How wild and inconceivable, abrupt, yet quite practicable, were the
brilliant visions I drew, the projects I formed! Mentally I sprang
over all barriers, cleared at a flying leap every obstacle. In fancy I
achieved all my desires. I was the husband of Estelle; the chosen
son-in-law of her mother--the man of all men to whom she would have
entrusted the future happiness of her only daughter. The good old lady
had sacrificed pride, ambition, and all to love. Time, life-usage, all
became subservient to me when in these victorious moods. I had
distanced all rivals--she was mine; I hers. I had cut the service,
bidden farewell to the Royal Welsh; she, for a time at least, to
London, the court, the Row, "society," the world itself for me; and
were rusticating hand-in-hand, amid the woods of Walcot Park, or
somewhere else, of which I had a very vague idea. But from these
daydreams I had to rouse myself to the knowledge that, so far from
being accepted, I had not yet ventured to propose; that I had more
than one formidable rival; that other obstacles were to be overcome;
and that Lady Naseby was as cold and proud and unapproachable as ever.
The day of Dora's fête proved a lovely one. The merry little
creature--for she was much less in stature than her elder sister--with
her bright blue eyes and wealth of golden hair, was full of smiles,
pleasure, and impatience; and was as radiant with gems, the gifts of
friends, as a young bride. I welcomed the day with vague hopes that
grew into confidence, though I could scarcely foresee how it was to
close for me, or all that was to happen. Though Caradoc and I had come
from Winchester ostensibly to attend this fête, I must glance briefly
at many of the details of it, and confine myself almost to the
_dramatis personæ_. Suffice it to say that there was a militia band on
one of the flower-terraces; there was a pretty dark-eyed Welsh gipsy,
with black, dishevelled hair, who told fortunes, and picked up, but
omitted to restore, certain stray spoons and forks; there was an
itinerant Welsh harper, whom the staghound Brach, the same stately
animal which I had seen on the rug before the hall-fire, inspired by
that animosity which all dogs seem to have for mendicants, assailed
about the calf of the leg, for which he seemed to have a particular
fancy. So Sir Madoc had to plaster the bite with a fifty-pound note.
Then there was a prophetic hermit, in a moss-covered grotto, cloaked
like a gray friar, and bearded like the pard; a wizard yclept Merlin,
who, having imbibed too much brandy, made a great muddle of the
predictions and couplets so carefully entrusted to him for judicious
utterance; and who assigned the initials of Lady Estelle Cressingham
to the portly old vicar, as those of his future spouse, and those of
his lady, a stout matron with eight bantlings, to me, and so on.
The company poured in fast; and after being duly received by Sir Madoc
and Miss Lloyd in the great drawing-room, literally crowded all the
beautiful grounds, the band in white uniform on the terrace being a
rival attraction to the great refreshment tent or marquee--a stately
polychromed edifice, with gilt bells hanging from each point of the
vandyked edging--wherein a standing luncheon was arranged, under the
care of Owen Gwyllim; and over all floated a great banner, ermine and
pean, with the lion rampant of the Lloyds. A ball was to follow in the
evening. The floor of the old dining-hall had been waxed till it shone
like glass for the dancers. Its walls were hung with evergreens and
coloured lamps, and a select few were invited; but Fate ordained that
neither Lady Estelle nor I were to figure in this, the closing portion
of the festivities. A number of beautiful girls in charming toilettes
were present. People of the best style, too, mingled with humble
middle-class country folks--tenants and so forth. There were some
officers from the detachments quartered in Chester, and several little
half-known parsons, in Noah's-ark coats, who came sidling in, and
intrenched themselves beside huge mammas in quiet corners, to discuss
parish matters and general philanthropy through the medium of iced
claret-cup and sparkling moselle. And there were present, too, as
Guilfoyle phrased it, "some of those d--d fellows who write and paint,
by Jove!"
