On entering the drawing-room, his Excellency presented me to an elderly
lady, very thin, and very wrinkled, who received me with a cold dignity,
and then went on with her crochet-work. I could not catch her name, nor,
indeed, was I thinking of it; my whole mind was bent upon the question,
Who could she be? For what object was she there? All my terrible doubts
of the morning now rushed forcibly back to my memory, and I felt that
never had I detested a human being with the hate I experienced for her.
The pretentious stiffness of her manner, the haughty self-possession
she wore, were positive outrages; and as I looked at her, I felt myself
muttering, “Don't imagine that your heavy black moiré, or your rich
falls of lace, impose upon _me_. Never fancy that this mock austerity
deceives one who reads human nature as he reads large print. I know, and
I abhor you, old woman! That a man should be to the other sex as a wolf
to the fold, the sad experience of daily life too often teaches; but
that a woman should be false to woman, that all the gentle instincts we
love to think feminine, should be debased to treachery and degraded into
snares for betrayal,--this is an offence that cries aloud to Heaven!
“No more tea,--none!” cried I, with an energy that nearly made the
footman let the tray fall, and so far startled the old lady that she
dropped her knitting with a faint cry. As for his Excellency, he had
covered his face with the “Globe,” and, I believe, was fast asleep.
I looked about for my hat to take my leave, when a sudden thought struck
me. “I will stay. I will sit down beside this old creature, and, for
once at least in her miserable life, she shall hear from the lips of a
man a language that is not that of the debauchee. Who knows what effect
one honest word of a true-hearted man may not work? I will try, at all
events,” said I, and approached her. She did not, as I expected, make
room for me on the sofa beside her, and I was, therefore, obliged to
take a chair in front. This was so far awkward that it looked formal; it
gave somewhat the character of accusation to my position, and I decided
to obviate the difficulty by assuming a light, easy, cheerful manner at
first, as though I suspected nothing.
“It's a pleasant little capital, this Kalbbratonstadt,” said I, as I lay
back in my chair.
“Is it?” said she, dryly, without looking up from her work.
“Well, I mean,” said I, “it seems to have its reasonable share of
resources. They have their theatre, and their music garden, and their
promenades, and their drives to--to--”
“You'll find all the names set down there,” said she, handing me a copy
of Murray's “Handbook” that lay beside her.
“I care less for names than facts, madam,” said I, angrily, for her
retort had stung me, and routed all my previous intention of a smooth
approach to the fortress. “I am one of those unfashionable people who
never think the better of vice because it wears French gloves, and goes
perfumed with Ess bouquet.”
She took off her spectacles, wiped them, looked at me, and went on with
her work without speaking.
“If I appear abrupt, madam,” said I, “in this opening, it is because
the opportunity I now enjoy may never occur again, and may be of the
briefest even now. We meet by what many would call an accident,--one of
those incidents which the thoughtless call chance directed my steps to
this place; let me hope that that which seemed a hazard may bear all
the fruits of maturest combination, and that the weak words of one frail
even as yourself may not be heard by you in vain. Let me, therefore, ask
you one question,--only one,--and give me an honest answer to it.”
“You are a very singular person,” said she, “and seem to have strangely
forgotten the very simple circumstance that we meet for the first time
now.”
“I know it, I feel it; and that it may also be for the last and only
time is my reason for this appeal to you. There are persons who, seeing
you here, would treat you with a mock deference, address you with a
counterfeit respect, and go their ways; who would say to their selfish
hearts, 'It is no concern of mine; why should it trouble me?' But I am
not one of these. I carry a conscience in my breast; a conscience that
holds its daily court, and will even to-morrow ask me, 'Have you been
truthful, have you been faithful? When the occasion served to warn
a fellow-creature of the shoal before him, did you cry out, “Take
soundings! you are in shallow water,” or did you with slippery phrases
gloss over the peril, because it involved no danger to yourself?'”
“Would that same conscience be kind enough to suggest that your present
conduct is an impertinence, sir?”
“So it might, madam; just as the pilot is impertinent when he cries out,
'Hard, port! breakers ahead!'”
“I am therefore to infer, sir,” said she, with a calm dignity, “that
my approach to a secret danger--of which I can have no knowledge--is
a sufficient excuse for the employment of language on your part, that,
under a less urgent plea, had been offensive?”
“You are,” said I, boldly.
“Speak out, then, sir, and declare what it is.”
“Nay, madam, if the warning find no echo within, my words are useless. I
have said I would ask you a question.”
