” Why, that is Lord
Bohun’s yacht!’
‘The same,’ said Mr. Ferrers, but perfectly composed.
‘Ah! do you know Lord Bohun?’ said Miss Ponsonby. ‘We have often
expected him here. I wonder he has never paid us a visit, papa. They say
he is the most eccentric person in the world. Is he so?’
‘I never heard much in his favour,’ said Mr. Ferrers. ‘I believe he has
made himself a great fool, as most young nobles do.’
‘Well, I have heard very extraordinary things of him,’ said the Consul.
‘He is a great traveller, at all events, which I think a circumstance in
every man’s favour.’
‘And then he has been a guerilla chieftain,’ said Miss Ponsonby; ‘and a
Bedouin robber, and--I hardly know what else; but Colonel Garth, who was
here last summer, told us the most miraculous tales of his lordship.’
‘Affectations!’ said Mr. Ferrers, with a sneer. ‘Bohun, however, has
some excuses for his folly: for he was an orphan, I believe, in his
cradle.’
‘Is he clever?’ inquired Miss Ponsonby.
‘Colonel Garth is a much better judge than I am,’ replied Mr. Ferrers.
‘I confess I have no taste for guerilla chieftains, or Bedouin robbers.
I am not at all romantic.’
And here he attracted her attention to what he called an attempt at a
bull-fight; the conversation dropped, and Lord Bohun was forgotten.
A fortnight passed away, and Mr. Ferrers was still a visitant of our
Mediterranean isle. His intimacy with the Consul and his daughter
remained on the same footing. Every evening he paid them a visit; and
every evening, when he had retired, the major and his daughter agreed
that he was a most agreeable person, though rather odd; the worthy
Consul always adding his regret that he would not dine with him, and his
wonder as to what Ferrers he was.
Now, it so happened that it was a royal birthday; and the bishop, and
several of the leading persons of the town, had agreed to partake of
the hospitality of the British Consul. The major was anxious that Mr.
Ferrers should meet them. He discussed this important point with his
daughter.
‘My darling, I don’t like to ask him: he really is such a very odd man.
The moment you ask him to dinner, he looks as if you had offered him an
insult. Shall we send him a formal invitation? I wonder what Ferrers he
is? I should be gratified if he would dine with us. Besides, he would
see something of our native society here, which is amusing. What shall
we do?’
‘I will ask him,’ replied Miss Ponsonby. ‘I don’t think he could refuse
me.’
‘I am sure I could not,’ replied the major, smiling.
And so Miss Ponsonby seized an opportunity of telling Mr. Ferrers that
she had a favour to ask him. He was more fortunate than he imagined, was
his courteous reply.
‘Then you must dine with papa, to-morrow.’
Mr. Ferrers’ brow immediately clouded.
‘Now, do not look so suspicious,’ said Miss Ponsonby. ‘Do you think that
ours is an Italian banquet? Is there poison in the dish? Or do you live
only on fruit and flowers?’ continued Miss Ponsonby. ‘Do you know,’ she
added, with an arch smile, ‘I think you must be a ghoul.’
A sort of smile struggled with a scowl over the haughty countenance of
the Englishman.
‘You will come!’ said Miss Ponsonby, most winningly.
‘I have already trespassed too much upon Major Ponsonby’s hospitality,’
muttered Mr. Ferrers; ‘I have no claim to it.’
‘You are our countryman.’
‘Unknown.’
‘The common consequence of being a traveller.’
‘Yes--but--in short--I--’
‘You must come,’ said Miss Ponsonby, with a glance like sunshine.
‘You do with me what you like,’ exclaimed Mr. Ferrers, with animation.
‘Beautiful--weather,’ he concluded.
Mr. Ferrers was therefore their guest; and strange it is to say, that
from this day, from some cause, which it is now useless to ascertain,
this gentleman became an habitual guest at the Consul’s table; accepting
a general invitation without even a frown; and, what is more remarkable,
availing himself of it, scarcely with an exception.
Could it be the Consul’s daughter that effected this revolution? Time
may perhaps solve this interesting problem. Certainly, whether it were
that she was seldom seen to more advantage than when presiding over
society; or whether, elate with her triumph, she was particularly
pleasing because she was particularly pleased; certainly Henrietta
Ponsonby never appeared to greater advantage than she did upon the day
of this memorable festival. Mr. Ferrers, when he quitted the house,
sauntered to the mole, and gazed upon the moonlight sea.-A dangerous
symptom. Yet the eye of Mr. Ferrers had before this been fixed in mute
abstraction on many a summer wave, when Dian was in her bower; and
this man, cold and inscrutable as he seemed, was learned in woman, and
woman’s ways. Shall a Consul’s daughter melt a heart that boasted of
being callous, and clear a brow that prided itself upon its clouds?
But if the state of Mr. Ferrers’ heart were doubtful, I must perforce
confess that, as time drew on, Henrietta Ponsonby, if she had ventured
to inquire, could have little hesitated as to the state of her own
feelings. Her companion, her constant companion, for such Mr. Ferrers
had now insensibly become, exercised over her an influence, of the power
of which she was unconscious,--only because it was unceasing. Had for
a moment the excitement of her novel feelings ceased, she would have
discovered, with wonder, perhaps with some degree of fear, how changed
she had become since the first evening he approached their pleasant
casino. And yet Mr. Ferrers was not her lover. No act,--no word of
gallantry,--no indication of affection, to her inexperienced sense, ever
escaped him. All that he did was, that he sought her society; but, then,
there was no other. The only wonder was, that he should remain among
them; but, then, he had been everywhere. The vague love of lounging and
repose, which ever and anon falls upon men long accustomed to singular
activity and strange adventure, sufficiently accounted for his conduct.
But, whatever might be his motives, certain it is, that the English
stranger dangerously interested the feelings of the Consul’s daughter;
and when she thought the time must arrive for his departure, she drove
the recollection from her mind with a swiftness which indicated the pang
which she experienced by its occurrence. And no marvel either, that the
heart of this young and lovely maiden softened at the thought, and in
the presence of her companion: no marvel, and no shame, for nature
had invested the Englishman with soul-subduing qualities. His elegant
person; his tender, yet reserved manners; his experienced, yet ornate
mind; the flashes of a brilliant, yet mellowed imagination, which ever
and anon would break forth in his conversation: perhaps, too, the air
of melancholy, and even of mystery, which enveloped him, were all spells
potent in the charm that enchants the heart of woman. And the major,
what did he think? The good Consul was puzzled. The confirmed intimacy
between his daughter and his guest alike perplexed and pleased him. He
certainly never had become acquainted with a man whom he would sooner
have preferred for a son-in-law, if he had only known who he was. But
two months, and more than two months, had elapsed, and threw no light
upon this most necessary point of knowledge. The Consul hesitated as
to his conduct. His anxiety almost mastered his good breeding. Now he
thought of speaking to Mr. Ferrers, and then to his daughter. There were
objections to each line of conduct, and his confidence in Mr. Ferrers
was very great, although he did not exactly know who he was: he was
decidedly a gentleman; and there was, throughout his conduct and
conversation, a tone of such strict propriety; there was so much
delicacy, and good feeling, and sound principle, in all he said and did,
that the Consul at length resolved, that he had no right to suspect,
and no authority to question him. He was just on the point, however, of
conferring with his daughter, when the town was suddenly enlivened, and
his attention suddenly engrossed, by the arrival of two other English
gentlemen.