But as he was turning out his cashbox, and about to go upstairs and
collect a few necessaries, he heard a well-known tread outside. He ran
to the door, which he unfastened with trembling hands, and the statue,
with the hood drawn closely round her strange painted face, passed in
without seeming to heed his presence.
She had come back to him. Why should he run away now, when, if he waited
one more night, he might be rescued from one of his terrors by means of
the other?
"Lady Venus!" he cried hysterically. "Oh, Lady Venus, mum, I thought you
was gone for ever!"
"And you have grieved?" she said almost tenderly. "You welcome my return
with joy! Know then, Leander, that I myself feel pleasure in returning,
even to such a roof as this; for little gladness have I had from my
wanderings. Upon no altar did I see my name shine, nor the perfumed
flame flicker; the Lydian measures were silent, and the praise of
Cytherea. And everywhere I went I found the same senseless troubled
haste, and pale mean faces of men, and squalor, and tumult. Grace and
joyousness have fled--even from your revelry! But I have seen your new
gods, and understand: for, all grimy and mis-shapen and uncouth are they
as they stand in your open places and at the corners of your streets.
Zeus, what a place must Olympus now be! And can any men worship such
monsters, and be gladsome?"
Leander did not perceive the very natural mistake into which the goddess
had fallen; but the fact was, that she had come upon some of our justly
renowned public statues.
"I'm sorry you haven't enjoyed yourself, mum," was all he could find to
say.
"Should I linger in such scenes were it not for you?" she cried
reproachfully. "How much longer will you repulse me?"
"That depends on you, mum," he ventured to observe.
"Ah! you are cold!" she said reproachfully; "yet surely I am worthy of
the adoration of the proudest mortal. Judge me not by this marble
exterior, cunningly wrought though it be. Charms are mine, more dazzling
than any your imagination can picture; and could you surrender your
being to my hands, I should be able to show myself as I really
am--supreme in loveliness and majesty!"
Unfortunately, the hairdresser's imagination was not his strongest
point. He could not dissociate the goddess from the marble shape she had
assumed, and that shape he was not sufficiently educated to admire; he
merely coughed now in a deferential manner.
"I perceive that I cannot move you," she said. "Men have grown strangely
stubborn and impervious. I leave you, then, to your obstinacy; only take
heed lest you provoke me at last to wrath, for my patience is well-nigh
at an end!"
And she was gone, and the bedizened statue stood there, staring hardly
at him with the eyes his own hand had given her.
"This has been the most trying evening I've had yet," he thought. "Thank
my stars, if all goes well, I shall get rid of her by this time
to-morrow!"
The next day passed uneventfully enough, though the unfortunate
Leander's apprehensions increased with every hour. As before, he closed
early, got his apprentice safely off the premises, and sat down to wait
in his saloon. He knew that the statue (which he had concealed during
the day behind a convenient curtain) would probably recover
consciousness for some part of the evening, as it had rarely failed to
do, and prudence urged him to keep an eye over the proceedings of his
tormentress.
To his horror, Aphrodite's first words, after awaking, expressed her
intention of repeating the search for homage and beauty, which had been
so unsuccessful the night before!
"Seek not to detain me, Leander," she said; "for, goddess as I am, I am
drooping under this persistent obduracy. Somewhere beyond this murky
labyrinth, it may be that I shall find a shrine where I am yet
honoured. I will go forth, and never rest till I have found it, and my
troubled spirits are revived by the incense for which I have languished
so long. I am weary of abasing myself to such a contemptuous mortal, nor
will I longer endure such indignity. Stand back, and open the gates for
me! Why do you not obey?"
He knew now that to attempt force would be useless; and yet if she left
him this time, he must either abandon all that life held for him, and
fly to distant parts from the burglars' vengeance--or remain to meet a
too probable doom!
He fell on his knees before her. "Oh, Lady Venus," he entreated, "don't
leave me! I beg and implore you not to! If you do, you will kill me! I
give you my honest word you will!"
The statue's face seemed irradiated by a sudden joy. She paused, and
glanced down with an approving smile upon the kneeling figure at her
feet.
"Why did you not kneel to me before?" she said.
[Illustration: "WHY DID YOU NOT KNEEL TO ME BEFORE?"]
