MRS. ARLINGTON.
The Honourable Mr. Arthur Chichester had not exaggerated his description
of the beauty of the Enchantress--for so she was called by the male
portion of her admirers. Indeed, she was of exquisite loveliness. Her
dark-brown hair was arranged _en bandeaux_, and parted over a forehead
polished as marble. Her eyes were large, and of that soft dark melting
blue which seems to form a heaven of promises and bliss to gladden the
beholder.
She was not above the middle height of woman; but her form was modelled
to the most exquisite and voluptuous symmetry. Her figure reminded the
spectator of the body of the wasp, so taper was the waist, and so
exuberant was the swell of the bust.
Her mouth was small and pouting; but, when she smiled, the parting roses
of the lips displayed a set of teeth white as the pearls of the East.
Her hand would have made the envy of a queen. And yet, above all these
charms, a certain something which could not be exactly denominated
boldness nor effrontery, but which was the very reverse of extreme
reserve, immediately struck Richard Markham.
He could not define the fault he had to find with this beautiful woman;
and still there was something in her manners which seemed to proclaim
that she did not possess the tranquillity and ease of a wife. She
appeared to be constantly aiming at the display of the accomplishments
of her mind, or the graces of her attitudes. She seemed to court
admiration by every word and every motion; and to keep alive in the mind
of the baronet the passion with which she had inspired him. She
possessed not that confidence and contented reliance upon the idea of
unalienable affections which characterise the wife. She seemed to be
well aware that no legal nor religious ties connected the baronet to
her; and she, therefore, kept her imagination perpetually upon the rack
to weave new artificial bonds to cast around him. And, as if each action
or each word of the baronet severed those bonds of silk and wreathed
flowers, she found, Penelope-like, that at short intervals her labours
were to be achieved over again.
This constant state of mental anxiety and excitement imparted a
corresponding restlessness to her body; and those frequent changes of
attitude, which were originally intended to develop the graces of her
person, or allow her lover's eye to catch short glimpses of her heaving
bosom of snow, became now a settled habit.
Nevertheless, she was a lovely and fascinating woman, and one for whom a
young heart would undertake a thousand sacrifices.
_By accident_ Richard was seated next to Mrs. Arlington upon the sofa.
He soon perceived that she was, indeed, as accomplished as the baronet
had represented her to be; and her critical opinions upon the current
literature, dramatic novelties, and new music of the day were delivered
with judgment and good taste.
Richard could not help glancing from time to time in admiration at her
beautiful countenance, animated as it now was with the excitement of the
topics of discourse; and whenever her large blue eyes met his, a deep
blush suffused his countenance, and he knew not what he said or did.
"Well, what shall we do to amuse ourselves?" said Chichester, at the
expiration of about an hour, during which coffee had been handed round.
"Upon my honour," exclaimed the baronet, "I am perfectly indifferent.
What say you to a game of whist or _écarté_?"
"Just as you choose," said Chichester carelessly.
At this moment the door opened, and a roguish-looking little tiger--a
lad of about fourteen, in a chocolate-coloured livery, with three rows
of bright-crested buttons down his Prussian jacket--entered to announce
another guest.
A short, stout, vulgar-looking man, about forty years of age, with a
blue coat and brass buttons, buff waistcoat, and grey trousers, entered
the room.
"Holloa, old chap, how are you?" he exclaimed in a tone of most
ineffable vulgarity. "Harborough, how are you? Chichester, my tulip, how
goes it?"
The baronet hastened to receive this extraordinary visitor, and, as he
shook hands with him, whispered something in his ear. The stranger
immediately turned towards Richard, to whom he was introduced by the
name of Mr. Augustus Talbot.
This gentleman and the baronet then conversed together for a few
moments; and Chichester, drawing near Markham, seized the opportunity of
observing, "Talbot is an excellent fellow--a regular John Bull--not over
polished, but enormously rich and well connected. You will see that he
is not more cultivated in mind than in manners; but he would go to the
devil to do any one a service; and, somehow or another, you can't help
liking the fellow when once you know him."
"Any friend of yours or of the baronet's will be agreeable to me," said
Richard; "and, provided he is a man of honour, a little roughness of
manner should be readily overlooked."
"You speak like a man of the world, and as a man of honour yourself,"
said Mr. Chichester.
Meantime the baronet and Mr. Talbot had seated themselves, and the
Honourable Mr. Chichester returned to his own chair.
The conversation then became general.
"I didn't know that you were in town, Talbot," said Mr. Chichester.
