Interludes Part 8

When a man tells a lie, it is with some hope, however slight, that he may not be found out; but a woman will lie to the very person whom she knows to be as fully acquainted with the facts as she is herself. Which is the more deadly sin I leave to the Jesuits.

"I am sure," said the Coach, making a desperate effort, "you appeared to enjoy them, for you danced a great many dances."

"Aunt!" exclaimed the lady, "is it true that I always dance every dance?"

"No indeed!" chimed in Miss Candlish, "far from it. No doubt you would get partners for all if you wished."

"And is it true," she continued, "that I wish to go to these ridiculous soirees?"

"Certainly not, indeed," said the Drag, "nor do I wish to go, I am sure!"

"In that case I can dispose of your ticket," said he. Unlucky man! In these cases there is no _via media_. A man should either resist to the death or submit with as good a grace as he can. Half measures are fatal.

"No, my dear, you cannot dispose of that ticket," said his wife, "and I take it as very unkind in you to speak to Aunt in that manner. It is not because she is poor, and dependent upon us, that she is to be sneered at and ill-treated." At this speech the Drag burst into tears, and declared that she always knew that Mr. Porkington hated her; that she might be poor and old and ugly, etc., etc., but she little expected to be called so by him; that she would not go to the ball now, if he implored her on his knees, and so on, and so on.

Now, who could have thought it? All this fuss was occasioned by Mr. P.

having meanly backed out of giving Mrs. P. a new dress in which to electrify the fas.h.i.+onable world at Babbicombe. Ah me! Let us hope that in some far distant planet there may be some better world where all unfortunate creatures,--dogs which have had tin kettles tied to their tails,--c.o.c.kchafers which have been spun upon pins,--poor men who have been over-crawed by wives, aunts, mothers-in-law, and other terrors,--donkeys which have been undeservedly belaboured by costermongers,--and authors who have been meritoriously abused by critics,--rest together in peace in a sort of happy family.

At this point Barton, Glenville, Thornton, and I all entered the room.

"Oh, I am so glad to see the ladies are ready," said Thornton. "This will be our last ball, and we ought to make a happy evening of it. Are you not sorry we are coming to the end of our gaieties, Miss Candlish?"

"Sorry!" exclaimed the Drag, ferociously. "Sorry! I never was more pleased--pleased--pleased!" Every time she repeated the word "pleased"

she launched it at the head of the unfortunate tutor, as if she hoped her words would turn into brickbats ere they reached him.

"I am glad to see you are going, however," said Glenville.

"There you are mistaken," said the Aunt, "for Mr. Porkington has been so very kind as to say he had rather I did not go."

"Really, really," cried Porkington, "I can a.s.sure you it is quite the reverse. I am so misunderstood that really I am sure I can't tell--"

"Oh, pray do not disappoint us in our last evening together, Miss Candlish," said Glenville, coming to the rescue of the unfortunate tutor, and speaking in his most fascinating manner, "I have hoped for the pleasure of a quadrille and lancers and" (with an effort) "a waltz with you this evening if you will allow me."

The Drag became calm, and after a little while diplomatic relations were fairly established, and away we all went to the a.s.sembly Rooms, Glenville whispering to me and Barton, "I have made up my mind to get rid of that pink muslin to-night or perish in the attempt." I had no opportunity at the moment of asking him what he meant, but I was sure he meant mischief.

However, I never gave the matter a second thought, as the business of dancing soon commenced. Captains...o...b..ien and Kelly were already waltzing with the two Misses Bankes, and whispering delightful nothings into their curls as we entered. The artist was floundering in a persevering manner with pretty Miss Bagshaw, and the doctor was standing in the doorway ruminating hopefully on the probable effects of low dresses and cold draughts. Thornton was soon engrossed in the charms of his lady love, and Barton, Glenville, and I were doing our duty by all the young ladies.

The room was well filled, and, though not well lighted nor well appointed, was large and cheerful enough. The German Band performed prodigies; the row was simply deafening. There were a few seats by the walls for those who did not dance, and there was a room for lemonade, cakes, and bad ices for those who liked them, as well as a small room in which the old fogies could play a rubber of whist.

Mrs. Delamere had pinned Mr. Bankes in a corner, and was enlarging to him upon one of her favourite topics.

"The Church of England," said she, "is undoubtedly in great danger, but why should we regret it? It has become a thing of the past, and so have chivalry and monasteries. The mind of the nineteenth century is marching on to its goal. The intellect of England is a.s.serting itself. I have ever loved the intellect of England, haven't you?"

