by Mayne Reid
fault of mine. I knew not, until I enteredthis house, but that you were still in Australia. Mr Cannon deceivedme; he proposed introducing me to some of his London friends who livedhere. Had I known on whom we were going to call, for my own happiness,I should not have accompanied him."
"Rowland, you are cruel!"
"How can you say so, when you've told me it was wrong for me to come?Jessie! there is something in this I do not understand. Tell me, why itis wrong for me to have seen you, while, at the same time, you say youare pleased at it?"
"Rowland, spare me! Speak no more of this. Let us talk of otherthings."
I did my best to obey her; and we conversed nearly an hour, upon suchtopics as suggested themselves, until our _tete-a-tete_ was interruptedby the entrance of Mrs H--.
I could not well bid adieu to them, without promising to call again: forI had not yet seen little Rosa.
After my return home, I sate down to reflect upon the conversation I hadhad with Jessie--as also to seek some explanation of what had appearedmysterious in the conduct, not only of Cannon, but of Jessie's fatherand mother.
I had learnt that Mr H--, like many of the Australian wool growers,after having made his fortune in the colonies, had returned to hisnative land--intending to end his days in London.
I had also learnt that Vane--after that occasion on which he accompaniedCannon and myself, had often revisited the family on the Yarra Yarra;and had become a professed candidate for the hand of Jessie.
In the colony he had received but little encouragement to continue hisadvances, either from her father or mother. Since their arrival inLondon, however, Vane had come into possession of some property; and MrH--had not only listened with favour to his proposals, but was stronglyurging his daughter to do the same.
A matrimonial alliance with Vane would have been considered advantageousby most people in the social position of the H--family; and Jessie, likemany other young ladies, was likely to be married to a man, who held buta second place in her affections.
Thousands do this, without surrendering themselves to a life of misery;and Jessie H--could scarce be expected to differ from others of her ageand sex. In fact, as I soon afterwards learnt, she had yielded to herfather's solicitations, rather than to the suit of the wooer; and hadgiven a reluctant consent to the marriage. It was to take place inabout ten days from that time.
I also learnt that Vane and Cannon had quarrelled, before leavingMelbourne. I did not ascertain the exact cause. It was no business ofmine; and I did not care to be made acquainted with it. With theconduct of the latter I had some reason to be dissatisfied. He hadendeavoured to make use of me, as a means of obtaining revenge againsthis enemy--Vane.
I could not think of any other object he might have, in bringing me oncemore into the presence of Jessie.
To a certain extent he had succeeded in his design. Without vanity Icould not shut my eyes to the fact of Jessie's aversion to her marriagewith Vane; and I was convinced that, after seeing me, it becamestronger.
I was by no means pleased at the idea of being made a cat's paw for thegratification of Cannon's revenge; and, next day, when his name wasannounced at my lodgings, I resolved that that meeting should be ourlast.
"Mr Cannon," said I, before he had even seated himself, "will you tellme why you took me to see Jessie H--, when you had reason to believethat neither of us desired to meet the other again?"
"I had no reason for thinking anything of the kind," replied he. "Onthe contrary, there was much to make me believe differently. I have agreat respect for Mr H--and his family; and I don't mean to flatter,when I tell you, I have the same for yourself. What harm was there inbringing together those whom I respect? and desire to see friends? Butyou want some explanation. You shall have it. It is this:--you haveseen Vane, and know something about him. I know more of him, than you.He is a conceited, trifling fellow, without the slightest truth orprinciple in him. True, his society was amusing. I overlooked hisfaults; and bore with him for a long time. When I saw that he wastrying to take advantage of the introduction I had given him to thedaughter of my friend--a young lady of whom he is in no sense worthy--Ithen became his enemy. I acknowledge having taken you to see her in asomewhat surreptitious fashion; and, moreover, that I did it with adesign: that of thwarting the intentions of Vane. But I deny havingdone it as you suppose, because he is my enemy. It was not that; but myfriendship to Mr H--, and his family, that induced me to act as I did.While we were on the Yarra Yarra, I could not fail to notice that youwere not wholly indifferent to the beauty of Miss H--; and also, thatshe had the discernment to see, that you were worthy of her esteem.Where was the harm, then, in my bringing you once more together? Youare mistaken in thinking, that I was using you to give annoyance to anenemy. On the contrary, I claim to have been only guilty of studyingthe happiness of my friends."
