CHAPTER SEVEN.
DOUBT.
"Thro' light and shadow thou dost range, Sudden glances sweet and strange, Delicious spites and darling angers, And airy forms of flitting change."
I had not yet had an opportunity of being introduced to Min's mother.
'Pon my word, you exclaim, this looks very serious!
I beg to differ from you. We had been brought together legitimatelyenough, down at the church-decoration-gathering in the school-room: wehad been regularly introduced by no less a clerical authority thanlittle Miss Pimpernell, the vicar's sister: we had then and thereassociated under the safest chaperonage--good heavens! would not MissSpight's jealous green eyes, that were certain to pick out the tiniestblot in her fellow man or woman, and Lady Dasher's stately, albeitmelancholy presence, satisfy you? Thus, the "convenances," that horridAnglo-French pseudonym, of the still more horrible bugbear "society,"had no cause to consider themselves neglected and find an excuse fortaking umbrage. From this point, our acquaintanceship naturally andgradually ripened. We got intimate: it was our fate, I suppose--whatmore or less would you have expected?
Besides, although, mind you, I do not consider myself in any way boundto allay your curiosity and satisfy your compunctious scruples, youshould remember that all of us young parishioners of Saint Canon's--Horner, Baby Blake, Lizzie Dangler and the rest--had known each otheralmost from the distant days of childhood; and, consequently, were inthe habit of _tutoyer_-ing one another, using our respective "given"names in familiar conversation. The habit may be a bad one, it is true,but you cannot prevent it sometimes. There is no practice so capable ofimitation as that of calling one another by the Christian name. It isjust like that of the monkeys all cleaning their teeth along the banksof the Amazon with pieces of stick, because they saw Professor Agassizsetting them an example one fine morning, when engaged on his toilet incompany with a tooth-brush. You can't help yourself: you must bow tothe custom and follow suit.
In this instance, there was Miss Pimpernell, always addressing _her_ as"Min," and _me_ as "Frank." The Dasher girls and others soon learnt todo the same. What more likely than that we ourselves should fall into asimilar friendly system? It was only reasonable; and a result whicheven a less alert person than yourself would have looked for. At allevents, neither of us meant any harm by it; and I am willing to "take myaffidavit" to that effect any day you please to name, in any Court ofJustice you may appoint.
Notwithstanding the intimate footing that now existed between Min andmyself, the fact of my non-acquaintance with her mother, annoyed meextremely. You need not flatter yourself, however. It was not in theleast on account of any conscientious qualms, like yours.
I wished to know her personally from a totally different motive; andyet, in spite of all attempts and stratagems on my part, I never couldget a chance of meeting her when I was in the company of some kindfriend to act as go-between and soothe the exigencies of introduction;although, when alone I would encounter her frequently. This was veryvexing--especially so after a while; and I'll tell you how it was.
As the days flew by, and the new year, born in a moment, grew with giantstrides in that hasty growth common to all new years--they have a habitof shooting ahead the first few months of their existence, as if theydesired to "force the pace," and make all the "running" they can--myfacilities for intercourse with Min became "small by degrees andbeautifully less." There you have the cause of my annoyance at once.
I could see her at the window, certainly. I also frequently passed hermother and herself in the street, or on The Terrace, or along thePrebend's Walk, when I was taking an airing abroad with dog Catch at myheels; yet, I don't know how it was, but I invariably chanced to be onthe opposite side of the street, or road, or terrace, whenever I thuspassed them. I never failed to receive the timid little bow and smilefrom Min, with a rosy heightening of her complexion the while--to whichI had now got so accustomed that, should I have been debarred from theirreceipt, I would have considered myself very hardly used and felt amorbid inclination to go mad and drown myself. But, Min's bow washardly sufficient to introduce me to her mother, even if people could beintroduced from opposite sides of roads. Thus it was that I remained astranger to Mrs Clyde, and did not have a chance of meeting herdaughter and talking to her, as I might have done if I could but havevisited her at home.
