She and I Volume I Part 17

"Hullo, Lorton!" shouted out Mr Mawley again close at my back, when I had believed him to be some distance off. "Hullo, Lorton! Don't you get into heroics, my boy. Does not the 'n.o.ble bard' make the Prince of Denmark say, that the dust of Alexander the Great might have served to fill the bung of a cask and that--

"'Imperial Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away!'"

This was too much of a good thing.

I made up my mind to stand his nonsense no longer.

"I wish you would mind your own business," said I, as rudely as possible, "and keep your ridiculous conversation to yourself; I want none of it; I hate to hear fools prating about things they cannot understand."

He got quite red in the face; but he kept his temper admirably.

"When you are cool again, Lorton," he said to me, with an expression of amiability and mingled pity on his face, that made him look to me like Mephistopheles, "you will, I know, be sorry for what you've said; and when you learn good manners I will be glad to speak to you again!" and, he walked back to the church, with the air of a person who had been deeply injured, but who had yet the magnanimity to forgive if he could not forget--wis.h.i.+ng adieu to our little party, of whom none but Min had overheard what I had said, with his usual cordiality, as if nothing had happened to disturb him.

"Oh, Frank!" exclaimed Min, when he had got out of sight and we were once more alone, "how could you be so rude and un-courteous--to a clergyman, too! I'm ashamed of you! I am hurt at any friend of mine acting like that!"

"But he was so provoking," I stammered, trying to excuse myself. The tone of Min's voice pained me. It was full of grief and reproach: I knew its every intonation. "He's always worrying me and rubbing against me the wrong way!"

"That does not matter, Frank," she replied in the same grave accents, as coldly as if she was speaking to a stranger--"a gentleman should be a gentleman always. I tell you what,"--she continued, turning away as she spoke--"I will never speak to you again, Frank, until you apologise to Mr Mawley for the language you have used!"

She then left my side, taking Miss Pimpernell's arm and saying something about having a long chat with her.

The end of it was that she had her way.

I had to go back to search for the curate and ask his pardon, like a dog with its tail between its legs.

I was certain he would exult over it, and he did.

He had not the generosity to meet me half-way and accept my apology frankly at once.

He made me humble myself to the full, seizing the opportunity to read me a long homily on Christian forbearance, in which, I fervently believed at the time, he was almost as deficient as myself.

However, I had the consolation of knowing that my apology was not made on his account, but entirely for the sake of my darling Min; although, I confess, I did not like to see her taking such an interest in him as to ask it of me.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

JEALOUSY.

Whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is th.o.r.n.y, and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain!

Some weeks after our conversation in the churchyard, I met old Shuffler one day waddling along the Terrace in a state of great excitement.

He told me he was going to an auction, and pressed me to accompany him, that he might have the benefit of my advice and opinion concerning certain objects of "bigotry and virtue," as he styled them, which he designed purchasing--should he be able to get them knocked down cheap.

On asking the reason for such an unwonted outlay on his part, he said that he was about furnis.h.i.+ng a new villa for which he had just found a tenant.

"A fresh tenant!" said I with surprise, a newcomer in our suburb being always regarded as a sort of rare bird. "A fresh tenant! Who is he, or she, or whoever it may be?"

"Well, sir," said Shuffler, "it's a secret as yet; but I don't mind telling you, Mr Lorton, as I know you won't let it out--Mr Mawley, the parsun, has took the villa!"

"Mr Mawley!" I exclaimed, with redoubled astonishment. "Why, what on earth does _he_ want a house for?"

"I believe, sir," said Shuffler, blinking his sound eye furiously the while, to give a facetious effect to his words, "he's agoin' to get married. So my missus says at least, sir; and she gen'rally knows wot's agoin' on. Wemmenfolk finds out them things somehow or other!"

"Mawley going to be married!" I repeated. "Nonsense, Shuffler! it is probably some mistake. You and your wife must have let your brains run wool-gathering, and made the story up between you!"

"No, sir," he replied, "it's as true as you are a standin' there. We've no call to tell a lie about the matter, sir," and he drew himself up with native dignity.

"And you have really heard it for a fact, Shuffler?"

"I 'ave so, sir; and I could tell you, too, the party as he is agoin' to join!"

"Can you?" I asked. "Who _is_ the favoured she?"

"Well, sir," said he with a sly wink, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his mouth tightly as if wild horses would not tear the information from him against his will, "that would be tellin'?"

"I know it would," said I, "but as you have already told me so much, I think you might now let me know the lady's name."

"Mr Lorton," he answered, "you know I would do anything for you I honestly could, for you 'ave been a friend to me many a time, specially when I got into that row with the tax collector, when you be'aved 'andsome. But to speak to the rights of the matter, I can't say I _know_ the lady's name wot the parsun is agoin' to marry: I only has my suspicions like."

"Well, and whom do you think to be the one?" said I.

"She don't live far from here!" he said in a stage whisper, dropping his voice, and looking round cautiously, as he pointed along the row of houses composing "the Terrace," where our most fas.h.i.+onable paris.h.i.+oners resided--our Belgravia, so to speak.

"You don't mean one of the Miss Dashers?" I said, thinking of Bessie.

"Lord, no!" he replied, "it ain't one of 'my lady's' young ladies!"

"Then who is it?" I said, getting quite impatient at his tergiversation.

"Oh! she comed here later than them!" he answered, still beating about the bush; "she comed here later than them," he repeated, nodding his head knowingly.

A sudden fear shot through me. "Is it?--no, it cannot be--is it Miss Clyde?" I asked.

"Ah!" he grunted, oracularly. "You knows best about that, sir!"

"Well, don't you dare, Shuffler," I savagely retorted, "to couple that lady's name with Mr Mawley's!" I was literally boiling over with fury at the very suspicion:--it was the realisation of my worst fears!

"You've no cause to get angry, Mr Lorton," said he. "I didn't name no names, sir; tho' you might be further out, as far as that goes! I didn't know as you was interested in the lady, or I shouldn't 'a mentioned it."

"You're quite wrong--quite wrong altogether, Shuffler. Why, the thing's absurd!" I said.

"Well, you know you axed me, sir; and what could I say?" he said apologetically.

"That may be," I said, less hotly. "But you had better not couple people's names together in that way. Why, it's actionable!" I added, knowing the house-agent's mortal dread of anything connected with the law.

"But you won't spread it no further, Mr Lorton?" he said, anxiously, the sound eye looking at me with a beseeching expression.