As the old novelists used to say, in their courtly polished style, that
makes us think that they must have written with a handsome bead-work
presentation pen dipped in scented ink, and held by a delicate hand
clothed in a white-kid glove, "Gentle reader, we must now return to our
heroine."
In the plain English and more matter-of-fact way of the year of grace
eighteen hundred and seventy, it is given to my hard steel broad-point
to be dipped in the ordinary infusion of galls and copperas--rather
bitty by the way, and given to turn mouldy--and then, when well-charged
with the ink-rusting fluid to declare that we have a long arrear to
fetch up relative to the proceedings of Ella Bedford, which could not
well be told until the career of the two country families had reached
the point recorded in the last chapter.
Ella's had been a weary life at Crescent Villas, and she had had much to
contend with: the evil tempers of three spoiled children, who resented
every word of correction, complained to their weak mother, and enlisted
her sympathy; the pettish frivolous complaints of the lady herself; and
the bitter knowledge that, according to all appearances, she was being
made a screen for the foolish flirting attentions of Max Bray.
At one time she was under the impression that the attentions to Mrs
Marter were an excuse for obtaining the entree of the house; but the
conduct of Max was so entirely different: he spoke to her so seldom, and
then in so quiet and gentlemanly a tone, that, from being watchful and
distant, Ella was at length completely thrown off her guard, though
there seemed no occasion now for her to trouble herself respecting the
visits paid to the house.
Vain to an excess, both Mr and Mrs Marter seemed to approve highly of
the visits of so distinguished a leader of the fashion; but Mr Marter
had his own ideas upon the subject, telling his lady that it would be a
fine thing for Miss Bedford; whereupon the weak little woman nodded and
smiled.
To use a very trite expression, there was not the slightest harm in Mrs
Marter; but, all the same, she adored incense and the offerings of
concert and opera tickets with an escort; when, had it not been for the
said escort, she could not have gone, Mr Marter being a man without, so
his lady said, a single taste; but all the same we must do Mrs Marter
the credit of saying that she would not have stirred an inch to have
seen the finest opera in the world without Ella Bedford was of the
party; and hence it followed that, willing or no, Ella's visits to
places of amusement were not very few.
But Ella was far from being at ease in her mind. She foresaw that the
present state of things could not last; and during some capricious fit
of Mrs Marter, when ill-temper, weakness, and petty annoyance were all
employed to make her wretched, she would think that to stay out the year
was a sheer impossibility. At such times, too, she would feel convinced
that Max Bray was playing a part; so that, in spite of his distant
respect, she became more cool and guarded in her behaviour; while, as to
leaving, she determined to bear all, telling herself, with a feeling of
something like despair, that, go where she would, she must be tracked.
Then her thoughts turned on Charley Vining, whom she knew to have
called; and, as she congratulated herself upon having escaped him--upon
his having given up the quest in despair--the warm tears fell, and she
knew in her heart of hearts that she was bitterly disappointed.
But it was quite right,--it was as matters should be, she thought; and
she hastily dashed away the tears, little thinking that letter after
letter had been sent to her, to be smiled over by Mrs Marter and Max,
as the latter redirected them to the sender, telling Mrs Marter the
while that she was doing an act of kindness and thoughtfulness towards
the motherless girl looking to her for protection.
In fact, Max Bray most carefully flattered the self-esteem of Mrs
Marter, till the foolish little woman felt herself to be a perfect
paragon of matronly greatness and virtue. Mr Marter, too, was taken
into their confidence upon this matter of Charley Vining's attentions to
Ella.
"Of course, Mr and Mrs Marter, you can act as you please; for you see,
bai Jove! it would ill become me to be offering advice upon such a
matter; but for my part, I should never let him write to her, or see her
for a moment. It's a great pity, bai Jove it is, that the young men of
the present day have not better aspirations."
"Quite agree with you, Mr Bray--I do indeed!" said Mr Marter, while
his lady smiled her approbation.
"You see, bai Jove! it hardly becomes me, as a near neighbour, to say
anything against Vining: but I know as a fact that he worried the poor
girl till she was obliged to leave Mrs Brandon's, the lady's, you know,
where she went to last; and when a man has behaved, bai Jove! shabbily
to another man's own sister, bai Jove! it's enough to make another man
speak!"
"Very true, Mr Bray--very true. I quite agree with you," said Mr
Marter, in a satisfied air.
"But, there, bai Jove! don't let me come hyar dictating to you. It's
like my dooced confounded impudence to say a word. I'm only too
grateful to find a welcome, and a little refined female society; for to
a man situated as I am, London is a very dreary place. One can get
amongst set after set of fellows, and into plenty of inane fashionable
drawing-rooms; but, bai Jove! Mr Marter, that isn't the sort of thing,
if I may be allowed to say so, that a man of soul thirsts after. He
wants something to satisfy his brain--something that when he's spent an
evening, he can go and lay his head down upon his pillow, bai Jove! and
say to himself, `Look here, bai Jove! old fellow: you've been out this
evening; you've been in refined and improving society; and, bai Jove!
here you are, just as you ought to be at the end of another day--a
better man, bai Jove!'"
"Ah, Saint Clair," sighed Mrs Marter, "if you could only say that of a
night!"
"To be sure," said Max, "mai dear fellow, you've no idea how much better
you feel--you haven't indeed; but, bai Jove! we must change the
conversation."
With all due modesty on his part, Max changed the conversation; for just
then Ella, in obedience to orders, entered the room, playing pianoforte
piece after piecer till the hour for Mr Bray's departure, when--was she
deceived? or was that a quiet firm pressure of the hand he was bestowing
upon her at parting?
The next minute he had gone, and Ella felt a strange shiver pass through
her; for if there had been any mistake about the pressure of the hand,
there could have been none concerning the look which followed.
"Bai Jove!" ejaculated Max, as he sought a cab on his departure, "how
confoundedly slow! But it's nearly ripe at last!"
Then to make up for the slowness, Max Bray had himself driven to a
highly genteel tavern in Saint James's, where the society was decidedly
fast; so that, on returning about three to his apartments, and laying
his head upon his pillow, the slow and the fast society must have
balanced one another; for he snored very pleasantly, no doubt feeling a
better man, bai Jove!
Volume 3, Chapter XIII.