MR. ROUNDJACKET MAKES HIMSELF AGREEABLE.
On the morning after the scenes which we have just related, Mr.
Roundjacket was seated on his tall three-legged stool, holding in
his left hand the MS. of his poem, and brandishing in his right the
favorite instrument of his eloquence, when, chancing to raise his
eyes, he saw through the window an approaching carriage, which
carriage had evidently conceived the design of drawing up at the door
of Mr. Rushton's office.
A single glance showed Mr. Roundjacket that this carriage contained a
lady; a second look told him that the lady was Miss Lavinia.
We might very rationally suppose that the great poet, absorbed in
the delights of poesy, and thus dead to the outer world, would have
continued his recitation, and permitted such real, sublunary things as
visitors to pass unheeded. But such a conclusion would not indicate a
very profound acquaintance with the character of Mr. Roundjacket--the
most chivalric and gallant of cavaliers.
Instead of going on with his poem, he hastily rolled up the
manuscript, thrust it into his desk, and hastening to a small cracked
mirror, which hung over the fire-place, there commenced arranging his
somewhat disordered locks and apparel, with scrupulous care.
As he finished this hasty toilette, the Apple Orchard carriage drew up
and stopped at the door, and Mr. Roundjacket rushed forth.
Then any body who would have taken the trouble to look, might have
seen a gentleman opening the door of a chariot with profuse bows,
and smiles, and graceful contortions; and then a lady accepting the
proffered hand with solemn courtesy; and then Mr. Roundjacket might
have been observed leading the lady elegantly into the office.
"A delightful morning--a _very_ delightful morning, madam," said Mr.
Roundjacket.
"Yes, sir," said Miss Lavinia, solemnly.
"And you look in the best of health and spirits, madam."
"Thank you, sir; I feel very well, and I am glad to think that you are
equally blest."
"Blest!" said Mr. Roundjacket; "since you came, madam, that may be
very truly said."
A ghost of a smile lit, so to speak, upon Miss Lavinia's face, and
then flew away. It was very plain that this inveterate man-hater had
not closed her ears entirely to the voice of her enemy.
Roundjacket saw the impression he had made, and followed it up by
gazing with admiring delight upon his visitor;--whose countenance, as
soon as the solemnity was forgotten, did not by any means repel.
"It is a very great happiness," said the cavalier, seating himself
on his stool, and, from habit, brandishing his ruler around Miss
Lavinia's head,--"it is a great happiness, madam, when we poor
professional slaves have the pleasure to see one of the divine
sex--one of the ladies of creation, if I may use the phrase. Lawbooks
and papers are--ahem!--very--yes, exceedingly--"
"Dull?" suggested the lady, fanning herself with a measured movement
of the hand.
"Oh! worse, worse! These objects, madam, extinguish all poetry, and
gallantry, and elevated feeling in our unhappy breasts."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, my dear madam, and after a while we become so dead to all
that is beautiful and charming in existence"--that was from Mr.
Roundjacket's poem--"that we are incapable even of appreciating the
delightful society of the fairest and most exquisite of the opposite
sex."
Miss Lavinia shook her head with a ghostly smile.
"I'm afraid you are very gallant, Mr. Roundjacket."
"I, madam? no, no; I am the coldest and most prosaic of men."
"But your poem?"
"You have heard of that?"
"Yes, indeed, sir."
"Well, madam, that is but another proof of the fact which I assert."
"How, indeed?"
"It is on the prosaic and repulsive subject of the Certiorari."
And Mr. Roundjacket smiled after such a fashion, that it was
not difficult to perceive the small amount of sincerity in this
declaration.
Miss Lavinia looked puzzled, and fanned herself more solemnly than
ever.
"The Certiorari, did you say, sir?" she asked.
"Yes, madam--one of our legal proceedings; and if you are really
curious, I will read a portion of my unworthy poem to you--ahem!--"
As Mr. Roundjacket spoke, an overturned chair in the adjoining room
indicated that the occupant of the apartment had been disturbed by the
noise, and was about to oppose the invasion of his rights.
Roundjacket no sooner heard this, than he restored the poem to his
desk, with a sigh, and said:
"But you, no doubt, came on business, madam--I delay you--Mr.
Rushton--"
At the same moment the door of Mr. Rushton's room opened, and that
gentleman made his appearance, shaggy and irate--a frown upon his
brow, and a man-eating expression on his compressed lips.
The sight of Miss Lavinia slightly removed the wrathful expression,
and Mr. Rushton contented himself with bestowing a dreadful scowl on
Roundjacket, which that gentleman returned, and then counteracted by
an amiable smile.
Miss Lavinia greeted the lawyer with grave dignity, and said she had
come in, in passing, to consult him about some little matters which
she wished him to arrange for her; and trusted that she found him
disengaged.
This was said with so much dignity, that Mr. Rushton could not scowl,
and so he invited Miss Lavinia to enter his sanctum, politely leading
the way.
The lady sailed after him--and the door closed.
No sooner had she disappeared, than Mr. Roundjacket seized his
ruler, for a moment abandoned, and proceeded to execute innumerable
flourishes toward the adjoining room, for what precise purpose does
not very accurately appear. In the middle of this ceremony, however,
and just as his reflections were about to shape themselves into words,
the front door opened, and Verty made his appearance, joyful and
smiling.