I never was able to have a word with her now, never could hear herdarling voice repeat my name in those soft accents I loved so well. Itwas very hard--very hard, indeed! You see, I had ample reasons, beyondthe requirements of mere social etiquette, for wishing to know MrsClyde.
Our suburb, you must know, was an extremely quiet place--"remote,unfriended, solitary, slow."
Although everybody knew everybody, who happened to be anybody at all,there was not much of current sociability and party giving. We were notsociable. On the contrary, we were a very humdrum lot; rising early andgoing to town to our business and daily toil--such of us as had any sortof business to attend to--and coming back at a fixed regular hour. Wewere in the habit of having our respective dinners and teas, and,mayhap, suppers, at certain appointed times and seasons--also dulyregulated--and subsequently going to bed, to recruit for the sameroutine on the morrow, without any excitements, or renovation anddestruction of tissue worth speaking of.
A "tea-party" was quite a sensation in the parish of Saint Canon's--equivalent to one of the queen's garden fetes. Beyond school treats andworking parties, to which latter only the clergy and Lady Dorcases wereadmitted, and the anniversary of Christmas, when we sometimes _did_indulge a little in wholesome but subdued gaiety, we went on from year'sbeginning to year's end without balls, or dinners, or dances, or any ofthose resources which fashionable people have for killing time andkeeping up acquaintanceship.
We were not "high-toned" people; quite the reverse, in fact, as, Ibelieve, I have previously described. We only "dropped in" of anevening to see friends, and spend a quiet hour or two over bezique andmusic. On these occasions, a carpet cotillon or quadrille has beensometimes indulged in; but it was the exception and not the rule. Wewere generally satisfied with much milder pastime; our visits rarelyexceeding the interval between tea and "supper" time, when we partook ofa friendly, though seedy, abernethy and glass of wine or beer; and thenwent home virtuously to bed.
Our society being thus constituted, it became a matter almost ofimpossibility to meet any one particular person frequently, exceptingout in the street, unless you had the entree of their house. Hence, Inever could chat with Min, as I had done at the decorations; and,naturally, I felt very much aggrieved thereanent.
What made it additionally provoking to me was, that Horner had contrivedto get introduced to Mrs Clyde almost as soon as she had settled in theplace, before I had returned from Paris; and there was Mr Mawley thecurate, too, exercising the privilege of his cloth by continuallyfrequenting her house. He drove me to desperation by going in and out,apparently just as the fancy suited him, as if he were a tame cat aboutthe place.
His conduct was perfectly odious--that is, to any right-thinking person.
Curates and cousins are, I consider, two of the greatest obstacles to aninnocent layman's intimacy with the diviner portion of creation; and, inthese days of reform and disestablishment, of hereditary and otherconservative grievances, something ought to be done to abolish thepersons in question, or at least handicap them so that other deservingyoung men might have a fair chance in the race for beauty's smile andHymen's chain. They have an enormous advantage, at present, overoutside men-folk. Girls like to have a sort of good-natured lap-dogabout them, to play with occasionally and run their errands, "do this"and "that" for the asking--like Cornelius the centurion's obedientservant--and make himself generally useful, without looking for anyulterior reward on account of services rendered. You see, cousins andcurates are regarded as "harmless"--"detrimentals with the chill off,"so to speak. His scrap of relationship throws a glimmer of possessionaround the one
, endowing with inherent right every act of his ministry;while his "cloth" invests the other with a halo of sanctity and Platonicfreedom that disarms gossip of the usual clothes-peg whereon it hangsits scandal. "Cousin Tom"--by-the-way, did you ever read MackworthPraed's lines on the same theme?--is allowed opportunities for, andlatitude in, flirtation, which poor Corydon, not a cousin never soremote, may sigh in vain for; and, who would be so despicable as toimpute secular motives to the Reverend Hobplush's tender ministrationstowards those sweet young "sisters," who dote on his sucking sermons andwork him carpet slippers and text-markers without limit? Certainly, notI.