"Because I never thought of it," said the hairdresser, honestly; "but
I'll stay on my knees for hours, if only you won't go!"
"But what has made you thus eager, thus humble?" she said, half in
wonder and half in suspicion. "Can it be, that the spark I have sought
to kindle in your breast is growing to a flame at last? Leander, can
this thing be?"
He saw that she was gratified, that she desired to be assured that this
was indeed so.
"I shouldn't be surprised if something like that was going on inside of
me," he said encouragingly.
"Answer me more frankly," she said. "Do you wish me to remain with
you because you have learnt to love my presence?"
It was a very embarrassing position for him. All depended upon his
convincing the goddess of his dawning love, and yet, for the life of
him, he could not force out the requisite tenderness; his imagination
was unequal to the task.
Another and a more creditable feeling helped to tie his tongue--a sense
of shame at employing such a subterfuge in order to betray the goddess
into the lawless hands of these housebreakers. However, she must be
induced to stay by some means.
"Well," he said sheepishly, "you don't give me a chance to love you, if
you go wandering out every evening, do you?"
She gave a low cry of triumph. "It has come!" she exclaimed. "What are
clouds of incense, flowers, and homage, to this? Be of good heart; I
will stay, Leander. Fear not, but speak the passion which consumes you!"
He became alarmed. He was anxious not to commit himself, and yet employ
the time until the burglars might be expected.
"The fact is," he confessed, "it hasn't gone so far as that yet--it's
beginning; all it wants is _time_, you know--time, and being let alone."
"All Time will be before us, when once your lips have pronounced the
words of surrender, and our spirits are transported together to the
enchanted isle."
"You talk about me going over to this isle--this Cyprus," he said; "but
it's a long journey, and I can't afford it. How _you_ come and go, I
don't know; but I've not been brought up to it myself. I can't flash
across like a telegram!"
"Trust all to me," she said. "Is not your love strong enough for that?"
"Not quite yet," he answered; "it's coming on. Only, you see, it's a
serious step to take, and I naturally wish to feel my way. I declare,
the more I gaze upon the--the elegant form and figger which I see before
me, the stronger and the more irresistible comes over me a burning
desire to think the whole thing carefully over. And if you only allowed
me a little longer to gaze (I've no time to myself except in the
evenings), I don't think it would be long before this affair reached a
'appy termination--I don't indeed!"
"Gaze, then," she said, smiling--"gaze to your soul's content."
"I mean no offence," he represented, having felt his way to a stroke of
supreme cunning, "but when I feel there's a goddess inside of this
statue, I don't know how it is exactly, but it puts me off. I can't fix
my thoughts; the--the passion don't ferment as it ought. If, supposing
now, you was to withdraw yourself and leave me the statue? I could gaze
on it, and think of thee, and Cyprus, and all the rest of it, more
comfortable, so to speak, than what I can when you're animating of it,
and making me that nervous, words can't describe it!"
He hardly dared to hope that so lame and transparent a device would
succeed with her; but, as he had previously found, there was a certain
spice of credulity and simplicity in her nature, which made it possible
to impose upon her occasionally.
"It may be so," she said. "I overawe thee, perchance?"
"Very much so," said he, promptly. "You don't intend it, I know; but
it's a fact."
"I will leave you to meditate upon the charms so faintly shadowed in
this image, remembering that whatever of loveliness you find herein will
be multiplied ten thousand-fold in the actual Aphrodite! Remain, then;
ponder and gaze--and love!"
He waited for a little while after the statue was silent, and then took
up the sacking left for him by Braddle; twice he attempted to throw it
over the marble, and twice he recoiled. "It's no use," he said, "I can't
do it; they must do it themselves!"
He carefully unfastened the window at the back of his saloon, and,
placing the statue in the centre of the floor, turned out the gas, and
with a beating heart stole upstairs to his bedroom, where (with his door
bolted) he waited anxiously for the arrival of his dreaded deliverers.
He scarcely knew how long he had been there, for a kind of waking dream
had come upon him, in which he was providing the statue with light
refreshment in the shape of fancy pebbles and liquid cement, when the
long, low whistle, faintly heard from the back of the house, brought him
back to his full senses.
