The Finger of Fate Part 14

I met Miss Mainwaring at a private ball, that concluded an out-door archery meeting. She was still the reigning belle of the neighbourhood, though there were two or three young sprouts that promised soon to dispossess her. There was less talk of her becoming a bride than had been twelve months before; though she was followed by a train of admirers that appeared to have suffered but slight diminution--Henry Harding being the only one missing from the muster. I heard that his place had been supplied by his brother Nigel; though this was only whispered to me in conjecture by one that was present at the gathering, where was also Nigel Harding himself. Knowing somewhat of the nature of this young gentleman, I did not believe it true, but, strange enough, before leaving the ground I had convincing evidence that it was so.

These summer fetes, when extended into the night, afford wonderful opportunities for flirtation--far more than the winter ball-room. The promenade which occurs during the intervals of the dance may be extended out of doors, along the gravelled walks, or over the soft gra.s.sy turf of the shrubbery. It is pleasant thus to escape from the heated air of the drawing-room--improvised for the night into a ball-room--especially pleasant when you take along with you your partner of the dance.

Strolling thus with one of the aforementioned maidens, I had halted by the side of a grand _Deodara_, whose drooping branches, palmately spread, swept the gra.s.s at our feet, forming around the trunk of the tree a tentlike canopy by day, by night a shadow of amorphous darkness.

All at once a thought seemed to strike my companion.

"By the way," said she, "I was wondering what I had done with my sunshade. Now I remember having left it under this very tree. You stay here," she continued, disengaging herself from my arm, "while I go under and see if I can find it."

"No," said I, "permit me to go for it."

"Nonsense," replied my agile partner--she had proved herself such in the galop just ended--"I shall go myself. I know the exact spot where I laid it--on one of the great roots. Never mind; you stand here."

Saying this, she disappeared under the shadow of the _Deodara_.

I could not think of such a young creature venturing all alone into such a dismal-looking place; and, not heeding her remonstrance, I bent under the branches, and followed her in.

After groping about for some time, we failed to find the parasol.

"Some of the servants may have taken it into the house?" she said. "No matter. I suppose it will turn up along with my hat and cloak."

We were about returning to the open lawn, when we saw coming, through the same break in the branches under which we had entered, a pair of promenaders like ourselves. _Their_ errand we could not guess. Though ours had been innocent enough, it occurred to me that it might have a compromising appearance.

I cannot tell if my companion had the same thought; but, whether or no, we stood still, as if by a mutual instinct, waiting for the other pair to pa.s.s out again. We supposed they had stepped under the tree actuated by curiosity, or some other caprice that would soon be satisfied.

In this we were mistaken. Instead of immediately returning into the light, faint as it was, and only springing from the glimmer of a starlit sky, they stopped and entered into a conversation that promised to be somewhat protracted. At the first words, I could tell it was only the resumption of one that had already made some progress between them.

"I know," said the gentleman, "that you still bear _him_ in your mind.

It's no use telling me you never cared for him. I know better than that, Miss Mainwaring."

"Indeed, do you? What a wonderful knowledge you have, Mr Nigel Harding! You know more than I ever did myself, and more than your brother, did too; else why should I have refused him. Surely that might convince you there was nothing between us--at least, on my side there wasn't."

There was a short pause, as if the suitor was reflecting on what the lady had just said. My companion and I were puzzled as to what we should do. I knew it by the trembling of her arm, that spoke irresolution. By a similar sign I felt that we were agreed upon keeping silent, and hearing this strange dialogue to its termination. We had already heard enough to make discovering ourselves exceedingly awkward-- to say nothing of our own compromising position. We kept our place then, standing still like a couple of linked statues.

"If that be true," rejoined Nigel Harding, who appeared to have brought his reasoning process to a satisfactory conclusion, "and if also true that no other has your heart, may I ask, Miss Mainwaring, why you do not accept the offer I have laid before you? You have told me--I think you have said as much--that you could like me for a husband. Why not go farther, and say you will have me?"

"Because--because--Mr Nigel Harding,--do you really wish to know the reason?"

"If I did not, I should not have spent twelve months in asking--in pressing for it."

"If you promise to be a good boy, then I will tell you."

"I will promise anything. If it be a reason that I can remove, you may command me, and all the means in my power. My fortune--I won't speak of that--my life, my body, my soul, are all at your service."

The suitor spoke with a pa.s.sionate enthusiasm I had not deemed him capable of.

"I shall be candid, then," was the response, half-whispered, "and tell you the exact truth. Two things stand between you and me, either of which may prevent us becoming man and wife. First, there is my mother's consent to be obtained; and without that I will not marry. To my dear mother I have given that promise--sworn it. Second, there is _your father's consent_; without it I _cannot_ marry you. I have equally sworn to that--my mother exacting the oath. Much, therefore, as I may like you, Nigel Harding, you know I cannot perjure myself. Come! we have talked of this too often. Let us return to the dancing, or our absence may be remarked."

Saying this, she swept out from beneath the branches.

The foiled suitor made no attempt to detain her. The conditions could not be answered, at least not then; and with a vague hope of being able at some future time to obtain better terms, he followed her back into the ball-room.

My companion and I, as soon as released, sauntered the same way. Not a word pa.s.sed between us, as to what we had heard. To me it did not throw much new light either on the ways of the world or the character of Miss Mainwaring; but I could not help regretting the lesson of deception thus unavoidably communicated to the young creature on my arm, who might afterwards think of practising it on her own particular account!

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

A QUEER TRAVELLER.

