I offered to restore it to her; she would not have it at any price;--she
wished me to play the game, she said, just as if I were playing with a
man.
I checkmated her. She got up in a pet, saying that chess was a nasty,
stupid, tiresome thing, and that she would not play it any longer.
O, the contrariness of feminine nature!
Other people now began to drop in; and it was _my_ turn to get put out.
I heard it was Min's birthday, which I had not known before. I saw that
they remembered it; while, I, had not brought her even a paltry flower!
Everybody was wishing her "many happy returns of the day." I had not
done so; neither had I any opportunity of atoning for my neglect, as she
was too busy receiving the new comers; but, indeed, I would have been
too proud to excuse myself after witnessing Mr Mawley's "effusion."
He seemed to me to be guilty of unpardonable effrontery in holding Min's
hand such an unconscionably long time in his, when presenting a
miserable shop-bouquet; and, as for the lackadaisical airs of that
insufferable donkey, Horner--I can find no words adequate wherewith to
express what I thought; he was positively sickening!
I did not have another chance of speaking to Min either; that is, unless
I chose to bawl what I had to say across a crowded room; and, I need
hardly say, I did not exactly care about that!
She appeared to me to be very inconsistent, too.
She seemed really much more interested in Mawley's conversation than _I_
thought any reasonable person could be; while _he_ was grinning and
carrying on at a rate, which, if I had been Mrs Clyde, I would not have
allowed for a moment.
O, the equilibriant temperament of the "superior" sex!
Min teased me yet further.
She sang every song that Mawley and Horner asked her for, playing the
accompaniments for the latter when he favoured the company with his idea
of ballad vocalisation.
Horner thought he possessed a fine tenor voice: I didn't think so,
especially on this evening!
But, no matter what these two asked her to do, she did. If _I_,
however, requested any particular song, she said she did not believe she
could manage it; her voice could not compass it; she had lent it out;
or, she hadn't got it!
Was it not enough to provoke one? Wouldn't you have been affected by
it?
In addition to Horner and Mawley, there was also an odious cousin of
hers, called "Jack," or "Tom," or "Ned," or some other abominably
familiar abbreviation, who hung over the piano stool, and said "Min, do
this," and "Min, do that," in a way that drove me to frenzy.
I hate cousins! I don't see the necessity for them. I'm sure people
can get along very well without their existence. I would do away with
them to-morrow by act of Parliament, if I only had the power.
When everybody else who had a voice at all had exercised their vocal
powers, Mrs Clyde at last asked me to sing.
Instead of declining, as I would have done at any other time, on account
of her slight, I bowed my acquiescence and went to the piano.
To tell you the truth, I was glad of the opportunity afforded me for
carrying out a petty piece of revenge against Min, of which I had
suddenly bethought me.
I had composed a little song, you must know, that I believed highly
applicable to her at the moment, although when I had written it she was
no more in my mind than Adam or Eve, or both!
I sang it, looking into her face the while, as she stood by the
instrument; and these were the words. I gave them expression enough,
you may be sure.
"My lady's eyes are soft and blue, deep-changing as the
iris hue;
_But, eyes deceive
Hearts `worn on sleeve,'
And make us oft their power rue_!
"Her little mouth--a `sunny south'--wafts perfumed
kisses to the wind;
_But, winds blow cold,
And kiss of old,
A trait'rous symbol was, I find_!
"For pearly teeth and rosebud lips, whose honied wealth
the zephyr sips,
_But bait the lair
Where fickle fair,
Like Scylla, wreck men's stately ships_--
"And witching eyes and plaintive sighs, and looks of love
and tender words--
Love's tricking arts -
_Are poison'd darts,
More awesome far than pendant swords_!"
"Thank you," said Mrs Clyde; "it is very pretty. Your own, I suppose?"
"Yes," I said. I did not feel disposed to be more communicative.
"What do you call it?" asked Min, carelessly.
"`Per Contra,'" I answered. "Don't you think it a suitable title?"
"Yes, _I understand_" she said. "Thank you, _Mr Lorton_!"
She spoke, with marked emphasis.
A little time afterwards, when I was sitting moodily in a corner, with a
book before me which I was supposed to be looking at, but whose bare
title escapes my recollection, Min came to my side; and, she began
overhauling some volumes of music that were piled up in a heap on the
floor.
"Mr Lorton," she said, hesitatingly.
That "Mr Lorton" set my teeth on edge.