The burglars had come! He unbolted the door and stole out to the top of
the crazy staircase, intending to rush back and bolt himself in if he
heard steps ascending; and for some minutes he strained his ears,
without being able to catch a sound.
At last he heard the muffled creak of the window, as it was thrown up.
They were coming in! Would they, or would they not, be inhuman enough to
force him to assist them in the removal?
They were still in the saloon; he heard them trampling about, moving the
furniture with unnecessary violence, and addressing one another in tones
that were not caressing. Now they were carrying the statue to the
window; he heard their labouring breath and groans of exertion under the
burden.
Another pause. He stole lower down the staircase, until he was outside
his sitting-room, and could hear better. There! that was the thud as
they leapt out on the flagged yard. A second and heavier thud--the
goddess! How would they get her over the wall? Had they brought steps,
ropes, or what? No matter; they knew their own business, and were not
likely to have forgotten anything. But how long they were about it!
Suppose a constable were to come by and see the cart!
There were sounds at last; they were scaling the wall--floundering,
apparently; and no wonder, with such a weight to hoist after them! More
thuds; and then the steps of men staggering slowly, painfully away. The
steps echoed louder from under the archway, and then died away in
silence.
Could they be really gone? He dared not hope so, and remained shivering
in his sitting-room for some minutes; until, gaining courage, he
determined to go down and shut the window, to avoid any suspicion.
Although now that the burglars were safely off with their prize, even
their capture could not implicate him. He rather hoped they _would_ be
caught!
He took a lighted candle, and descended. As he entered the saloon, a
gust from the open window blew out the light. He stood there in the dark
and an icy draught; and, beginning to grope about in the dark for the
matches, he brushed against something which was soft and had a
cloth-like texture. "It's Braddle!" he thought, and his blood ran cold;
"or else the Count!" And he called them both respectfully. There was no
reply; no sound of breathing, even.
Ha! here was a box of matches at last! He struck a light in feverish
haste, and lit the nearest gas-bracket. For an instant he could see
nothing, in the sudden glare; but the next moment he fell back against
the wall with a cry of horror and despair.
For there, in the centre of the disordered room, stood--not the Count,
not Braddle--but the statue, the mantle thrown back from her arms, and
those arms, and the folds of the marble drapery, spotted here and there
with stains of dark crimson!
DAMOCLES DINES OUT
X.
"To feed were best at home."--_Macbeth._
As soon as Leander had recovered from the first shock of horror and
disappointment, he set himself to efface the stains with which the
statue and the oilcloth were liberally bespattered; he was burning to
find out what had happened to make such desperadoes abandon their design
at the point of completion.
They both seemed to have bled freely. Had they quarrelled, or what? He
went out into the yard with a hand-lamp, trembling lest he should come
upon one or more corpses; but the place was bare, and he then remembered
having heard them stumble and flounder over the wall.
He came back in utter bewilderment; the statue, standing calm and
lifeless as he had himself placed it, could tell him nothing, and he
went back to his bedroom full of the vaguest fears.
The next day was a Saturday, and he passed it in the state of continual
apprehension which was becoming his normal condition. He expected every
moment to see or hear from the baffled ruffians, who would, no doubt,
consider him responsible for their failure; but no word nor sign came
from them, and the uncertainty drove him very near distraction.
As the night approached, he almost welcomed it, as a time when the
goddess herself would enlighten part of his ignorance; and he waited
more impatiently than ever for her return.
He was made to wait long that evening, until he almost began to think
that the marble was deserted altogether; but at length, as he watched,
the statue gave a long, shuddering sigh, and seemed to gaze round the
saloon with vacant eyes.
"Where am I?" she murmured. "Ah! I remember. Leander, while you
slumbered, impious hands were laid upon this image!"
"Dear me, mum; you don't say so!" exclaimed Leander.
"It is the truth! From afar I felt the indignity that was purposed, and
hastened to protect my image, to find it in the coarse grasp of godless
outlaws. Leander, they were about to drag me away by force--away from
thee!"
"I'm very sorry you should have been disturbed," said Leander; and he
certainly was. "So you came back and caught them at it, did you? And
wh--what did you do to 'em, if I may inquire?"