The swells who diurnally take their departure for Windsor and the West were one afternoon, in the year 18--, called upon to use their eye-gla.s.ses upon a somewhat strange-looking traveller, who, coming from heaven knows where, made his appearance on the platform of the Paddington Station.

And yet there was nothing so very remarkable about the man--except on the Paddington platform. At London Bridge you might there have seen his like any day in the year: a personage of dark complexion, dressed in black, with a loose poncho-like garment hanging from his shoulders, and a hat upon his head, half wide-awake, but tending toward a steeple-crown--in short, a "Calabrian."

Such was the costume of the individual who had caused the raising of eye-gla.s.ses on the Paddington platform. In an instant they were down again, the object of supercilious attention having dissipated scrutiny by diving into the interior of a second-cla.s.s carriage.

"Demmed queer-looking fella!" was the remark, and with this he was forgotten.

At Slough he appeared again upon that gloomiest of platforms, commanded by a station-master possessing the loudest voice upon all the G.W.R.

line. The strange traveller did not show himself until the swells, such of them as stopped, at Slough, had given up their tickets, and pa.s.sed through the gate. Then, tumbling out of the carriage, the queer traveller, with a small portmanteau in his hand, placed himself in communication with the great Boanerges who directs the startings and departures at the Slough Station.

Between the two individuals thus accidentally coming together there was a contrast so striking that the most careless lounger on the platform could not have restrained himself from giving them attention. As they stood, _en rapport_, the very types of extremes--the negative and positive--the one a grand colossal form of true Saxon physiognomy, the other a diminutive specimen of Latinic humanity--for such the cloaked traveller appeared to be.

At the time, I myself chanced to be on the down platform, waiting for a down train. I was so struck with the tableau that I involuntarily drew nigh, to hear what the little dark man in the _capote_ had to say to the giant in green frock and gilt b.u.t.tons.

The first word that fell upon my ears was the name of General Harding!

It was not p.r.o.nounced in the ordinary way, but with an accent plainly foreign, and which I could easily tell to be Italian.

Listening a little longer, I could hear that the stranger was inquiring the direction to General Harding's residence. I should have myself volunteered to give it him; but from the station-master's reply I perceived that this functionary was directing him; and just then the down train, gliding alongside, admonished me to look out for myself.

Not till then did it occur to me, that I had stupidly forgotten to take my ticket, and I hastened into the office to procure one. As I came out again upon the platform I saw the strange traveller disappear within the doorway of a hackney coach; the driver of which, giving the whip to his horse, trundled off from the station.

In ten seconds after, I had taken my seat in the railway-carriage--an empty one--when an incident occurred that drove the queer traveller as completely out of my head as if he had never been in it.

The whistle had already screamed, and the train was about to move off, when the door was opened by the t.i.tanic station-master, who was saying at the same time--

"This way ladies!"

The rustle of silk, with some hurried exclamation outside, told of the late arrival of at least two feminine pa.s.sengers; and, the moment after, they entered the carriage, and took their seats nearly opposite me.

I had been cutting open the pages of _Punch_, and did not look up into their faces as they entered. But on finis.h.i.+ng my inspection of the cartoon, I raised my eyes to see of what style were my two travelling companions, and beheld--Belle Mainwaring and her mother!

It was just about as awkward a position as I ever remembered occupying in my life. But I managed to sustain it, by appealing once more to the pages of _Punch_. Not even so much as a nod was exchanged between us; and had there been a stranger in the carriage he could not have told that Miss Mainwaring and I had ever met--much less danced together. I did _Punch_ from beginning to end; and then, turning my attention to the advertis.e.m.e.nts on the back of the t.i.tle-page, made myself acquainted with the qualities of "Gosnell's Soap" and the mysteries of the "Sansflectum Crinoline." Despite these studies, I found time to give an occasional side-glance at Miss Mainwaring, which I saw she was returning by a similar slant. What she may have seen in my eye I cannot tell, but in hers I read a light that, had my heart not been of the dulness of lead, might have set it on fire. It had at one time come very near melting under that same glance; but, after the cooling process experienced, it had become hardened to the temper of steel, and now pa.s.sed through the crucible unscathed. When I had finished reading _Punch's_ three columns of advertis.e.m.e.nts, and for the hundredth time made an examination of Toby, with the procession of nymphs, dancing buffoons, and bacchantes, the train stopped at Reading.

Here my travelling companions got out. So did I. I had been asked to a park fete to be held at a gentleman's residence in the neighbourhood-- the same mentioned in a previous chapter. I suspected the Mainwarings were also bound for the place; and from the direction taken by the fly in which they drove off, I was made sure of it.

On arriving at my friend's residence I found them upon the lawn; Miss Belle, as usual, surrounded by simpering swells, among whom, not to my surprise, I recognised Mr Nigel Harding. I noticed that, during the progress of the game of croquet which they were playing, he refrained from showing her any marked attention, leaving this for the others. For all that he was evidently uneasy, and stealthily watched her every glance and movement. Once or twice when they were apart, I could hear him say something to her in a low tone, with the green of jealousy in his eyes, and its pallor upon his lips.

On leaving the place, which the company did at an early hour, I saw that he accompanied her and her mother to the railway station. The three rode back in the same fly. We all returned to Slough in the same train; I going on to London. From the carriage in which I sat I could see Miss Mainwaring's pony-phaeton, with the page at the pony's head, and close by a dog-cart with a groom in the Harding livery. Before the train started I saw the ladies step into the phaeton, Nigel Harding climbing to the seat behind them, while "b.u.t.tons" was dismissed to take his seat in the dog-cart. With their freight thus a.s.sorted, the two vehicles drove off, just as the train was slipping out of the station.