I do not mean to say, however, that curates and cousins have it alltheir own way always. There's a sweet little cupid who "sits up aloft,"like Jack's guardian angel, to watch o'er the loves of poor laymen.Still, it is very galling, to one of an ardent temperament especially,to mark the anxious solicitude with which "Cousin Tom" may hang over thedivine creature--whom you can only look upon from afar as some distantstar--without attracting any observations anent his "attentions." Theconfounded airs of possession he gives himself, while you arelanguishing "out in the cold," in the expressive vernacular, arefrightful to contemplate. As for curate Hobplush, he may drop inwhenever he pleases, being treated like one of the family circle; whileyou, miserable creature, can only call at stated intervals, alwaysdreading the horrid possibility of out-staying your welcome, andreceiving the metaphorical "cold shoulder"--though love may prompt youto the sacrifice.
Such was my position now.
There was Mr Mawley visiting at Mrs Clyde's house some half-a-dozentimes a week, for all I knew to the contrary--and of course I imaginedthe worst--and having endless chances and opportunities of conversingwith my darling, in the morning, at noontide, and at night; while poor,wretched _I_ had to content myself with a passing bow and smile when wechanced to meet abroad, or I should happen to see her dainty figure atthe window as I promenaded past her house.
You say I ought to have considered myself lucky to get even that slightmodicum of notice?
But I did _not_ so consider myself. I was not by any means contented.Where did you ever find a lover worth his salt who was?
To tell the truth, I was horribly jealous of Mawley. He was not at alla bad-looking fellow; and, with all his dogmatic tone and love ofargument, had a wonderfully taking way with ladies. Besides, hisconnection with the Church gave him a considerable pull over me--girlsare so impressionable, as a rule, with regard to nice young curates,that they generally have the pick of the parish! Really, all thingsconsidered, I'm very much afraid that I had not that kind Christianfeeling and charity in my heart towards Mawley that the vicar hadenjoined in his Christmas sermon. I did not regard the curate even withthat reverence which his Oxford waistcoat should have inspired. Ibelieve that at that particular time I looked upon him with somewhat ofthe same feeling with which the homicidal Cain regarded his brother Abelabout the sacrificing business.
Then, there was Horner, too, who was generally looked upon as an"eligible" person, having a respectable position of his own in additionto considerable expectations from his rich uncle, as I told you before.I could see that Mrs Clyde encouraged him. He was always going there,and frequently walking out with them also. I saw him, and it made myheart bitter. One evening, I met him in full costume, with an opera-glass slung round his shoulders, just before he reached their door. Hetold me that Mrs Clyde had asked him to accompany her daughter andherself to Covent Garden and share their box. They would have waited aconsiderable time, I thought, before they would have been invited toshare _his_! I watched them drive off, and I went home mad. It wasgetting too grievous for mortal to bear.
The house felt suffocating to me that evening. I could not stop in. Idetermined to go and call on my old friend Miss Pimpernell, and see whatshe could do to cheer me up.
"My dear boy," she said, as I entered the parlour, where she sat darningthe vicar's socks by the light of a moderator lamp, which stood on alittle table close beside her. "My dear boy, what is the matter withyou? You look quite haggard, and like a wild man from the woods! Haveyou had your tea yet? I can ring for some in a moment."
"No, pray don't, thank you," I answered. "Miss Pimpernell," Icontinued, in a determined voice, "I have had tea enough to-night tolast me for a twelvemonth! I can't bear this any longer. You mustintroduce me to Mrs Clyde. I have never been able as yet to make heracquaintance, and I want to go to her house as Horner does, and thatfellow Mawley."
"Hush, my dear boy!" she said, in her soothing way, as if she werestroking me down the back like she stroked her tabby Tom--one of themousiest and most petted of cats. "You should not speak so of aclergyman, my dear Frank. Think what the vicar would say if he heardyou!"