"And I forgot to mention it," observed the baronet.
"Or rather," said the lady, "you meditated a little surprise for your
friend Mr. Chichester."
"I hope you've been well, ma'am, since I saw you last--that is the day
before yesterday," said Mr. Talbot. "You was complaining then of a
slight cold, and I recommended a treacle-posset and a stocking tied
round the throat."
"My dear Talbot, take some liqueur," cried the baronet, rising hastily,
and purposely knocking down his chair to drown the remainder of Mr.
Talbot's observation.
"But I dare say you didn't follow my advice, ma'am," pursued Mr. Talbot,
with the most imperturbable gravity. "For my part I am suffering
dreadful with a bad foot. I'll tell you how it were, ma'am. I've got a
nasty soft corn on my little toe; and so what must I do, but yesterday
morning I takes my razor, sharpens it upon the paytent strap, and goes
for to cut off master corn. But instead of cutting the corn, I nearly
sliced my toe off; and----"
"By the way, Diana, has the young gentleman called yet, whom we met the
other evening at the Opera?" said the baronet, abruptly interrupting
this vulgar tirade.
"Do you mean the effeminate youth whom we dubbed the _Handsome
Unknown_?" said the Enchantress.
"Yes: he who was so very mysterious, but who seemed so excessively
anxious to form our acquaintance."
"He promised to call some evening this week," answered Diana, "and play
a game of _écarté_. He told me that he was invincible at _écarté_."
"Talking of _écarté_, let us play a game," ejaculated Mr. Chichester,
who was sitting upon thorns lest Mr. Talbot should commence his
vulgarities again.
"Well, I'll take a hand with pleasure," said this individual: then
turning towards Diana, he added, "I will tell you the rest of the
adventure about the soft corn another time, ma'am."
"What a nuisance this is!" whispered Chichester to the baronet. "The
young fellow does stare so."
"You must give him some explanation or another," hastily replied the
baronet; "or I'll tell Diana to say something presently that will smooth
down matters."
The cards were produced, and Mr. Talbot and the Honourable Mr.
Chichester sat down to play.
Sir Rupert backed the former, and considerable sums in gold and notes
were placed upon the table. Presently the lady turned towards Richard,
and said with a smile, "Are you fond of _écarté_?" "I must venture a
guinea upon Mr. Chichester. Sir Rupert is betting against him; and I
love to oppose Sir Rupert at cards. You will see how I shall tease him
presently."
With these words the Enchantress rose and seated herself near Mr.
Chichester. Of course Markham did the same; and in a very short time he
was induced by the lady to follow her example, and back the same side
which she supported.
Mr. Chichester, however, had a continued run of ill luck, and lost every
rubber. Richard was thus the loser of about thirty sovereigns; but he
was somewhat consoled by having so fair a companion in his bad fortune.
He would have suffered himself to be persuaded by her to persist in
backing Mr. Chichester, as she positively assured him that the luck must
change, had not that gentleman himself suddenly risen, thrown down the
cards, and declared that he would play no more.
"Would you, ma'am, like to take Mr. Chichester's place?" said Mr.
Talbot.
Mr. Chichester shook his head to the baronet, and the baronet did the
same to Diana, and Diana accordingly declined. The card-table was
therefore abandoned; and Mrs. Arlington, at the request of Sir Rupert,
seated herself at the piano. Without any affectation she sang and
accompanied herself upon the instrument in a manner that quite ravished
the heart of Richard Markham.
Suddenly the entire house echoed with the din of the front-door knocker,
and almost simultaneously the bell was rung with violence.
In a few moments the young tiger announced Mr. Walter Sydney.
He was a youth apparently not more than nineteen or twenty, of middle
height, and very slim. He wore a tight blue military frock coat buttoned
up to the throat; ample black kerseymere trousers, which did not,
however, conceal the fact that he was the least thing knock-kneed, and a
hat with tolerably broad brims. His feet and hands were small to a
fault. His long light chestnut hair flowed in luxuriant undulations over
the collar of his coat, even upon his shoulders, and gave him a
peculiarly feminine appearance. His delicate complexion, upon the pure
red and white of which the dark dyes of no beard had yet infringed, wore
a deep blush as he entered the room.
"Mr. Sydney, you are welcome," said Mrs. Arlington, in a manner
calculated to reassure the bashful youth. "It was but an hour ago that
we were talking of you, and wondering why we had not received the
pleasure of a visit."
