Maximilian Bray, Esq., clerk in her Majesty's Treasury, Whitehall, sat
in his dressing-room soured and angry. He had been hard at work trying
to restore the mischief done by the rain; but in spite of "Bandoline"
and "Brilliantine," he could not get hair, moustache, or whiskers to
take their customary curl: they would look limp and dejected. Then that
superfine coat was completely saturated with water, as was also his hat,
neither of which would, he knew, ever again display the pristine gloss.
And, besides, he had been unseated before "that coarse boor, Charley
Vining," and the fellow had had the impertinence to grin. But, there,
what could you expect from such a country clown? Altogether, Maximilian
Bray, Esq., was cross--not to say savage--and more than once he had
caught himself biting his nails--another cause for annoyance, since he
was very careful with those almond-shaped nails, and had to pare, file,
and burnish them afterwards to remove the inequality.
The above causes for a disordered temper have been recorded; but they
were far from all. It is said that it never rains but it pours, and as
that was the case out of doors, so it was in. But it would be wearisome
to record the breaking of boot-loops, the tearing out of shirt-buttons,
and the crowning horror of a spot of iron-mould right in the front of
the principal plait. Suffice it that Maximilian Bray felt as if he
could have quarrelled with the whole world; and as he sat chilled with
his wetting, he had hard work to keep from gnawing his finger-nails
again and again.
He might have gone down into the drawing-room, warm with the sun, while
his northern-aspected window lent no genial softness; but no: there was
something on his mind; and though he was dressed, he lingered still.
He knew that the luncheon bell would ring directly; in fact, he had
referred several times to his watch. But still he hung back, as if
shrinking from some unpleasant task, till, nerving himself, he rose and
went to the looking-glass, examining himself from top to toe, grinning
to see if his teeth were perfectly white, dipping a corner of the towel
in water to remove the faintest suspicion of a little cherry tooth-paste
from the corner of his mouth, biting his lips to make them red, trying
once more to give his lank moustache the customary curl, but trying in
vain--in short, going through the varied acts of a man who gives the
whole of his mind to his dress; and then, evidently thoroughly
dissatisfied, he strode across the room, flung open the door, and began
to descend the stairs.
The builder of the Elms, not being confined for space, had made on the
first floor a long passage, upon which several of the bedrooms opened;
and this passage, being made the receptacle for the cheap pictures
purchased at sales by Mr Onesimus Bray, was known in the house as the
"long gallery."
Descending a short flight of stairs, Maximilian Bray was traversing this
gallery, when the encounter which in his heart of hearts he had been
dreading ever since he came down the night before was forced upon him;
for, turning into the passage from the other end, the companion of Laura
Bray's morning walk came hurriedly along, slackening her pace, though,
as she perceived that there was a stranger in advance; but as their eyes
met, a sudden start of surprise robbed the poor girl for a few moments
of her self-control; the blood flushed to her temples, and for an
instant she stopped short.
But Maximilian Bray was equal to the occasion. He had fought off the
encounter as long as he could; but now that the time had come, he had
determined upon brazening it out.
"Ha ha!" he laughed playfully. "Know me again, then? Quite frightened
you, didn't I? Shouldn't have been so cross last time, when I only
wanted to see you safe on your journey. Didn't know who I was, eh?
But, bai Jove! glad to see you again--am indeed!"
There was no reply for an instant to these greetings. But as the flush
faded, to leave the lace of her to whom they were addressed pale and
stern, Maximilian Bray's smile grew more and more forced. The words
were too shallow of meaning not to be rightly interpreted; and
overcoming the surprise that had for a few moments fettered her, the
fair girl turned upon Bray a keen piercing look, as moving forward she
slightly bent, and said coldly in her old words:
"I think, sir, you have made some mistake."
"Mistake? No! Stop a minute. No mistake, bai Jove--no! You remember
me, of course, when I startled you at the station. Only my fun, you
know, only that young donkey must interfere. Glad to see you again--am,
indeed, bai Jove! We shall be capital friends, I know."
As he spoke, he stepped before his companion, arresting her progress,
and holding out his hand.
Driven thus to bay, the young girl once more turned and faced her
pursuer with a look so firm and piercing, that he grew discomposed, and
the words he uttered were unconnected and stammering.
"Sorry, you know, bai Jove! Mistook my meaning. Glad to see you
again--am, bai Jove! Eh? What say?"
"I was not aware that Mr Maximilian Bray and the gentleman"--she laid a
hardly perceptible emphasis on the word "gentleman"--"whom I encountered
at that country station were the same. Allow me to remind you, sir,
that you made a mistake then in addressing a stranger. You make another
error in addressing me again; for bear in mind we are strangers yet.
Excuse me for saying so, but I think it would be better to forget the
past."
"Ya-as, just so--bai Jove! yes. It was nothing, you know, only--"
Maximilian Bray stopped short, for the simple reason that he was alone;
for, turning hastily, his companion had retraced her steps, leaving the
exquisite son of the house--the pride of his mother, the confidant of
his sister, and the pest of the servants--looking quite "like a fool,
you know, bai Jove!"
They were his own words, though meant for no other ears but his own,
being a little too truthful. Then he stood thinking and gnawing one
nail for a few moments before continuing his way down to the
dining-room.
"So we are to be as if we met for the first time, are we?" he muttered;
and then his countenance lighted up into an inane smile as he thought to
himself, "Well, I've got it over. And, after all, it's something like
being taken into her confidence, for haven't we between us what looks
uncommonly like a secret?"
Volume 1, Chapter VII.