Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

Uncle John.

By G. J. WHYTE-MELVILLE, AUTHOR OF KATE COVENTRY,'
'DIGBY GRAND,' ETC.

CHAPTER XVI.

PLAY.

"YES, I'm very glad to see you, even amongst these awfully smart people, and you must tell me all about dear Middleton. General, let me introduce Mr. Perigord. Mr. Perigord, this is my GeneralGeneral Pike!"

Annie Dennison, wearing the best-fitting and bluest of habits, and the neatest of hats, stopped her horse in its canter down the ride, to shake hands with Lexley's late pupil, a compliment that young gentleman accepted with many professions of gratitude for her condescension.

It was spring-tide in the fashionable world; that period of the summer in which the weather is sure to be at its hottest, and space to turn round is not to be found for love or money in the west end of London. The season had reached its culminating point; acquaintances left off asking each other, "When did you come to town?" but had not yet begun to inquire, "When do you go away?" Balls, drums, breakfasts, every resort for those amusements which so often fail to amuse, was crowded to overflowing; a stall at the French play costs more than a French bonnet, and for an opera-box people paid as much as would have purchased a cow. Everybody complained of the heat, the crush, the hurry, worry, and discomfort; but everybody went everywhere just the same.

No place could be fuller than the Park. The footway, fairly impassable for the throng, was choked with a mass of broadcloth, false hair, and muslin. The penny chairs were occupied, every one, and the men with the badges, who have never in my recollection owned to a good season, were undoubtedly making their hay while the sun shone. In the Ride, horse after horse, singly, by pairs, by threes, by squadrons, passed and repassed in one unbroken stream, to excite wonder, perhaps, rather than admiration, that amongst so many animals there should be so few the bystander would desire to call his own. Beautiful girls, with slender figures, tightly knotted chignons, or loosely floating hair, galloped up and down at a pace that seemed perilous to their companions, and that must have raised their bodily temperature to a degree of heat uncomfortable for themselves, while

stout matrons and calm old gentlemen, perspiring more or less, toiled after them in vain. Here and there, a couple loitered leisurely along under the shady trees, with loose reins and wistful faces, speaking in soft low whispers, or, deadlier still, looking straight between their horses' ears in ominous silence.

Since the young Border chief carried off his bride from Netherby, despite of kith and kin, Fosters, Fenwicks, Musgraves, and all the "racing and chasing o'er Cannobie Lea," no love-making has been more successful than that which is done on horseback. The very attitude seems suggestive of grace, pliability, and dependence on another; the exercise combines just so much of firmness as infers strength of character, with so much of daring as promises a venture for better or worse when the right time comes, while the distance that must of necessity be preserved between the couple causes many a half-formed whisper to fall unheard, and leaves to imagination that which is never understood so satisfactorily as when it remains unspoken, though expressed.

Far down the Drive, from Albert Gate to Hyde Park Corner, ponycarriages, victorias, barouches and broughams formed one continuous line, panels and harness glittering with paint and varnish, maid and matron blooming in their bright and various colours, like a bed of flowers. Here, too, were congregated irreproachable dandies, who either did not possess horses, or found riding incompatible with the superstition of the hour. Those who had waists, rested one neat boot on the box of the wheel, in an attitude that displayed the symmetry of a manly shape to the best advantage. While those who were not so faultless in figure, made play with smiles, and nods, and killing glances from under the brims of their white hats.

To spectators, nothing could appear fuller of mystery and excitement than these conversations; to listeners, such as the coachman and footman, nothing could be more dull and uninteresting. Many a man has the knack of observing, "it is a fine day," with all the outward semblance of one who proposes immediate elopement. Many a lady says she "thinks it's going to rain," with such bright glances and sweet smiles, as seem to yield the willing consent that pledges her to become an "accessory before the fact."

A young gentleman, who had easily persuaded his sister Jemima to lend him her bay mare, found himself rather lost and lonely in the midst of all these well-dressed people, scarcely one of whom he knew even by sight. A good temper, a cricketer's digestion, an utter absence of conceit, and an Eton education, will do much to counteract the shyness that, arising in self-consciousness, is inseparable from youth, but it takes many years, and, alas! many disillusions to acquire that "front of brass" which arms the veteran, for whom the conflict has no terrors, no triumphs, and no excitement. His harness

may be of proof, but he his brightest romance.

wears it at the cost of all his finest fancies, all What would he not give to go down once more naked into the battle, and feel the shafts of the adversary biting as of old to the quick!

When our young gentleman left the paternal dwelling in Belgravia, he considered himself turned out in irreproachable style. His mother's scent-bottle, his sister's hair-wash, and, I fancy, his father's bootvarnish had all been laid under contribution. The bay mare's coat shone like satin, and the whole thing, as reflected in Gunter's windows, seemed to him very good. Strange that, in so short a distance as lies between Lowndes Street and Albert Gate, the mere force of comparison could have effected so complete a disenchantment! Passing into the Ride, Jemima's bay mare collapsed into a moderate palfrey, her rider sank from a smart young dandy to an over-dressed schoolboy. His collar felt too limp, his hat too stiff, his boots, in spite of the paternal varnish, seemed clumsy without feeling comfortable, and a button came off his glove.

Had he not met Annie Dennison, or had she failed to speak to him when she did, I believe our young gentleman would have turned out of the Park incontinently, smarting under a sense of ignominious defeat.

