Leander's unremitting watchfulness from the wrath of the goddess. Yet,
such is the ingratitude of human nature, that he left the place vowing
to return no more. "I thought I'd got a _clown_ behind me, sir!" he used
to say afterwards, in describing it.
Before Leander could recover from the alarm he had been thrown into,
another customer had entered; a pale young man, with a glossy hat, a
white satin necktie, and a rather decayed gardenia. He, too, was one of
Tweddle's regular clients. What his occupation might be was a mystery,
for he aimed at being considered a man of pleasure.
"I say, just shave me, will you?" he said, and threw himself languidly
into a chair. "Fact is, Tweddle, I've been so doosid chippy for the last
two days, I daren't touch a razor."
"Indeed, sir!" said Leander, with respectful sympathy.
"You see," explained the youth, "I've been playing the goat--the giddy
goat. Know what that means?"
"I used to," said Leander; "I never touch alcoholic stimulants now,
myself."
"Wish I didn't. I say, Tweddle, have you been to the Cosmopolitan
lately?"
"I don't go to music-'alls now," said Leander; "I've give up all that
now I'm keeping company."
"Well, you go and see the new ballet," the youth exhorted him earnestly;
not that he cared whether the hairdresser went or not, but because he
wanted to talk about the ballet to somebody.
"Ah!" observed Leander; "is that a good one they've got there now, sir?"
"Rather think so. Ballet called _Olympus_. There's a regular ripping
little thing who comes on as one of Venus's doves." And the youth went
on to intimate that the dove in question had shown signs of being struck
by his powers of fascination. "I saw directly that I'd mashed her; she
was gone, dead gone, sir; and----I say, who's that in the corner over
there--eh?"
He was staring intently into the pier-glass in front of him. "That?"
said Leander, following his glance. "Oh! that's a statue I've bought.
She--she brightens up the place a bit, don't she?"
"A statue, is it? Yes, of course; I knew it was a statue. Well, about
that dove. I went round after it was all over, but couldn't see a sign
of her; so----That's a queer sort of statue you've got there!" he
broke off suddenly; and Leander distinctly saw the goddess shake her arm
in fierce menace. "He's said something that's put her out," he
concluded. "I wish I knew what it was."
"It's a classical statue, sir," he said, with what composure he might;
"they're all made like that."
"Are they, by Jove? But, Tweddle, I say, it _moves_: it's shaking its
fist like old Harry!"
"Oh, I think you're mistaken, sir, really! I don't perceive it myself."
"Don't perceive it? But, hang it, man, look--look in the glass! There!
don't you see it does? Dash it! can't you _say_ it does?"
"Flaw in the mirror, sir; when you move your 'ed, you do ketch that
effect. I've observed it myself frequent. Chin cut, sir? My fault--my
fault entirely," he admitted handsomely.
The young man was shaved by this time, and had risen to receive his hat
and cane, when he gave a violent start as he passed the Aphrodite.
"There!" he said, breathlessly, "look at that, Tweddle; she's going to
punch my head! I suppose you'll tell me _that's_ the glass?"
Leander trembled--this time for his own reputation; for the report that
he kept a mysterious and pugnacious statue on the premises would not
increase his custom. He must silence it, if possible. "I'm afraid it is,
sir--in a way," he remarked, compassionately.
The young man turned paler still. "No!" he exclaimed. "You don't think
it is, though? Don't you see anything yourself? I don't either, Tweddle;
I was chaffing, that's all. I know I'm a wee bit off colour; but it's
not so bad as that. Keep off! Tell her to drop it, Tweddle!"
[Illustration: "KEEP OFF! TELL HER TO DROP IT, TWEDDLE!"]
For, as he spoke, the goddess had made a stride towards him. "Miserable
one!" she cried, "you have mangled one of my birds. Hence, or I crush
thee!"
"Tweddle! Tweddle!" cried the youth, taking refuge in the other shop,
"don't let her come after me! What's she talking about, eh? You
shouldn't have these things about; they're--they're not _right_!"
Leander shut the glass door and placed himself before it, while he tried
to assume a concerned interest. "You take my advice, sir," he said; "you
go home and keep steady."
"Is it that?" murmured the customer. "Great Scott! I must be bad!" and
he went out into the street, shaking.
"I don't believe I shall ever see _him_ again, either," thought Leander.
