THE MAN OF THE WORLD.
Two or three months passed, and no particular event happened either at
the park or farm, and summer came round again. Gladys was now
established at the former, and Owen at the latter, but although they had
seen one another frequently at church or at a distance, they had
scarcely spoken since they parted on the evening of their remarkable
meeting in the cow-house. Gladys scrupulously avoided Owen, and all his
endeavours to fall in with her were fruitless.
Colonel Vaughan was again at Glanyravon, and Freda was in buoyant
spirits. So, indeed, were her neighbours, the Nugents,--Miss Nugent in
particular. She was to be of age in a few days, and grand preparations
were making to celebrate the event.
On the morning on which we take up our Glanyravon narrative Miss Nugent
is inflicting herself upon Miss Gwynne, who longs to tell her to go
away, but is too polite to do so.
'You know, Freda,' she says, 'I have been longing to be of age for
yearth. Mamma ath been tho thrict, and kept me tho clothe, that I never
dared to thpeak to a gentleman. Now I can do ath I like.'
'And what will you have to say?' asked Freda, bluntly. 'I never hear you
venture upon many topics, when you have an opportunity.'
'Oh, Freda! there are tho many thingth.'
'Just tell me one or two.'
'Let me thee. Ballth and contherth, and the opera when I go to London,
and--and--muthic--'
'Is that all?'
'You are tho tirethome, Freda; of courthe there are other thingth, but
one cannot think of them all at onthe. Every one ithent tho clever ath
you. Colonel Vaughan thaid I talked quite enough for any young lady.
Gentlemen didn't like ladieth who talked too much.'
'Indeed! Where was your mamma when he said that?'
'Oh! the didn't hear him. Do you know I think the liketh Colonel
Vaughan, and ith jealouth of me. He thaid he would come down when I came
of age, and tho he did, you see, Freda.'
'To your mamma, or you?'
'To me quite alone. But you needn't look tho croth and fierthe, Freda. I
couldn't help hith being polite to me, and paying me complimenth.'
'What compliments?'
'Oh! I can't tell you, he thaid so much about my lookth, that I am thure
he made me bluth.'
'Did you believe him?'
'Yeth; and I think he liketh me better than mamma.'
'Do you think there is any one else in the world besides your mamma and
yourself?'
'Well, yeth, of courth.'
'Then why don't you sometimes talk of some one else? Do you like Colonel
Vaughan, for instance?'
'Oh! I never thaw any one in my life I like tho much, except Rowland
Prothero. He ith younger. Mamma thaith--'
'There again, Wilhelmina!'
'I forgot--you are tho quick, Freda. Don't you like Colonel Vaughan?'
'Pretty well sometimes.'
'What a colour you have, Freda. You thouldn't draw tho much. I with I
had a tathte for drawing. Colonel Vaughan drawth tho well!'
'What can his drawing well have to do with your drawing?'
'He would look over my drawing then ath he doth yourth, Freda. He thaith
you are very clever. But you mutht be nearly five-and-twenty, Freda; and
he thaith no woman ought ever to be more than twenty-one,'
'When did he favour you with that remark? I think I once heard him say
twenty-five was the most charming age of all.'
At this part of the conversation the subject of it entered the room, and
whilst Freda's colour rose higher and higher, and she stooped more
closely over her drawing, Miss Nugent got up and greeted him with great
delight. Freda made up her mind not to speak, that she might listen to
the conversation that ensued.
'Are all the preparations progressing, Miss Nugent? What are we to do to
celebrate the great event?' asked the colonel.
'There ith to be an oxth roathed for the poor people, and tea on the
lawn, and a ball in the evening, you know, colonel.'
'Oh, yes, I am looking forwards to that, and to the first dance.
Remember you promised me.'
'Oh, yeth, I am thure of plenty of partnerth.'
'I should imagine so. We men must have very bad taste if we let you sit
down. Did you walk here this morning?'