"Madam, you are too kind," replied Mr. Sydney, in a tone which sounded
upon the ear like a silver bell--so soft and beautiful was its cadence.
"I am afraid that I am intruding: I had hoped to find you alone--I mean
yourself and Sir Rupert Harborough--and I perceive that you have
company----"
He stammered--became confounded with excuses--and then glanced at his
attire, as much as to intimate that he was in a walking dress.
Both the baronet and Diana hastened to welcome him in such a manner as
to speedily place him upon comfortable terms with himself once more; and
he was then introduced to Mr. Chichester, Mr. Talbot, and Mr. Markham.
The moment the name of Markham was mentioned, the youthful visitor
started perceptibly, and then fixed his intelligent hazel eyes upon the
countenance of Richard with an expression of the most profound interest
mingled with surprise.
Mr. Chichester made an observation at the same moment, and Sydney
immediately afterwards entered with ease and apparent pleasure into a
conversation which turned upon the most popular topics of the day.
Richard was astonished at the extreme modesty, propriety, and good sense
with which that effeminate and bashful youth expressed himself; and even
the baronet, who was in reality well informed, listened to his
interesting visitor with attention and admiration. Still there was a
species of extreme delicacy in his tastes, as evidenced by his remarks,
which bordered at times upon a fastidiousness, if not an inexperience
actually puerile or feminine.
At half-past eleven supper was served up, and the party sat down to that
most welcome and sociable of all meals.
It was truly diverting to behold the manner in which Mr. Talbot fell,
tooth and nail, upon the delicacies which he heaped upon his plate; and
his applications to the wine-bottle were to correspond. At one time he
expressed his regret that it was too vulgar to drink half-and-half; and
on another he vented his national prejudices against those who
maintained that Perigord pies were preferable to rump steaks, or that
claret was more exquisite than port or sherry. Once, when, it would
appear, Mr. Chichester kicked him under the table, he roared out a
request that his soft corn might be remembered; and as his friends were
by no means anxious for a second edition of that interesting
narrative--especially before Mr. Walter Sydney--they adopted the prudent
alternative of conveying their remonstrances to him by means of winks
instead of kicks.
After supper Mr. Talbot insisted upon making a huge bowl of punch in his
own fashion; but he found that Mr. Chichester would alone aid him in
disposing of it. As for Mr. Walter Sydney, he never appeared to do more
than touch the brim of the wine-glass with his lips.
In a short time Mr. Talbot insisted upon practising his vocal powers by
singing a hunting song, and was deeply indignant with his friends
because they would not join in the very impressive but somewhat common
chorus of "_Fal de lal lal, fal de lal la_." It is impossible to say
what Mr. Talbot would have done next; but, much to the horror of the
baronet, Mr. Chichester, and Diana--and equally to the surprise of
Richard Markham and Walter Sydney--he suddenly lost his balance, and
fell heavily upon the floor and into a sound sleep simultaneously.
"What a pity," said Mr. Chichester, shaking his head mournfully, and
glancing down upon the prostrate gentleman, as if he were pronouncing a
funeral oration over his remains; "this is his only fault--and, as it
happens every night, it begins materially to disfigure his character.
Otherwise, he is an excellent fellow, and immensely rich!"
At this moment the eyes of Richard caught those of Walter Sydney. An
ill-concealed expression of superlative contempt and ineffable disgust
was visible upon the handsome countenance of the latter; and the proud
curl of his lip manifested his opinion of the scene he had just
witnessed. In a few moments he rose to depart. To Diana he was only
coldly polite; to the baronet and Chichester superbly distant and
constrained; but towards Markham, as he took leave of him, there was a
cordiality in his manner, and a sincerity in the desire which he
expressed "that they should meet again," which formed a remarkable
contrast with his behaviour towards the others.
That night slumber seemed to evade the eyes of Richard Markham. The
image of Mrs. Arlington, and all that she had said, and the various
graceful and voluptuous attitudes into which she had thrown herself,
occupied his imagination. At times, however, his thoughts wandered to
that charming youth--that mere boy--who seemed to court his friendship,
and who was so delicate and so fragile to encounter the storms and
vicissitudes of that world in whose dizzy vortex he was already found.
Nor less did Richard ever and anon experience a sentiment of profound
surprise that the elegant and wealthy Sir Rupert Harborough, the
accomplished and lovely Diana, and the fastidious Mr. Arthur Chichester,
should tolerate the society of such an unmitigated vulgarian as Mr.
Talbot.