"She'll drive 'em all away if she goes on like this." But here a sudden
recollection struck him, and he slapped his thigh with glee. "Why, of
course," he said, "that's it. I've downright disgusted her; it was me
she was most put out with, and after this she'll leave me alone. Hooray!
I'll shut up everything first and get rid of the boy, and then go in and
see her, and get away to Matilda."
When the shop was secured for the night, he re-entered the saloon with a
light step. "Well, mum," he began, "you've seen me at work, and you've
thought better of what you were proposing, haven't you now?"
"Where is the wretched stripling who dared to slay my dove?" she cried.
"Bring him to me!"
"What _are_ you a-talking about now?" cried the bewildered Leander.
"Who's been touching your birds? I wasn't aware you _kept_ birds."
"Many birds are sacred to me--the silver swan, the fearless sparrow,
and, chief of all, the coral-footed dove. And one of these has that
monster slain--his own mouth hath spoken it."
"Oh! is that all?" said Leander. "Why, he wasn't talking about a real
dove; it was a ballet girl he meant. I can't explain the difference; but
they _are_ different. And it's all talk, too. I know him; _he's_
harmless enough. And now, mum, to come to the point; you've now had the
opportunity of forming some ideer of my calling. You've thought better
of it, haven't you?"
"Better! ay, far better!" she cried, in a voice that thrilled with
pride. "Leander, too modestly you have rated yourself, for surely you
are great amongst the sons of men."
"_Me!_" he gasped, utterly overcome. "How do you make that out?"
"Do you not compel them to furnish sport for you? Have I not seen them
come in, talking boldly and loud, and yet seat themselves submissively
at a sign from you? And do you not swathe them in the garb of
humiliation, and daub their countenances with whiteness, and threaten
their bared throats with the gleaming knife, and grind their heads under
the resistless wheel? Then, having in disdain granted them their
worthless lives, you set them free; and they propitiate you with a gift,
and depart trembling."
"Well, of all the topsy-turvy contrariness!" he protested. "You've got
it _all_ wrong; I declare you have! But I'll put you right, if it's
possible to do it." And he launched into a lengthy explanation of the
wonders she had seen, at the end of which he inquired, "_Now_ do you
understand I'm nobody in particular?"
"It may be so," she admitted; "but what of that? Ere this have I been
wild with love for a herdsman on Phrygian hills. Aye, Adonis have I
kissed in the oakwood, and bewailed his loss. And did not Selene
descend to woo the neatherd Endymion? Wherefore, then, should I scorn
thee? and what are the differences and degrees of mortals to such as I!
Be bold; distrust your merits no longer, since I, who amongst the
goddesses obtained the prize of beauty, have chosen you for my own."
"I don't care what prizes you won," he said, sulkily; "I'm not yours,
and I don't intend to be, either." He was watching the clock impatiently
all the while, for it was growing very near nine.
"It is vain to struggle," she said, "since not the gods themselves can
resist Fate. We must yield, and contend not."
"You begin it, then," he said. "Give me my ring."
"The sole symbol of my power! the charm which has called me from my long
sleep! Never!"
"Then," said Leander, knowing full well that his threat was an
impossible one, "I shall place the matter in the hands of a respectable
lawyer."
"I understand you not; but it is no matter. In time I shall prevail."
"Well, mum, you must come again another evening, if you've no
objection," said Leander, rudely, "because I've got to go out just now."
"I will accompany you," she said.
Leander nearly danced with frenzy. Take the statue with him to meet his
dear Matilda! He dared not. "You're very kind," he stammered, perspiring
freely; "but I couldn't think of taking you out such a foggy evening."
"Have no cares for me," she answered; "we will go together. You shall
explain to me the ways of this changed world."
"Catch _me_!" was Leander's elliptical comment to himself; but he had
to pretend a delighted acquiescence. "Well," he cried, "if I hadn't been
thinking how lonely it would be going out alone! and now I shall have
the honour of your company, mum. You wait a bit here, while I run
upstairs and fetch my 'at."
But the perfidious man only waited until he was on the other side of the
door, which led from the saloon to his staircase, to lock it after him,
and slip out by the private door into the street.
"Now, my lady," he thought triumphantly, "you're safe for awhile, at all
events. I've put up the shutters, and so you won't get out that way. And
now for Tillie!"
TWO ARE COMPANY
VI.
"The shape
Which has made escape,
And before my countenance
Answers me glance for glance."
