"I know not," she said simply. "I caused them to be filled with mad

fury, and they fell upon one another blindly, and fought like wild

beasts around my image until strength failed them, and they sank to the

ground; and when they were able, they fled from my presence, and I saw

them no more."

"You--you didn't kill them outright, then?" said Leander, not feeling

quite sure whether he would be glad or not to hear that they had

forfeited their lives.

"They were unworthy of such a death," she said; "so I let them crawl

away. Henceforth they will respect our images."

"I should say they would, most likely, madam," agreed Leander. "I do

assure you, I'm almost glad of it myself--I am; it served them both

right."

"_Almost_ glad! And do you not rejoice from your heart that I yet remain

to you?"

"Why," said Leander, "it is, in course, a most satisfactory and

agreeable termination, I'm sure."

"Who knows whether, if this my image had once been removed from you, I

could have found it in my power to return?" she said; "for, I ween, the

power that is left me has limits. I might never have appeared to you

again. Think of it, Leander."

"I was thinking of it," he replied. "It quite upsets me to think how

near it was."

"You are moved. You love me well, do you not, Leander?"

"Oh! I suppose I do," he said--"well enough."

"Well enough to abandon this gross existence, and fly with me where none

can separate us?"

"I never said nothing about that," he answered.

"But yesternight and you confessed that you were yielding--that ere long

I should prevail."

"So I am," he said; "but it will take me some time to yield thoroughly.

You wouldn't believe how slow I yield; why, I haven't hardly begun yet!"

"And how long a time will pass before you are fully prepared?"

"I'm afraid I can't say, not exactly; it may be a month, or it might

only be a week, or again, it may be a year. I'm so dependent upon the

weather. So, if you're in any kind of a hurry, I couldn't advise you, as

a honest man, to wait for me."

"I will not wait a year!" she said fiercely. "You mock me with such

words. I tell you again that my forbearance will last but little

longer. More of this laggard love, and I will shame you before your

fellow-men as an ingrate and a dastard! I will; by my zone, I will!"

"Now, mum, you're allowing yourself to get excited," said Leander,

soothingly. "I wouldn't talk about it no more this evening; we shall do

no good. I can't arrange to go with you just yet, and there's an end of

it."

"You will find that that is not the end of it, clod-witted slave that

you are!"

"Now, don't call names; it's beneath you."

"Ay, indeed! for are not _you_ beneath me? But for very shame I will not

abandon what is justly mine; nor shall you, wily and persuasive

hairdresser though you be, withstand my sovereign will with impunity!"

"So you say, mum!" said Leander, with a touch of his native

impertinence.

"As I say, I shall act; but no more of this, or you will anger me before

the time. Let me depart."

"I'm not hindering you," he said; but she did not remain long enough to

resent his words. He sat down with a groan. "Whatever will become of

me?" he soliloquized dismally. "She gets more pressing every evening,

and she's been taking to threatening dreadful of late.... If the Count

and that Braddle ever come back now, it won't be to take her off my

hands; it'll more likely be to have my life for letting them into such a

trap. They'll think it was some trick of mine, I shouldn't wonder....

And to-morrow's Sunday, and I've got to dine with aunt, and meet Matilda

and her ma. A pretty state of mind I'm in for going out to dinner, after

the awful week I've had of it! But there'll be some comfort in seeing my

darling Tillie again; _she_ ain't a statue, bless her!"

"As for you, mum," he said to the unconscious statue, "I'm going to lock

you up in your old quarters, where you can't get out and do mischief. I

do think I'm entitled to have my Sunday quiet."

After which he contrived to toil upstairs with the image, not without

considerable labour and frequent halts to recover his breath; for

although, as we have already noted, the marble, after being infused with

life, seemed to lose something of its normal weight, it was no light

burden, even then, to be undertaken single-handed.

He slept long and late that Sunday morning; for he had been too

preoccupied for the last few days to make any arrangements for attending

chapel with his Matilda, and he was in sore need of repose besides. So

he rose just in time to swallow his coffee and array himself carefully

for his aunt's early dinner, leaving his two Sunday papers--the

theatrical and the general organs--unread on his table.

It was a foggy, dull day, and Millman Street, never a cheerful

thoroughfare, looked gloomier than ever as he turned into it. But one of

those dingy fronts held Matilda--a circumstance which irradiated the

entire district for him.

He had scarcely time to knock before the door was opened by Matilda in

person. She looked more charming than ever, in a neat dark dress, with a

little white collar and cuffs. Her hair was arranged in a new fashion,

being banded by a neat braided tress across the crown; and her grey

eyes, usually serene and cold, were bright and eager.

