This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas;
And utters it again, when God doth please:
He is wit’s pedlar, and retails his wares
At wakes, and wassels, meetings, markets, fairs;
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.
SHAKSPEARE.--_Love’s Labour’s Lost._
He must be told on’t, and he shall; the office
Becomes a woman best; I’ll take’t upon me:
If I prove honey-mouth’d, let my tongue blister!
SHAKSPEARE.--_Winter’s Tale._
“See the conquering hero comes!” said Fitzalbert to Lady Latimer, as
from the terrace where they were strolling, they observed Germain
arriving at Latimer a few days after the election.
“Very well indeed--nothing could be better, I hear from every body,”
said Lord Latimer, receiving the new member; “quite perfect from
top to toe: it was hard to tell where your exertions were most
successful--haranguing on the hustings, or dancing down the dowdies of
the ball-room.”
“Nay, don’t make a merit of that,” said Fitzalbert; “‘the labour we
delight in physics pain;’ and our modern Alexander was not without
his rival queens. I have not forgotten the soft Statira we met at
----; I hope her foot was lighter on the boards than on the beach; for
I remember it left an impression on the soft sand, that would have
frightened Robinson Crusoe.”
“Perhaps, now she’s married, she’s on another _footing_ with Germain,”
added a Mr. Starling, who was one of the party.
Now all this was, on many accounts, very disagreeable to Germain; in
the first place, it confirmed what he had before suspected, that no
part of the ridicule of the meeting on the sands had been lost upon
Fitzalbert; but it touched him more nearly, as from thence it was
evident that Lady Latimer had, upon her return from the ball, made
ludicrous mention of his first partner. And if there could otherwise
have been any doubt as to his having been previously talked over on
this head before his arrival, the attempt at a joke on the subject by
Mr. Starling would have been evidence enough that it was not new to
him; for he was one who literally laboured at easy conversation, and it
is incredible the midnight toil with which he used to prepare himself
to ‘hold his own’ in the probable topic of the coming day. His great
object in life had been to be always favourably received in a certain
round of first-rate country-houses; and to prevent the possibility of
his being forgotten in his absence, he used to book himself for another
visit, in the lady’s album, before his departure. Neatness was the
leading characteristic both of his person and mind, and this to such a
degree, as to give a studied appearance to both. As Fitzalbert, with
whom he was no favourite, used to say, “Neither the flow of his curls
nor of his conversation seemed natural--both had the appearance of
having been previously committed _to paper_.” However this might be,
neither _papillote_ nor common-place book, was ever positively detected
by the most prying of housemaids. He never opened his mouth but with an
attempt at point at least in the tone of his voice; and when he did not
say a good thing, he looked as if he had, which often did just as well.
Having a fair fortune, and being of a good family, he had latterly
entertained serious thoughts of endeavouring to establish himself by
some more permanent tenure in his favorite haunts, and a union with
Lady Jane Sydenham had occurred to him as a very agreeable mode of
carrying that point.
It happened that at the juncture of this his periodical visit here,
Lady Latimer, missing the resource of Miss Mordaunt’s society, had felt
a wish to have one of her sisters with her; and whether it was from a
dislike so far to forward her mother’s plans as to ask Caroline to meet
Sir Gregory Greenford, who was then staying there, or whether it was
merely that she preferred Jane herself, it happened she accidentally so
far forwarded Mr. Starling’s views as to have Jane to meet him. Lady
Flamborough had readily acceded to her daughter Louisa’s request to
send her youngest sister, from recollecting that Germain would probably
be there after the election.
There were few people whom Germain’s easy nature could bring him to
dislike, but he certainly had rather an aversion to Mr. Starling. This
might have arisen merely from the difference of their characters, for
nothing could be more perfectly natural and unaffected than Germain;
or perhaps he only felt the re-action always caused by hearing a
man cried up beyond his merits. But from whatever this arose, it
made him view with a distaste for which he could not account, Mr.
Starling’s attentions to Lady Jane. It could be of no consequence to
him, and yet the indifference with which she received the studied
advances of her methodical admirer, gave him a very high opinion
of her discrimination. “She is not so brilliant as Lady Latimer,”
thought he, “and yet perhaps her taste is more correct”--recollecting
a little dispute he had had with her ladyship as to the merits of
some namby-pamby verses of Mr. Starling’s in her album, to which she
might have been supposed to lend rather a favourable ear from its
subject-matter, which was a high-flown compliment to herself. Even
the theme, Germain declared, had not been able to inspire the writer
with an easy flow, and that his verse merited the name of a _strain_,
rather from its apparent effort, than its poetry. But he had by no
means undivided leisure for these observations, for there was in what
Fitzalbert called “a quiet way,” a good deal of play in the evenings
at Latimer; and Germain entered into it with an eagerness and avidity,
which had only wanted an occasion to call it forth ever since his luck
at Peatburn Lodge. This, however, did not now continue the same: the
game was chiefly _écarté_, at which both Fitzalbert and Lord Latimer
played much better than he did; and though the stakes were not always
very high, he found that night after night the difference of play told;
and what Fitzalbert called a “quiet way,” meant that it was amongst so
few, that he had no means of recovering from others what he had lost to
him. So that very soon, the balance of what had been called, ever since
the play at Peatburn Lodge, “the running account between them,” shifted
very considerably to the other side. True, he sometimes won a little
from Sir Gregory Greenford, but not so much as he might have done, for
Fortune seemed at present to have taken the baronet under her most
especial protection; so much so indeed, that Fitzalbert said, “there
must be witchcraft in it,” and that the weird sisters had prophesied of
him as of Banquo, “Thou shalt _get kings_, though thou be none:” for
hardly a deal passed, without Sir Gregory’s marking his majesty, so
that Germain was the chief and constant loser. Whilst this was going
on, another new and alluring enticement to expense was opened to him.