"I know not," she said simply. "I caused them to be filled with mad
fury, and they fell upon one another blindly, and fought like wild
beasts around my image until strength failed them, and they sank to the
ground; and when they were able, they fled from my presence, and I saw
them no more."
"You--you didn't kill them outright, then?" said Leander, not feeling
quite sure whether he would be glad or not to hear that they had
forfeited their lives.
"They were unworthy of such a death," she said; "so I let them crawl
away. Henceforth they will respect our images."
"I should say they would, most likely, madam," agreed Leander. "I do
assure you, I'm almost glad of it myself--I am; it served them both
right."
"_Almost_ glad! And do you not rejoice from your heart that I yet remain
to you?"
"Why," said Leander, "it is, in course, a most satisfactory and
agreeable termination, I'm sure."
"Who knows whether, if this my image had once been removed from you, I
could have found it in my power to return?" she said; "for, I ween, the
power that is left me has limits. I might never have appeared to you
again. Think of it, Leander."
"I was thinking of it," he replied. "It quite upsets me to think how
near it was."
"You are moved. You love me well, do you not, Leander?"
"Oh! I suppose I do," he said--"well enough."
"Well enough to abandon this gross existence, and fly with me where none
can separate us?"
"I never said nothing about that," he answered.
"But yesternight and you confessed that you were yielding--that ere long
I should prevail."
"So I am," he said; "but it will take me some time to yield thoroughly.
You wouldn't believe how slow I yield; why, I haven't hardly begun yet!"
"And how long a time will pass before you are fully prepared?"
"I'm afraid I can't say, not exactly; it may be a month, or it might
only be a week, or again, it may be a year. I'm so dependent upon the
weather. So, if you're in any kind of a hurry, I couldn't advise you, as
a honest man, to wait for me."
"I will not wait a year!" she said fiercely. "You mock me with such
words. I tell you again that my forbearance will last but little
longer. More of this laggard love, and I will shame you before your
fellow-men as an ingrate and a dastard! I will; by my zone, I will!"
"Now, mum, you're allowing yourself to get excited," said Leander,
soothingly. "I wouldn't talk about it no more this evening; we shall do
no good. I can't arrange to go with you just yet, and there's an end of
it."
"You will find that that is not the end of it, clod-witted slave that
you are!"
"Now, don't call names; it's beneath you."
"Ay, indeed! for are not _you_ beneath me? But for very shame I will not
abandon what is justly mine; nor shall you, wily and persuasive
hairdresser though you be, withstand my sovereign will with impunity!"
"So you say, mum!" said Leander, with a touch of his native
impertinence.
"As I say, I shall act; but no more of this, or you will anger me before
the time. Let me depart."
"I'm not hindering you," he said; but she did not remain long enough to
resent his words. He sat down with a groan. "Whatever will become of
me?" he soliloquized dismally. "She gets more pressing every evening,
and she's been taking to threatening dreadful of late.... If the Count
and that Braddle ever come back now, it won't be to take her off my
hands; it'll more likely be to have my life for letting them into such a
trap. They'll think it was some trick of mine, I shouldn't wonder....
And to-morrow's Sunday, and I've got to dine with aunt, and meet Matilda
and her ma. A pretty state of mind I'm in for going out to dinner, after
the awful week I've had of it! But there'll be some comfort in seeing my
darling Tillie again; _she_ ain't a statue, bless her!"
"As for you, mum," he said to the unconscious statue, "I'm going to lock
you up in your old quarters, where you can't get out and do mischief. I
do think I'm entitled to have my Sunday quiet."
After which he contrived to toil upstairs with the image, not without
considerable labour and frequent halts to recover his breath; for
although, as we have already noted, the marble, after being infused with
life, seemed to lose something of its normal weight, it was no light
burden, even then, to be undertaken single-handed.
He slept long and late that Sunday morning; for he had been too
preoccupied for the last few days to make any arrangements for attending
chapel with his Matilda, and he was in sore need of repose besides. So
he rose just in time to swallow his coffee and array himself carefully
for his aunt's early dinner, leaving his two Sunday papers--the
theatrical and the general organs--unread on his table.