"Oh, never mind Mr Mawley," I said, somewhat petulantly; "I want toknow Mrs Clyde."
"Ah! that's what's the matter, is it, Frank? Then why did you not cometo old Sally before?"
"Well, Miss Pimpernell," I replied, "I never thought of you until to-night."
"Never thought of me! You _are_ ungallant, Master Frank! But think ofme next time, my dear boy, whenever you find yourself in a difficulty;and if Sally Pimpernell can help you out of it, she will, you maydepend!"
"Oh, thank you, dear Miss Pimpernell! And when will you introduce me toMrs Clyde?" I asked, thinking it best to "strike the iron" whilst itwas "hot."
"Come round to-morrow afternoon, Frank," she replied. "She is going tobe here by appointment, to see me about some charity in which she isinterested; and I'll try and manage it for you then."
"I'll be here, Miss Pimpernell, without fail," I said. "I can never besufficiently obliged to you, if you do it."
"All right, my boy," she said. "I'm sure I shall be very glad to helpyou in such a trifling matter. But I do not want any of your softspeeches, Frank! Keep them for somebody else who will appreciate thembetter;" and she laughed her cheery, merry laugh, wishing me good-nightand sending me home much easier in my mind and happier than I had beenfor many days past.
On the following afternoon I was introduced, as my old friend hadpromised; and you may be certain that I tried to make myself asagreeable as I could be to Min's mother. I think I succeeded, too; for,when I took my leave early, in order to allow Miss Pimpernell and hervisitor an opportunity of discussing the best way of relieving theparish poor, Mrs Clyde gave me an invitation.
"Mr Lorton," said she, "I should be glad if you would come round andsee us on Wednesday evening--I think you know our address? My daughteris going to have a few friends in for a little music; and we shall bothbe happy if you will join us. Miss Pimpernell tells me you are verymusical."
"With great pleasure," I answered, in society's stock phraseology. Withthe "greatest" pleasure, I might have said, as I could almost havejumped for joy. Just fancy! all that I had longed for was accorded in amoment. My good fairy must undoubtedly have been hovering about thevicarage premises that day; and I strongly suspect my good fairy in thisinstance, as was the case also in many other circumstances of my life,being none other than my very unfairylike old friend, little MissPimpernell, the vicar's kind-hearted sister.
Did I not look forward to Wednesday evening? Did I not, when the timefor me to dress at last came round after an excruciatingly longinterval, bestow the most elaborate and unheard-of pains on my toilet,almost rivalling Horner's generally unimpeachable "get up"? Did I notproceed in the utmost joy and gladness towards the habitation of mydarling?
I should rather think I did!
And yet, when I crossed the threshold of Miss Clyde's house, I wasseized with a sudden vague impression of uneasiness. I felt a, to me,singular sensation of nervousness, shyness, "mauvais honte"--just as ifa cold key had been put down my back--for which I was at a loss toaccount. Those who know me say that bashfulness is one of the least ofmy virtues; and, I do not think that I am constitutionally timid--so whythis feeling? Was it not a foreboding of evil? I believe it was, foreverything went wrong with me t
hat night, instead of my having a surfeitof pleasure, as I had sanguinely expected.
"Hope told a flattering tale." My good fairy deceived me. Myunpropitious star was again in the ascendant.
In fact, my bad genius reigned supreme, in spite of such counteractinginfluences as my being at last admitted to Min's home and permitted towatch her gliding movements about the room, hear her liquid voice, catchthe bright looks from her glancing grey eyes, speak to her, smile withher, adore her.
Yes, in spite of all this, my bad influence reigned supreme; and, I'mafraid, something wrong must have been done at my baptism to disgust mybetter genii.
