_From Algernon Dexter, writer of Vers de Societe, London, to Rasselas,
Prince of Abyssinia_.
My dear prince,--Our correspondence has dwindled of late. Indeed, I do
not remember to have heard from you since I wrote to acknowledge your
kindness in standing godfather to my boy Jack (now rising two), and
the receipt of the beautiful scimitar which, as a christening present,
accompanied your consent. Still I do not forget the promise you
exacted from "Q." and myself after lunch at the Mitre, on the day when
we took our bachelors' degrees together--that if in our paths through
life we happened upon any circumstance that seemed to throw fresh
light on the dark, complex workings of the human heart, or at least
likely to prove of interest to a student of his fellow men, we would
write it down and despatch it to you, under cover of The Negus. During
the months of my engagement to Violet these communications of mine
(you will allow) were frequent enough: since our marriage they have
grown shamefully fewer. Possibly I lose alertness while I put on
flesh: it is the natural hebetudus of happiness. "Q."--who is never
seen now upon London stones--no doubt sends you a plenty of what
passes for news in that parish which it is his humour to prefer to the
Imperial City. But, believe me, the very finest romance is still to be
had in London: and to prove this I am going to tell you a story that,
upon my soul, Prince, will make you sit up.
Until last night the Seely-Hardwickes were a force in this capital.
They were three,--Seely-Hardwicke himself, who owned a million or
more, and to my knowledge drank Hollands and smoked threepenny Returns
in his Louis Quinze library; Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke, as beautiful as
the moon and clever to sinfulness; and Billy, their child, aged
seven-and-a-half. To-day their whereabouts would be as difficult to
find as that of the boy in Mrs. Hemans's ballad. You jump to the guess
that they have lost their money. You are wrong.
It was amassed in the canned-fruit trade, which, I understand,
does not fluctuate severely, though doubtless in the last instance
dependent on the crops. Seely-Hardwicke and his wife were ready to
lose any amount of it at cards, which accounts for a measure of their
success. It had been found (with Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke) somewhere
on the Pacific Slope, by a destitute Yorkshireman who had tired of
driving rivets on the Clyde and betaken himself across the Atlantic,
for a change, in front of a furnace some thirty-odd feet below decks.
Of his adventures in the Great Republic nothing is known but this,
that he drove into the silence of its central plain at the tail of a
traction engine and emerged on its western shore, three years later,
with a wife, a child and a growing pile. With this pile there grew
a desire to spend it in his own country; and the family landed at
Liverpool on Billy's sixth birthday. I think their double-barrelled
name must have been invented by Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke on the voyage.
I first made Billy's acquaintance in the Row, where a capable groom
was teaching him to ride a very small skewbald pony. This happened in
the week after our Jack was born, when I was perforce companionless:
but as soon as Violet could ride again, she too fell a victim to the
red curls and seraphic face of this urchin. And so, when Billy's
mother began, later in the season, to appear in the Row, Billy (now
promoted to a larger pony) introduced us in his own fashion and we
quickly made friends. By this time she had been "presented," and was
fairly on her feet in London: and henceforward her career resembled
not so much a conquest as the progress of a Roman Emperor. I am not
referring to the vulgar achievements of mere wealth. Wherever these
people went, to be sure, they left outposts--a Mediterranean villa,
a deer forest behind the Grampians, small Saturday-to-Monday
establishments beside the Thames and the North Sea, and furnished
abodes on short leases near Newmarket and Ascot Heaths; not to mention
nomadic trifles such as houseboats and yachts. Any one with money can
purchase these, and any one having a cook can fill them with people
of a sort. The quality of Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's success was seen in
this, that from the first she knew none but the right people: and
though, as her circle widened, it included names of higher and yet
higher lustre, yet (if I may press a somewhat confused metaphor) its
rings were concentric and hardly distinct. She never, I believe, was
forced to drop an old acquaintance because she had found a new one.
The just estimate of our Western manners which you, my dear Prince,
formed at Balliol, will enable you to grasp the singularity of such a
triumph. Its rapidity, I must admit, perplexes me still. But in
those old days we studied Arnold Toynbee overmuch and neglected
the civilising influences of the card-table. By the time the
Seely-Hardwickes took their house near Hyde Park Corner, philanthropy
was beginning to stale and our leaders to perceive that the
rejuvenation of society must be effected (if at all) not by bestowing
money on the poor, but by losing it to the rich. Seely-Hardwicke
himself was understood to spend most of his time in the City, looking
after the interests of canned fruits and making small fortunes out of
his redundant cash.