To Cannon's explanation I could make no answer. He was better in anargument than I; and what he had said, left me without any reason tobelieve, that he knew either of Jessie's being engaged to Vane, or thattheir marriage was shortly to take place. From his point of view, Icould not much blame him for what he had done.
I had received Cannon with the resolve to have nothing more to do withhim, after our interview should end; but he had given me a fairexplanation of his conduct, and we parted without any ill-will.
I had promised to call again upon Jessie. It was after my last visit toher, that I had learnt of her approaching marriage with Vane; and, onreceiving this intelligence, I regretted having made the promise. I hadtwo reasons for regretting it. To see her again could only add to herunhappiness; and perhaps to me might be a cause of self-reproach.
Nothing but sorrow could spring from our again seeing one another--asorrow that might be mutual--and, in spite of the promise I had given, Idetermined we should meet no more.
Volume Three, Chapter XXVI.
MRS NAGGER.
My brother William had rented a house in Brompton, engaged two femaleservants, and commenced house-keeping after the manner of mostLondoners.
In his house I was permitted to occupy two apartments--a parlour, andbed-room.
The servant, who attended to these rooms, possessed a character, markedby some peculiarities that were rather amusing. She was over fiftyyears of age; and carried about the house a face that most people wouldhave considered unpleasant.
I did not. I only believed that Mrs Nagger--such was her name--mighthave experienced several disappointments in her life; and that theexpression, caused by the latest and last of them, had become soindelibly stamped upon her features, as not to be removed by any hope offuture happiness.
Like a good many of her sex, Mrs Nagger's tongue was seldom at rest,though the words she uttered were but few, and generally limited to theexclamatory phrase, "More's the pity!" followed by the confession,"That's all I can say."
I had, sometimes, cause to complain of the coffee, which the oldhousekeeper used to set before me--fancying it inferior to any, I hadmet elsewhere.
"Mrs Nagger," I would say--laying an emphasis on the Mrs, of which sheseemed no little vain--"I do not think this is coffee at all. What doyou suppose it to be?"
"Indeed I don't know, sir; and more's the pity!"
"And this milk," I would continue, "I fancy it must have been taken froman iron-tailed cow."
"Yes, sir; and more's the pity! That's all I can say."
I soon learnt that the old creature was quite right in her simpleconfession. "More's the pity" was about all she could say; and I wasnot sorry that it was so.
One day I was honoured by a visit from Cannon, who, being some yearsolder than myself, and having rather an elevated opinion of his ownwisdom, volunteered to offer me a little advice.
"Stone," said he, "why don't you settle down, and live happily like yourbrother? If I had your opportunity of doing so, I wouldn't put up withthe miserable life I am leading, a week longer."
"What opportunity do you speak of?"
"W
hy that of marrying Jessie H--. Do not think me meddlesome, orimpertinent. I take it for granted that you and I are sufficientlyacquainted for me to take the liberty I am doing. The girl likes you; Iknow it, and it is a deuced shame to see a fine girl like her thrownaway on such a puppy as Vane. Why don't you save her? She iseverything a man could wish for--although she is a little different frommost of the young ladies of London. In my opinion, she's all the betterfor that."
In thus addressing me, Cannon acted in a more ungentlemanly manner thanI had ever known him to do, for he was not a man to intrude advice uponhis friends--especially on matters of so serious a nature, as the one hehad introduced.
Believing him to have some friendship for myself, more for the H--family, and a great antipathy to Vane, I listened to him without feelingoffended.
"I am not