One day, while riding inside a "bus" along the Strand, and gazing out
through the slides, I amused myself by looking at the "fares" seated
upon the "knife-board," or rather their images, reflected in the
plate-glass windows of the shops in front of which we were passing.
While thus engaged, my attention became more especially fixed upon one
of my fellow passengers so reflected; and, on continuing my second-hand
scrutiny, I became convinced that an old acquaintance was directly over
my head. I requested the conductor to stop the "bus," and, upon his
doing so, I got out, and climbed to the top of it. On raising my eyes
to a level with the roof, I saw that I had not been mistaken. Cannon,
whom I had last seen in Melbourne, was one of the row of individuals
that occupied the knife-board.
We got off the "bus" at Charing Cross, stepped into Morley's Hotel, and
ordered "dinner for two."
"Cannon," said I, "how came you to be here? I left you in Melbourne,
without any money. How did you get a passage home?"
"Well," replied Cannon, with a peculiar grin, "it's easily explained.
My well-wishing friends here sent me a little money, which came to hand,
shortly after I saw you. I knew why they did it. They were afraid,
that I might get hard up out there, and, someway or other find my way
home. They weren't so cunning as they thought themselves. On receiving
their cheque, I did with it, just what they didn't intend I should do.
I paid my passage home with the money, for fear I mightn't have the
chance again; and I'll take precious good care, they don't send me out
of England a second time--not if I can help it."
"What has become of Vane?" I asked.
"Vane! the damned insidious viper! I don't like to say anything about
him. He had some money left him here; and got back to England, before I
did. He's here now."
"And how are our friends up the Yarra Yarra. Have you heard anything of
them, since we were there together?"
"Yes; and seen them, too--several times. They were well the last time I
saw them. I mean well in bodily health; but I think a little wrong in
the mind. They became great friends with that fellow Vane."
I noticed that Cannon, although he had said that he did not like to say
anything about Vane, kept continually alluding to him during the two or
three hours that we were together; and always spoke of him with some
show of animosity.
I could see that the two men were friends no longer. I was not
inquisitive as to the cause of their misunderstanding--probably for the
reason, that I took very little interest in the affairs of either.
"Are you in any business here?" asked Cannon, when we were about to
separate.
"No," I replied, "I don't desire to go into business in London; and, as
I can find but little to amuse me, I am thinking of returning to
Australia."
"Ah! that's strange," rejoined Cannon. "Perhaps the reason why you are
not amused, is because you are a stranger here, and have but little
society. Come along with me, and I will introduce you to some of my
friends, who can show you some London life. Will you promise to meet me
here to-morrow, at half-past ten o'clock?"
I did not like giving the promise; but Cannon would take no denial; and,
having nothing else to do, I agreed to meet him, at the time and place
he had mentioned. After that we shook hands, and parted.
Though not particularly caring about either of them, I liked Vane less
than I did Cannon. I was not at all surprised to find that a
disagreement had sprung up between them. In fact, I would rather have
felt surprised, to hear that they had remained so long in each other's
society without having had a quarrel. Cannon, with all his faults, had
some good qualities about him, enough to have rendered him unsuitable as
a "chum" for the other; and I had anticipated a speedy termination of
their friendship. I knew that Vane must have done something very
displeasing to Cannon, else the other would scarce have made use of such
strong expressions, while speaking of his old associate. Cannon, when
not excited by passion, was rather guarded in his language; and rarely
expressed his opinions in a rash or inconsiderate manner.
Next morning, I met him according to appointment; and we drove to a
cottage in Saint John's Wood--where he proposed introducing me to some
of his English acquaintances. We were conducted into a parlour; and the
servant was requested to announce, "Mr Cannon and friend."
The door was soon after opened; and Jessie H--stood before me!
On seeing me, she did not speak; but dropped down into a sofa; and for
some time seemed unconscious, that there was anyone in the room.
It was cruel of Cannon thus to bring us again together; and yet he did
not appear to be the least punished, although present at a scene that
was painful to both of us. On the contrary, he seemed rather pleased at
the emotion called forth upon the occasion.
Jessie soon recovered command of herself, but I could easily perceive,
that her tranquil demeanour was artificial and assumed--altogether
unlike her natural bearing, when I knew her on the banks of the Yarra
Yarra.
Cannon strove hard to keep alive a conversation; but the task of doing
so was left altogether to himself. I could give him but little help;
and from Jessie he received no assistance whatever. The painful
interview was interrupted by the entrance of Mr H--, whose deportment
towards us, seemed even more altered than that of his daughter.
I could easily perceive, that he did not regard either Cannon, or
myself, with any feeling of cordiality.
We were soon after joined by Mrs H--, who met us in a more friendly
manner than her husband; and yet she, too, seemed acting under some
restraint.
While Cannon engaged the attention of Mr and Mrs H--, I had a few
words with Jessie.
She requested me to call, and see them again; but, not liking the manner
in which her father had received me, I declined making a promise. To my
surprise--and a little to my regret--she insisted upon it; and appointed
the next morning, at eleven o'clock--when she and her mother would be
alone.
"I am very unhappy, Rowland," muttered she, in an undertone. "I seldom
see anyone whom I care for. Do come, and see us to-morrow. Will you
promise?"