It was a foggy, dull day, and Millman Street, never a cheerful
thoroughfare, looked gloomier than ever as he turned into it. But one of
those dingy fronts held Matilda--a circumstance which irradiated the
entire district for him.
He had scarcely time to knock before the door was opened by Matilda in
person. She looked more charming than ever, in a neat dark dress, with a
little white collar and cuffs. Her hair was arranged in a new fashion,
being banded by a neat braided tress across the crown; and her grey
eyes, usually serene and cold, were bright and eager.
The hairdresser felt his heart swell with love at the sight of her. What
a lucky man he was, after all, to have such a girl as this to care for
him! If he could keep her--ah, if he could only keep her!
"I told your aunt _I_ was going to open the door to you," she said. "I
wanted----Oh, Leander, you've not brought it, after all!"
"Meaning what, Tillie, my darling?" said Leander.
"Oh, you know--my cloak!"
He had had so much to think about that he had really forgotten the cloak
of late.
"Well, no, I've not brought that--not the cloak, Tillie," he said
slowly.
"What a time they are about it!" complained Matilda.
"You see," explained the poor man, "when a cloak like that is damaged,
it has to be sent back to the manufacturers to be done, and they've so
many things on their hands. I couldn't promise that you'll have that
cloak--well, not this side of Christmas, at least."
"You must have been very rough with it, then, Leander," she remarked.
"I was," he said. "I don't know how I came to _be_ so rough. You see, I
was trying to tear it off----" But here he stopped.
"Trying to tear it off what?"
"Trying to tear it off nothink, but trying to tear the wrapper off _it_.
It was so involved," he added, "with string and paper and that; and I'm
a clumsy, unlucky sort of chap, sweet one; and I'm uncommon sorry about
it, that I am!"
"Well, we won't say any more about it," said Matilda, softened by his
contrition. "And I'm keeping you out in the passage all this time. Come
in, and be introduced to mamma; she's in the front parlour, waiting to
make your acquaintance."
Mrs. Collum was a stout lady, with a thin voice. She struck a nameless
fear into Leander's soul as he was led up to where she sat. He
thought that she contained all the promise of a very terrible
mother-in-law.
[Illustration: SHE STRUCK A NAMELESS FEAR INTO LEANDER'S SOUL.]
"This is Leander, mamma dear," said Matilda, shyly and yet proudly.
Her mother inspected him for a moment, and then half closed her eyes.
"My daughter tells me that you carry on the occupation of a
hairdresser," she said.
"Quite correct, madam," said Leander; "I do."
"Ah! well," she said, with an unconcealed sigh, "I could have wished to
look higher than hairdressing for my Matilda; but there are
opportunities of doing good even as a hairdresser. I trust you are
sensible of that."
"I try to do as little 'arm as I can," he said feebly.
"If you do not do good, you must do harm," she said uncompromisingly.
"You have it in your means to be an awakening influence. No one knows
the power that a single serious hairdresser might effect with worldly
customers. Have you never thought of that?"
"Well, I can't say I have exactly," he said; "and I don't see how."
"There are cheap and appropriate illuminated texts," she said, "to be
had at so much a dozen; you could hang them on your walls. There are
tracts you procure by the hundred; you could put them in the lining of
hats as you hang them up; you could wrap them round your--your bottles
and pomatum-pots. You could drop a word in season in your customer's ear
as you bent over him. And you tell me you don't see how; you _will_ not
see, I fear, Mr. Tweddle."
"I'm afraid, mum," he replied, "my customers would consider I was taking
liberties."
"And what of that, so long as you save them?"
"Well, you see, I shouldn't--I should _lose_ 'em! And it's not done in
our profession; and, to tell you the honest truth, I'm not given that
way myself--not to the extent of tracks and suchlike, that is."
Matilda's mother groaned; it was hard to find a son-in-law with whom she
had nothing in common, and who was a hairdresser into the bargain.
"Well, well," she said, "we must expect crosses in this life; though for
my own daughter to lay this one upon me is--is----But I will not
repine."
"I'm sorry you regard me in the light of a cross," said Leander; "but,
whether I'm a cross or a naught, I'm a respectable man, and I love your
daughter, mum, and I'm in a position to maintain her."