“Well, sir, do so.”
“Will you answer it frankly? Will you give it all the weight and
influence it should bear, and reply to it with that truthful spirit that
conceals nothing?”
“What is your question, sir? You had better be speedy with it, for I
don't much trust to my continued patience.”
I arose at this, and, passing behind the back of my chair, leaned my
arms on the upper rail, so as to confront her directly; and then, in the
voice of an accusing angel, I said, “Old woman, do you know where you
are going?”
“I protest, sir,” said she, rising, with an indignation I shall not
forget--“I protest, sir, you make me actually doubt if I know where I
am!”
“Then let me tell you, madam,” said I, with the voice of one determined
to strike terror into her heart--“let me tell you; and may my words have
the power to awaken you, even now, to the dreadful consequences of what
you are about!”
“Shalley! Shalley!” cried she in amazement, “is this gentleman deranged,
or is it but the passing effect of your conviviality?” And with this she
swept out of the room, leaving me there alone, for I now perceived--what
seemed also to have escaped her--that the Minister had slipped quietly
away some time before, and was doubtless at that same moment in the
profoundest of slumbers.
I took my departure at once. There was no leave-taking to delay me, and
I left the house in a mood little according with the spirit of one who
had partaken of its hospitalities; I am constrained to admit I was the
very reverse of satisfied with myself. It was cowardly and mean of me
to wreak my anger on that old woman, and not upon him who was the
really great offender. He it was I should have arraigned; and with the
employment of a little artifice and some tact, how terrible I might
have made even my jesting levity! how sarcastic my sneers at fashionable
vice! Affecting utter ignorance about his life and habits, I could have
incidentally thrown out little episodes of all the men who have wrecked
their fortunes by abandoned habits. I would have pointed to this man who
made a brilliant opening in the House, and that who had acquired such
celebrity at the Bar; I would have shown the rising statesman tarnished,
the future chief justice disqualified; I would have said, “Let no man,
however modest his character or unfrequented his locality, imagine that
the world takes no note of his conduct; in every class he is judged
by his peers, and you and I, Doubleton, will as assuredly be arraigned
before the bar of society as the pickpocket will be charged before the
beak!”
I continued to revolve these and such like thoughts throughout the
entire night. The wine I had drunk fevered and excited me, and added to
that disturbed state which my own self-accusings provoked. Doubts, too,
flitted across my mind whether I ought not to have maintained a perfect
silence towards the others, and reserved all my eloquence for the poor
girl herself. I imagined myself taking her hand between both mine,
while, with averted head, she sobbed as if her heart would break, and,
saying, “Be comforted, poor stricken deer! be comforted; I know all. One
who is far from perfect himself, sorrows with and compassionates you; he
will be your friend, your adviser, your protector. I will restore you
to that home you quitted in innocence. I will bring you back to that
honeysuckled porch where your pure heart expanded in home affections.”
Nothing shall equal the refined delicacy of my manner; that mingled
reserve and kindness--a sort of cross between a half-brother and a canon
of St. Paul's--shall win her over to repentance, and then to peace. How
I fancied myself at intervals of time visiting that cottage, going,
as the gardener watches some cherished plant, to gaze on the growing
strength I had nurtured, and enjoy the luxury of seeing the once
drooping flower expanding into fresh loveliness and perfume. “Yes,
Potts, this would form one of those episodes you have so often longed to
realize.” And then I went on to fancy a long heroic struggle between my
love and that sentiment of respect for worldly opinion which is dear to
every man, the years of conflict wearing me down in health, but exalting
me immensely in every moral consideration. Let the hour of crowning
victory at last come, I should take her to my bosom and say, “There is
rest for thee here!”
“His Excellency begs that you will call at the legation, as early as you
can, this morning,” said a waiter, entering with the breakfast tray; and
I now perceived that I had never gone to bed, or closed my eyes during
the night.
“How did this message come?” I asked.
“By the chasseur of his Excellency.”
“And how addressed?”
“'To the gentleman who dined yesterday at the legation. '”
I asked these questions to ascertain how far he persisted in the
impertinence of giving me a name that was not mine, and I was glad to
find that on this occasion no transgression had occurred.
I hesitated considerably about going to him. Was I to accept that
slippery morality that says, “I see no more than I please in the man
I dine with,” or was I to go boldly on and denounce this offender to
himself? What if he were to say, “Potts, let us play fair; put your own
cards on the table, and let us see are you always on the square? Who is
your father? how does he live? Why have you left home, and how? What of
that horse you have--”
“No, no, not stolen--on my honor, not stolen!” “Well, ain't it ugly?