On this day Guilfoyle, though he had carefully attired himself in
correct morning costume, seemed rather preoccupied and irritable. The
presence of Pottersleigh and so many others placed his society
somewhat at a discount; and, glass in eye, he seemed to watch the
arrival of the lady guests, especially any who were darkly attired,
with a nervous anxiety, which, somehow, I mentally connected with the
pale woman in church, and Dora's story of the initials. There was
undoubtedly some mystery about him. Viewed from the perron of the
house, the scene was certainly a gay one--the greenness of the
closely-mown lawn, dotted by the bright costumes of the ladies, and a
few scarlet coats (among them Caradoc's and mine); the brilliance and
the perfume of flowers were there; the buzz of happy voices, the soft
laughter of well-bred women, and the strains of the band, as they
ebbed and flowed on the gentle breeze of the sunny noon. Every way it
was most enjoyable. Here on one side spread an English chase, with
oaks as old, perhaps, as the days when "Beddgelert heard the bugle
sound," leafy, crisp, and massive, their shadows casting a tint that
was almost blue on the soft greensward, with the sea rippling and
sparkling about a mile distant, where a portion of the chase ended at
the edge of some lofty cliffs. On the other side rose the Welsh
mountains, with all their gray rocks, huge boulders, and foaming
waterfalls--mountains from where there seemed in fancy to come the
scent of wild flowers, of gorse, and blackberries, to dispel the
fashionable languor of the promenaders on the lawn. The leaves, the
flowers, the trees of the chase, the ladies' dresses, and the quaint
façade of the old Tudor mansion were all warm with sunshine.
Old Morgan Roots the gardener, to his great disgust, had been
compelled to rifle the treasures of his hothouses, and to strip his
shelves of the most wonderful exotics, to furnish bouquets for the
ladies; for Morgan was proud of his floral effects, and when
displaying his slippings from Kew and all the best gardens in England,
tulips from Holland and the Cape, peonies from Persia, rhododendrons
from Asia, azaleas from America, wax-like magnolias, and so forth, he
was wont to exult over his rival, the vicar's Scotch gardener, whom he
stigmatised as "a sassenach;" and not the least of his efforts were
some superb roses, named the "Dora," in honour of the fair-haired
heroine of the day. And Caradoc--who was a good judge of everything,
from cutlets and clicquot to horses and harness, and had a special eye
for ankles, insteps, and eyelashes, style, and colour, &c.--declared
the fête to be quite a success. As I looked around me, I could not but
feel how England is pre-eminently, beyond all others, the land of fair
women and of beauty. Lady Estelle, with her pale complexion and thick
dark hair, her dress of light-blue silk, over which she wore a white
transparent tunique, her tiny bonnet of white lace, her gloves and
parasol of the palest silver-gray, seemed a very perfect specimen of
her class; but until Lord Pottersleigh appeared, which was long after
dancing had begun on the sward (by country visitors chiefly), she sat
by the side of mamma, and declined all offers from partners. The
Viscount--my principal _bête noire_--had arrived over-night in his own
carriage from Chester, but did not appear at breakfast next morning,
nor until fully midday, as he had to pass--so Dora whispered to
me--several hours in an arm-chair, with his gouty feet enveloped in
flannel, while he regaled himself by sipping colchicum and warm
wine-whey, though he alleged that his lameness was caused by a kick
from his horse; and now, when with hobbling steps he came to where
Lady Naseby and her stately daughter were seated, he did not seem--his
coronet and Order of the Garter excepted--a rival to be much dreaded
by a smart Welsh Fusileer of five and twenty.
