MRS. BARNABY EFFECTS HER RETREAT FROM CHELTENHAM.--SHE CARRIES WITH HER
A LETTER.--ITS EFFECT.--AN AMIABLE ATTORNEY.--SPECIMENS OF A NOBLE STYLE
OF LETTER-WRITING.--CONSOLATION.
Though the baggage of Mrs. Barnaby was strangely disproportionate to the
period she had named for her absence, it seemed not to excite suspicion,
which might, perhaps, be owing to the well known splendour of her
elaborate toilet, which she not unfrequently changed four times in a
day, requiring--as all who thought on the subject must be aware--an
extent of travelling equipment much exceeding the portion assigned to
ordinary ladies.
So she passed forth unchallenged, and unchallenged saw her treasures
deposited on roof and in rumble-tumble till all were stowed away; and
then, having affectionately squeezed the hand of Miss Morrison, who
accompanied her to the stage, she climbed into it, followed by the pale
and melancholy Agnes.
Our widow was now beginning to be an experienced traveller, and her
first care on reaching London was to secure rooms in a private
lodging-house. Notwithstanding the noble visions with which she had
recreated her fancy during the last month, she now with great good sense
sent them all to the moon, knowing she could easily call them back again
if all went well with her; but determined that they should in no way
interfere with her enjoyment of the more substantial goods that were
still within her reach; so, she commissioned the maid of the house to
procure her three dozen of oysters and a pot of porter, with which,
while Agnes wept herself to sleep, she repaid herself for her day's
fatigue, and wisely laid in a stock of strength for the morrow.
Her first object, of course, was to hold communication with the brother
of her friend, "Magnus Morrison, Esq. attorney-at-law, Red Lion
Square." Such was the address the letter entrusted to her bore; and at
breakfast the following morning she sat gazing at it for some minutes
before she could decide whether it would be better to convey it herself,
or prepare the lawyer to receive her by letting it precede her for a few
hours. She finally decided to send it before her;--the wisdom of which
determination will be evident upon the perusal of the letter, such an
introduction being well calculated to ensure all the zealous attention
she desired.
Miss Morrison's letter ran thus:--
"MY DEAR BROTHER,
"I never fail, as you well know, to catch all the fish for your
net that comes in my way ... _crowyee sellaw too jure_ ... and
I now send you a client whom I have little doubt you will find
answer in every way. She is a most charming woman, and my most
particular friend.... I don't know a more charming person
anywhere, not even in my dear Paris, ... so rich, so free in
all her expenses, so remarkably obliging, and so very handsome
for all those who admire tall, large beauties. But you are too
good a lawyer to listen to all this when business is in hand,
and so I must come _o fay_. And now, Magnus, be sure to attend
to every word. Mrs. Barnaby--this charming friend of mine--has
for the last month been receiving the most marked and the most
tender attentions from Lord Mucklebury. He is a viscount, my
dear Magnus, and--observe--as rich as a Jew. This nobleman has
given her, poor dear lady! every reason in the world to believe
that his dearest wish, hope, and intention was to marry her;
and she, good, tender-hearted creature! perfectly adored him,
devoting every hour of the day to the finding out where he was
to be seen, and the going there to see him. She had no secrets
whatever from me the whole time, and I knew everything that was
going on from the first moment he ever kissed her hand to the
most tender interviews that ever passed between them. And how
do you think it has all ended?... Oh! Magnus, it is impossible
to deny that the male sex--lords and all--are most dreadfully
deceitful and false-hearted. All this devoted love, going on,
as I tell you, for a whole month, has just ended in nothing. My
lord set off in his travelling carriage, with four horses and
an out-rider, as we subsequently ascertained, without even
taking any leave of the lady at all, or explaining himself the
least bit either one way or the other. You may easily guess her
feelings.... Her first idea, poor thing, was to follow him to
the world's end--for there is no doubt in the world that her
attachment was of the most sincere kind; but luckily she
confided this romantic thought to me, and it struck me
directly, Magnus, that the best thing in the world for her to
do would be to put the whole affair into your hands. She has
got quantities of his letters ... they are very little letters,
to be sure, folded up sometimes not much bigger than a
shilling; but still letters are letters, you know; and I can't
but think that, with your cleverness, something might be made
of an action for damages. Of course, it is natural to suppose
that I am a little partial to this sort of measure, because I
can't well have forgotten yet that the best part of my snug
little fortune came to me in the same way, thanks to the good
management of our dear good father, Magnus.... The dear lady
listened to reason in a minute, and consented to put herself in
your hands, for which reason she is going to set off for London
to-morrow morning. She will bring all Lord Mucklebury's letters
with her, and it will be for you to judge what use can be made
of them;--only it is but right to mention, that there is no
doubt in the world but that Mrs. Barnaby is quite rich enough
to pay handsomely, whether she gains the cause or loses it.
