Prudent people will knit their brows and wise people shake their heads
at the bare mention of it, but I cannot help saying that there is a
wonderful fascination in those little gatherings which bring a few old
friends around the same board, who, forgetting all the little pinchings
and straits of narrow fortune, give themselves up for once to enjoyment
without a thought for the cost or a care for the morrow. I do not want
this to pass for sound morality, nor for a discreet line of conduct; I
only say that in the spirit that can subdue every sentiment that would
jar on the happiness of the hour there is a strength and vitality that
shows this feeling is not born of mere conviviality, but of something
deeper, and truer, and heartier.
“If we only had poor Jack here,” whispered Augustus Bramleigh to
L'Estrange, as they drew around the Christmas fire, “I 'd say this was
the happiest hearth I know of.”
“And have you no tidings of him?” said L'Estrange, in the same low tone;
for, although the girls were in eager talk together, he was afraid Julia
might overhear what was said.
“None, except that he sailed from China on board an American clipper
for Smyrna, and I am now waiting for news from the consul there, to whom
I have written, enclosing a letter for him.”
“And he is serving as a sailor?”
Bramleigh nodded.
“What is the mysterious conversation going on there?” said Julia. “How
grave George looks, and Mr. Bramleigh seems overwhelmed with a secret of
importance.”
“I guess it,” said Nelly, laughing. “Your brother is relating your
interview with Sir Marcus Cluff, and they are speculating on what is to
come of it.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” cried L'Estrange, suddenly, “Sir Marcus's
servant brought me a letter just as I was dressing for dinner. Here it
is. What a splendid seal--supporters too! Have I permission to read?”
“Read, read by all means,” cried Julia.
“'Dear Sir,--If I could have sufficiently conquered my bronchitis as
to have ventured out this morning, I would have made you my personal
apologies for not having received you last night when you did me the
honor to call, as well as opened to you by word of mouth what I am now
reduced to convey by pen.'”
“He is just as prolix as when he talks,” said Julia.
“It's a large hand, however, and easy to read. 'My old enemy the
larynx--more in fault than even the bronchial tubes--is again in
arms--'”
“Oh, do spare us his anatomical disquisition, George. Skip him down to
where he proposes for me.”
“But it is what he does not. You are not mentioned in the whole of it.
It is all about church matters. It is an explanation of why every one
has withdrawn his subscription and left the establishment, and why he
alone is faithful and willing to contribute, even to the extent of five
pounds additional--”
“This is too heartless by half; the man has treated me shamefully.”
“I protest I think so too,” said Nelly, with a mock seriousness; “he
relies upon your brother's gown for his protection.”
“Shall I have him out? But, by the way, why do you call me Mr.
Bramleigh? Wasn't I Augustus--or rather Gusty--when we met last?”
“I don't think so; so well as I remember, I treated you with great
respect dashed with a little bit of awe. You and your elder sister were
always 'personages' to me.”
“I cannot understand that. I can easily imagine Temple inspiring that
deference you speak of.”
“You were the true prince, however, and I had all Falstaff's reverence
for the true prince.”
“And yet you see after all I am like to turn out only a pretender.”
“By the way, the pretender is here; I mean--if it be not a bull to say
it--the real pretender, Count Pracontal.”
“Count Pracontal de Bramleigh, George,” said Julia, correcting him. “It
is the drollest mode of assuming a family name I ever heard of.”
“What is he like?” asked Ellen.
“Like a very well-bred Frenchman of the worst school of French manners:
he has none of that graceful ease and that placid courtesy of the
past period, but he has abundance of the volatile readiness and showy
smartness of the present day. They are a wonderful race, however, and
their smattering is better than other men's learning.”
“I want to see him,” said Augustus.
“Well,” broke in L'Estrange, “Lady Augusta writes to me to say he wants
to see _you_.”
“What does Lady Augusta know of him?”
“Heaven knows,” cried Julia; “but they are always together; their rides
over the Campagna furnish just now the chief scandal of Rome. George,
you may see, looks very serious and rebukeful about it; but, if the
truth were told, there's a little jealousy at the root of his morality.”
“I declare, Julia, this is too bad.”
“Too true, also, my dear George. Will you deny that you used to ride
out with her nearly every evening in the summer, rides that began at
sunset and ended--I was always asleep when you came home, and so I never
knew when they ended.”
“Was she very agreeable?” asked Nelly, with the faintest tinge of
sharpness in her manner.
“The most--what shall I call it?--inconsequent woman I ever met,
mixing up things the most dissimilar together, and never dwelling for an
instant on anything.”
“How base men are,” said Julia, with mock reproach in her voice. “This
is the way he talks of a woman he absolutely persecuted with attentions
the whole season. Would you believe it, Nelly, we cut up our nice little
garden to make a school to train her horse in?”