You will readily understand that we soon came to see little of our new
acquaintances. A small private income and the trivial wage commanded
by society verses in this country (so different in many respects from
Abyssinia) confined us to a much narrower orbit. But we were invited
pretty often to their dinners, and the notes I have given you were
taken on these occasions. Last night there were potentates at Mrs.
Seely-Hardwicke's--several imported, and one of British growth.
To-day--but you shall hear it in the fewest words.
Three days back, Billy failed to turn up in the Row. We met his mother
riding alone and asked the reason. She told us the child had a cough
and something of a sore throat and she thought it wiser to keep him at
home.
On the next day, and yesterday, he was still absent. In the evening we
went to the Seely-Hardwicke's dance. The thing was wonderfully done.
An exuberant vegetation that suggested a virgin forest was qualified
by the presence of several hundred people. It was impossible to dance
or to feel lonely; and our hostess looked radiant as the moon in
the reflected rays of her success. We shook hands with her and were
swallowed in the crowd.
About half-an-hour later, as I watched the crush from a recess beside
an open window and listened to the waltz that the band was playing,
Seely-Hardwicke himself thrust his way towards me. He was crumpled and
perspiring copiously: but the glory of it all sat on his blunt face
yet more openly than on his wife's lovely features.
"I've not been here above ten minutes," he explained. "Had to run
down to Liverpool suddenly last night, and only reached King's Cross
something less 'n an hour back. Quick work."
"How's Billy?" I asked, after a few commonplace words.
"Off colour, still. I went up to see him, just now: but the nurse
wouldn't let him be disturbed; said he was sleepin'. Best thing for
him. You'll see him out, as lively as a lark, to-morrow."
"And getting stopped, as usual, by the police for expounding his idea
of a canter in the Ladies' Mile."
He laughed. "Hey? I like that. I like spirit. He looks fragile--he's
like his mother for that--but they're game every inch, the pair of
'em. You may think me silly, but I don't know that I can last out this
without runnin' up to have a look at him. I haven't seen him for two
days."
I believe he was on the point of launching out into any number
of fatherly confidences. But at this point he was claimed by an
acquaintance some ten paces off; and, plunging among his guests, was
lost to me.
I cannot tell you, my dear Prince, how much time elapsed between this
and the arrival of the home-grown Potentate--as you must allow me to
call him until we meet and I can whisper his august name. But I know
that shortly after his arrival, while I still loafed in my recess and
hoped that Violet would soon drift in my direction and allow herself
to be taken home, the throng around me began to thin in a most curious
manner. How it happened--whence it started and how it spread--I cannot
tell you. Only it seemed as if something began to be whispered, and
the whisper melted the crowd like sugar. Almost before I grew aware
of what was happening, I could see the far side of the room, and the
Potentate there by Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's side; and could mark their
faces. His was cast in a polite, but slightly rigid smile. His eyes
wandered. That supernumerary sense which all his family possesses had
warned him that something was wrong. Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke's face was
white as chalk, though her eyes returned his smile.
At this moment Violet came towards me.
"Take me home," she commanded, but under her breath. As she said it
she shivered.
"What on earth is the matter?" I demanded.
She pulled me by the sleeve. I looked up and saw a white-haired man,
of military carriage, walking towards His Royal Highness. He came to
a halt, a pace off, and stood as if anxious to speak. I saw also
that Mrs. Seely-Hardwicke would not allow him a chance, but talked
desperately. I saw groups of people, up and down the room, regarding
her even as we. And then the door was flung open.
Seely-Hardwicke came running in with Billy in his arms--or rather,
with Billy's body. The child had died at four that afternoon, of
diphtheria.
I got Violet out of the room as soon as I could. The man's language
was frightful--filthy. And his wife straightened herself up and
answered him back. It was a babel of obscene Frisco curses: but I
remember one clear sentence of hers from the din--
"You--, you! And d'ye think _my_ heart won't go to pieces when my
stays are cut?"
* * * * *
All the way home Violet kept sobbing and crying out that she was never
driven so slowly. She was convinced that some harm had happened to
her own Jack. She ran up to the night-nursery at once and woke your
god-child out of a healthy sleep. And he arose in his full strength
and yelled.