"I am, my dear Magnus,
"Your affectionate sister,
"SARAH MORRISON."
Mrs. Barnaby enclosed this letter in an envelope, in which she wrote,--
"Mrs. Barnaby presents her compliments to Mr. Magnus Morrison,
and will be happy to see him on the business to which the
enclosed letter refers at any hour he will name."
"No. 5, Half-moon Street, Piccadilly."
Having consigned her packet to the post, the widow declared to her
anxious companion that she did not mean to waste her time as long as she
remained in London; but should walk to every part of the town, and
should expect her to do the same.
"Will there not be danger of losing ourselves, aunt?" said Agnes.
"London, you know, is so much bigger than any place you ever saw."
"And what's the good of that piece of wisdom, Miss Solomon? Perhaps you
don't know that I have a tongue in my head, and that the Londoners speak
English?... Come, and put on your bonnet, if you please, and I'll
promise not to leave you in any of the gutters, but bring you safe home
again to _No. 5, Half-moon Street, Piccadilly_. There, you see, I shall
know what place to ask for. Won't that do for you?"
Agnes felt that all remonstrance would be in vain, and submitted; though
the idea of being dragged through the streets of London by her aunt
Barnaby, dressed in the identical green satin gown and pink feathers
which had first attracted Lord Mucklebury's attention, was by no means
an agreeable prospect.
The expedition, however, fatiguing and disagreeable as it proved, was
achieved without any very disastrous results. Mrs. Barnaby, indeed, was
twice very nearly knocked down by a cab, while staring too eagerly about
her when crossing the streets; and friendly as was the old black crape
veil of poor Agnes, it could not wholly save her from some tolerably
obvious efforts to find out whether the face it sheltered was worthy the
graceful symmetry of the person who wore it; ... but they nevertheless
reached their Half-moon Street without any positive injury to life or
limb.
At eight o'clock in the evening, while Mrs. Barnaby and her weary
companion were taking tea, the drawing-room door opened, and Mr. Magnus
Morrison was announced, and most cordially welcomed by the widow, who
not only saw in him the lawyer from whom she hoped to learn how to
replenish her waning finances, but also the brother of her dear Miss
Morrison, and the only acquaintance she could hope at this trying moment
to find or make in London.
But now, as heretofore, the presence of Agnes was inconvenient, which
she took care to signify by saying to the lawyer, "I am greatly indebted
to you, Mr. Morrison, for your early attention to my note; and I shall
be very glad to talk with you on the business that brings me to
London ... but not quite yet ... we really must be quite by ourselves,
for it will be necessary that I should have your whole attention. Will
you, in the mean time, permit me to offer you tea?"
Before Mr. Morrison could reply Agnes was on her feet, and asking her
aunt in a whisper if she would give her leave to go to bed. "Yes, if you
like it, my darling!..." replied Mrs. Barnaby, whose tenderness for her
niece was always awakened by the presence of strangers. "I am sure you
look tired to death.... But bring down first, my dear, my writing-desk;
and remember, my love, to take care that I have warm water when I come
up; ... and don't forget, Agnes, to put my bonnet and shawl, and all
that, nicely away ... and see that I have paper for curling my hair
ready on the dressing-table; ... and don't go to bed till you have put
out my lilac silk for to-morrow; and just put a stitch in the blonde of
my bonnet-cap, for I pulled it almost off."
All this was said by the widow in a coaxing sort of half whisper, with
an arm round her victim's waist, and a smile of the most fascinating
kindness on her own lips.
The desk was brought, and the consulting parties left alone; while
Agnes, as she performed the different tasks imposed on her, and which
her great fatigue rendered heavy, could not for an instant banish from
her mind the question that had incessantly haunted her from the hour she
left the drawing-room of Lady Elizabeth.... "Will she go abroad?...
Shall I be obliged to return to Cheltenham without her?... Shall I be
obliged to go to the house where he is living?"
* * * * *
Mr. Magnus Morrison was by no means an ill-looking man, and though a
bachelor of thirty-five, had as little of quizzical peculiarity about
him as a careful attorney of that age, unpolished by a wife, can be
expected to have. Mrs. Barnaby, though a little his senior, was still,
as we know, a lady _a pretention_, and never permitted any gentleman to
approach her without making an experiment upon him with her fine eyes.