The hairdresser felt his heart swell with love at the sight of her. What

a lucky man he was, after all, to have such a girl as this to care for

him! If he could keep her--ah, if he could only keep her!

"I told your aunt _I_ was going to open the door to you," she said. "I

wanted----Oh, Leander, you've not brought it, after all!"

"Meaning what, Tillie, my darling?" said Leander.

"Oh, you know--my cloak!"

He had had so much to think about that he had really forgotten the cloak

of late.

"Well, no, I've not brought that--not the cloak, Tillie," he said

slowly.

"What a time they are about it!" complained Matilda.

"You see," explained the poor man, "when a cloak like that is damaged,

it has to be sent back to the manufacturers to be done, and they've so

many things on their hands. I couldn't promise that you'll have that

cloak--well, not this side of Christmas, at least."

"You must have been very rough with it, then, Leander," she remarked.

"I was," he said. "I don't know how I came to _be_ so rough. You see, I

was trying to tear it off----" But here he stopped.

"Trying to tear it off what?"

"Trying to tear it off nothink, but trying to tear the wrapper off _it_.

It was so involved," he added, "with string and paper and that; and I'm

a clumsy, unlucky sort of chap, sweet one; and I'm uncommon sorry about

it, that I am!"

"Well, we won't say any more about it," said Matilda, softened by his

contrition. "And I'm keeping you out in the passage all this time. Come

in, and be introduced to mamma; she's in the front parlour, waiting to

make your acquaintance."

Mrs. Collum was a stout lady, with a thin voice. She struck a nameless

fear into Leander's soul as he was led up to where she sat. He

thought that she contained all the promise of a very terrible

mother-in-law.

[Illustration: SHE STRUCK A NAMELESS FEAR INTO LEANDER'S SOUL.]

"This is Leander, mamma dear," said Matilda, shyly and yet proudly.

Her mother inspected him for a moment, and then half closed her eyes.

"My daughter tells me that you carry on the occupation of a

hairdresser," she said.

"Quite correct, madam," said Leander; "I do."

"Ah! well," she said, with an unconcealed sigh, "I could have wished to

look higher than hairdressing for my Matilda; but there are

opportunities of doing good even as a hairdresser. I trust you are

sensible of that."

"I try to do as little 'arm as I can," he said feebly.

"If you do not do good, you must do harm," she said uncompromisingly.

"You have it in your means to be an awakening influence. No one knows

the power that a single serious hairdresser might effect with worldly

customers. Have you never thought of that?"

"Well, I can't say I have exactly," he said; "and I don't see how."

"There are cheap and appropriate illuminated texts," she said, "to be

had at so much a dozen; you could hang them on your walls. There are

tracts you procure by the hundred; you could put them in the lining of

hats as you hang them up; you could wrap them round your--your bottles

and pomatum-pots. You could drop a word in season in your customer's ear

as you bent over him. And you tell me you don't see how; you _will_ not

see, I fear, Mr. Tweddle."

"I'm afraid, mum," he replied, "my customers would consider I was taking

liberties."

"And what of that, so long as you save them?"

"Well, you see, I shouldn't--I should _lose_ 'em! And it's not done in

our profession; and, to tell you the honest truth, I'm not given that

way myself--not to the extent of tracks and suchlike, that is."

Matilda's mother groaned; it was hard to find a son-in-law with whom she

had nothing in common, and who was a hairdresser into the bargain.

"Well, well," she said, "we must expect crosses in this life; though for

my own daughter to lay this one upon me is--is----But I will not

repine."

"I'm sorry you regard me in the light of a cross," said Leander; "but,

whether I'm a cross or a naught, I'm a respectable man, and I love your

daughter, mum, and I'm in a position to maintain her."

Leander hated to have to appear under false pretences, of which he had

had more than enough of late. He was glad now to speak out plainly,

particularly as he had no reason to fear this old woman.

"Hush, Leander! Mamma didn't mean to be unkind; did you, mamma?" said

Matilda.

"I said what I felt," she said. "We will not discuss it further. If, in

time, I see reason for bestowing my blessing upon a choice which at

present----But no matter. If I see reason in time, I will not withhold

it. I can hardly be expected to approve at present."

"You shall take your own time, mum; _I_ won't hurry you," said Leander.

"Tillie is blessing enough for me--not but what I shall be glad to be on

a pleasant footing with you, I'm sure, if you can bring yourself to it."