Leander hated to have to appear under false pretences, of which he had
had more than enough of late. He was glad now to speak out plainly,
particularly as he had no reason to fear this old woman.
"Hush, Leander! Mamma didn't mean to be unkind; did you, mamma?" said
Matilda.
"I said what I felt," she said. "We will not discuss it further. If, in
time, I see reason for bestowing my blessing upon a choice which at
present----But no matter. If I see reason in time, I will not withhold
it. I can hardly be expected to approve at present."
"You shall take your own time, mum; _I_ won't hurry you," said Leander.
"Tillie is blessing enough for me--not but what I shall be glad to be on
a pleasant footing with you, I'm sure, if you can bring yourself to it."
Before Mrs. Collum could reply, Miss Louisa Tweddle made an opportune
appearance, to the relief of Matilda, in whom her mother's attitude was
causing some uneasiness.
Miss Tweddle was a well-preserved little woman, with short curly
iron-grey hair and sharp features. In manner she was brisk, not to say
chirpy, but she secreted sentiment in large quantities. She was very far
from the traditional landlady, and where she lost lodgers occasionally
she retained friends. She regarded Mrs. Collum with something like
reverence, as an acquaintance of her youth who had always occupied a
superior social position, and she was proud, though somewhat guiltily
so, that her favourite nephew should have succeeded in captivating the
daughter of a dentist.
She kissed Leander on both cheeks. "He's done the best of all my
nephews, Mrs. Collum, ma'am," she explained, "and he's never caused me a
moment's anxiety since I first had the care of him, when he was first
apprenticed to Catchpole's in Holborn, and paid me for his board."
"Well, well," said Mrs. Collum, "I hope he never may cause anxiety to
you, or to any one."
"I'll answer for it, he won't," said his aunt. "I wish you could see him
dress a head of hair."
Mrs. Collum shut her eyes again. "If at his age he has not acquired the
necessary skill for his line in life," she observed, "it would be a very
melancholy thing to reflect upon."
"Yes, wouldn't it?" agreed Miss Tweddle; "you say very truly, Mrs.
Collum. But he's got ideas and notions beyond what you'd expect in a
hairdresser--haven't you, Leandy? Tell Miss Collum's dear ma about the
new machines you've invented for altering people's hands and eyes and
features."
"I don't care to be told," the lady struck in. "To my mind, it's nothing
less than sheer impiety to go improving the features we've been endowed
with. We ought to be content as we are, and be thankful we've been sent
into the world with any features at all. Those are my opinions!"
"Ah," said the politic Leander, "but some people are saved having resort
to Art for improvement, and we oughtn't to blame them as are less
favoured for trying to render themselves more agreeable as spectacles,
ought we?"
"And if every one thought with you," added his aunt, with distinctly
inferior tact, "where would your poor dear 'usband have been, Mrs.
Collum, ma'am?"
"My dear husband was not on the same level--he was a medical man; and,
besides, though he replaced Nature in one of her departments, he had too
much principle to _imitate_ her. Had he been (or had I allowed him to
be) less conscientious, his practice would have been largely extended;
but I can truthfully declare that not a single one of his false teeth
was capable of deceiving for an instant. I hope," she added to Leander,
"you, in your own different way, are as scrupulous."
"Why, the fact is," said Leander, whose professional susceptibilities
were now aroused, "I am essentially an artist. When I look around, I see
that Nature out of its bounty has supplied me with a choice selection of
patterns to follow, and I reproduce them as faithful as lies within my
abilities. You may call it a fine thing to take a blank canvas, and
represent the luxurious tresses and the blooming hue of 'ealth upon it,
and so do I; but I call it a still higher and nobler act to produce a
similar effect upon a human 'ed!"
"Isn't that a pretty speech for a young man like him--only
twenty-seven--Mrs. Collum?" exclaimed his admiring aunt.
"You see, mamma dear," pleaded Matilda, who saw that her parent remained
unaffected, "it isn't as if Leander was in poor papa's profession."
"I hope, Matilda," said the lady sharply, "you are not going to pain me
again by mentioning this young man and your departed father in the same
breath, because I cannot bear it."
"The old lady," reflected Leander here, "don't seem to take to me!"