“Suppose we go and look at my young things,” said Lord Latimer one
morning.
“I did not know,” said the Count St. Julien, a foreigner on a visit,
“dat milord was de papa of any little people.”
“Adopted children,” answered Fitzalbert; and they wound their way
through a sheltered part of the park, to the paddocks where Lord
Latimer’s fine stud was to be seen, and examining the foals, they
stood for some time learnedly discussing the various merits of little
creatures with crooked legs, large knees, no bodies, and bushy tails.
From thence they went to the yearlings, and as these galloped gaily
round the paddock, Sir Gregory Greenford, who was resting his chin upon
the gate, said; “Look at that chestnut, with a white hind leg; I’ll bet
a hundred to one against him the first time he starts.”
“Ten thousand to a hundred, if you please,” said Lord Latimer; “his is
in a large produce-stake with many others, and we’ll make it for that
if you like; as I don’t wish to tie you down to your offer whenever he
starts.”
“So be it,” said Sir Gregory; “for I’m sure he’ll never win a saddle.”
“Got a slight strain the other day,” whispered Lord Latimer to
Fitzalbert, as he was booking the bet; “and still goes short and
stiff, but has the best action of the whole set, and seems as if he
would beat them all. Take it again.”
“Again, a thousand to ten, Sir Gregory?” enquired Fitzalbert; “No,
that’s enough, I think,” answered the baronet; “for I should never
forget the thousand, even if it was in no danger; and I doubt whether
you would remember the ten pounds, even if you lost it;” and this was
supposed to be the sharpest thing Sir Gregory ever said.
“Come Germain, you shall have half my bet,” said Lord Latimer; “we must
have you upon the turf; I’m sure you will like it.”
And so thought Germain, naturally fond of horses and all that concerns
them; he had always enjoyed the exhilarating bustle of a race-course
as an uninterested spectator; and as a mere means of excitement,
it struck him that a fine animal was a happier medium than packs of
painted paper.
“And you must come with me next time I go to see my Derby horse,” added
Lord Latimer; and an incident which occurred shortly afterwards induced
him readily to accept this proposal.
For Germain, in spite of the occasional distraction of play, and
the amusement sometimes afforded him by disconcerting some of Mr.
Starling’s regularly laid approaches to a bon-mot, (an amusement that
was not a little increased by his believing that it was equally enjoyed
by Lady Jane,) yet in spite of all this, he still was, or fancied
himself to be, desperately in love with Lady Latimer, an illusion, if
it was one, likely to be very much assisted by the listless, lounging
sort of life that he was then leading. His attentions had not been
generally remarked by any of the party. Lord Latimer had been so long
in the habit of seeing his wife the object of admiration to every one
but himself, that he very coolly, and in this instance very wisely,
determined to have neither fears nor cares on the subject.
But the apparent earnestness of Germain’s devotion to her had more than
once been the source of uneasiness to Lady Latimer; for she had really
a regard for him, as an agreeable, unaffected, good-humoured addition
to her society, and had therefore not the least wish to be obliged to
break with him, still less had she the least idea of participating in
the warmth of his feelings.
She therefore at last took her resolution, and one morning that they
had strolled out together in the park, when he had been unusually
sentimental in his adoration, she turned to him with an expression
half serious, half playful--
“Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Germain,” said she, “that a person might
habituate himself to the soothing effects of small doses of laudanum
without the slightest intention of taking it as a poison?”
“A very common case, I believe,” replied Germain, not knowing what was
coming next.
“And would it surprise you that such a person should make a distinction
between the careful hand that distilled it drop by drop, and the
heedless creature that seemed determined to pour down a deadly
quantity?”
“What can you mean?” said Germain.
“I dare say you think I’m talking nonsense,” replied she, “but it is
only very good sense in a thin disguise. You are young in the ways of
the world, and must take a little good advice from one who is older.
Nay, don’t look so shocked at that; I’m not wrinkled yet, I know, but
forgive me if I say the fault is on your side for being so very, very
young. Must I explain myself further? Most people would think me over
candid in saying what I have done. If admiration has been the cordial
draught in the delirium of which I have sought forgetfulness of the
aching void within, ’tis a voice, I own, like that of the opium-eater;
and like his, habit has made it second nature; but be assured of this,
I never mean to _poison_ myself--you understand me--and I have said
enough when I have added that you are intended for better things than
to administer drop by drop my daily dose of flattery; so help me in
this crossing.” And as she lightly touched the hand he offered, said:
“We shall always be friends, I’m certain; and now don’t look so
doleful, for here comes Fitzalbert, if he suspects any thing, he will
quiz _perhaps both_, but certainly _you_.”
This was the strongest inducement she could have held out for
discretion, and it was not without its effect; and perhaps upon the
whole the interruption caused by Fitzalbert was not entirely unwelcome,
for however much annoyed Germain might have been at the tone taken by
Lady Latimer, there was in her manner, with much kindness, an air of
superiority, a coolness, and an entire absence of all embarrassment,
which convinced him that remonstrance would have been entirely in vain,
and thus his only hope of continuing her friend, was never to attempt
to be more.
It was in the state of things produced by this interview that he
thought a little absence would not be amiss, and therefore readily
accepted Lord Latimer’s proposal to accompany him to see his Derby
horse.