Before Mrs. Collum could reply, Miss Louisa Tweddle made an opportune

appearance, to the relief of Matilda, in whom her mother's attitude was

causing some uneasiness.

Miss Tweddle was a well-preserved little woman, with short curly

iron-grey hair and sharp features. In manner she was brisk, not to say

chirpy, but she secreted sentiment in large quantities. She was very far

from the traditional landlady, and where she lost lodgers occasionally

she retained friends. She regarded Mrs. Collum with something like

reverence, as an acquaintance of her youth who had always occupied a

superior social position, and she was proud, though somewhat guiltily

so, that her favourite nephew should have succeeded in captivating the

daughter of a dentist.

She kissed Leander on both cheeks. "He's done the best of all my

nephews, Mrs. Collum, ma'am," she explained, "and he's never caused me a

moment's anxiety since I first had the care of him, when he was first

apprenticed to Catchpole's in Holborn, and paid me for his board."

"Well, well," said Mrs. Collum, "I hope he never may cause anxiety to

you, or to any one."

"I'll answer for it, he won't," said his aunt. "I wish you could see him

dress a head of hair."

Mrs. Collum shut her eyes again. "If at his age he has not acquired the

necessary skill for his line in life," she observed, "it would be a very

melancholy thing to reflect upon."

"Yes, wouldn't it?" agreed Miss Tweddle; "you say very truly, Mrs.

Collum. But he's got ideas and notions beyond what you'd expect in a

hairdresser--haven't you, Leandy? Tell Miss Collum's dear ma about the

new machines you've invented for altering people's hands and eyes and

features."

"I don't care to be told," the lady struck in. "To my mind, it's nothing

less than sheer impiety to go improving the features we've been endowed

with. We ought to be content as we are, and be thankful we've been sent

into the world with any features at all. Those are my opinions!"

"Ah," said the politic Leander, "but some people are saved having resort

to Art for improvement, and we oughtn't to blame them as are less

favoured for trying to render themselves more agreeable as spectacles,

ought we?"

"And if every one thought with you," added his aunt, with distinctly

inferior tact, "where would your poor dear 'usband have been, Mrs.

Collum, ma'am?"

"My dear husband was not on the same level--he was a medical man; and,

besides, though he replaced Nature in one of her departments, he had too

much principle to _imitate_ her. Had he been (or had I allowed him to

be) less conscientious, his practice would have been largely extended;

but I can truthfully declare that not a single one of his false teeth

was capable of deceiving for an instant. I hope," she added to Leander,

"you, in your own different way, are as scrupulous."

"Why, the fact is," said Leander, whose professional susceptibilities

were now aroused, "I am essentially an artist. When I look around, I see

that Nature out of its bounty has supplied me with a choice selection of

patterns to follow, and I reproduce them as faithful as lies within my

abilities. You may call it a fine thing to take a blank canvas, and

represent the luxurious tresses and the blooming hue of 'ealth upon it,

and so do I; but I call it a still higher and nobler act to produce a

similar effect upon a human 'ed!"

"Isn't that a pretty speech for a young man like him--only

twenty-seven--Mrs. Collum?" exclaimed his admiring aunt.

"You see, mamma dear," pleaded Matilda, who saw that her parent remained

unaffected, "it isn't as if Leander was in poor papa's profession."

"I hope, Matilda," said the lady sharply, "you are not going to pain me

again by mentioning this young man and your departed father in the same

breath, because I cannot bear it."

"The old lady," reflected Leander here, "don't seem to take to me!"

"I'm sure," said Miss Tweddle, "Leandy quite feels what an honour it is

to him to look forward to such a connection as yours is. When I first

heard of it, I said at once, 'Leandy, you can't never mean it; she won't

look at you; it's no use your asking her,' I said. And I quite scolded

myself for ever bringing them together!"

Mrs. Collum seemed inclined to follow suit, but she restrained herself.

"Ah! well," she observed, "my daughter has chosen to take her own way,

without consulting my prejudices. All I hope is, that she may never

repent it!"

"Very handsomely said, ma'am," chimed in Miss Tweddle; "and, if I know

my nephew, repent it she never will!"

Leander was looking rather miserable; but Matilda put out her hand to

him behind his aunt's back, and their eyes and hands met, and he was

happy again.

"You must be wanting your dinner, Mrs. Collum," his aunt proceeded; "and

we are only waiting for another lady and gentleman to make up the party.

