'Were you wearing the ring?' asked Merton.
'No; it was in my dressing-bag. I said, "Mr. Warren, I know what care
clouds your brow. You are brooding over the fate of the young, the fair,
the beloved--the unvaccinated. I know the story of your heart."
'"How the D--- I mean, how do you know, Miss Martin, about my private
affairs?"
'"A little bird has told me," I said (style of _The Young Girl_, you
know). "I have friends in Bulcester who esteem you. No, I must not
mention names, but I come, not too late, I hope, to bring you security.
She shall be preserved from this awful scourge, and you shall be her
preserver." He wanted to know how it was to be done, of course, and
after taking his word of honour for secrecy, I told him that the remedy
would lie in his own hands, showed him the ring, and taught him how to
work it. Mr. Squeers,' went on Miss Martin, 'had never wopped a boy in a
cab before, and I had never beheld a scene of passionate emotion
before--in a four-wheeler. He called me his preserver, he said that I
was an angel, he knelt at my feet, and, if we had been on the stage--as
Mr. Merton said--'
'And were you on the stage?' asked Merton.
'That is neither here nor there. It was an instructive experience, and
you little know the treasures of passion that may lie concealed in the
heart of a young oilcloth manufacturer.'
'Happy young oilcloth manufacturer!' murmured Merton.
'They are both happy, but I did not manage my fortunate conclusion in my
own way. When young Mr. Warren had moderated the transports of his
gratitude we were in the suburbs of Bulcester, where the mill-owners live
in houses of the most promiscuous architecture: Tudor, Jacobean, Queen
Anne, Bedford Park Queen Anne, _chalets_, Chineseries, "all standing
naked in the open air," for the trees have not grown up round them yet.
Then we came to a gate without a lodge, the cabman got down and opened
it, and we were in the visible presence of Mr. Warren's villa. The style
is the Scottish Baronial; all pepper-pots, gables and crowsteps.
'"What a lovely old place!" I said to my companion. "Have you secret
passages and sliding panels and dark turnpike stairs? What a house for
conspiracies! There is a real turret window; can't you fancy it suddenly
shot up and the king's face popped out, very red, and bellowing,
'Treason!'"
'At that moment, when my imagination was in full career, the turret
window _was_ shot up, and a face, very red, with red whiskers, was popped
out.
'"That is my father," said young Mr. Warren; and we alighted, and a very
small maidservant opened the portals of the baronial hall, while the
cabman carried up my trunk, and Mr. Warren, senior, greeted me in the
hall.
'"Welcome to Bulcester!" he said, with a florid air, and "hoped James and
I had made friends on the way," and then he actually winked! He is a
widower, and I was dying for tea, but there we sat, and when the little
maid came in, it was to say that a gentleman wanted to see Mr. Warren in
the study. So he went out, and then, James being the victim of
gratitude, I took my courage in both hands and asked if I might have tea.
James said that they usually had it after the lecture was over, which
would not be till nine, and that some people had been asked to meet me.
Then I knew that I was got among a strange, outlandish race who eat
strange meats and keep High Teas, and my spirit fainted within me.
'"Oh, Mr. James!" I said, "if you love me have a cup of tea and some
bread-and-butter sent up to my room, and tell the maid to show me the way
to it."
'So he sent for her, and she showed me to the best spare room, with
oleographs of Highland scenery on the walls, and coloured Landseer
prints, and tartan curtains, and everything made of ormolu that can be
made of ormolu. In about twenty minutes the girl returned with tea and
poached eggs and toast, and jam and marmalade. So I dressed for the
lecture, which was to begin at eight--just when people ought to be
dining--and came down into the drawing-room. The elder Mr. Warren was
sitting alone, reading the _Daily News_, and he rose with an air of happy
solemnity and shook hands again.
'"You can let James alone now, Miss Martin," he said, and he winked
again, rubbed his hands, and grinned all over his expansive face.
'"Let James alone!" I said.
'"Yes; don't go upsetting the lad--he's not used to young ladies like
you. You leave James to himself. James will do very well. I have a
little surprise for James."
'He certainly had a considerable surprise for me, but I merely asked if
it was James's birthday, which it was not.
'Luckily James entered. All his gloom was gone, thanks to me, and he was
remarkably smiling and particularly attentive to myself. Mr. Warren
seemed perplexed.
'"James, have you heard any good news?" he asked. "You seem very gay all
of a sudden."
'James caught my eye.
'"No, father," he said. "What news do you mean? Anything in business? A
large order from Sarawak?"
'Mr. Warren was silent, but presently took me into a corner on the
pretence of showing me some horrible _objet d'art_--a treacly bronze.
'"I say," he said, "you must have made great play in the cab coming from
the station. James looks a new man. I never would have guessed him to
be so fickle. But, mind you, no more of it! Let James be--he will do
very well."
