by F. Anstey
IN PURSUIT OF PLEASURE
I.
"Ther hopped Hawkyn, Ther daunsed Dawkyn, Ther trumped Tomkyn...."
_The Tournament of Tottenham._
In Southampton Row, Bloomsbury, there is a small alley or passageleading into Queen Square, and rendered inaccessible to all but footpassengers by some iron posts. The shops in this passage are of asubdued exterior, and are overshadowed by a dingy old edifice dedicatedto St. George the Martyr, which seems to have begun its existence as arather handsome chapel, and to have improved itself, by a sort ofevolution, into a singularly ugly church.
Into this alley, one Saturday afternoon late in October, came a shortstout young man, with sandy hair, and a perpetual grin denotinganticipation rather than enjoyment. Opposite the church he stopped at ahairdresser's shop, which bore the name of Tweddle. The display in thewindow was chastely severe; the conventional half-lady revolving slowlyin fatuous self-satisfaction, and the gentleman bearing a piebald beardwith waxen resignation, were not to be found in this shop-front, whichexhibited nothing but a small pile of toilet remedies and a few lengthsof hair of graduated tints. It was doubtful, perhaps, whether suchself-restraint on the part of its proprietor was the result of adistaste for empty show, or a conviction that the neighbourhood did notexpect it.
Inside the shop there was nobody but a small boy, corking and labellingbottles; but before he could answer any question as to the whereaboutsof his employer, that artist made his appearance. Leander Tweddle wasabout thirty, of middle height, with a luxuriant head of brown hair, andcarefully-trimmed whiskers that curled round towards his upper lip,where they spent themselves in a faint moustache. His eyes were rathersmall, and his nose had a decided upward tendency; but, with hispink-and-white complexion and compact well-made figure, he was far fromill-looking, though he thought himself even farther.
"Well, Jauncy," he said, after the first greetings, "so you haven'tforgot our appointment?"
"Why, no," explained his friend; "but I never thought I should get awayin time to keep it. We've been in court all the morning with motions andshort causes, and the old Vice sat on till past three; and when we didget back to chambers, Splitter kep' me there discussing an opinion ofhis I couldn't agree with, and I was ever so long before I got him toalter it my way."
For he was clerk to a barrister in good practice, and it was Jauncy'spride to discover an occasional verbal slip in some of his employer'smore hastily written opinions on cases, and suggest improvements.
"Well, James," said the hairdresser, "I don't know that I could have gotaway myself any earlier. I've been so absorbed in the laborrit'ry, whatwith three rejuvenators and an elixir all on the simmer together, Ialmost gave way under the strain of it; but they're set to cool now, andI'm ready to go as soon as you please."
"Now," said Jauncy, briskly, as they left the shop together, "if we'reto get up to Rosherwich Gardens to-night, we mustn't dawdle."
"I just want to look in here a minute," said Tweddle, stopping beforethe window of a working-jeweller, who sat there in a narrow partitionfacing the light, with a great horn lens protruding from one of his eyeslike a monstrous growth. "I left something there to be altered, and Imay as well see if it's done."
Apparently it was done, for he came out almost immediately, thrusting asmall cardboard box into his pocket as he rejoined his friend. "Now we'dbetter take a cab up to Fenchurch Street," said Jauncy. "Can't keepthose girls standing about on the platform."
As they drove along, Tweddle observed, "I didn't understand that ourparty was to include the fair sect, James?"
"Didn't you? I thought my letter said so plain enough. I'm an engagedman now, you know, Tweddle. It wouldn't do if I went out to enjoy myselfand left my young lady at home!"
"No," agreed Leander Tweddle, with a moral twinge, "no, James. I'dforgot you were engaged. What's the lady's name, by-the-by?"
"Parkinson; Bella Parkinson," was the answer.
Leander had turned a deeper colour. "Did you say," he asked, looking outof the window on his side of the hansom, "that there was another ladygoing down?"
"Only Bella's sister, Ada. She's a regular jolly girl, Ada is,you'll----Hullo!"
For Tweddle had suddenly thrust his stick up the trap and stopped thecab. "I'm very sorry, James," he said, preparing to get out, "but--butyou'll have to excuse me being of your company."