I don't know what's made them so behindhand, I'm sure. He's a very

pleasant young man, and punctual to the second when he lodged with me. I

happened to run across him up by Chancery Lane the other evening, and he

said to me, in his funny way, 'I've been and gone and done it, Miss

Tweddle, since I saw you. I'm a happy man; and I'm thinking of bringing

my young lady soon to introduce to you.' So I asked them to come and

take a bit of dinner with me to-day, and I told him two o'clock sharp,

I'm sure. Ah, there they are at last! That's Mr. Jauncy's knock, among a

thousand."

Leander started. "Aunt!" he cried, "you haven't asked Jauncy here

to-day?"

"Yes, I did, Leandy. I knew you used to be friends when you were

together here, and I thought how nice it would be for both your young

ladies to make each other's acquaintance; but I didn't tell _him_

anything. I meant it for a surprise."

And she bustled out to receive her guests, leaving Leander speechless.

What if the new-comers were to make some incautious reference to that

pleasure-party on Saturday week? Could he drop them a warning hint?

"Don't you like this Mr. Jauncy, Leander?" whispered Matilda, who had

observed his ghastly expression.

"I like him well enough," he returned, with an effort; "but I'd rather

we had no third parties, I must say."

Here Mr. Jauncy came in alone, Miss Tweddle having retired to assist the

lady to take off her bonnet.

Leander went to meet him. "James," he said in an agitated whisper, "have

you brought Bella?"

Jauncy nodded. "We were talking of you as we came along," he said in the

same tone, "and I advise you to look out--she's got her quills up, old

chap!"

"What about?" murmured Leander.

Mr. Jauncy's grin was wider and more appreciative than ever as he

replied, mysteriously, "Rosherwich!"

Leander would have liked to ask in what respect Miss Parkinson

considered herself injured by the expedition to Rosherwich; but, before

he could do so, his aunt returned with the young lady in question.

Bella was gorgeously dressed, and made her entrance with the stiffest

possible dignity. "Miss Parkinson, my dear," said her hostess, "you

mustn't be made a stranger of. That lady sitting there on the sofa is

Mrs. Collum, and this gentleman is a friend of _your_ gentleman's, and

my nephew, Leandy."

"Oh, thank you," said Bella, "but I've no occasion to be told Mr.

Tweddle's name; we have met before--haven't we, Mr. Tweddle?"

He looked at her, and saw her brows clouded, and her nose and mouth with

a pinched look about them. She was annoyed with him evidently--but why?

"We have," was all he could reply.

"Why, how nice that is, to be sure!" exclaimed his aunt. "I might have

thought of it, too, Mr. Jauncy, and you being such friends and all. And

p'r'aps you know this lady, too--Miss Collum--as Leandy is keeping

company along with?"

Bella's expression changed to something blacker still. "No," she said,

fixing her eyes on the still unconscious Leander; "I made sure that Mr.

Tweddle was courting _a_ young lady, but--but--well, this _is_ a

surprise, Mr. Tweddle! You never told us of this when last we met. I

shall have news for somebody!"

"Oh, but it's only been arranged within the last month or two!" said

Miss Tweddle.

"Considering we met so lately, he might have done us the compliment of

mentioning it, I must say!" said Bella.

"I--I thought you knew," stammered the hairdresser; "I told----"

"No, you didn't, excuse me; oh no, you didn't, or some things would have

happened differently. It was the place and all that made you forget it,

very likely."

"When did you meet one another, and where was it, Miss Parkinson?"

inquired Matilda, rather to include herself in the conversation than

from any devouring curiosity.

Leander struck in hoarsely. "We met," he explained, "some time since,

quite casual."

Bella's eyes lit up with triumphant malice. "What!" she said, "do you

call yesterday week such a long while? What a compliment that is,

though! And so he's not even mentioned it to you, Miss Collum? Dear me,

I wonder what reasons he had for that, now!"

"There's nothing to wonder at," said Leander; "my memory does play me

tricks of that sort."

"Ah, if it was only you it played tricks on! There's Miss Collum dying

to know what it's all about, I can see."

"Indeed, Miss Parkinson, I'm nothing of the sort," retorted Matilda,

proudly. Privately her reflection was: "She's got a lovely gown on, but

she's a common girl, for all that; and she's trying to set me against

Leander for some reason, and she shan't do it."

"Well," said Bella, "you're a fortunate man, Mr. Tweddle, that you are,

in every way. I'm afraid I shouldn't be so easy with my James."

"There's no need for being afraid about it," her James put in; "you

aren't!"

"I hope you haven't as much cause, though," she retorted.