"I'm sure," said Miss Tweddle, "Leandy quite feels what an honour it is
to him to look forward to such a connection as yours is. When I first
heard of it, I said at once, 'Leandy, you can't never mean it; she won't
look at you; it's no use your asking her,' I said. And I quite scolded
myself for ever bringing them together!"
Mrs. Collum seemed inclined to follow suit, but she restrained herself.
"Ah! well," she observed, "my daughter has chosen to take her own way,
without consulting my prejudices. All I hope is, that she may never
repent it!"
"Very handsomely said, ma'am," chimed in Miss Tweddle; "and, if I know
my nephew, repent it she never will!"
Leander was looking rather miserable; but Matilda put out her hand to
him behind his aunt's back, and their eyes and hands met, and he was
happy again.
"You must be wanting your dinner, Mrs. Collum," his aunt proceeded; "and
we are only waiting for another lady and gentleman to make up the party.
I don't know what's made them so behindhand, I'm sure. He's a very
pleasant young man, and punctual to the second when he lodged with me. I
happened to run across him up by Chancery Lane the other evening, and he
said to me, in his funny way, 'I've been and gone and done it, Miss
Tweddle, since I saw you. I'm a happy man; and I'm thinking of bringing
my young lady soon to introduce to you.' So I asked them to come and
take a bit of dinner with me to-day, and I told him two o'clock sharp,
I'm sure. Ah, there they are at last! That's Mr. Jauncy's knock, among a
thousand."
Leander started. "Aunt!" he cried, "you haven't asked Jauncy here
to-day?"
"Yes, I did, Leandy. I knew you used to be friends when you were
together here, and I thought how nice it would be for both your young
ladies to make each other's acquaintance; but I didn't tell _him_
anything. I meant it for a surprise."
And she bustled out to receive her guests, leaving Leander speechless.
What if the new-comers were to make some incautious reference to that
pleasure-party on Saturday week? Could he drop them a warning hint?
"Don't you like this Mr. Jauncy, Leander?" whispered Matilda, who had
observed his ghastly expression.
"I like him well enough," he returned, with an effort; "but I'd rather
we had no third parties, I must say."
Here Mr. Jauncy came in alone, Miss Tweddle having retired to assist the
lady to take off her bonnet.
Leander went to meet him. "James," he said in an agitated whisper, "have
you brought Bella?"
Jauncy nodded. "We were talking of you as we came along," he said in the
same tone, "and I advise you to look out--she's got her quills up, old
chap!"
"What about?" murmured Leander.
Mr. Jauncy's grin was wider and more appreciative than ever as he
replied, mysteriously, "Rosherwich!"
Leander would have liked to ask in what respect Miss Parkinson
considered herself injured by the expedition to Rosherwich; but, before
he could do so, his aunt returned with the young lady in question.
Bella was gorgeously dressed, and made her entrance with the stiffest
possible dignity. "Miss Parkinson, my dear," said her hostess, "you
mustn't be made a stranger of. That lady sitting there on the sofa is
Mrs. Collum, and this gentleman is a friend of _your_ gentleman's, and
my nephew, Leandy."
"Oh, thank you," said Bella, "but I've no occasion to be told Mr.
Tweddle's name; we have met before--haven't we, Mr. Tweddle?"
He looked at her, and saw her brows clouded, and her nose and mouth with
a pinched look about them. She was annoyed with him evidently--but why?
"We have," was all he could reply.
"Why, how nice that is, to be sure!" exclaimed his aunt. "I might have
thought of it, too, Mr. Jauncy, and you being such friends and all. And
p'r'aps you know this lady, too--Miss Collum--as Leandy is keeping
company along with?"
Bella's expression changed to something blacker still. "No," she said,
fixing her eyes on the still unconscious Leander; "I made sure that Mr.
Tweddle was courting _a_ young lady, but--but--well, this _is_ a
surprise, Mr. Tweddle! You never told us of this when last we met. I
shall have news for somebody!"
"Oh, but it's only been arranged within the last month or two!" said
Miss Tweddle.
"Considering we met so lately, he might have done us the compliment of
mentioning it, I must say!" said Bella.
"I--I thought you knew," stammered the hairdresser; "I told----"
"No, you didn't, excuse me; oh no, you didn't, or some things would have
happened differently. It was the place and all that made you forget it,
very likely."