In the first place, I arrived too soon, which was a calamity in itself.There is always pardon for one who goes late to an evening party--nay,it often enhances his reputation. Absolution may even be extended tothe calculating individual who ravenously times his arrival by thesupper hour; but, for a simple-minded person, unaccustomed to the usagesof polite society, to believe in the invariability of fixed appointmentsand, taking an invitation au pied de la lettre, make his appearance afull hour before any other guest would dare to "turn up," from the fearof being thought unfashionable, is simply monstrous! His behaviour isperfectly inexcusable; and, as a punishment, he should in future becompelled for a certain time to dine at our Saxon forefathers' earlyhour, and go to bed at the sound of the curfew bell instituted by theirNorman conquerors--that is how I would teach him manners!
I committed this grievous fault on the present occasion. I had been soanxious to get there in good time and not miss a minute of Min'scharming company, that, like our friend Paddy who ate his breakfast overnight in order to save time in the morning, I overdid it, arriving theretoo early. I saw this at once from Mrs Clyde's face when I wasannounced, the unhappy premier of all the coming guests.
Perhaps it was only my fancy, as I'm extremely sensitive on such points,for she received me courteously enough, pressing the welcoming cup ofcoffee and hospitable muffin in an adjoining ante-room on my notice;but, I thought I could perceive, below the veneer of social civility, asort of "how-tiresome-of-you-to-come-before-anybody-else" look in hereyes, which made me extremely small in my own estimation.
It was a horrible interval waiting for the other guests to come andsupport me. I made a vow there and then that I would never againpresent myself wherever I might be invited out until a full hour beyondthe specified time--and I've generally kept it, too!
Min did not treat me cavalierly, however, notwithstanding that I hadarrived in advance of expectation. _She_ was all kindness and grace,endeavouring to make the "mauvais quart d'heure" of my solitaryguesthood pass away as little uncomfortably to me as possible.
She asked me to come and see her flowers in the bay window of thedrawing-room, which she had fitted up as a tiny conservatory; while hermother sat down to the piano and played dreamy music in a desultoryfashion. I like dreamy music, although it always makes me melancholy--indeed, all music affects me the same way, in spite of my not being byany means what you would call a sad person. On the contrary, I amsupposed to be one of the most light-hearted fellows imaginable, and,certainly, laugh more than I ever cry. However, mirth and sadness arecloser allies than people generally suspect. All emotion proceeds, moreor less, from hysteria.
While Mrs Clyde was playing, Min and I got talking. She thanked me forcoming early; and upbraided the absent guests for thinking itfashionable to come later than bidden.
We discussed the rival merits of a scarlet japonica and a doublefuchsia, giving the palm of merit to the former, though the latter hadsome wondrous lobes; and I was also asked my opinion whether herfavourite maidenhair fern would survive a sudden and unaccountableblight which had fallen upon it a few days before.
She then showed me the identical violets I had given her that Christmasmorning, now so long passed by: she had tipped the stalks with sealingwax and preserved them in cotton wool, so that they looked as fresh aswhen first gathered.
"There!" she said, with an air of triumph. "There, Mr Lorton! I havekept them ever since."
"Mr Lorton!" I repeated, "who is he? I don't know him."
"Well, `Frank,' then--will that please you better, you tiresome thing?"
"You know you promised," I said, apologetically.
"Did I?" she asked, with charming naivete.
"Why, have you forgotten that night already?" I said, in a melancholytone.
"Don't be so lugubrious," she said. "You have to amuse me. You mustn'tremember all my promises."
"Are they so unsubstantial?" I asked.
"No, they're not, sir!" she said, stamping her foot in affected anger."But what do you say to my keeping your violets so long, Frank?"
"What do I say?" I repeated after her, looking my delight into hereyes; when, a frantic chord, struck deep down in the bass by Mrs Clyde,marking the finish of some piece of Wagner's, recalled us both to every-day life.
As nobody else had yet arrived, Min challenged me to a game of chess.
I allowed her to win the first game easily.
She pouted, saying that she supposed I thought it below my dignity toput forth my best energies in playing against a lady!
Thereupon, I _did_ exert myself; but, she was just as provokinglydissatisfied.
