It certainly appeared a most improbable circumstance, that any event
should occur worthy of being recorded, to vary the even tenor of life
which Mr and Mrs Norman enjoyed in the holy state of matrimony. They
were young folks--they had married from affection--and, moreover,
their union had been a strictly prudent one; for their income was more
than sufficient for all their unaspiring wants and tastes; and it was
also a 'certainty,' a great good in these days of speculation and
going ahead. Charles Norman held a government situation, with a small
but yearly increasing salary; his residence was at Pentonville; and
his domestic circle comprised, besides his good, meek helpmeet, two
little children, and an only sister, some years Charles's junior:
indeed, Bab Norman had not very long quitted the boarding-school. Bab
and Charles were orphans, and had no near relatives in the world;
therefore Bab came home to live with her dear brother and his wife
until she had a home of her own--a contingency which people whispered
need not be far off, if Miss Barbara Norman so inclined. This piece of
gossip perhaps arose from the frequent visits of Mr Norman's chosen
friend, Edward Leslie--a steady and excellent young man, who filled an
appointment of great trust and confidence in an old-established
commercial house. Edward Leslie was not distinguished for personal
attractions or captivating manners; but he was an honest, manly,
generous-hearted fellow, and sensitive enough to feel very keenly
sometimes that the pretty spoiled little Barbara laughed at and
snubbed him. Notwithstanding Bab's folly, however, it would have given
her great pain had Edward Leslie courted another. He was patient and
forbearing; and she fluttered and frisked about, determined to make
the most of her liberty while it lasted. 'Of course she meant to marry
some day,' she said with a demure smile, 'but it would take a long
time to make up her mind.'
Charles quite doted on his pretty sister, and often could not find it
in his heart to rebuke her, because she was motherless, and had only
him and Cary to look to; and Cary's office was not to rebuke any one,
much less her dear little sister-in-law. So Barbara was spoiled and
humoured; while the children were kept in high order--a proper
discipline being exercised in the nursery, as became a well-regulated
and nicely-decorated house. Cary thought Bab a beauty, and so did
Charles; the young lady herself was not at all backward in estimating
her own charms; and it was a pity to see them so often obscured by
affectation, for Bab had a kind heart and an affectionate disposition.
One day when Charles returned home after business-hours were over, Bab
flew towards him with an unusually animated countenance, holding an
open letter in her hand, and exclaiming: 'Oh, dear Charles, read this!
You'll let me go--wont you? I never was at the sea-side in my life,
you know; and it will do me such a deal of good.'
Charles smiled, took the letter, and tapping his sister's dimpled rosy
cheek, he said fondly: 'I don't think, Bab, that you want "doing good
to" so far as health is concerned. The sea-air cannot improve these
roses.'
'Well, well, Charles, never mind the roses--there's a dear. They only
ask me to go for a fortnight, and I should so like it; it will be so
nice to be with one's schoolmates at the sea. Bell and Lucy Combermere
are _such_ bathers, they say; and as for me, I do believe, Charles, I
shall drown myself for love of the sea! Oh, you must let me go--do!'
There was no resisting this coaxing; so Charles said he 'would see
about it, and talk the matter over with Caroline.'
'Cary thinks it will be delightful for me,' exclaimed Barbara: 'she's
always a good-natured darling.' And Bab felt sure of going, if Charles
talked the matter over with Cary; so she flew off in an ecstasy of
joy, dancing and singing, and forthwith commenced preparations, by
pulling off the faded pink ribbons which adorned her bonnet, and
substituting gay bright new streamers.
The invitation in question came from Mrs Combermere, who, with
her two unmarried daughters, were sojourning at a favourite
watering-place--always crowded during the season--and where Mr
Combermere, a rich citizen, could join his family every week, and
inhale a breath of pure air. Charles did not particularly like the
Combermeres. Mrs Combermere was a fussy woman, full of absurd
pretension, and with a weakness for forming aristocratic acquaintance,
which had more than once led her into extravagance, ending in
disappointment and mortification. The Misses Combermere inherited
their mamma's weakness; they were comely damsels, and expectant
sharers of papa's wealth, who was 'very particular' on whom he
bestowed his treasures. Bell and Lucy had been at school with Barbara
Norman, and a strong friendship--a school friendship--had been struck
up amongst the trio, whom the French dancing-master denominated 'the
Graces.' And now Barbara had received an invitation to stay with them
for a fortnight, a private postscript being inserted by Miss Bell, to
the effect that 'Bab must be sure to come very smart, for there were
most elegant people there, and _such_ beaux!'
Bab went accordingly on Saturday, escorted by Mr Combermere, who
always returned on the following Monday. Never before had Bab beheld
so gay a scene; never till now had she looked on the glorious ocean;
never had she promenaded to the sounds of such exhilarating music. Her
pretty little head was quite bewildered, though in the midst of all
her delight she wished for Charles and Cary, and the children; there
was such delicious bathing for the tiny ones; such digging with their
little spades in the golden sands! Innocent, happy gold-diggers they!
