People will talk, and the more you try to regulate your life by their
opinions, the worse you will fare. Vide "The Old Man and his Ass."
They said it was too bad that the heir to Blandfield Court should be
married in London; but whether too bad or no, in the course of the
autumn Charles Vining and his lady were announced as having departed for
the Continent after a particular ceremony at Saint George's,
Hanover-square; a church where the wedding-fees must amount to something
tolerably respectable in the course of the year; while, if at any time
it should be announced that the clerk, beadle, and pew-opener all have
country houses at Sydenham, Teddington, or some other pleasant spot a
few miles from Babel smoke, and give champagne dinners, the writer, for
one, will feel no surprise; though a feeling of envy may spring up in
his breast the next time he encounters the gorgeous beadle sunning
himself upon the broad steps of the sacred fane.
But the wedding trip was short on account of Sir Philip, who, though he
did not complain, showed by his letters how eagerly he was looking
forward to their return, which soon followed; and for them life glided
on in a pleasant round of social enjoyment, either at Blandfield or the
house Sir Philip had secured in Westbournia.
Two years had glided by, when, so as to do as others do in the season,
Charley Vining was escorting his bonnie wife through the exhibition of
the Royal Academy, though, truth to say, Charley had more than once been
guilty of yawning as he stood before a grand specimen of Turneresque
painting, for he said that he liked to see that sort of thing in a state
of nature.
They were passing from one room to another, when suddenly there fell
upon Charley Vining's ears a strange sound--not loud, in fact it was
very faint, but it was peculiar, and being somewhat bored and tired by
the pictures, any little thing sufficed to attract his attention.
"Squea-eek, squea-eek, squea-eek!" went the noise, as of some mechanism
slightly in want of oil; when, as Charley turned, his face suddenly
became suffused, his broad chest swelled, his teeth were set, and his
fists clenched, as, with flashing eyes, he looked like some refined and
polished lion about to make a spring upon an enemy.
Ella saw what had attracted his attention at the same moment, and
trembling like an aspen, the blood fled from her face, and her hands
closed on her husband's arm as she tried to draw him away.
But she might as well have tried to move an oak, as the stalwart
frowning Hercules who stood there gazing over his shoulder at a most
carefully-dressed man, walking with a peculiar limp--a halt which told
of a cork leg, without the wheezing squeak it gave at every
mincingly-taken step.
Apparently familiarised to the noise himself, the dandy did not perceive
that it attracted the attention of others as he moved along, catalogue
in one hand, in the other the thin red-leather cord attached to a
vixenish-looking toy terrier--an uncomfortable-looking little beast,
that kept running between his legs or over the sweeping train of the
elderly vinegary-featured lady by his side, winding the leather thong
round the sound or else the cork leg, and once, in a rapid _pas_,
securely binding the two; so that, what with his eyeglass, his
catalogue, and the dog, the gentleman seemed to have his hands
completely filled.
"What picture is that, Maximilian?" suddenly exclaimed the lady, in a
tone that was as acid as her looks; and she stopped short, with her back
to Charley and Ella, and by the help of a gold eyeglass inspected a
painting.
There was no response; for the dog, the cork leg, and the thong, were in
a state of tangle.
"Maximilian, I asked you the name of that picture!" cried the lady more
shrilly.
"Bai Jove, there, don't be in such a hurry; don't you see what a
confounded mess I'm in? There, now, hold Finette, while I look at the
catalogue. Let me see, ah! yaas! Number 369. `Dandy of the days of
Charles II.' Bai Jove, ah! very fair indeed. Pity that style of dress
don't come in again."
"Squea-eek, squea-eek, squea-eek" went the leg, as the admirers of the
cavalier passed slowly on; while, as they mingled with the throng, a
long pent-up breath escaped from Charley Vining's breast, and apparently
greatly relieved, he exclaimed aloud:
"Poor devil!"
"Pray take me out, Charley," whispered Ella; and for the first time he
noticed her pallor.
"Take you out? to be sure!" he cried, as he tenderly drew her hand
farther through his arm. "Really, though, for a moment or two, I felt
as if I could have wrung his neck."
"Charley, dear husband!" whispered Ella; for at that moment there was
again the sound of the leg, and Charley's breast began to swell and his
eyes to flash.
"All right, little one, take me away," he said, smiling; "for I feel
like a big dog scenting a rat. But there, my own, I'm frightening you;
come along."
He drew her rapidly away towards the entrance, her breath coming more
freely at every step; but not so fast but that they caught another
glimpse of the lady and gentleman, standing in rapt attention before a
fresh picture, and at the same moment heard, in tones that seemed as if
they were expressive of profound admiration:
"Bai Jove!"
But that was the last time they ever saw Max Bray.
Volume 3, Chapter XXVIII.