I took her queen. She protested it was unfair.
I offered to restore it to her; she would not have it at any price;--shewished me to play the game, she said, just as if I were playing with aman.
I checkmated her. She got up in a pet, saying that chess was a nasty,stupid, tiresome thing, and that she would not play it any longer.
O, the contrariness of feminine nature!
Other people now began to drop in; and it was _my_ turn to get put out.
I heard it was Min's birthday, which I had not known before. I saw thatthey remembered it; while, I, had not brought her even a paltry flower!
Everybody was wishing her "many happy returns of the day." I had notdone so; neither had I any opportunity of atoning for my neglect, as shewas too busy receiving the new comers; but, indeed, I would have beentoo proud to excuse myself after witnessing Mr Mawley's "effusion."
He seemed to me to be guilty of unpardonable effrontery in holding Min'shand such an unconscionably long time in his, when presenting amiserable shop-bouquet; and, as for the lackadaisical airs of thatinsufferable donkey, Horner--I can find no words adequate wherewith toexpress what I thought; he was positively sickening!
I did not have another chance of speaking to Min either; that is, unlessI chose to bawl what I had to say across a crowded room; and, I needhardly say, I did not exactly care about that!
She appeared to me to be very inconsistent, too.
She seemed really much more interested in Mawley's conversation than _I_thought any reasonable person could be; while _he_ was grinning andcarrying on at a rate, which, if I had been Mrs Clyde, I would not haveallowed for a moment.
O, the equilibriant temperament of the "superior" sex!
Min teased me yet further.
She sang every song that Mawley and Horner asked her for, playing theaccompaniments for the latter when he favoured the company with his ideaof ballad vocalisation.
Horner thought he possessed a fine tenor voice: I didn't think so,especially on this evening!
But, no matter what these two asked her to do, she did. If _I_,however, requested any particular song, she said she did not believe shecould manage it; her voice could not compass it; she had lent it out;or, she hadn't got it!
Was it not enough to provoke one? Wouldn't you have been affected byit?
In addition to Horner and Mawley, there was also an odious cousin ofhers, called "Jack," or "Tom," or "Ned," or some other abominablyfamiliar abbreviation, who hung over the piano stool, and said "Min, dothis," and "Min, do that," in a way that drove me to frenzy.
I hate cousins! I don't see the necessity for them. I'm sure peoplecan get along very well without their existence. I would do away withthem to-morrow
by act of Parliament, if I only had the power.
When everybody else who had a voice at all had exercised their vocalpowers, Mrs Clyde at last asked me to sing.
Instead of declining, as I would have done at any other time, on accountof her slight, I bowed my acquiescence and went to the piano.
To tell you the truth, I was glad of the opportunity afforded me forcarrying out a petty piece of revenge against Min, of which I hadsuddenly bethought me.
I had composed a little song, you must know, that I believed highlyapplicable to her at the moment, although when I had written it she wasno more in my mind than Adam or Eve, or both!
I sang it, looking into her face the while, as she stood by theinstrument; and these were the words. I gave them expression enough,you may be sure.
"My lady's eyes are soft and blue, deep-changing as the iris hue; _But, eyes deceive Hearts `worn on sleeve,' And make us oft their power rue_!
"Her little mouth--a `sunny south'--wafts perfumed kisses to the wind; _But, winds blow cold, And kiss of old, A trait'rous symbol was, I find_!
"For pearly teeth and rosebud lips, whose honied wealth the zephyr sips, _But bait the lair Where fickle fair, Like Scylla, wreck men's stately ships_--
"And witching eyes and plaintive sighs, and looks of love and tender words-- Love's tricking arts - _Are poison'd darts, More awesome far than pendant swords_!"
"Thank you," said Mrs Clyde; "it is very pretty. Your own, I suppose?"
"Yes," I said. I did not feel disposed to be more communicative.
"What do you call it?" asked Min, carelessly.
"`Per Contra,'" I answered. "Don't you think it a suitable title?"