'No, I rode. The hortheth are taken round. I have been here a long time
with Freda. It ith thuch a nice morning, ithn't it, Colonel Vaughan?'
'Delightful! What do you mean to do when you are your own mistress? I
quite fancy how grand you will feel when you have struck the magic
hour.'
'I darethay I thall be jutht the thame, unleth I get married.'
Freda glances up, and perceives a smile of amusement on Colonel
Vaughan's lips, and the usual calm inanity on Miss Nugent's handsome
features.
'That will depend on yourself, I am sure,' said the colonel.
Freda looks again, and sees the colonel's magnificent eyes fixed on the
young lady, who returns his glance, and simpers out,--
'I darethay it will.'
Colonel Vaughan turns suddenly, and encounters Freda's glance.
'How does the drawing get on Freda? Capitally! What a sky! quite
artistic.'
This is said whilst looking over Freda's shoulder, but she does not
respond to the remark.
'I wath jutht thaying I with I could draw. It mutht be thuth a nithe
amuthement.'
'Very. How is Lady Mary, to-day? I am ashamed to say I forgot to ask for
her.'
'Very well, thank you. The thaid you promithed to come over and help to
arrange the decorationth. I hope you will.'
'Thank you, yes. Perhaps Miss Gwynne will ride over with me to-morrow;
will you, Freda?'
'I am engaged to-morrow,' said Freda shortly.
'You will come at any rate, if Freda won't?' said Miss Nugent; 'the
alwayth thayth the ith engaged when we athk her. Now, don't be engaged
on Thurthday. I muth go now; will you be tho kind ath to ring for the
hortheth, Colonel Vaughan?'
The horses were ordered, and the colonel assisted the young heiress to
mount. She looked remarkably well on horseback, and even Freda was
obliged to allow that she and her grey mare would have made a fine
equestrian statue. She saw Colonel Vaughan look at her, and even watch
her down the drive. When he returned to the drawing-room, he said,--
'What is the matter, Miss Freda? Have the domestic deities been adverse
this morning? I am afraid you are very--cross,'
'Thank you, Colonel Vaughan. I am not at all--cross.'
'Have I had the misfortune to offend you?'
'You? by no means. But I do not wish to assist in any of the Nugent
decorations. I am not so fond of the family as you may imagine; Lady
Mary and Miss Nugent are less than indifferent to me. Lady Mary is a
mere manoeuvrer, that no straightforward person could like; and Miss
Nugent is a mere handsome wax figure, with such clever machinery inside,
that she can literally say the words, "mamma thaith." I have heard of a
doll who could say "mamma," but she is still cleverer.'
'Colonel Vaughan bit his lips, knit his forehead, but smiled. 'You are
severe upon your neighbours, Freda.'
'Do you admire them, then? do you think Miss Nugent altogether charming?
or will she be perfect in your eyes the day after to-morrow?'
'If perfection consists in being a beauty and an heiress, I need not go
away from Glanyravon to seek one, Freda.'
'Do you stereotype your compliments? I hear that you pay them wherever
you go, and I hate compliments, particularly from people whose good
opinion I value. Besides, I am neither a beauty nor an heiress, and to
be complimented in almost the same words as Miss Nugent is too
contemptible.'
'You do not suppose that I class you together, Freda?'
'I am thankful to say that you cannot do that, Colonel Vaughan, at least
if I know myself at all; but, after all, I may be infinitely her
inferior.'
Freda got up from her drawing with a very flushed face. She knew that
she had said more than she meant to say, and that Colonel Vaughan was
scrutinising her with his calm, collected mind and penetrating eyes.
'I am going out now, and you promised to ride with papa, I think,' she
said abruptly.
'But you must not go until you have told me how I have displeased you,'
said Colonel Vaughan, rising and detaining her. He had such a power over
her that he always wormed her thoughts out of her.