_Mesmerism._
Leander hastened eagerly to his trysting-place. All these obstacles and
difficulties had rendered his Matilda tenfold dearer and more precious
to him; and besides, it was more than a fortnight since he had last seen
her. But he was troubled and anxious still at the recollection of the
Greek statue shut up in his hair-cutting saloon. What would Matilda say
if she knew about it; and still worse, what might it not do if it knew
about her? Matilda might decline to continue his acquaintance--for she
was a very right-minded girl--unless Venus, like the jealous and
vindictive heathen she had shown herself to be, were to crush her before
she even had the opportunity.
"It's a mess," he thought disconsolately, "whatever way I look at it.
But after to-night I won't meet Matilda any more while I've got that
statue staying with me, or no one could tell the consequences." However,
when he drew near the appointed spot, and saw the slender form which
awaited him there by the railings, he forgot all but the present joy.
Even the memory of the terrible divinity could not live in the wholesome
presence of the girl he had the sense to truly and honestly love.
Matilda Collum was straight and slim, though not tall; she had a neat
little head of light brown hair, which curled round her temples in soft
rings; her complexion was healthily pale, with the slightest tinge of
delicate pink in it; she had a round but decided chin, and her grey eyes
were large and innocently severe, except on the rare occasions when she
laughed, and then their expression was almost childlike in its gaiety.
Generally, and especially in business hours, her pretty face was calm
and slightly haughty, and rash male customers who attempted to make the
choice of a "button-hole" an excuse for flirtation were not encouraged
to persevere. She was seldom demonstrative to Leander--it was not her
way--but she accepted his effusive affection very contentedly, and,
indeed, returned it more heartily than her principles allowed her to
admit; for she secretly admired his spirit and fluency, and, as is often
the case in her class of life, had no idea that she was essentially her
lover's superior.
After the first greetings, they walked slowly round the square together,
his arm around her waist. Neither said very much for some minutes, but
Leander was wildly, foolishly happy, and there was no severity in
Matilda's eyes when they shone in the lamp-light.
"Well," he said, at last, "and so I've actually got you safe back again,
my dear, darling Tillie! It seems like a long eternity since last we
met. I've been so beastly miserable, Matilda!"
"You do seem to have got thinner in the face, Leander dear," said
Matilda, compassionately. "What _have_ you been doing while I've been
away?"
"Only wishing my dearest girl back, that's all _I've_ been doing."
"What! haven't you given yourself any enjoyment at all--not gone out
anywhere all the time?"
"Not once--leastwise, that is to say----" A guilty memory of Rosherwich
made him bungle here.
"Why, of course I didn't expect you to stop indoors all the time," said
Matilda, noticing the amendment, "so long as you never went where you
wouldn't take me."
Oh, conscience, conscience! But Rosherwich didn't count--it was outside
the radius; and besides, he _hadn't_ enjoyed himself.
"Well," he said, "I did go out one evening, to hear a lecture on
Astronomy at the Town Hall, in the Gray's Inn Road; but then I had the
ticket given me by a customer, and I reely was surprised to find how
regular the stars was in their habits, comets and all. But my 'Tilda is
the only star of the evening for me, to-night. I don't want to talk
about anything else."
The diversion was successful, and Matilda asked no more inconvenient
questions. Presently she happened to cough slightly, and he touched
accusingly the light summer cloak she was wearing.
"You're not dressed warm enough for a night like this," he said, with a
lover's concern. "Haven't you got anything thicker to put on than that?"
"I haven't bought my winter things yet," said Matilda; "it was so mild,
that I thought I'd wait till I could afford it better. But I've chosen
the very thing I mean to buy. You know Mrs. Twilling's, at the top of
the Row, the corner shop? Well, in the window there's a perfectly lovely
long cloak, all lined with squirrel's fur, and with those nice oxidized
silver fastenings. A cloak like that lasts ever so long, and will always
look neat and quiet; and any one can wear it without being stared
after; so I mean to buy it as soon as it turns really cold."
"Ah!" said he, "I can't have you ketching cold, you know; it ain't
summer any longer, and I--I've been thinking we must give up our evening
strolls together for the present."
"When you've just been saying how miserable you've been without them.
Oh, Leander!"
"Without _you_," he amended lamely. "I shall see you at aunt's, of
course; only we'd better suspend the walks while the nights are so raw.
And, oh, Tillie, ere long you will be mine, my little wife! Only to
think of you keeping the books for me with your own pretty little
fingers, and sending out the bills! (not that I give much credit). Ah,
what a blissful dream it sounds! Does it to you, Matilda?"