'How was James to do very well? Why were my fascinations not to be
exercised, as per contract? I began to suspect the worst, and I was
thinking of nothing else while we drove to the premises of the Bulcester
Literary Society. Could Jane have drowned herself out of the way, or
taken smallpox, which might ruin her charms? Well, I had not a large
audience, on account of fear of infection, I suppose, and all the people
present wore the red badge, like Mr. Warren, only he wore one on each
arm. This somewhat amazed me, but as I had never spoken in public before
I was rather in a flutter. However, I conquered my girlish shyness, and
if the audience was not large it was enthusiastic. When I came to the
peroration about wishing them all happy endings and real beginnings of
true life, don't you know, the audience actually rose at me, and cheered
like anything. Then someone proposed, "Three cheers for young Warren,"
and they gave them like mad; I did not know why, nor did he: he looked
quite pale. Then his father, with tears in his voice, proposed a vote of
thanks to me, and said that he and the brave hearts of old Bulcester, his
old friends and brothers in arms, were once more united; and the people
stormed the platform and shook his hand and slapped him on the back. At
last we got out by a back way, where our cab was waiting. Young Mr.
Warren was as puzzled as myself, and his father was greatly overcome and
sobbing in a corner. We got into the house, where people kept arriving,
and at last a fine old clerical-looking bird entered with a red badge on
one arm and a very pretty girl in white on the other. She had a red
badge too.
'Young Mr. Warren, who was near me when they came in, gave a queer sort
of cry, and then _I_ understood! The girl was his Jane, and she _had_
been vaccinated, also her father, that afternoon, owing to the awful
panic the old man got into after reading the evening papers about the
smallpox. The gentleman whom Mr. Warren went to see in the study, just
after my arrival, had brought him this gratifying intelligence, and he
had sent the gentleman back to ask the Trumans to a High Tea of
reconciliation. The people at the lecture had heard of this, and that
was why they cheered so for young Warren, because his affair was as
commonly known to all Bulcester as that of Romeo and Juliet at Verona.
They are hearty people at Bulcester, and not without elements of old
English romance.
'Old Mr. Warren publicly embraced Jane Truman, and then brought her and
presented her to me as James's bride. We both cried a little, I think,
and then we all sat down to High Tea, and I am scarcely yet the woman I
used to be. It was a height! And a weight! And a length! After tea
Mr. Warren made a speech, and said that Bulcester had come back to him,
and I was afraid that he would brag dreadfully, but he did not; he was
too happy, I think. And then Mr. Truman made a speech and said that
though they felt obliged to own that they had come to the conclusion that
though Anti-vaccination was a holy thing, still (in the circumstances)
vaccination was good enough. But they yet clung to principles for which
Hampden died on the field, and Russell on the scaffold, and many of their
own citizens in bed! There must be no Coercion. Everyone who liked must
be allowed to have smallpox as much as he pleased. All other issues were
unimportant except that of freedom!
'Here I rose--I was rather excited--and said that I hoped the reverend
speaker was not deserting the sacred principle of compulsory temperance?
Would the speaker allow people freedom to drink? All other issues were
unimportant compared with that of freedom, _except_ the interest of
depriving a poor man of his beer. To catch smallpox was a Briton's
birthright, but not to take a modest quencher. No freedom to drink!
"Down with the drink!" I cried, and drained my tea-cup, and waved it,
amidst ringing cheers. Mr. Truman admitted that there were
exceptions--one exception, at least. Disease must be free to all, not
alcohol nor Ritualism. He thanked his young friend the gifted lecturer
for recalling him to his principles.
'The principles of the good old cause, the Puritan cause, were as pure as
glycerinated lymph, and he proposed to found a Liberal Vaccinationist
League. They are great people for leagues at Bulcester, and they like
the initials L. V. L. There was no drinking of toasts, for there was
nothing to drink them in, and--do you know, Mr. Merton?--I think it must
be nearly luncheon time.'
'Champagne appears to me to be indicated,' said Merton, who rang the bell
and then summoned Miss Blossom from her typewriting.
'We have done nothing,' Merton said, 'but heaven only knows what we have
escaped in the adventure of the Lady Novelist and the Vaccinationist.'
On taking counsel's opinion, Merton learned, with a shudder, that if
young Warren had used the Borgia ring, and if Jane had resented it, he
might have been indicted for a common assault, under 24 and 25 Victoria,
cap. 100, sec. 24, for 'unlawfully and maliciously administering a
noxious thing with intent to annoy.'
'I don't think she could have proved the intent to annoy,' said the
learned counsel.
'You don't know a Bulcester jury as it was before the epidemic,' said
Merton. 'And I might have been an accessory before the fact, and,
anyhow, we should all have got into the newspapers.'
Miss Martin was the most admired of the bridesmaids at the Warren-Truman
marriage.