Fully in his sixtieth year, and considerably wasted--more, perhaps, by
early dissipation than by time--the Viscount was a pale, thin, and
feeble-looking man, hollow-chested and slightly bent, with an
unsteadiness of gait, an occasional querulousness of manner and
restlessness of eye, as if nervous of the approach of many of those
among whom he now found himself, and whom he viewed as "bumpkins in a
state of rude health." Guilfoyle, of whom he evidently had misgivings,
he regarded with a cold and aristocratic stare, after carefully
adjusting a gold eyeglass on his thin, aquiline nose, and yet they had
been twice introduced elsewhere. His features were good. In youth he
had been deemed a handsome man; but now his brilliant teeth were of
Paris, and what remained of his hair was carefully dyed a clear dark
brown, that consorted but ill with the wrinkled aspect of his face,
and the withered appearance of his thin white hands, when he ungloved,
which was seldom. His whole air and style were so different from
those, of hearty and jolly Sir Madoc, whose years were the same, and
who was looking so bland, so bald, and shiny in face and brow, so full
and round in waistcoat, with one of the finest camellias in his
button-hole, "just like Morgan Roots the gardener going to church on
Sunday," as Dora had it, while he watched the dancers, and clapped his
hands to the music.
"Ha, Pottersleigh," said he, "you and I have done with this sort of
thing now; but I have seen the day, when I was young, less fleshy, and
didn't ride with a crupper, I could whirl in the waltz like a spinning
jenny."
To this awkward speech the Viscount, who affected juvenility,
responded by a cold smile; and as he approached and was welcomed by
Lady Naseby and her daughter, the latter glanced at me, and I could
detect an undefinable expression, that savoured of amusement, or
disdain, or annoyance, or all together, ending with a haughty smile,
hovering on her dark and ever-sparkling eyes; for she knew by past
experience, that from thenceforward, with an air of proprietary that
was very provoking, he would be certain to hover constantly beside
her; and now, after paying the usual compliments to the two ladies,
his lordship condescended to honour me with a glance and a smile, but
not with his hand.
"Ah, how do you do, Mr. Hardinge--or shall I have the pleasure of
saying Captain Hardinge?" said he.
"Fortune has not so far favoured me--I am only a sub still."
"So was Wellington in his time," said Sir Madoc, tapping me on the
shoulder.
"Ah, but you'll soon be off to the East now, I suppose." (His eyes
expressed the words, "I hope.") "We shall soon come to blows with
those Russian fellows, and then promotions will come thick and fast. I
have it as a certainty from Aberdeen himself, that a landing somewhere
on the enemy's coast cannot be much longer delayed now."
"And with one-half our army dead, and the other half worn out by
camp-fever, cholera, and sufferings at Varna, we shall take the field
with winter before us--a Russian winter, too!" said Sir Madoc, who was
a bitter opponent of the ministry.
Ere Pottersleigh could reply, to avert any discussion of politics, the
Countess spoke.
"I trust," said she, "that the paragraph in the _Court Journal_ and
other papers, which stated that your title is about to be made an
earldom, is something more than mere rumour?"
"Much more, I have the pleasure to inform you," mumbled this
hereditary legislator. "I have already received official notice of the
honour intended me by her Majesty. I supported the Aberdeen ministry
so vigorously throughout this Russian affair, clearing them, so far as
in me lay, from the allegations of vacillation, that in gratitude they
were bound to recognise my services."
He played with his eyeglass, and glanced at Estelle. She seemed to be
looking intently at the shifting crowd; yet she heard him, for a
slight colour crossed her cheek.
"So Potter is to be an earl," thought I; "and she perhaps is
contrasting _his_ promotion with that which I have to hope for."
Even this brief conversation by its import made me fear that my dreams
might never come to pass--that my longings were too impossible for
fulfilment. I envied Caradoc, who, having no distinction of rank to
contend with in his love affair, seemed, to be getting on very well
with Winifred Lloyd, who, to his great delight, had made him her
_aide-de-camp_, and useful friend during the day.
"Our troops will find it tough work encountering the Russians, I
expect," said Lord Pottersleigh; "for although the rank and file are
utter barbarians, Mr. Hardinge, many of their officers are men of high
culture, and all regard the Czar as a demigod, and Russia as holy."