"Oh, quite so--ah, yes, certainly, of course!" said Mr. Bankes.

"You agree with me," said Mrs. Delamere; "I was sure you would. This is most delightful. I have seldom talked with any true thinker who does not agree with me."

"I am sure," said Mr. Bankes gallantly, "no one would venture to cope with such an accomplished disputant."

"Perhaps not," she said complacently, "but I should not desire to disagree with anyone upon religious subjects. The great desideratum--you see I understand the Latin tongue, Mr. Bankes--the great desideratum is harmony--the harmony of the soul! How are we to arrive at harmony? that is the pressing question."

"Bagshaw, you are a low cheat, sir: you are nothing better than a common swindler, sir. I will not play with you any more. Do you call yourself a whist player and make signs to your partner. I should be ashamed to stay in the same room with you."

Several of the dancers hastened into the card-room. Mrs. Bagshaw was standing up flushed and excited, and talking loudly and wildly. She had overset her chair, and flung down her cards upon the table. Seeing Porkington enter, she cried out, "Look to your wife, sir, look to your wife. She received signals across the table. It has nothing to do with the cards. Look at that man who is called my husband--that monster--that bundle of lies and deceit, who has been the ruin of hundreds."

"By heavens, this is too bad!" exclaimed Colonel Bagshaw. "I declare nothing has happened that I know of, except that my wife has forgotten to count honours."

"It is a lie, sir, and you know it. You are trying to ruin a woman before my very eyes. Oh, you man, you brute! Oh, help, help me, help!"

and in act to fall she steadied herself by clenching tightly the back of her chair. Her daughter was luckily close to her, "Oh, mamma, mamma,"

whispered she, "how can you say such things? Come away, come away; you are ill. Do come." She led her out into the hall, and hurriedly adjusting the shawls, went home with her mother.

Porkington showed himself a man. He took Colonel Bagshaw by the hand. "I am very sorry," said he, "that Mrs. Bagshaw should have made some mistake. Some sudden vexation, and I am afraid some indisposition, must be the cause of her excitement. Allow me to take her place and finish the game. I am afraid you will find me a poor performer, Colonel."

"Oh, not at all. Let us begin. I will deal again, and the scoring stands as it did."

Mrs. Porkington during this scene had turned pale and red alternately.

Her husband's dignity and presence of mind astonished her. She was so excited as to be almost unable to play her cards, and her lips and eyes betrayed very great emotion. The tutor's cheek showed some trace of colour, and his manner was even graver than usual, but that was all; and his wife felt the presence of a superior force to her own, and was checked into silence. I had always felt sure that there was a reserve of force in the timid nature of our Coach which seemed to peep forth at times and then retire again. It was curious to mark on these rare occasions how the more boisterous self-a.s.sertion of Mrs. Porkington seemed for a time to cower before the gentler but finer will. Natures are not changed in a day, but the effect of the singular scene which had been enacted at that time was never effaced, and a gradual and mutual approach was made between husband and wife towards a more cordial and complete sympathy.

The music had not ceased playing during the disturbance, and the dancers, with great presence of mind, quickly returned to their places, and the usual frivolities of the evening continued to the accustomed hour of midnight, when the party began to break up. I could not find Glenville or Barton. Where could they be? Once or twice in the pauses of the dance I had noticed them talking earnestly together, and occasionally with suppressed laughter. "Now, what joke are these fellows up to, I wonder?" However, it was not my business to inquire, though I had a kind of fear that the combination of gunpowder with lucifer matches in a high temperature could hardly be more dangerous than the meeting of Glenville and Barton in a mischievous mood. Before the last dance had commenced they had left the hall, and, as soon as they got outside, they found Miss Candlish's sedan chair in the custody of the two men who usually carried her to and fro when she attended the b.a.l.l.s. Two other sedan chairs, several bath chairs and donkey chairs, and a couple of flys were in attendance. Aided by the magical influence of a small "tip," Glenville easily persuaded the men in charge that the dance would not be over for a few minutes, and that they had time to go and get a gla.s.s of beer, which, he said, Miss Candlish wished them to have in return for the care and trouble they had several times taken in carrying her home. As soon as they had gone, he and Barton came back into the ball-room; and, as the last dance was coming to an end, and the band was beginning to scramble through "G.o.d save the Queen," in a most disloyal manner, he came up to Miss Candlish, and said, "May I have the pleasure of seeing you to your chair, and thanking you for that very delightful dance?"