She found Mrs Combermere and the girls in the full swing of sea-side
dissipation--quite open-house kept, free-and-easy manners, which at
home would not have been tolerated. But it came only once a year, and
they could afford it. Quite established as an intimate, was a tall
young gentleman, with delicate moustache, who seemed to be on terms of
friendly familiarity with half the aristocracy of the nation. Mrs
Combermere whispered to Bab, that Mr Newton was a most 'patrician
person,' of the 'highest connections;' they had met with him on the
sands, where he had been of signal use in assisting Mrs Combermere
over the shingles on a stormy day. He was so gentlemanly and
agreeable, that they could not do otherwise than ask him in; he had
remained to tea, and since then had been a regular visitor.
Mr Newton had been at first treated with great coolness by Mr
Combermere; the latter gentleman did not like strangers, and always
looked on a moustache with suspicion. But Mr Newton was so
deferential, so unexceptionable in deportment, and prudent in his
general sentiments, warmly advocating Mr Combermere's political
opinions, that he had at last won the good opinion even of the father
of the family. Besides, he paid no particular attention to the Misses
Combermere: there was no danger of his making up to them--that was
clear; and Mrs Combermere, mother-like, felt a little mortified and
chagrined at such palpable indifference. But when pretty Bab Norman
appeared, the case was different: her brunette complexion and
sparkling dark eyes elicited marked admiration from the patrician Mr
Newton; and he remarked in an off-hand way--_sotto voce_, as if to
himself: 'By Jupiter! how like she is to dear Lady Mary Manvers.' Bab
felt very much flattered by the comparison, and immediately began to
like Mr Newton immensely; he was so distingué, so fascinating, so
refined. Bab did not add, that he had singled her out as an especial
object of attention, even when the fair dashing Misses Combermere
challenged competition.
The fortnight passed swiftly away--too swiftly, alas! thought little
Barbara Norman; for at the expiration of the term, Mrs Combermere did
not ask her to prolong the visit, but suffered her to depart, again
under the escort of Mr Combermere, without a word of regret at
parting. Cruel Mrs Combermere! she wished to keep Mr Newton's society
all to herself and her daughters! However, the young gentleman asked
Barbara for permission to pay his respects to her when he returned to
the metropolis; this had been accorded by Barbara, who, on her return
to Pentonville, for the first time found that comfortable home
'insufferably dull and stupid.' Edward Leslie, too--how dull and
stupid even he was, after the chattering perfumed loungers of the
elysium she had just quitted! Yet Edward was never considered either
dull or stupid by competent judges; but, quite the contrary--a
sensible, well-informed, gentlemanly personage. But, then, he had no
great friends, no patrician weaknesses; he knew nothing about racing,
or betting, or opera-dancers, or slang in general. In short, he seemed
flat and insipid to Bab, who had been compared to the beautiful Lady
Mary Manvers by the soft and persuasive tongue of Lady Mary Manvers's
dear friend. Yet, in her secret heart of hearts, Bab drew comparisons
by no means disadvantageous to Edward Leslie. 'Yes,' thought Bab, 'I
like Mr Newton best by the sea-side in summer-time, when harp-music
floats on the balmy air; then I should always like him, if summer was
all the year round. But for everyday life, for winter hours, for home,
in short, I'm sure I like Edward Leslie best--I'm sure I love Edward
Leslie;' and Bab blushed and hesitated, though she was quite alone.
Cary listened good-naturedly to all Bab's descriptions of the
happiness she had enjoyed; and Cary thought, from all Bab said, that
Mr Newton must be at least some great lord in disguise. She felt quite
nervous at the idea of his coming to such a humble house as theirs,
when he talked of parks, and four-in-hands, and baronial halls, as
things with which he was familiar, and regarded as matters of course.
Cary hoped that Charles and Edward Leslie would be present when Mr
Newton called, because they were fit to associate with royalty itself.
Cary had a very humble opinion of herself--sweet, gentle soul! Charles
often wished his dear sister Bab might closely resemble her. At
length, Bell Combermere wrote to say, they were about returning to
town; and Mr Newton declared he could not remain behind. Bab's heart
fluttered and palpitated at each sound the knocker gave; and she was
thankful that Cary's cousin, Miss Ward, was staying with them, to call
attention off from herself.
Miss Ward was an accomplished, charming woman of middle age,
who for years had resided in the Earl of St Elmer's family as
governess--greatly valued for her many estimable qualities. Not being
in robust health, she had absented herself for a short season from her
onerous duties, and in her dear friend and cousin's house, sought and
obtained quiet and renovation. Miss Ward often found difficulty in
repressing a smile at Bab's superfluous graces and animated gestures;
but it was a kindly smile, for the stately conventionalities amongst
which she usually existed, rendered these traits of less refined
manners rather refreshing than otherwise. Miss Ward was out when Mrs
Combermere's equipage drove up to Mr Norman's door; and that large
lady, with her daughter Bell, accompanied by Mr Newton, made their way
up stairs to Mrs Norman's drawing-room. Mrs Combermere was always
astoundingly grand and patronising when she honoured Cary with a call;
Mrs Combermere liked to call upon folks whom she denominated
inferiors--to impress them with an overwhelming idea of her
importance. But on the simple-minded literal Cary, this honour was
lost, she received it with such composure and unconscious placidity:
on Bab it produced, indeed, the desired effect; but whether it was Mrs
Combermere's loud talking and boasting, or Mr Newton's easy negligence
and patronising airs, that caused her to colour and hesitate, it is
not possible to define. Bab was not herself; and she began to be
ashamed of living in Pentonville, when Mr Newton spoke of Belgravia.