Their success in the present instance was neither so violent as in the
case of Major Allen, nor so instantaneous as in that of the
false-hearted peer; nevertheless enough was achieved to throw an
agreeable sort of extraneous interest into the business before them, and
the widow disdained not as it proceeded to decorate her narrative and
herself with such graces as none but a Mrs. Barnaby can display.
Having given her own version, and with such flourishes as her nature
loved, of Lord Mucklebury's violent passion for her, she asked her
attentive and somewhat captivated auditor what species of testimony was
required to prove a promise of marriage in such a manner as to secure
large damages, "for without being quite certain of obtaining such, you
must be aware, my dear sir, that a woman of my station, connexions, and
fortune, could not think of appearing in court."
"Assuredly not," replied Mr. Magnus Morrison fervently. "Such a measure
is never to be resorted to unless the evidence is of a nature that no
cross-examination can set aside. My sister tells me, madam, that you
have letters...."
"Yes, Mr. Morrison, I have many ... though I am sorry to say that many
more have been destroyed. (This was a figure of poetry, and of a kind
that the widow often adopted to give strength to the narrative portion
of her conversation.)
"That is greatly to be regretted, Mrs. Barnaby ... though we must hope
that among those which remain sufficient proof of this very atrocious
case will be found to answer the purposes of justice. Was there any
principle of selection in the manner in which some were preserved and
others destroyed?"
"I can hardly say," replied the lady, "that it was done on any
principle, unless the feeling can be so called which leads a woman of
delicacy to blush and shrink from preserving the effusions of a passion
so vehement as that expressed in some of the letters of Lord
Mucklebury."
"They were, then, the most ardent declarations of his attachment that
you destroyed, Mrs. Barnaby?"
"Most certainly," said the widow, throwing her eyes upon the carpet.
"It is unfortunate, very unfortunate," observed the lawyer, "though it
shews a delicacy of mind that it is impossible not to admire. Will you
give me leave, madam, to peruse such of the letters as you have
preserved?"
"Undoubtedly," replied Mrs. Barnaby, unlocking her writing-desk, "and
though I know not how to regret the existence of such feelings, Mr.
Morrison, I will not deny that, for the sake of honour and justice, I am
sorry now that what I have to shew you is so much the least explicit
part of the correspondence."
She then drew forth the packet which contained (be it spoken in
confidence) every syllable ever addressed to her by the laughter-loving
Viscount; and greatly as Mr. Magnus Morrison began to feel interested in
the case, and much as he would have liked to bring so charming a client
into court, he very soon perceived that there was nothing in these
highly-scented, but diminutive _feuilles volantes_, at all likely to
produce any effect on a jury approaching to that elicited by the
evidence of the learned and celebrated Sergeant Buzfuz on an occasion
somewhat similar. He continued to read them all, however, and they were
numerous, with the most earnest attention and unwearied industry,
permitting little or no emotion of any kind to appear on his countenance
as he proceeded, and determined to utter no word approaching to an
opinion till he had carefully perused them all. Important as Mrs.
Barnaby flattered herself these little letters might eventually prove,
and interesting as her lawyer found every word of them, the whole
collection might perhaps be considered as somewhat wearisome, full of
repetition, and even trifling, by the general reader, for which reason a
few only shall be selected as specimens, taken at hazard, and without
any attention either to their dates or the particular events which led
to them.
* * * * *
No. 1.
"PRIMA DONNA DEL MUNDO![1]
"Walk you to-day?... At three be it ... at which hour my
station will be the library.
"M."
[Footnote 1: Lord Mucklebury had been assured, on the authority of Mrs.
Barnaby herself, that her favourite language was the Italian.]
No. 2.
"BELLISSIMA!
"Should I appear to-day (you may guess where) with a friend on
my arm, let it not change the sweet demeanour of my charming
widow. He is an excellent fellow, but one whom I always treat
as if he were not in existence;--for in truth, being almost as
dreadfully in love as myself, he neither sees nor hears.
"M."
No. 3.
"BELLA DONNA!
"It is three days since I have received a line from the fairest
lady in Cheltenham! Write me a whole page, I beseech you, ...
and let it be such a one as shall console me under the
necessity of dining and passing the whole evening with half a
dozen he-fellows, when the champagne will but ill atone for the
sparkling eyes whose light I shall lose by being among them.
But if I have one of your exquisite billets in my
waistcoat-pocket, I shall bear the loss better.
"M."
No. 4.
"VEDOVA MARAVIGLIOSA!
"Should I find the Barnaby disengaged in her saloon, were my
audacious feet to bear me across its threshold this evening?
"M."