"Yes, _I understand_" she said. "Thank you, _Mr Lorton_!"
She spoke, with marked emphasis.
A little time afterwards, when I was sitting moodily in a corner, with abook before me which I was supposed to be looking at, but whose baretitle escapes my recollection, Min came to my side; and, she beganoverhauling some volumes of music that were piled up in a heap on thefloor.
"Mr Lorton," she said, hesitatingly.
That "Mr Lorton" set my teeth on edge.
I made no reply.
"Frank!"
"Yes," I said, testily.
I felt very angry with her for her attentions to Horner and Mawley, and,as I thought, neglect of me; so, I wished to let her know it.
"Frank," she repeated, "didn't you mean that song at me?"
"Yes, I did," I replied, very grumpily.
"Foolish fellow!" she said; "what a very bad opinion you must have ofme, although I did not know my eyes were blue before! You said theother night they were grey," and she smiled bewitchingly. But, Iwouldn't be coaxed into good humour.
"Ce m'est egal," I answered coldly, "whatever they are."
"You are very cross!" she said pettishly; "I will go and talk to MrMawley, until you get into a better mood, sir, and are more amiable."
"I'm sure," said I, loftily, "that I would not be the means of deprivingyou of his valuable and entertaining society."
Min laughed provokingly. "At all events," she said, "he is not crosswith me about nothing; and _some_ people might learn better manners fromhim, Mr Lorton!"
"Pray do not let me detain you from such a charming companion, MissClyde," I said, with distant politeness.
"Even poor Mr Horner can be agreeable and amusing, and _you_ won't eventry to be. I will go to him," she continued, still striving to get meto be more sociable; but I was obstinate and ill-tempered.
An angel would not have pacified me. How could I have been so rude toher?
I was a brute.
"Ah," I exclaimed, "_his_ conversation is truly intellectual!"
She was quite vexed now.
"You are very unkind," she said. "You speak ill-naturedly of everybody,and are cross with me on my birthday! I won't speak to you, Frank,again this evening; there, see if I do!" and she turned away from mewith a tremble in her voice, and an indignant look in the, now,flashing, grey eyes.
She kept her promise.
Much as I tried, when my ill-temper had subsided, to get speech withher, I was not allowed a word. Even when leaving the house, I onlyreceived a bow. She would not shake hands, to show that I was forgiven.
I had stopped to the very last in order to sit out Horner. _He_ wouldnot budge first, and _I_ would not budge first; so now we started offtogether, our homeward routes being identical.
You may imagine that I felt very amicably disposed towards him. I wasripe for a quarrel, or at least a separation; and Horner soon gave me anopening.
He began to praise Min's looks and voice, and the manner in which shehad sung the songs _he_ had asked her for, including the one _he_ hadgiven her that evening.
Really, the cool impudence of Horner was something astounding! Whatright had he to criticise her? He spoke just as if she belonged to him,I assure you!
This was too much, after what I had already gone through.
"Which way are you going?" I asked him suddenly.
"Gaw-ing?" he said, in a surprised tone. "Why, stwaight on, of cawse--stwaight on!"
"Then, I'm going round _here_!" I said, wheeling off abruptly at aright angle from the road we had been pursuing, and going out of my wayin order to get rid of him.
Flesh and blood could no longer stand his unmeaning, yet gibingplatitudes.
"Bai-ey Je-ove!" he exclaimed. "But, stawp, my deah fellah. Lorton, Iasshaw you I only meant to say--ah--that Miss Clyde sang my songs mostdivinely--ah--and that she's--ah--a vewy nice gahl--ah!"
Confound him!
What business had he to say or think anything of the sort?
I could faintly hear his voice exclaim "Bai-ey Je-ove!" in the distance,after some seconds' interval, during which we had become widelyseparated.
I was as thoroughly out of temper as I could possibly be.
I was angry with everybody in the world, Min not excepted, and with theworld itself; but, at myself, more than all.
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