Miss Ward, who had returned from her shopping excursion, glided into
the room unnoticed, in the middle of a description Mr Newton was
giving of a magnificent place, belonging to a dear friend, with whom
he had been staying, ere he had the 'unspeakable felicity of meeting
Mrs Combermere.'
'Your description is a graphic one, John Blomfield,' said Miss Ward in
a low voice close to his ear; 'but how came you here--in this
company?'
John Blomfield, _alias_ John Newton, started as if an adder had bitten
him, and gazed franticly upon the intruder. 'Miss Ward, madam,' he
exclaimed involuntarily, 'don't say more, and I'll go this instant!'
'Then go,' continued Miss Ward majestically, pointing to the door;
'and beware, John Blomfield, how you dare to enter a gentleman's house
unauthorised again.'
Pale and crest-fallen, the young gentleman and dear friend of Lady
Mary Manvers vanished; nor did he require a second bidding to rush
down stairs, and out at the front-door, which was slammed violently
after him.
'What does this mean, ma'am?' inquired Mrs Combermere, very red in the
face, and looking terribly frightened--'what does this all mean,
ma'am?'
'Only,' replied Miss Ward quietly, 'that this individual, who calls
himself Mr Newton, and whose conversation I overheard after entering
the apartment, is in reality John Blomfield, _ci devant_ valet to Lord
Lilburne, the eldest son of the Earl of St Elmer, in whose family I
have the honour to be governess. His lordship shewed toleration and
kindness unprecedented towards the ungrateful young man, on account of
his respectable parentage, and the excellent abilities and aptitude
for instruction he displayed. But I grieve to say, John Blomfield was
discharged from Lord Lilburne's service, under circumstances which
left no doubt on our minds that he was guilty of dishonest
practices--of pilfering, in short, to a considerable extent. We heard
that he still continued his evil course; but though knowing him to
possess both skill and effrontery, I was almost as much startled as
the delinquent himself, to behold him thus playing the fine gentleman,
and lounging on Cary's sofa.'
A faint groan escaped from Miss Combermere as she ejaculated: 'Oh, my
pearl necklace!' and a still deeper and more audible sigh from her
mamma, as the words burst forth: 'Oh, my diamond _bandeau_!' which led
to an explanation from the distressed and bewildered ladies, of how
they had intrusted these precious jewels to Mr Newton, who urged them
on returning to town to have them reset, volunteering to take them
himself to Lady Mary Manvers's own jeweller, a 'first-rate fellow, who
worked only for the aristocracy.' 'They must not be in a hurry,' Mr
Newton said, 'for the first-rate fellow was so torn to pieces by
duchesses and countesses, that even weeks might elapse before their
comparatively trifling order could be attended to.'
'I fear,' said Miss Ward commiseratingly, 'that you will not see your
valuables again. John Blomfield is a clever rascal, and has good taste
too,' continued Miss Ward smiling, 'for he invariably selects pretty
things. I hope, my dear'--turning to Bab, who sat silent and
petrified--'your beautiful gold repeater set with brilliants is safe,
and that it did not require repairs or alterations, to induce you to
part with it into Mr Newton's hands? I doubt not he had an eye to it
eventually.'
Poor Bab--what a blow to her vanity! She could only murmur something
about the watch being very dear to her, because it had belonged to her
deceased mother, and that she always wore it round her neck.
'And I don't think that Bab would part with it out of her hands to any
one,' said Cary, 'if we except ourselves, save to Edward Leslie; but
he is such a careful soul, that one would not mind intrusting him with
the most precious treasure on earth.'
Bab blushed very deeply at this speech, because she saw a covert smile
on Miss Ward's speaking countenance. That lady, notwithstanding her
amiability and philanthropic character, rather enjoyed the
consternation and confusion of Mrs and Miss Combermere, who retreated
more humbly than they had entered, having received a lesson which, it
is to be hoped, they profited by for the remainder of their lives. The
pearl necklace and diamond bandeau were not recovered, though a reward
was offered by the enraged Mr Combermere for the apprehension of the
thief; yet Miss Bell with tears declared, that she would far rather
lose her pearl necklace than give evidence against one whose
attractive qualities she could not cease to remember.
Very shortly after this affair, Barbara had another short trip to the
sea-side, and with a companion whose happiness equalled her own: it
was the honeymoon excursion, and Edward Leslie was Bab's companion for
life. After this second sea-side sojourn, the bride returned to a
pretty house of her own, quite near to Charles and Cary; and Barbara
was never heard to complain of finding it dull or stupid, though
summer does not last all the year round with any of us.