The greeting, however, of so pretty and distinguished-looking a young lady reassured him, and when she desired him to accompany herself and her cavalier, he turned his horse round with a sensation of gratified vanity and renewed self-confidence, no less unreasonable than his previous discomfiture and dismay.

Her General, as Annie called him, was always frank and soldierlike; he shook the young gentleman cordially by the hand, asked when he was going to join his regiment, and, while Perigord explained his present position, not very briefly, was obviously thinking of something else.

"Left Mr. Lexley!" exclaimed Annie, in a tone of astonishment. "Not going back! abandoned poor dear old Middleton and the Priors for ever! (General, who's that bowing ?-the man with a white hat and a red nose?) Mr. Perigord, tell the truth-you've been getting into scrapes. I know you have, and poor Mr. Lexley has been obliged to rusticate you. That's the word."

"Never mind," said the General, "turning sharp round on both. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Old Marchare was rusticated from Oxford. I've heard him say so a hundred times. He was my colonel when I began soldiering, and a smarter officer never handled a regiment. You'll return to your duty, I suppose, Mr. Perigord, when your time is out?"

With some confusion the youth explained how his departure from his tutor's house was in no way connected with misconduct, and how

he carried with him that tutor's goodwill and approval, into the life on which he hoped soon to enter. He could not help thinking the General's interest diminished sensibly during his narrative.

"But why did you leave ?" asked Annie, with a woman's persistent curiosity.

The boy was a gentleman to the backbone. His instincts had already warned him that of the late catastrophe at Lexley's vicarage the less said the better, and he prevaricated with a good feeling that, unless all prevarication be unjustifiable, did honour to his heart.

"I didn't like reading quite so hard," said he, "and I'm afraid I didn't get on. My tutor must have seen it, and wrote to my father to take me away."

"Didn't like reading?" laughed the General. "None of you do. Don't like it myself. What? Like riding a great deal better; I daresay. I'll overtake you in a moment, Annie. There's the Duke beckoning."

So while General Pike reined in his horse with his hat off, Miss Dennison and her young cavalier rode on by themselves, much to the delight of the latter, who expressed his gratification in his own frank, boyish way.

"Do you know I was beginning to feel quite lost and uncomfortable amongst all these swells when I saw you," said he, "but I'm not afraid of any of them now; for it seems to me that you and General (what did you say his name is ?) are the biggest swells of the lot. I say, Miss Dennison, if I was to see you at a ball, would you dance with me? Just once, you know. If you weren't engaged to any one else?"

"Of course I would!" answered Annie, laughing; "and go to supper with you too. I never forget my old friends. You and I were great allies at the Priors. What a pleasant time we had there!" added the young lady, with a little sigh.

"Hadn't we?" responded Perigord. "Wasn't it jolly in the frost ?"

"And wasn't it nice when the thaw came that evening, and Mr. Foster was so pleased? I mean the day Mr. Mortimer and-and Mr. Maxwell came down?"

Again Miss Annie sighed, this time a little deeper than before.

"There is Mr. Mortimer!" she exclaimed, after a moment's silence, and put her horse into a canter with a brighter colour than usual in her cheek.

On the neatest hack in London, with the best fitting coat, the smoothest hat, the most imperturbable air of prosperity and selfconfidence, Percy Mortimer overtook the pair, and while he made his bow to Miss Dennison betrayed just enough certainty of being welcome to provoke her exceedingly. No woman, I believe, cares

for a man who is really her slave, but in all ages the sex has appreciated extreme deference of outward manner as highly as the resolution and recklessness of consequences it so often conceals.

Reach

out and pluck the fruit vigorously if you will, but always remember the hand must be daintily gloved, and that which is ruthlessly extorted by force or address must seem to be waited for with patience, accepted with humility and thanks.

Mortimer's horse could, of course, walk faster and canter slower than any other animal in the park. It is needless to say that a more perfect mount for London purposes could not be procured at any price, or that it represented a cheque for three figures in his banker's account. Percy never grudged money, but always took care to have his money's worth. It was said of him at Oxford that if he paid more for wax candles than any other man in his college, they came from the best shop in London, and returned their full value in light.

Riding an animal so well-shaped, so well-bitted, and well-broken, nothing could be easier than to range up alongside of a young lady at a canter, without seeming to pursue her indiscreetly, or to rein in for her with that overdone affectation of surprise which palpably defeats its object. A turn of the wrist, a touch of the leg, and Mortimer's horse was adapting itself to the pace of Miss Dennison's as if the same volition moved both. The young lady loved a canter only less than a gallop. That she should have pulled back to a walk when joined by this additional cavalier, looked as if she was put

out.

"If I bore you, say so," observed Percy, carefully readjusting the hat he had removed for his salute. "But don't worry your horse's mouth because you are tired of me. I feel I am getting a bore. Old Pike wouldn't look at me just now. Perhaps he's jealous. Miss Dennison, I'll promise to go away after I've shaken hands with Mr. Perigord, who has forgotten me, though I'm delighted to see him." Percy was good-humoured, even when making love—a very strong test, and such good-humour is highly contagious.

Perigord felt gratified, and Annie, half provoked, though she did not know why, shook hands, and graciously permitted him to join the cavalcade under certain penalties and restrictions.

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed. "You don't bore me more than other people, except when you will explain things I don't want to understand. Yes, you may ride with us as far as the end."

"And back again ?"

"Well, back again too, perhaps, if you'll promise not to mention any country but England, and not to tell any story that has the name of a mountain in it, or a river, or a prince, or an ambassador, or a savage of any description. Now, go on!"

« VorigeDoorgaan »