"I met some of them when I was in the north of Europe," said
Guilfoyle--who, being rather ignored by Pottersleigh, felt ruffled, if
not secretly enraged and disposed to contradict him; "and though I
think all foreigners usually absurd--"
"Ah, that is a thoroughly English and somewhat provincial idea," said
his lordship, quietly interrupting him; "but I have read of an old
Carib who said, 'The only obstinate savages I have met are the
English; they adopt none of our customs.'"
"To adopt their _dress_ might have been difficult in those days; but
all foreigners, and especially Russians, are somewhat strange, my
lord, when judged by an English standard. I can relate a curious
instance of attempted peculation in a Russian official, such as would
never occur with one occupying a corresponding position here. When
_attaché_ at the court of Catzenelnbogen, I once visited a wealthy
Russian landowner, a Count Tolstoff, who lived near Riga, at a time
when he was about to receive the sum of eighty thousand silver roubles
from the imperial treasury, for hemp, timber, and other produce of his
estate, sold for the use of the navy. Ivan Nicolaevitch, the
Pulkovnich commanding the marine infantry stationed in the fortress of
Dunamunde, was to pay this money; but that official informed Tolstoff
verbally--he was too wary to commit anything to paper--that unless six
thousand of the roubles were left in his hands, the whole might be
lost by the way, as my friend's residence was in a solitary place, and
the neighbourhood abounded with lawless characters.
"On Tolstoff threatening to complain to the Emperor, the Pulkovnich
most unwillingly handed over the entire sum, which was delivered in
great state by a praperchich, or ensign, and six soldiers; and there
we thought the matter would end. But that very night, as we sat at
supper, smoking our meerschaums to digest a repast of mutton with
mushrooms, _compote_ of almonds and stuffed carrots--carrots scooped
out like pop-guns, and loaded with mincemeat--the dining-room was
softly entered by six men dressed like Russian peasants, with canvas
craftans and rope girdles, bark shoes and long beards, their faces
covered with crape. They threatened me with instant death by the
pistol if I dared to stir; and pinioning my friend to a chair, placed
the barrel of another to his head, and demanded the treasure, or to be
told where it was.
"Tolstoff, who was a very cool fellow, gave me a peculiar smile, and
told me in French to open the lower drawer of his escritoire, and give
them every kopec I found there.
"On obtaining permission from the leader, I crossed the room, and
found in the drawer indicated no money, but a brace of revolver
pistols. With these, which luckily were loaded and capped, I shot down
two of the intruders, and the rest fled. On tearing the masks from the
fallen men, we discovered them to be--whom think you? The Pulkovnich
Nicholaevitch and the praperchich of the escort! There was an awful
row about the affair, as you may imagine; but in a burst of gratitude
my friend gave me this valuable ring, a diamond one, which I have worn
ever since."
"God bless my soul, what a terrible story!" exclaimed Pottersleigh,
regarding the ring with interest; for Guilfoyle usually selected a new
audience for each of these anecdotes, by which he hoped to create an
interest in himself; and certainly he seemed to do so for a time in
the mind of the somewhat simple old lord, who now entered into
conversation with him on the political situation, actually took his
arm, and they proceeded slowly across the lawn together. I was sorry
Caradoc had not overheard the new version of the ring, and wondered
how many stories concerning it the proprietor had told to others, or
whether he had merely a stock on hand, for chance narration. Was it
vanity, art, or weakness of intellect that prompted him? Yet I have
known a Scotch captain of the line, a very shrewd fellow, who was wont
to tell similar stories of a ring, and, oddly enough, over and over
again to the _same_ audience at the mess-table.
Being rid of both now, I resolved to lose no time in taking advantage
of the situation. Sir Madoc and "mamma" were in the refreshment tent,
where I hoped they were enjoying themselves; Dora was busy with a
young sub from Chester--little Tom Clavell of the 19th--who evidently
thought her fête was "awfully jolly;" Caradoc had secured Winifred for
one dance--she could spare him but one--and his usual soldierly swing
was now reduced to suit her measure, as they whirled amid the throng
on the smoothly-shorn turf.