"My dear Mr. Glenville," said the Drag, "your politeness is quite overpowering. Ah, if all young men were like you, what a very different world it would be."

"You must not flatter me," said Glenville, "for I am very soft hearted, especially where the fair s.e.x is concerned."

"Ah, how I wish I had a son like you!" sighed the Drag.

"And how I wish you were my m--m--mother!" replied that villain Glenville, as he adjusted her cloak, and led her out to her chair. It was pitchy dark outside (only a couple of candle lanterns to see by), and the usual confusion upon the breaking up of a large party was taking place. Miss Candlish stepped into her chair, and the door was closed.

Glenville and Barton took up the chair, and, going as smoothly as they could (which was not as smoothly as the usual carriers), they turned aside from the main stream of the visitors, and made at once for the harbour. Here they had intended to deposit the chair, and leave the rest to fate; but, as luck would have it, in setting down the chair in the darkness, one side of it projected over a sort of landing-place. It toppled over and fell sideways with a splash into the muddy water. Scream upon scream followed rapidly. "Murder! thieves! help!" Shriek after shriek, and at last a female form, wildly flinging her arms into the air, could be seen emerging from the half buried chair. Glenville and Barton had run away before the chair fell, but, hearing the fall, looked back, and were at first spellbound with terror at what had happened. When, however, they saw the Drag emerge, they fairly fled for their lives by a circuitous way little frequented by night, and reached home just before the rest of us arrived. There was some alarm when Miss Candlish did not arrive for about twenty minutes or half an hour. Glenville and Barton told Thornton and myself what had happened, and wanted to know what they should do. Of course, we advised that they should say and do nothing, but wait upon the will of the Fates. They were in a great fright, and when Miss Candlish arrived in charge of two policemen their terror became wild. And yet they both said afterwards that they could hardly help laughing out loud. The pink muslin was draggled and besmeared with harbour mud, and torn half out of the gathers. Its owner was in a state of rage, terror, and hysterics. The commotion was fearful. It was very strange she did not seem to have the faintest suspicion of any of our party. She was sure the men were drunk because they carried her so unsteadily. She was positive they meant to rob her or something worse.

She saw them as they were running away. They were the very same men who always carried her. She never could bear those men. They looked more like demons than men. She would leave the place next day. She had been disgraced. Everybody hated her, n.o.body had any pity. She would go to bed. Don't speak to her--go away--go away, do! Brandy and water, certainly not! and so on. Till at last Mrs. Porkington prevailed on her to go to bed. We had all vanished as quickly as we could and smoked a pipe, discussing in low tones the lowering appearance of the skies above us, and the consequences which might ensue upon those inquiries which we foresaw must inevitably take place.

I never quite knew how it was managed, but two policemen came the next morning and actually examined our boots and trousers, and then had a long interview with Mr. Porkington; and finally we, who were waiting in terror in the dining-room, saw the pair of them go out of the front door, touching their hats to Porkington. I thought at the time that he must have bribed them; but afterwards, on thinking it over, I came to the conclusion that there was no evidence of the complicity of our party. Of course, the sedan men did not know what had happened. Porkington stoutly refused to let the policemen come into our study, and told them he should regard them as trespa.s.sers if they ventured to go into any other room.

The Drag, although she declared she knew the two men, had no desire to bring the matter before the public. Porkington never said a word to any of us upon the subject, though he looked cross and nervous. As soon as the aunt had taken her departure (which she did the next day) he quite recovered his good humour, and, I believe, even chuckled inwardly at the episode. The _Babbicombe Independent_ had an amusing paragraph upon the incident, and opined that some drunken sailors from one of the neighbouring ports were the perpetrators of the coa.r.s.e practical joke; but we found that the general opinion among the visitors was not so wide of the truth. However, as no one cared for the lady it took less than nine days to get rid of the wonder.

CHAPTER VI.--THE Sh.o.r.e.

"Barton," said Glenville, "I want to speak to you, old chap. You won't mind me speaking to you, will you?"

Barton's brow clouded at once. He knew what was coming. "I don't know what you mean," said he.

"Well, I want to talk to you about that girl."

"What right have you to interfere? That's my business, not yours."

"If you are going to be angry, I'll shut up. But I tell you plainly, it's a beastly shame; and if you dare to do any harm to her I'll kick you out of the place."

"Out of what place?"