In his hand Verty carried his old battered violin; at his heels
stalked the grave and dignified Longears.
"Good morning, Mr. Roundjacket," said Verty, smiling; "how do you do
to-day?"
"Moderate, moderate, young man," said the gentleman addressed; "you
seem, however, to be at the summit of human felicity."
"_Anan_?"
"Don't you know what _felicity_ means, you young savage?"
"No, sir."
"It means bliss."
Verty laughed.
"What is that?" he said.
Mr. Roundjacket flourished his ruler, indignantly.
"Astonishing how dull you are occasionally for such a bright fellow,"
he said; "but, after the fashion of all ignoramuses, and as you don't
know what that is, I declare you to be one after the old fashion. You
need illustration. Now, listen."
Verty sat down tuning his violin, and looking at Mr. Roundjacket, with
a smile.
"Felicity and bliss are things which spring from poetry and women;
convertible terms, you savage, but often dissevered. Suppose, now, you
wrote a great poem, and read it to the lady of your affections, and
she said it was better than the Iliad of Homer,--how would you feel,
sir?"
"I don't know," Verty said.
"You would feel happiness, sir."
"I don't think I would understand her. Who was Iliad, and what was
Homer?"
Mr. Roundjacket flourished his ruler, despairingly.
"You'll never write a poem, and you'll never be in love!" he said,
with solemn emphasis.
"Oh, you are wrong!" said Verty, laying his violin on the desk, and
caressing Longears. "I think I'm in love now, Mr. Roundjacket!"
"What?"
"I'm in love."
"With whom?"
"Redbud," said Verty.
Roundjacket looked at the young man.
"Redbud Summers?" he said.
Verty nodded.
Roundjacket's face was suddenly illuminated with a smile; and he
looked more intently still at Verty.
"Tell me all about it," he said, with the interest of a lover himself;
"have you had any moonlight, any flowers, music, and that sort of
things?"
"Oh, yes! we had the flowers!" said Verty.
"Where?"
"At old Scowley's."
"Who's he?" asked Mr. Roundjacket, staring.
"What!" cried Verty, "don't you know old Scowley?"
"No."
"She's Redbud's school-master--I mean school-mistress, of course; and
Mr. Jinks goes to see Miss Sallianna."
Roundjacket muttered: "Really, a very extraordinary young man."
Then he added, aloud--
"Why do you think you are in love with Redbud?"
"Because you told me all about it; and I think from what--"
Just as Verty was going on to explain, the door of Mr. Rushton's room
opened again, and Miss Lavinia came forth.
She nodded to Verty, and asked him how he was.
"I'm very well," said the young man, "and I hope you are too, Miss
Lavinia. I saw your carriage at the door, and knew you were in here.
Oh! how tight your hair is curled!" he added, laughing.
Miss Lavinia drew herself up.
"I reckon you are going to see Redbud," said Verty.
Miss Lavinia looked intently at him.
"Yes," she said.
"Give my love to her," said the young man, "and tell her I'm coming to
see her very soon--just as quick as I can get off from this dull old
place."
Which words were accompanied by a smile, directed toward Roundjacket.
As to Miss Lavinia, she stood aghast at Verty's extraordinary
communication, and for some moments could not get words to express her
feelings.
Finally she said, solemnly--
"How--have you been--"
"To see Redbud, ma'am?"
"Yes."
"I've been once," Verty said, "and I'm going again."
Miss Lavinia's face assumed a dignified expression of reproof, and she
gazed at the young man in silence. This look, however, was far from
daunting him, and he returned it with the most fascinating smile.
"The fact is, Miss Lavinia," he added, "Redbud wants somebody to talk
to up there. Old Scowley, you know, is'nt agreeable, at least, I
should'nt think she was; and Miss Sallianna is all the time, I reckon,
with Mr. Jinks. I did'nt see any scholars with Redbud; but there ARE
some there, because you know Redbud's pigeon had a paper round his
neck, with some words on it, all about how 'Fanny' had given him to
her; and so there's a 'Fanny' somewhere--don't you think so? But I
forgot, you don't know about the pigeon--do you?"
Miss Lavinia was completely astounded. "Old Scowley," "Mr. Jinks,"
"pigeon," "paper round his neck," and "Fanny,"--all these objects
were inextricably mingled in her unfortunate brain, and she could not
disentangle them from each other, or discover the least clue to the
labyrinth. She, therefore, gazed at Verty with more overwhelming
dignity than ever, and not deigning to make any reply to his rhapsody,
sailed by with a stiff inclination of the head, toward the door. But
Verty was growing gallant under Mr. Roundjacket's teaching. He
rose with great good humor, and accompanied Miss Lavinia to her
carriage--he upon one side, the gallant head clerk on the other--and
politely assisted the lady into her chariot, all the time smiling in a
manner which was pleasant to behold.
His last words, as the door closed and the chariot drove off, were--
"Recollect, Miss Lavinia, please don't forget to give my love to
Redbud!"
Having impressed this important point upon Miss Lavinia, Verty
returned to the office, with the sighing Roundjacket, humming one of
his old Indian airs, and caressing Longears.