CHAPTER IV. A VERY GREAT FAVOR
Amongst the embarrassments of story-telling there is one which, to beappreciated, must have been experienced; it is, however, sufficientlyintelligible to claim sympathy even by indicating,--we mean thedifficulty a narrator has in the choice of those incidents by whichhis tale is to be marked out, and the characters who fill it adequatelydepicted.
It is quite clear that a great number of events must occur in the storyof every life of which no record can be made; some seem too trivial,some too irrelevant for mention, and yet, when we come to reflect uponreal life itself, how many times do we discover that what appeared to bebut the veriest trifles were the mainsprings of an entire existence,and the incidents which we deemed irrelevant were the hidden linksthat connected a whole chain of events? How easy, then, to err in theselection! This difficulty presents itself strongly to us at present; avast number of circumstances rise before us from which we must refrain,lest they should appear to indicate a road we are not about to travel;and, at the same time, we feel the want of those very events toreconcile what may well seem contradictions in our history.
It not unfrequently happens that an apology is just as tiresome asthe offence it should excuse; and so, without further explanation, weproceed. Lady Dorothea soon found herself as much sought after as shehad previously been neglected. The Duchesse de Luygnes was the greatleader of fashion at Paris; and the marked attentions by which shedistinguished her Ladyship at once established her position. Of courseher unquestionable claim to station, and her own high connectionsrendered the task less difficult; while it imparted to Lady Dorothea'sown manner and bearing that degree of dignity and calm which neveraccompany an insecure elevation.
With such refinement of delicacy, such exquisite tact, was every stepmanaged that her Ladyship was left to suppose every attention shereceived sprung out of her own undeniable right to them, and to thegrace and charm of a manner which really had had its share of successsome five-and-thirty years before. The gloomy isolation she had passedthrough gave a stronger contrast to the enjoyment of her present life;and for the first time for years she regained some of that courtlyelegance of address which in her youth had pre-eminently distinguishedher. The change had worked favorably in her temper also; and Martinperceived, with astonishment, that she neither made injuriouscomparisons between the present and the past, nor deemed the age theylived in one of insufferable vulgarity. It would scarcely have beenpossible for Lady Dorothea not to connect her altered position with thefriendship between Kate Henderson and her former pupil; she knew it, andshe felt it. All her self-esteem could not get over this consciousness;but it was a humiliation reserved for her own heart, since nothing inKate's manner indicated even a suspicion of the fact. On the contrary,never had she shown herself more submissive and dependent. The dutiesof her office, multiplied as they were tenfold by her Ladyship'sengagements, were all punctually acquitted, and with a degree of tactand cleverness that obtained from Lady Dorothea the credit of a charmingnote-writer. Nor was she indifferent to the effect Kate produced insociety, where her beauty and fascination had already made a deepimpression.
Reserving a peculiar deference and respect for all her intercourse withLady Dorothea, Kate Henderson assumed to the world at large the ease anddignity of one whose station was the equal of any. There was nothing inher air or bearing that denoted the dependant; there was rather a dashof haughty superiority, which did not scruple to avow itself and biddefiance to any bold enough to question its claims. Even this was asecret flattery to Lady Dorothea's heart; and she saw with satisfactionthe success of that imperious tone which to herself was subdued toactual humility.
Lady Dorothea Martin and her beautiful companion were now celebritiesat Paris; and, assuredly, no city of the world knows how to showermore fascinations on those it favors. Life became to them a round ofbrilliant festivities. They received invitations from every quarter, andeverywhere were met with that graceful welcome so sure to greet thosewhose airs and whose dress are the ornaments of a salon. They "received"at home, too; and her Ladyship's Saturdays were about the most exclusiveof all Parisian receptions. Tacitly, at least, the whole management anddirection of these "Evenings" was committed to Kate. Martin strictlyabstained from a society in every way distasteful to him. The Captainhad come to care for nothing but play, so that the Club was his onlyhaunt; and it was the rarest of all events to see him pass even a fewminutes in the drawing-room. He had, besides, that degree of shrinkingdislike to Kate Henderson which a weak man very often experiencestowards a clever and accomplished girl. When he first joined his familyat Paris, he was struck by her great beauty and the elegance of a mannerthat might have dignified any station, and he fell partly in love,--thatis to say, as much in love as a captain of hussars could permit himselfto feel for a governess. He condescended to make small advances, showher petty attentions, and even distinguish her by that flattering stare,with his glass to his eye, which he had known to be what the poet calls"blush-compelling" in many a fair cheek in provincial circles.
To his marvellous discomfiture, however, these measures were notfollowed by any success. She never as much as seemed aware of them, andtreated him with the same polite indifference, as though he had beenneither a hussar nor a lady-killer. Of course he interpreted this as apiece of consummate cunning; he had no other measure for her capacitythan would have been suited to his own. She was a deep one, evidentlybent on drawing him on, and entangling him in some stupid declaration,and so he grew cautious. But, somehow, his reserve provoked as littleas his boldness. She did not change in the least; she treated him with aquiet, easy sort of no-notice,--the most offensive thing possible to onebent upon being impressive, and firmly persuaded that he need only wish,to be the conqueror.
Self-worship was too strong in him to suffer a single doubt as to hisown capacity for success, and therefore the only solution to the mysteryof her manner was its being an artful scheme, which time and a littlewatching would surely explain. Time went on, and yet he grew none thewiser; Kate continued the same impassive creature as at first. She neversought,--never avoided him. She met him without constraint,--withoutpleasure, too. They never became intimate, while there was no distancein their intercourse; till at last, wounded in his self-esteem, hebegan to feel that discomfort in her presence which only waits for theslightest provocation to become actual dislike.