"I'm not sure that you keep your books the same way as we do," she
replied demurely; "but I dare say"--(and this was a great concession for
Matilda)--"I dare say we shall suit one another."
"Suit one another!" he cried. "Ah! we shall be inseparable as a brush
and comb, Tillie, if you'll excuse so puffessional a stimulus. And what
a future lies before me! If I can only succeed in introducing some of my
inventions to public notice, we may rise, Tilly, 'like an exclamation,'
as the poet says. I believe my new nasal splint has only to be known to
become universally worn; and I've been thinking out a little machine
lately for imparting a patrician arch to the flattest foot, that ought
to have an extensive run. I almost wish you weren't so pretty, Tillie.
I've studied you careful, and I'm bound to say, as it is there really
isn't room for any improvement I could suggest. Nature's beaten me
there, and I'm not too proud to own it."
"Would you rather there _was_ room!" inquired Matilda.
"From a puffessional point of view, it would have inspired me," he said.
"It would have suggested ideers, and I shouldn't have loved you less,
not if you hadn't had a tooth in your mouth nor a hair on your head; you
would still be my beautiful Tillie."
"I would rather be as I am, thank you," said Matilda, to whom this fancy
sketch did not appeal. "And now, let's talk about something else. Do you
know that mamma is coming up to town at the end of the week on purpose
to see you?"
"No," said Leander, "I--I didn't."
"Yes, she's taken the whole of your aunt's first floor for a week. (You
know, she knew Miss Tweddle when she was younger, and that was how I
came to lodge there, and to meet you.) Do you remember that Sunday
afternoon you came to tea, and your aunt invited me in, because she
thought I must be feeling so dull, all alone?"
"Ah, I should think I did! Do you remember I helped to toast the
crumpets? What a halcyon evening that was, Matilda!"
"Was it?" she said. "I don't remember the weather exactly; but it was
nice indoors."
"But, I say, Tillie, my own," he said, somewhat anxiously, "how does
your ma like your being engaged to me?"
"Well, I don't think she does like it quite," said Matilda. "She says
she will reserve her consent till she sees whether you are worthy; but
directly she sees you, Leander, her objections will vanish."
"She has got objections, then? What to?"
"Mother always wanted me to keep my affections out of trade," said
Matilda. "You see, she never can forget what poor papa was."
"And what was your poor papa?" asked Leander.
"Didn't you know? He was a dentist, and that makes mamma so very
particular, you see."
"But, hang it, Matilda! you're employed in a flower-shop, you know."
"Yes, but mamma never really approved of it; only she had to give way
because she couldn't afford to keep me at home, and I scorned to go out
as a governess. Never mind, Leander; when she comes to know you and hear
your conversation, she will relent; her pride will melt."
"But suppose it keeps solid; what will you do, Matilda?"
"I am independent, Leander; and though I would prefer to marry with
mamma's approval, I shouldn't feel bound to wait for it. So long as you
are all I think you are, I shouldn't allow any one to dictate to me."
"Bless you for those words, my angelic girl!" he said, and hugged her
close to his breast. "Now I can beard your ma with a light 'art. Oh,
Matilda! you can form no ideer how I worship you. Nothing shall ever
come betwixt us two, shall it?"
"Nothing, as far as I am concerned, Leander," she replied. "What's the
matter?"
He had given a furtive glance behind him after the last remarks, and his
embrace suddenly relaxed, until his arm was withdrawn altogether.
"Nothing is the matter, Matilda," he said. "Doesn't the moon look red
through the fog?"
"Is that why you took away your arm?" she inquired.
"Yes--that is, no. It occurred to me I was rendering you too
conspicuous; we don't want to go about advertising ourselves, you know."
"But who is there here to notice?" asked Matilda.
"Nobody," he said; "oh, nobody! but we mustn't get into the _way_ of
it;" and he cast another furtive rearward look. In the full flow of his
raptures the miserable hairdresser had seen a sight which had frozen his
very marrow--a tall form, in flowing drapery, gliding up behind with a
tigress-like stealth. The statue had broken out, in spite of all his
precautions! Venus, jealous and exacting, was near enough to overhear
every word, and he could scarcely hope she had escaped seeing the arm he
had thrown round Matilda's waist.
"You were going to tell me how you worshipped me," said Matilda.
"I didn't say _worship_," he protested; "it--it's only images and such
that expect that. But I can tell you there's very few brothers feel to
you as I feel."