Whether it was that some secret intelligence was rapidly conveyed from
Julia as she spoke to Nelly, or that the latter of herself caught up the
quizzing spirit of her attack, but the two girls burst out laughing, and
George blushed deeply, in shame and irritation.
“First of all,” said he, stammering with confusion, “she had a little
Arab, the wickedest animal I ever saw. It wasn't safe to approach him;
he struck out with his forelegs--”
“Come, Nelly,” said Julia, rising, “we'll go into the drawing-room, and
leave George to explain how he tamed the Arab and captivated the Arab's
mistress, for your brother might like to learn the secret. You 'll join
us, gentlemen, when you wish for coffee.”
“That was scarcely fair, Julia dear,” said Nelly, when they were alone.
“Your banter is sometimes too sharp for him.”
“I can't help it, dearest--it is a part of my nature. When I was a
child, they could not take me to a wild-beast show, for I would insist
on poking straws at the tiger--not that poor dear George has much
'tiger' in him. But do you know, Nelly,” said she, in a graver tone,
“that when people are very poor, when their daily lives are beset by
the small accidents of narrow fortune, there is a great philosophy in
a little banter? You brush away many an annoyance by seeming to feel
it matter for drollery, which, if taken seriously, might have made you
fretful and peevish.”
“I never suspected there was method in your madness, Ju,” said Nelly,
smiling.
“Nor was there, dearest; the explanation was almost an afterthought.
But come now and tell me about yourselves.”
“There is really little to tell. Augustus never speaks to me now of
business matters. I think I can see that he is not fully satisfied with
himself; but, rather than show weakness or hesitation, he is determined
to go on as he began.”
“And you are really going to this dreary place?”
“He says so.”
“Would any good come, I wonder, of bringing your brother and Pracontal
together? They are both men of high and generous feelings. Each seems
to think that there ought to be some other settlement than a recourse to
lawyers. Do you think he would refuse to meet Pracontal?”
“That is a mere chance. There are days he would not listen to such
a proposal, and there are times he would accept it heartily; but the
suggestion must not come from me. With all his love for me, he rather
thinks that I secretly disapprove of what he has done, and would reverse
it if I knew how.”
“What if I were to hint at it? He already said he wished to see him.
This might be mere curiosity, however. What if I were to say, 'Why not
meet Pracontal? Why not see what manner of man he is? There is nothing
more true than the saying that half the dislikes people conceive
against each other would give way if they would condescend to become
acquainted.'”
“As I have just said, it is a mere chance whether he would consent, and
then--”
“Oh, I know! It would be also a chance what might come of it.”
Just as she said this, the young men entered the room, with smiling
faces, and apparently in high good-humor.
“Do you know the plan we 've just struck out?” cried Bramleigh. “George
is to come and live at Cattaro. I 'm to make him consular chaplain.”
“But is there such an appointment?” asked Julia, eagerly.
“Heaven knows; but if there is not, there ought to be.”
“And the salary, Mr. Bramleigh. Who pays it? What is it?”
“There again I am at fault; but her Majesty could never intend we should
live like heathens,” said Augustus, “and we shall arrange it somehow.”
“Oh, if it were not for 'somehow,'” said Julia, “we poor people
would be worse off in life than we are; but there are so many what the
watchmakers call escapements in existence, the machinery manages to
survive scores of accidents.”
“At all events we shall be all together,” said Augustus, “and we shall
show a stouter front to fortune than if we were to confront her singly.”
“I think it a delightful plan,” said Julia. “What says Nelly?”
“I think,” said Nelly, gravely, “that it is more than kind in you to
follow us into our banishment.”
“Then let us set off at once,” said Augustus, “for I own to you I wish
to be out of men's sight, out of ear-shot of their comments, while this
suit is going on. It is the publicity that I dread far more than even
the issue. Once that we reach this wild barbarism we are going to, you
will see I will bear myself with better spirits and better temper.”
“And will you not see Monsieur Pracontal before you go?” asked Julia.
“Not if I can avoid it; unless, indeed, you all think I ought.”
Julia looked at Nelly, and then at her brother. She looked as if she
wanted them to say something--anything; but neither spoke, and then,
with a courage that never failed her, she said,--
“Of course we think that a meeting between two people who have no
personal reasons for dislike, but have a great question to be decided
in favor of one of them, cannot but be useful. If it will not lead to a
friendship, it may at least disarm a prejudice.”
“I wish I had you for my counsel, Julia,” said Bramleigh, smiling. “Is
it yet too late to send you a brief?”
“Perhaps I am engaged for the other side.”
“At all events,” said he, more seriously, “if it be a blunder to meet
the man, it cannot much matter. The question between us must be decided
elsewhere, and we need not add the prejudices of ignorance to the rancor
of self-interest. I 'll see him.”
“That's right; I 'm sure that's right,” said L'Estrange. “I'll despatch
a note to Lady Augusta, who is eager for your answer.”