The strange dialogue thus terminated took place in front of the window
of Mrs Girdwood's apartment. It was in the night; a night starless and
calm, and of course favourable to the eavesdroppers.
There was one.
In the room right above was a gentleman who had that day taken
possession.
He had come by the night-boat from New York, and entered his name on the
register as "Swinton," with the modest prefix of Mr Attached were the
words "and servant"--the latter represented by a dark-haired,
dark-complexioned youth, dressed after the fashion of a footman, or
_valet du voyage_.
To Newport, Mr Swinton appeared to be a stranger; and had spent most of
that day in exploring the little city founded by Coddington, and full of
historic recollections.
Though conversing with nearly everybody he met, he evidently knew no
one; and as evidently no one knew him.
Want of politeness to a stranger would not comport with the character of
Newport people; especially when that stranger had all the appearance of
an accomplished gentleman, followed at respectful distance by a
well-dressed and obsequious servant.
Those with whom he came in contact had but one thought:
"A distinguished visitor."
There was nothing in the appearance of Mr Swinton to contradict the
supposition. He was a man who had seen some thirty summers, with no
signs to show that they had been unpleasantly spent. Amidst his glossy
curls of dark auburn colour, the eye could not detect a single strand of
grey; and if the crow had set its claw upon his face, the track could
not be observed. Under a well-cultivated whisker uniting to the
moustache upon his lips--in short the facial tonsure which distinguishes
the _habitue_ of the Horse Guards. There could be no mistaking him for
any other than a "Britisher"; and as such was he set down, both by the
citizens of the town, and the guests at the hotel.
The meal called "tea-supper" being over, and the stranger, having
nothing better to do, was leaning out of the window of his sleeping
room, on the fourth storey--tranquilly smoking a cigar.
A conversation that occurred between himself and his servant--exhibiting
on the one side condescension, on the other a strange familiarity--need
not be repeated. It had ended; and the servant had thrown himself,
_sans facon_, on a sofa; while the master, with arms resting on the
window-sill, continued to inspire the perfume of the nicotian weed,
along with the iodised air that came up from the _algae_ of the ocean.
The tranquil scene was favourable to reflection, and thus Mr Swinton
reflected:
"Deuced nice place! Devilish pretty girls! Hope I'll find one of them
who's got money, and command of it as well. Sure to be some old hag
here with a well-filled stocking, though it may take time to discover
it. Let me get a glance at her cornucopia, and if I don't turn the
small end upward, then--then I shall believe what I have heard of these
Yankee dames: that they hold their purse-strings tighter than do their
simple cousins of England. Several heiresses about, I've heard. One or
two with something like a million a piece--dollars, of course. Five
dollars to the pound. Let me see! A million of dollars makes two
hundred thousand pounds. Well! that would do, or even the half of it.
I wonder if that good-looking girl, with the maternal parent attached to
her, has got any blunt? A little love mixed with the play would make my
game all the more agreeable. Ah! What's below? The shadows of women
from an open window, the occupants of the apartment underneath. Talking
they are. If they would only come out on the balcony, there would be
some chance of my hearing them. I'm just in the humour for listening to
a little scandal; and if they're anything like their sex on the other
side of the Atlantic, that's sure to be the theme. By Jove! they're
coming out! Just to oblige me."
It was just at this moment that Cornelia retired to her room, and Mrs
Girdwood, following her daughter, took stand upon the balcony to
continue the conversation which had been carried on inside.
Favoured by the calm night, and the natural law of acoustics, Mr
Swinton heard every word that was said--even to the softest whisper.
In order to secure himself against being seen, he had withdrawn behind
the Venetian shutter of his own window, and stood with his ear against
the open lath-work, listening with all the intentness of a spy.
When the dialogue came to an end, he craned out, and saw that the young
lady had gone inside, but that the mother still remained standing in the
balcony.
Once more quietly drawing back, and summoning the valet to his side, he
talked for some minutes in a low, hurried tone--as if giving the servant
some instructions of an important nature.
Then putting on his hat, and throwing a light surtout over his
shoulders, he hastened out of the room.
The servant followed; but not until an interval had elapsed.
In a few seconds after, the Englishman might have been seen sauntering
out upon the balcony with a careless air, and taking his stand within a
few feet of where the rich widow stood leaning over the rail.
He made no attempt to address her. Without introduction, there would
have been a certain rudeness in it. Nor was his face toward her, but to
the sea, as if he had stopped to contemplate the light upon the
Cormorant Rock, gleaming all the more brilliantly from the contrasted
darkness of the night.
At that moment a figure of short stature appeared behind him, giving a
slight cough, as if to attract his attention. It was the servant.
"My lord," said the latter, speaking in a low tone--though loud enough
to be heard by Mrs Girdwood.
"Aw--Fwank--what is it?"
"What dress will your lordship wear at the ball?"
"Aw--aw--plain bwack, of cawse. A white chawker."
"What gloves, your lordship? White or straw?"
"Stwaw--stwaw."
The servant, touching his hat, retired.
"His lordship," as Mr Swinton appeared to be, returned to his tranquil
contemplation of the light upon Cormorant Rock.
There was no longer tranquillity for the relict of the retail
storekeeper. Those magic words, "my lord," had set her soul in a
flutter. A live lord within six feet of her. Gracious me!
It is the lady's privilege to speak first, as also to break through the
boundaries of reserve. And of this Mrs Girdwood was not slow to avail
herself.
"You are a stranger, sir, I presume--to our country, as well as to
Newport?"
"Aw--yes, madam--indeed, yes. I came to yaw beautiful country by the
last steemaw. I arrived at Noopawt this morning, by bawt from Nooyawk."
"I hope your lordship will like Newport. It is our most fashionable
watering-place."
"Aw; sawtingly I shall--sawtingly. But, madam, you adwess me as yaw
ludship. May I ask why I have the honaw to be so entitled?"
"Oh, sir; how could I avoid giving you the title, after hearing your
servant so address you?"
"Aw, Fwank, stoopid fellaw! doose take him! Pawdon me, madam, faw
seeming woodness. I vewy much wegwet the occurrence. I am twavelling
_incognito_. You, madam, will understand what a baw it is--especially
in yaw fwee land of libawty, to have one's self pawpetwally pointed out?
A howed baw, I assure yaw?"
"No doubt it is. I can easily understand that, my lord."
"Thanks, madam! I am vewy much indebted to yaw intelligence. But I
must ask a still greater fayvaw at your hands. By the stoopidity of my
fellaw, I am completely in yaw power. I pwesume I am talking to a lady.
In fact I am shaw of it."
"I hope so, my lord."
"Then, madam, the fayvaw I would ask is, that yaw keep this little
secwet abawt ma title. Pway am I asking too much?"
"Not at all, sir; not at all."
"Yaw pwomise me?"
"I promise you, my lord."
"How vewy kind! A hundwed thousand thanks, madam! I shall be fawever
gwateful. P'waps yaw are going to the bawl to-night?"
"I intend so, my lord. I go with my daughter and niece."
"Aw--aw. I hope I shall have the plesyaw of seeing yaw. As I am a
stwanger here, of cawse I know naw one. I go out of meaw quyuosity, or
rather I should say, to observe yaw national cawactewistics."
"Oh, sir; _you_ need be no stranger. If you wish to dance, and will
accept as partners my niece and daughter, I can promise that both will
be most happy."
"Madam, yaw ovawwhelm me with yaw genewosity."
The dialogue here came to an end. It was time to dress for the ball;
and, with a low bow on the part of the lord, and an obsequious courtesy
on the side of the lady, they separated--expecting to come together
again under the sheen of the chandeliers.