"_Brothers_, Leander!" exclaimed Matilda, and walked farther apart from
him.
"Yes," he said. "After all, what tie's closer than a brother? A uncle's
all very well, and similarly a cousin; but they can't feel like a
brother does, for brothers they are not."
"I should have thought there were ties still closer," said Matilda; "you
seemed to think so too, once."
"Oh, ah! _that_!" he said. (Every frigid word gave him a pang to utter;
but it was all for Matilda's sake.) "There's time enough to think of
that, my girl; we mustn't be in a hurry."
"I'm _not_ in a hurry," said Matilda.
"That's the proper way to look at it," said he; "and meanwhile I haven't
got a sister I'm fonder of than I am of you."
"If you've nothing more to say than that, we had better part," she
remarked; and he caught at the suggestion with obvious relief. He had
been in an agony of terror, lest, even in the gathering fog, she should
detect that they were watched; and then, too, it was better to part with
her under a temporary misconception than part with her altogether.
"Well," he said, "I mustn't keep you out any longer, with that cold."
"You are very ready to get rid of me," said poor Matilda.
"The real truth is," he answered, simulating a yawn with a heavy heart;
"I am most uncommon sleepy to-night, and all this standing about is too
much for me. So good-bye, and take care of yourself!"
"I needn't say that to you," she said; "but I won't keep you up a minute
longer. I wonder you troubled to come out at all."
"Oh," he said, carefully keeping as much in front of the statue as he
could, "it's no trouble; but you'll excuse me seeing you to the door
this evening?"
"Oh, certainly," said Matilda, biting her lip. She touched his hand with
the ends of her fingers, and hurried away without turning her head.
When she was out of sight, Leander faced round to the irrepressible
goddess. He was in a white rage; but terror and caution made him
suppress it to some extent.
"So here you are again!" he said.
"Why did you not wait for me?" she answered. "I remained long for you;
you came not, and I followed."
"I see you did," said the aggrieved Leander; "I can't say I like being
spied upon. If you're a goddess, act as such!"
"What! you dare to upbraid me?" she cried. "Beware, or I----"
"I know," said Leander, flinching from her. "Don't do that; I only made
a remark."
"I have the right to follow you; I choose to do so."
"If you must, you must," he groaned; "but it does seem hard that I
mayn't slip out for a few minutes' talk with my only sister."
"You said you were going to run for business, and you told me you had
three sisters."
"So I have; but only one _youngest_ one."
"And why did they not all come to talk with you?"
"I suppose because the other two stayed at home," rejoined Leander,
sulkily.
"I know not why, but I doubt you; that one who came, she is not like
you!"
"No," said Leander, with a great show of candour, "that's what every one
says; all our family are like that; we are like in a way, because we're
all of us so different. You can tell us anywhere just by the difference.
My father and mother were both very unlike: I suppose we take after
them."
The goddess seemed satisfied with this explanation. "And now that I have
regained you, let us return to your abode," she said; and Leander walked
back by her side, a prey to rage and humiliation.
"It is a miserable thing," he was thinking, "for a man in my rank of
life to have a female statue trotting after him like a great dorg. I'm
d----d if I put up with it! Suppose we happen on somebody as knows me!"
[Illustration: "IT IS A MISERABLE THING," HE WAS THINKING, "FOR A MAN
... TO HAVE A FEMALE STATUE TROTTING AFTER HIM LIKE A GREAT DORG."]
Fortunately, at that time of night Bloomsbury Square is not much
frequented; the increasing fog prevented the apparition of a female in
classical garments from attracting the notice to which it might
otherwise have been exposed, and they reached the shop without any
disagreeable encounter.
"She shan't stop in the saloon," he determined; "I've had enough of
that! If you've no objections," he said, with a mixture of deference and
dictation, "I shall be obliged if you'd settle yourself in the little
shrine in the upstairs room before proceeding to evaporate out of your
statue; it would be more agreeable to my feelings."
"Ah!" she said, smiling, "you would have me nearer you? Your stubborn
heart is yielding; a little while, and you will own the power of
Aphrodite!"
"Now, don't you go deceiving yourself with any such ideers," said the
hairdresser, irritably. "I shan't do no such thing, so you needn't think
it. And, to come to the point, how long do you mean to carry on this
little game?"
"Game?" repeated the goddess, absently.
"How long are you going to foller me about in this ridiclous way?"
"Till you submit, and profess your willingness to redeem your promise."
"Oh, and you're coming every evening till then, are you?"