Is n't the story one that any relating might, without even a spice of
malevolence, make marvellously disagreeable? Is the tale such as you 'd
wish to herald you into any society you desired to mix with?” It was in
this high, easy, and truly companionable style that conscience kept me
company, while I ate two eggs and a plate of buttered toast “After all,”
thought I, “might it not prove a great mistake not to wait on him?
How if, in our talk over politics last night, I may have dropped
some remarkable expression, a keen appreciation of some statesman, an
extraordinary prediction of some coming crisis? Maybe it is to question
me more fully about my 'views' of the state of Europe.” Now I am rather
given to “views of the state of Europe.” I like that game of patience,
formed by shuffling up all the governments of the Continent, and then
seeing who is to have the most “tricks,” who's to win all the kings,
and who the knaves. “Yes,” thought I, “this is what he is at. These
diplomatic people are consummately clever at pumping; their great skill
consists in extracting information from others and adapting it to
their own uses. Their social condition confers the great advantage of
intercourse with whatever is remarkable for station, influence, and
ability; and I think I hear his Excellency muttering to himself,
'remarkable man that--large views--great reach of thought--wish I could
see more of him; must try what polite attentions may accomplish.' Well,”
said I, with a half sigh, “it is the old story, _Sic vos non vobis_; and
I suppose it is one of the curses on Irishmen that, from Edmund Burke to
Potto, they should be doomed to cram others. I will go. What signifies
it to _me?_ I am none the poorer in dispensing my knowledge than is the
nightingale in discoursing her sweet music to the night air, and
flooding the groves with waves of melody: like _her_, I give of an
affluence that never fails me.” And so I set out for the legation.
As I walked along through the garden, a trimly-dressed French maid
passed me, turned, and repassed, with a look that had a certain
significance. “It was monsieur dined here yesterday?” said she,
interrogatively; and as I smiled assent, she handed me a very small
sealed note, and disappeared.
It bore no address but the word “Mr.------;” a strange, not very
ceremonious direction. “But, poor girl!” thought I, “she knows me not as
Potts, but as Protector. I am not the individual, but the representative
of that wide-spread benevolence that succors the weak and consoles
the afflicted. I wonder has she been touched by my devotion? has she
imagined--oh, that she would!--that I have followed her hither, that I
have sworn a vow to rescue and to save her? Or is this note the cry of a
sorrow-struck spirit, saying, 'Come to my aid ere I perish '?”
My fingers trembled as I broke the seal; I had to wipe a tear from my
eye ere I could begin to read. My agitation was great; it was soon to be
greater. The note contained very few words; they were these:--
“Sir,--I have not communicated to my brother, Sir Shafley Doubleton,
any circumstance of your unaccountable conduct yesterday evening. I hope
that my reserve will be appreciated by you, and
“I am, your faithful servant,
“'Martha Keats.”
I did not faint, but I sat down on the grass, sick and faint, and I
felt the great drops of cold perspiration burst out over my forehead and
temples. “So,” muttered I, “the venerable person I have been lecturing
is his Excellency's own sister! My exhortations to a changed life have
been addressed to a lady doubtless as rigid in morals as austere
in manners.” Though I could recall none of the words I employed, I
remembered but too well the lesson I intended to convey, and I shuddered
with disgust at my own conduct. Many a time have I heard severest
censure on the preacher who has from the pulpit scattered words of
doubtful application to the sinners beneath; but here was I making a
direct and most odious attack upon the life and habits of a lady of
immaculate behavior! Oh, it was too--too bad! A whole year of sackcloth
and ashes would not be penance for such iniquity. How could she have
forgiven it? What consummate charity enabled her to pardon an offence
so gross and so gratuitous? Or is it that she foresaw consequences so
grave, in the event of disclosure, that she dreaded to provoke them?
What might not an angry brother, in such a case, be warranted in doing?
Would the world call any vengeance exorbitant? I studied her last phrase
over and over, “I hope my reserve will be appreciated by you.” This may
mean, “I reserve the charge,--I hold it over you as a bail bond for the
future; diverge ever so little from the straight road, and I will say,
'Potts, stand forward and listen to your indictment.' She may have some
terrible task in view for me, some perilous achievement, which I cannot
now refuse. This old woman may be to me as was the Old Man of the Sea to
Sinbad. I may be fated to carry her forever on my back, and the dread
of her be a living nightmare to me.” “At such a price, existence has no
value,” said I, in despair. “Worse even than the bondage is the feeling
that I am no longer, to my own heart, the great creature I love to
think myself. Instead of Potts the generous, the high-spirited,
the confiding, the self-denying, I am Potts the timorous, the
terror-stricken, and the slave.”