With that peevishness that belongs to small minds, he would have beenglad to have discovered some good ground for hating her; and a dozentimes a day did he fancy that he had "hit the blot," but somehow healways detected his mistake erelong; and thus did he live on in thattantalizing state of uncertainty and indecision which combines about asmuch suffering as men of his stamp are capable of feeling.
If Lady Dorothea never suspected the degree of influence Kate silentlyexercised over her, the Captain saw it palpably, and tried to nourishthe knowledge into a ground for dislike. But somehow she would no moresuffer herself to be hated than to be loved, and invariably baffledall his attempts to "get up" an indignation against her. By numberlessdevices--too slight, too evanescent to be called regular coquetry--sheunderstood how to conciliate him, even in his roughest moods, while shehad only to make the very least possible display of her attractions tofascinate him in his happier moments. The gallant hussar was not muchgiven to self-examination. It was one of the last positions he wouldhave selected; and yet he had confessed to his own heart that, though he'd not like to marry her himself, he 'd be sorely tempted to shoot anyman who made her his wife.
Lady Dorothea and Kate Henderson were seated one morning engaged in thevery important task of revising the invitation-book,--weeding out thenames of departed acquaintance, and canvassing the claims of those whoshould succeed them. The rigid criticism as to eligibility showed howgreat an honor was the card for her Ladyship's "Tea." While they werethus occupied, Captain Martin entered the room with an open letter inhis hand, his air and manner indicating flurry, if not actual agitation.
"Sorry to int
errupt a privy council," said he, "but I've come to aska favor,--don't look frightened; it's not for a woman, my Lady,--but Iwant a card for your next Saturday, for a male friend of mine."
"Kate has just been telling me that 'our men' are too numerous."
"Impossible. Miss Henderson knows better than any one that the successof these things depends on having a host of men,--all ages, all classes,all sorts of people," said he, indolently.
"I think we have complied with your theory," said she, pointing to thebook before her. "If our ladies are chosen for their real qualities, themen have been accepted with a most generous forbearance."
"One more, then, will not damage the mixture."
"Of course, Captain Martin, it is quite sufficient that he is a friendof yours--that you wish it--"
"But it is no such thing, Miss Henderson," broke in Lady Dorothea. "Wehave already given deep umbrage in many quarters--very high quarters,too--by refusals; and a single mistake would be fatal to us."
"But why need this be a mistake?" cried Captain Martin, peevishly. "Theman is an acquaintance of mine,--a friend, if you like to call him so."
"And who is he?" asked my Lady, with all the solemnity of a judge.
"A person I met at the Cape. We travelled home together--saw a greatdeal of each other--in fact--I know him as intimately as I do--anyofficer in my regiment," said the Captain, blundering and faltering atevery second word.
"Oh! then he is one of your own corps?" said her Ladyship.
"I never said so," broke he in. "If he had been, I don't fancy I shouldneed to employ much solicitation in his behalf; the--they are notusually treated in that fashion!"
"I trust we should know how to recognize their merits," said Kate,with a look which sorely puzzled him whether it meant conciliation orraillery.
"And his name?" asked my Lady. "His name ought to be decisive, withoutanything more!"
"He's quite a stranger here, knows nobody, so that you incur no risk asto any impertinent inquiries, and when he leaves this, to-morrow or nextday, you 'll never see him again." This the Captain said with all theconfusion of an inexpert man in a weak cause.
"Shall I address his card, or will you take it yourself, CaptainMartin?" said Kate, in a low voice.
"Write Merl,--Mr. Herman Merl," said he, dropping his own voice to thesame tone.
"Merl!" exclaimed Lady Dorothea, whose quick hearing detected the words."Why, where on earth could you have made acquaintance with a man calledMerl?"
"I have told you already where and how we met; and if it beany satisfaction to you to know that I am under considerableobligations--heavy obligations--to this same gentleman, perhaps it mightincline you to show him some mark of attention."
"You could have him to dinner at your Club,--you might even bring himhere, when we're alone, Harry; but really, to receive him at one ofour Evenings! You know how curious people are, what questions they willask:--'Who is that queer-looking man?'--I 'm certain he is so.--'Is heEnglish?'--'Who does he belong to?'--'Does he know any one?'"
"Let them ask me, then," said Martin, "and I may, perhaps, be able tosatisfy them." At the same moment he took up from the table the cardwhich Kate had just written, giving her a look of grateful recognitionas he did so.
"You 've done this at your own peril, Miss Henderson," said LadyDorothea, half upbraidingly.
"At _mine_, be it rather," said the Captain, sternly.
"I accept my share of it willingly," said Kate, with a glance whichbrought a deep flush over the hussar's cheek, and sent through him astrange thrill of pleasure.
"Then I am to suppose we shall be honored with your own presence on thisoccasion,--rare favor that it is," said her Ladyship.
"Yes, I 'll look in. I promised Merl to present him."
"Oh, you need n't!" said she, peevishly. "Half the men merely make theirbow when they meet me, and neither expect me to remember who they areor to notice them. I may leave your distinguished friend in the samecategory."
A quick glance from Kate--fleeting, but full of meaning--stopped Martinas he was about to make a hasty reply. And, crumpling up the card withsuppressed passion, he turned and left the room.
"Don't put that odious name on our list, Miss Henderson," said LadyDorothea; "we shall never have him again."
"I 'm rather curious to see him," said Kate. "All this discussion hasimparted a kind of interest to him, not to say that there would seemsomething like a mystery in Captain Martin's connection with him."
"I confess to no such curiosity," said my Lady, haughtily. "The tasteto be amused by vulgarity is like the passion some people have to see anhospital; you may be interested by the sight, but you may catch a maladyfor your pains." And with this observation of mingled truth and fallacyher Ladyship sailed proudly out of the room in all the consciousimportance of her own cleverness.
The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. II (of II) Page 4