He was very lonely sitting in his high armchair at the head of the
table. I wonder if you will forgive him for singing this song, which you
will find in Mr. D'Urfey's _Pills to Purge Melancholy_.
_In the merry month of May,
On a morn by break of day,
Forth I walked the wood so wide,
When as May was in her Pride
Here I spy'd all alone, all alone,
Phyllida and Coridon._
_Much ado there was God wot,
He did love, but she could not,
He said his love was to woo,
He said none was false to you;
He said he had lov'd her long,
He said love should take no wrong._
_Coridon would have kissed her then,
She said Maids must kiss no men
Till they kiss for good and all;
Then she bade the shepherds call
All the Gods to witness truth,
Ne'er was loved so fair a youth._
_Then with many a pretty oath,
As Yea and Nay and Faith and Troth,
Such as silly shepherds use,
When they would not love abuse;
Love which had been long deluded
Was with kisses sweet concluded._
_And Phyllida with garlands gay
Was crowned the Lady May._
The words were poor, as you will allow, and the tune a mere tinkle, but
it had the effect of rousing our hero from the half-sleep into which he
had fallen.
"Sing that song again, will you."
"G---- forbid," whispered little Peter Wingfield.
"Nay, sir," said Mr. Vernon, "'Tis too long to sing over again, but I'll
toast the heroine if that will please your zest."
"No, sir," said Charles, "it will not please me at all."
The rest of the company began to wake up to the fact that something was
happening.
"I should have thought," Vernon replied, "that Mr. Lovely would have
cordially welcomed such a toast, for we all know his partiality to the
name."
"Gentlemen," said our hero. Did I not promise you some pretty heroicks a
score of pages back? "Gentlemen, I have a tale to tell you."
Charles looked very stiff and very fierce as, clapping on his wig, he
began:
"A short while ago I perpetrated an indiscretion in mistaking Mr.
Francis Vernon for a gentleman, for which I beg the pardon of everybody
present. Mr. Vernon for some reason best known to himself saw fit to
bribe my bookseller to insert in a volume I have just published twelve
scurrilous lines reflecting upon the character of a young lady whom
I--whom I----"
"Admire," suggested our villain.
"No, sir, respect."
"Sir, your virtue should make us all blush," sneered Vernon, cold and
contemptuous.
"D---- n you and your blushes; blush deeper, then," shouted Charles,
slinging the contents of a wineglass into Mr. Vernon's pallid face.
There was silence for a moment until the honourable Mr. Harthe-Brusshe
proclaimed----
"The affair should be settled at once."
And this was the only remark that the Honourable gentleman uttered in
the whole of the evening.
"With all my heart," cried Charles. "Tony, you'll act for me?"
Mr. Vernon had delicately wiped his face with a handkerchief of Mechlin
lace. A single drop of the wine lingered above his left cheekbone.
There, it was not unbecoming.
"I shall be proud to walk with Mr. Lovely in a month's time," said our
villain, "but for the present my honour is pledged to a lady."
"Sure, you borrow on mighty small security, sir," said Charles.
The lingering drop of wine that stained Mr. Vernon's cheek seemed to
expand for a brief moment.
"I have named my day," was all he answered.
"Mr. Vernon is within his rights, Charles," said Mr. Golightly, "and
moreover the weather will be finer next month and we can make up a
jovial party."
"'Tis hardly fair to poor Daish to fight in his rooms," said Blewforth.
"Ripple would put his shutters up at once."
"H---- take you all," cried Charles, in an access of fury, as he sprang
to strike Vernon.
The latter stepped back and with a well-aimed blow sent Charles flying
backwards over two chairs.
"'Slife, Charles," said Mr. Golightly very stiffly. "Your conduct is
d----d irregular, Sir."
"Most improper," said Mr. Chalkley.
"Devilish unrestrained," said little Peter Wingfield.
"Charles was two bottles ahead of us, gentlemen," said Blewforth who
held a broad mind in a broad body.
Our hero was still lying where Vernon had sent him among cards and
broken glass.
"D---- n you all," cried Clare. "Charles is worth the rest of you
puppies in red and blue coats put together, and by G----, Mr. Vernon, he
shall kill you for that blow."
Everybody was so surprized to hear Mr. Anthony Clare, cool and placid
Tony Clare, break out like this that a wave of embarrassment swept over
the room. One by one they hurried from the scene of such an irregular
quarrel.
It was very entertaining to see them march out so stiff and straight,
with nutshells crackling underneath their feet.
_Chapter the Twenty-sixth_