Out of my long and painful musings on the subject, I bethought me of a
course to take. I would go to her and say:--
“Listen to this parable. I remember once, when a member of the
phrenological club, a stupid jest was played off upon the society by
some one presenting us with the cast of a well-known murderer's skull,
and asking for our interpretations of its development. We gave them with
every care and deliberation: we pointed out the fatal protuberances of
crime, and indicated the depressions, which showed the absence of all
prudential restraints; we demonstrated all the evidences of badness that
were there, and proved that, with such a head, a man must have thought
killing no murder. The rejoinder to our politeness was a small box that
arrived by the mail, labelled, 'the original of the cast forwarded on
the 14th.' We opened it, and found a pumpkin! The foolish jester fancied
that he had cast an indelible stain upon phrenology, quite forgetting
the fact that his pumpkin had personated a skull which, had it ever
existed, would have presented the characteristics we gave it.” I would
say, “Now, madam, make the application, and say, do you not rather
commend than condemn? are you not more ready to applaud than upbraid
me?”
Second thoughts rather deterred me from this plan; the figurative line
is often dangerous with elderly people. It is just as likely she would
mistake the whole force of my illustration, and bluntly say, “I 'd beg
to remark, sir, I am not a pumpkin!”
“No; I will not adventure on this path. There is no need that I should
ever meet her again, or, if I should, we may meet as utter strangers.”
This resolve made, I arose boldly, and walked on towards the house.
His Excellency, I learned, was at home, and had been for some time
expecting me. I found him in his morning room, in the same costume and
same occupation as on the day before.
“There's the 'Times,'” said he, as I entered; “I shall be ready for you
presently;” and worked away without lifting his head.
Affecting to read, I set myself to regard him with attention. Vast piles
of papers lay around him on every side; the whole table, and even the
floor at his feet, was littered with them. “Would,” thought
I,--“would that these writers for the Radical press, these scurrilous
penny-a-liners who inveigh against a bloated and pampered aristocracy,
could just witness the daily life of labor of one of these spoiled
children of Fortune. Here is this man, doubtless reared in ease and
affluence, and see him, how he toils away, from sundown to dawn,
unravelling the schemes, tracing the wiles, and exposing the snares of
these crafty foreigners. Hark! he is muttering over the subtle sentence
he has just written: 'I am much grieved about Maria's little girl, but
I hope she will escape being marked by the malady.'” A groan that broke
from me here startled him, and he looked up.
“Ah! yes, by the way, I want you, Paynter.”
“I am not Paynter, your Excellency, my name is--”
“Of course, you have your own name for your own peculiar set; but don't
interrupt. I have a special service for you, and will put it in the
'extraordinaires.' I have taken a little villa on the Lake of Como for
my sister, but, from the pressure of political events, I am not able to
accompany her there. She is a very timid traveller, and cannot possibly
go alone. You 'll take charge of her, therefore, Paynter,--there, don't
be fussy,--you 'll take charge of her and a young lady who is with her,
and you 'll see them housed and established there. I suppose she will
prefer to travel slowly, some thirty miles or so a day, post horses
always, and strictly avoiding railroads; but you can talk it over
together yourselves. There was a Bobus to have come out--”
“A Bobus!”
“I mean a doctor,--I call every doctor, Bobus,--but something has
detained him, or, indeed, I believe he was drowned; at all events, he's
not come, and you 'll have to learn how to measure out ether and drop
morphine; the 'companion' will help you. And keep an account of your
expenses, Paynter,--your own expenses for F. O.,--and don't let her fall
sick at any out-of-the-way place, which she has rather a knack of doing;
and, above all, don't telegraph on any account. Come and dine,--six.”
“If you will excuse me at dinner, I shall be obliged. I have a sort of
half engagement.”
“Come in about nine, then,” said he, “for she'd like to talk over some
matters. Look out for a carriage, too; I don't fancy giving mine if you
can get another. One of those great roomy German things with a cabriolet
front, for Miss--I forget her name--would prefer a place outside. Kramm,
the landlord, can help you to search for one; and let it be dusted and
aired and fumigated and the drag examined and the axles greased,--in a
word, have your brains about you, Paynter. Good-bye.” Exit as before.