Leander listened to her malicious innuendo with a bewildered agony. Why

on earth was she making this dead set at him? She was amiable enough on

Saturday week. It never occurred to him that his conduct to her sister

could account for it, for had he not told Ada straightforwardly how he

was situated?

Fortunately dinner was announced to be ready just then, and Bella was

silenced for the moment in the general movement to the next room.

Leander took in Matilda's mamma, who had been studiously abstracting

herself from all surrounding objects for the last few minutes. "That

Bella is a downright basilisk," he thought dismally, as he led the way.

"Lord, how I do wish dinner was done!"

DENOUNCED

XI.

"There's a new foot on the floor, my friend;

And a new face at the door, my friend;

A new face at the door."

Leander sat at the head of the table as carver, having Mrs. Collum and

Bella on his left, and James and Matilda opposite to them.

James was the first to open conversation, by the remark to Mrs. Collum,

across the table, that they were "having another dull Sunday."

"That," rejoined the uncompromising lady, "seems to me a highly improper

remark, sir."

"My friend Jauncy," explained Leander, in defence of his abashed

companion, "was not alluding to present company, I'm sure. He meant the

dulness _outside_--the fog, and so on."

"I knew it," she said; "and I repeat that it is improper and irreverent

to speak of a dull Sunday in that tone of complaint. Haven't we all the

week to be lively in?"

"And I'm sure, ma'am," said Jauncy, recovering himself, "you make the

most of your time. Talking of fog, Tweddle, did you see those lines on

it in to-day's _Umpire_? Very smart, I call them; regular witty."

"And do you both read a paper on Sunday mornings with 'smart' and

'witty' lines in it?" demanded Mrs. Collum.

"I--I hadn't time this morning," said the unregenerate Leander; "but I

do occasionally cast an eye over it before I get up."

Mrs. Collum groaned, and looked at her daughter reproachfully.

"I see by the _Weekly News_," said Jauncy, "you've had a burglary in

your neighbourhood."

Leander let the carving-knife slip. "A burglary! What! in my

neighbourhood? When?"

"Well, p'r'aps not a burglary; but a capture of two that were 'wanted'

for it. It's all in to-day's _News_."

"I--I haven't seen a paper for the last two days," said Leander, his

heart beating with hope. "Tell us about it!"

"Why, it isn't much to tell; but it seems that last Friday night, or

early on Saturday morning, the constable on duty came upon two

suspicious-looking chaps, propped up insensible against the railings in

Queen Square, covered with blood, and unable to account for themselves.

Whether they'd been trying to break in somewhere and been beaten off, or

had quarrelled, or met with some accident, doesn't seem to be known for

certain. But, anyway, they were arrested for loitering at night with

housebreaking things about them; and, when they were got to the station,

recognized as the men 'wanted' for shooting a policeman down at

Camberwell some time back, and if it is proved against them they'll be

hung, for certain."

"What were they called? Did it say?" asked Leander, eagerly.

"I forget one--something like Bradawl, I believe; the other had a lot of

aliases, but he was best known as the 'Count,' from having lived a good

deal abroad, and speaking broken English like a native."

Leander's spirits rose, in spite of his present anxieties. He had been

going in fear and dread of the revenge of these ruffians, and they were

safely locked up; they could trouble him no more. Small wonder, then,

that his security in this respect made him better able to cope with

minor dangers; and Bella's animosity seemed lulled, too--at least, she

had not opened her mouth, except for food, since she sat down.

In his expansion, he gave himself the airs of a host. "I hope," he said,

"I've served you all to your likings? Miss Parkinson, you're not getting

on; allow me to offer you a little more pork."

"Thank you, Mr. Tweddle," said the implacable Bella, "but I won't

trouble you. I haven't an appetite to-day--like I had at those gardens."

There was a challenge in this answer--not only to him, but to general

curiosity--which, to her evident disappointment, was not taken up.

Leander turned to Jauncy. "I--I suppose you had no trouble in finding

your way here?" he said.

"No," said Jauncy, "not more than usual; the streets were pretty full,

and that makes it harder to get along."

"We met such quantities of soldiers," put in Bella. "Do you remember

those two soldiers at Rosherwich, Mr. Tweddle? How funny they did look,

dancing; didn't they? But I suppose I mustn't say anything about the

dancing here, must I?"

"Since," said the poor badgered man, "you put it to me, Miss Parkinson,

I must say that, considering the _day_, you know----"

"Yes," continued Mrs. Collum, severely; "surely there are better topics

for the Sabbath than--than a dancing soldier!"

The Tinted Venus: A Farcical Romance · 第 8 / 13 段