'I did not like to hear you saying what you did not mean, to Miss
Nugent,' said Freda, as if she were obliged to make a confession; 'and I
think it beneath a man like you to pay frivolous compliments to a girl
you must despise.'
'Oh, is that all! I make a point of complimenting handsome girls, _pour
passer le temps_; it is the only way of getting on with half of them.
You must forgive me this once.'
Freda looked at him, and even he, clever as he was, could not tell
whether her glance expressed pity, contempt, or love. She turned away,
and left the room without speaking; he made another movement to detain
her, but she was gone; his thoughts were as follows:--
'Charming girl! yes, she is charming: of a truthful, noble, trusting
nature; still too _prononcee_ for a woman. I scarcely think I love, much
as I must admire that sort of girl; and as a wife, I should be afraid of
her. Yet she provokes me, interests me. She is jealous of those Nugents,
and if she doesn't take care, they will cut her out, mother and
daughter, with their manoeuvres and wax; and she will be heiress of
Glanyravon no longer. Better the waxen heiress, Miss Nugent, with thirty
thousand pounds in possession in some thirty-six hours, than the iron
heiress, Miss Gwynne, with Glanyravon _in futuro_.
'Moreover, the one may be moulded into any shape one pleases--the other
must have her own opinion, and her own way, unless a man beat her into
subjection. Certainly, few people were ever more fortunately, or
perplexingly placed, than I am just now.
'Between two young women, handsome, rich, of good family; if I mistake
not, in love with me, and to be had for the asking. But if I married
Freda, Mr Gwynne would marry Lady Nugent directly; and then one could
tell what would become of the property. If, on the other hand, I were to
marry Miss Nugent, I should incur the utmost contempt of which Miss
Gwynne is capable, and should not wholly esteem myself. But why am I
thinking of marrying at all? Because I am forty years old, and found a
grey hair in my whiskers yesterday; because I am tired of an unsettled
life, and should like to clear off the old place, and end my days there;
and because, after all, a married man has a better position than a
single one. If that girl Gladys were in the place of either heiress, I
would not hesitate a moment. I declare she would grace a coronet; no
wonder all the young men round are in love with her. And yet, meet her
when I will, I can scarcely get more than 'yes,' and 'no,' out of her.
'It is utterly impossible she can be what she seems, or is supposed to
be. I never saw more thoroughly aristocratic beauty in our most
aristocratic circles. Miss Nugent is as handsome as a woman can well be,
in form and feature; but her eyes are like two frozen pools, whereas
this Gladys, are literally two deep blue lakes with stars shining into
them, or out of them, or something or other that a poet would describe
better than I do. Well, what a fool I am! "A dream of fair women," in my
fortieth year, just as I dreamt of them in my sixteenth. The Fates must
decide for me, only I wish they would clear up the mystery that hangs
over that girl, and give her Miss Nugent's thirty thousand pounds.'
Such were the thoughts that rushed through Colonel Vaughan's mind, as he
sat, apparently looking at Freda's drawing in the place that she had
vacated. We have unveiled a portion of his mind, because he is too good
a tactician to unveil it himself. It is needless to say that this
fascinating man, who has that nameless power which some men possess of
making all women love him, has himself no heart to bestow on any one.
Beyond the gratification of the moment, he is totally indifferent to all
the consequences of his powers. He is not a bad man, he would not do
anything that the world--his world, at least--would consider
dishonourable; but as to reflecting upon the cruelty of inflicting
wounds, never to be healed, upon the hearts of young ladies--why, he
would as soon reflect upon the wounds he gave an enemy in the
battle-field. He considers Cupid as fair game as Mars, and thinks that
if women will be weak, and if he is irresistible, it is no fault of his,
but rather their and his misfortune.
Young ladies! the vulgar saying that a woman should never give her heart
to a man until she is asked for it, is, like many vulgar sayings, a good
one. Colonel Vaughan is the type of a class amongst which all are liable
to be thrown; and although men of his talent, knowledge of the world,
and apparent sincerity are rare, you may each of you meet with one such.