Such, and such like, were the manuscripts submitted by Mrs. Barnaby to
the inspection of her lawyer. When he had carefully and deliberately
gone through the whole collection, he tied them all up again with a bit
of rose-coloured ribbon, as he had found them, and pushing them back to
her across the table, said with something like a sigh,--
"It is greatly to be lamented, madam, that some of these little notes
had not been consigned to the flames instead of the letters you have
described to me, ... for my judgment decidedly is, that although every
one of these documents tends to prove the admiration of their author for
the lady to whom they are addressed, there is not one of them which can
be said to contain a positive promise of marriage, or even, I fear, any
implied intention of making a proposal ... so that I am afraid we should
not get a verdict against my Lord Mucklebury on the strength of any
evidence contained therein; nevertheless, if you have witnesses to prove
that such proposal and such promise have been actually made to you by
his lordship, I think these letters might help us to make out a very
pretty case, and one which, if it did not eventually bring you a large
sum of money, would at least be exceedingly vexatious to his lordship--a
circumstance which might in some degree tend to soothe the naturally
outraged feelings of so charming a lady, so villanously treated."
Mr. Morrison said this with his eyes fixed steadily on the widow's face,
intending to ascertain what chance there might be of her wishing to
spend a few hundred pounds for the pleasure of plaguing her perfidious
deluder; but he could make out nothing from this scrutiny. Nevertheless,
the mind of Mrs. Barnaby was busily at work; so many schemes, however,
were battling together in her brain, that the not being able to discover
which preponderated, shewed no want of skill in the lawyer.
First, she had a very strong inclination for a personal interview with
Lord Mucklebury, in order to see how a little passionate grief might
affect him. Secondly, she greatly desired to profit by the present
occasion for seeing some of those London sights which country ladies
and gentlemen so love to talk about. Thirdly, she very ardently wished
to avoid the necessity of paying the debts which his lordship's base
delusions had induced her to contract at Cheltenham. Fourthly, and
lastly, the project of a journey to Rome was beginning to take a very
decided shape in her fancy; but amidst all this there remained not the
smallest wish or intention of trying to revenge her wrongs by the
assistance of the law.... She was beginning to be too well aware of the
melting nature of money in the funds, to wish that the villanous
Viscount should lead her to expend another shilling upon him.
After the silence of a few minutes, Mrs. Barnaby raised her eyes from
the ground, and fixing them with a soft, gentle, resigned smile upon Mr.
Morrison, said,--
"I thank you gratefully, Mr. Morrison, for your frank opinion, given
too in so gentleman-like a manner as to make me feel that I am indeed
rather in the hands of a friend than a lawyer; ... and in return I will
use the same frankness with you. I have loved Lord Mucklebury most
sincerely!... loved him with all the pure disinterested ardour of my
character; but the same warm heart, Mr. Morrison, which thus surrenders
itself without suspicion or restraint, is precisely of the nature most
prompt to reject and forget a being proved to be unworthy of it....
Therefore I may now truly say, that this poor bosom (pressing her two
hands upon it) suffers more from the void within it, than from tender
regret; and I am greatly inclined, since I cannot benefit by your able
services as a lawyer, to urge my friendship with your dear sister as a
claim upon your kindness as a gentleman. Will you assist to cure the
painful void I speak of by giving me your help in my endeavours to see
all that is best worth looking at in London?... I am sure it would do me
good; not to mention that it might give pleasure to the dear child whom
you saw with me when you entered. She is quite my idol, and I should
delight in procuring her an amusement which I know she would so
particularly enjoy."
Mr. Morrison, who was a shrewd, quick-sighted man, thought there was
considerable food for speculation in this speech, and, had leisure
served him, he might have reasoned upon it in a spirit not much unlike
that of Benedict.... "Will you assist to cure the painful void?...
which is as much as to say..." and so on.... He waited not, however, to
give this all the attention it merited, but remembering clearly his
sister's statement respecting the widow's fortune, replied with most
obliging readiness,--
"There is nothing, my dear madam, that I would not joyfully do to prove
my wish of serving a lady so highly esteemed by my sister; and one also,
permit me to add, so deserving the admiration of all the world," replied
the gallant attorney.
"Well, then, my dear sir," rejoined the widow, in accents of renewed
cheerfulness, "I throw myself entirely upon you, and shall be quite
ready to begin to-morrow to go here, there, and everywhere, exactly as
you command."
A scheme for St. Paul's and the Tower in the morning, and one of the
theatres at night, was then sketched out; and the gentleman departed, by
no means certain that this adventure might not terminate by being one of
the most important of his life.