"When did you meet one another, and where was it, Miss Parkinson?"
inquired Matilda, rather to include herself in the conversation than
from any devouring curiosity.
Leander struck in hoarsely. "We met," he explained, "some time since,
quite casual."
Bella's eyes lit up with triumphant malice. "What!" she said, "do you
call yesterday week such a long while? What a compliment that is,
though! And so he's not even mentioned it to you, Miss Collum? Dear me,
I wonder what reasons he had for that, now!"
"There's nothing to wonder at," said Leander; "my memory does play me
tricks of that sort."
"Ah, if it was only you it played tricks on! There's Miss Collum dying
to know what it's all about, I can see."
"Indeed, Miss Parkinson, I'm nothing of the sort," retorted Matilda,
proudly. Privately her reflection was: "She's got a lovely gown on, but
she's a common girl, for all that; and she's trying to set me against
Leander for some reason, and she shan't do it."
"Well," said Bella, "you're a fortunate man, Mr. Tweddle, that you are,
in every way. I'm afraid I shouldn't be so easy with my James."
"There's no need for being afraid about it," her James put in; "you
aren't!"
"I hope you haven't as much cause, though," she retorted.
Leander listened to her malicious innuendo with a bewildered agony. Why
on earth was she making this dead set at him? She was amiable enough on
Saturday week. It never occurred to him that his conduct to her sister
could account for it, for had he not told Ada straightforwardly how he
was situated?
Fortunately dinner was announced to be ready just then, and Bella was
silenced for the moment in the general movement to the next room.
Leander took in Matilda's mamma, who had been studiously abstracting
herself from all surrounding objects for the last few minutes. "That
Bella is a downright basilisk," he thought dismally, as he led the way.
"Lord, how I do wish dinner was done!"
DENOUNCED
XI.
"There's a new foot on the floor, my friend;
And a new face at the door, my friend;
A new face at the door."
Leander sat at the head of the table as carver, having Mrs. Collum and
Bella on his left, and James and Matilda opposite to them.
James was the first to open conversation, by the remark to Mrs. Collum,
across the table, that they were "having another dull Sunday."
"That," rejoined the uncompromising lady, "seems to me a highly improper
remark, sir."
"My friend Jauncy," explained Leander, in defence of his abashed
companion, "was not alluding to present company, I'm sure. He meant the
dulness _outside_--the fog, and so on."
"I knew it," she said; "and I repeat that it is improper and irreverent
to speak of a dull Sunday in that tone of complaint. Haven't we all the
week to be lively in?"
"And I'm sure, ma'am," said Jauncy, recovering himself, "you make the
most of your time. Talking of fog, Tweddle, did you see those lines on
it in to-day's _Umpire_? Very smart, I call them; regular witty."
"And do you both read a paper on Sunday mornings with 'smart' and
'witty' lines in it?" demanded Mrs. Collum.
"I--I hadn't time this morning," said the unregenerate Leander; "but I
do occasionally cast an eye over it before I get up."
Mrs. Collum groaned, and looked at her daughter reproachfully.
"I see by the _Weekly News_," said Jauncy, "you've had a burglary in
your neighbourhood."
Leander let the carving-knife slip. "A burglary! What! in my
neighbourhood? When?"
"Well, p'r'aps not a burglary; but a capture of two that were 'wanted'
for it. It's all in to-day's _News_."
"I--I haven't seen a paper for the last two days," said Leander, his
heart beating with hope. "Tell us about it!"
"Why, it isn't much to tell; but it seems that last Friday night, or
early on Saturday morning, the constable on duty came upon two
suspicious-looking chaps, propped up insensible against the railings in
Queen Square, covered with blood, and unable to account for themselves.
Whether they'd been trying to break in somewhere and been beaten off, or
had quarrelled, or met with some accident, doesn't seem to be known for
certain. But, anyway, they were arrested for loitering at night with
housebreaking things about them; and, when they were got to the station,
recognized as the men 'wanted' for shooting a policeman down at
Camberwell some time back, and if it is proved against them they'll be
hung, for certain."
"What were they called? Did it say?" asked Leander, eagerly. |
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