If you do, beware of falling in love with him until he plainly tells you
that he is in love with you, and asks if you are willing to marry him.
Colonel Vaughan leaves the drawing-room in search of Mr Gwynne, humming
a little Scotch air, the _refrain_ of which is 'and troth I'll wed ye
a,' a thing he has often wished he could actually do.
He finds Mr Gwynne in his library, and reminds him of the promised ride.
The horses are ordered, and they are soon trotting down the drive. As if
by mutual consent, they take the turn that leads to Pentre, Lady Mary
Nugent's place. It is about a mile from Glanyravon, and beautifully
situated on a hill that commands a fine prospect of dale, wood, and
river.
The handsome mother and daughter are at home, and hail the arrivals
with great glee. As Lady Mary is not at all certain that Colonel
Vaughan's attentions are not exclusively meant for her, she divides her
civilities with a charming tact between the two gentlemen, and looks so
captivating whilst she does so, that the colonel wishes that her
statue-like daughter had a little of her animation.
Everything that art and taste can devise is collected to adorn the
ladies and their abode, and if nature is lacking within doors, she is
profuse in her gifts without.
There is nothing worth recording in the conversation; if Colonel Vaughan
had thought it over afterwards, he would probably have laughed at the
platitudes he had uttered, and wondered why people paid morning visits.
The coming of age was a grand topic, and the colonel promised to go
again the following day, and 'help in the decorations.'
When the gentlemen took their leave, Mr Gwynne proposed a ride through
his plantations, which he was improving and enlarging. They went
accordingly. On their way they stopped at a small farm to inquire for
one of Mr Gwynne's tenants, who was dangerously ill. Mr Gwynne
dismounted, and as he entered the house, Gladys came out; she curtseyed
as she passed Colonel Vaughan, who said,--
'How is the invalid, Gladys? I take it for granted you have been to see
him.'
'Yes, sir, Miss Gwynne sent me with some jelly. He is better, I hope?'
'And are you going home now?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Stay one moment; will you give the poor man this half-crown when you
see him again?'
Gladys approached, and took the half-crown, but with it there was
half-a-sovereign.
'The rest is for yourself, to do what you like with,' added the colonel,
in a low voice.
'Thank you, sir, but I never take money,' said Gladys, leaving the gold
in his hand, 'I do not need it.'
'Give it to the poor, then,' said the colonel, letting it drop, and
looking annoyed.
'Certainly, sir, if you wish it; I will tell Miss Gwynne, and she will
know to whom to give it.'
'By no means--I mean it for you.'
'Sir, you will excuse me, I would rather not,' said Gladys, curtseying
again, and hastening on.
Colonel Vaughan called to a boy who was near, and told him to pick up
the money and give it to him.
'How often does that young lady come here?' he asked.
'Almost every day, sir,' was the reply.
'At what time?'
'In the afternoon, sir, from three to five, or thereabouts.'
'Goes back in time to help Miss Gwynne dress for dinner,' thought the
colonel; 'what a lovely face it is! And what grace of movement.'
He watched Gladys cross the farm-yard, and disappear in the plantations,
through which there was a private path to the house.
Mr Gwynne and he passed her again as they rode on, and she curtseyed
once more, Mr Gwynne nodding to her kindly as she looked at him.
'Who _is_ that girl, Mr Gwynne?'
'Oh! my daughter's maid, I believe. A very pretty, modest young woman,
and all that sort of thing. Freda is very fond of her.'
They struck into another path, and Colonel Vaughan saw no more of Gladys
that day, though he peeped into various stray corners of the house in
the hope of doing so. Moreover, he found Freda captious and cross, and
particularly annoyed at his and her father's visit to Pentre. He
punished her by playing chess with her father nearly all the evening,
and leaving her to a variety of reflections that were anything but
satisfactory to her.