"Do you mean that my Bella and her sister are not good enough companyfor you?" demanded Jauncy. "You were a shop-assistant yourself, Tweddle,only a short while ago!"
"I know that, James, I know; and it isn't that--far from it. I'm surethey are two as respectable girls, and quite the ladies in everyrespect, as I'd wish to meet. Only the fact is----"
The driver was listening through the trap, and before Leander would saymore he told him to drive on till further orders, after which hecontinued--
"The fact is--we haven't met for so long that I dare say you're unawareof it--but _I'm_ engaged, James, too!"
"Wish you joy with all my heart, Tweddle; but what then?"
"Why," exclaimed Leander, "my Matilda (that's _her_ name) is the dearestgirl, James; but she's most uncommon partickler, and I don't think she'dlike my going to a place of open-air entertainment where there'sdancing--and I'll get out here, please!"
"Gammon!" said Jauncy. "That isn't it, Tweddle; don't try and humbug me.You were ready enough to go just now. You've a better reason than that!"
"James, I'll tell you the truth; I have. In earlier days, James, I usedconstantly to be meeting Miss Parkinson and her sister in serciety, andI dare say I made myself so pleasant and agreeable (you know what a waythat is of mine), that Miss Ada (not _your_ lady, of course) may havethought I meant something special by it, and there's no saying but whatit might have come in time to our keeping company, only I happened justthen to see Matilda, and--and I haven't been near the Parkinsons eversince. So you can see for yourself that a meeting might be awkward forall parties concerned; and I really must get out, James!"
Jauncy forced him back. "It's all nonsense, Tweddle," he said, "youcan't back out of it now! Don't make a fuss about nothing. Ada don'tlook as if she'd been breaking her heart for you!"
"You never can tell with women," said the hairdresser, sententiously;"and meeting me sudden, and learning it could never be--no one can sayhow she mightn't take it!"
"I call it too bad!" exclaimed Jauncy. "Here have I been counting on youto make the ladies enjoy themselves--for I haven't your gift ofentertaining conversation, and don't pretend to it--and you go and leaveme in the lurch, and spoil their evening for them!"
"If I thought I was doing that----" said Leander, hesitating.
"You are, you know you are!" persisted Jauncy, who was naturally anxiousto avoid the reduction of his party to so inconvenient a number asthree.
"And see here, Tweddle, you needn't say anything of your engagementunless you like. I give you my word I won't, not even to Bella, ifyou'll only come! As to Ada, she can take care of herself, unless I'mvery much mistaken in her. So come along, like a good chap!"
"I give in, James; I give in," said Leander. "A promise is a promise,and yet I feel somehow I'm doing wrong to go, and as if no good wouldcome of it. I do indeed!"
And so he did not stop the cab a second time, and allowed himself to betaken without further protest to Fenchurch Street Station, on theplatform of which they found the Misses Parkinson waiting for them.
Miss Bella Parkinson, the elder of the two, who was employed in a largetoy and fancy goods establishment in the neighbourhood of WestbourneGrove, was tall and slim, with pale eyes and auburn hair. She had someclaims to good looks, in spite of a slightly pasty complexion, and alarge and decidedly unamiable mouth.
Her sister Ada was the more pleasing in appearance and manner, abrunette with large brown eyes, an impertinent little nose, and abrilliant healthy colour. She was an assistant to a milliner andbonnet-maker in the Edgware Road.
Both these young ladies, when in the fulfi
lment of their daily duties,were models of deportment; in their hours of ease, the elder's colddignity was rather apt to turn to peevishness, while the younger sister,relieved from the restraints of the showroom, betrayed a lively and evenfrivolous disposition.
It was this liveliness and frivolity that had fascinated the hairdresserin days that had gone by; but if he had felt any self-distrust now inventuring within their influence, such apprehensions vanished with thefirst sight of the charms which had been counteracted before they hadtime to prevail.
She was well enough, this Miss Ada Parkinson, he thought now; anice-looking girl in her way, and stylishly dressed. But his Matildalooked twice the lady she ever could, and a vision of his betrothed (atthat time taking a week's rest in the country) rose before him, as if tojustify and confirm his preference.
The luckless James had to undergo some amount of scolding from MissBella for his want of punctuality, a scolding which merely supplied anobject to his grin; and during her remarks, Ada had ample time to rallyLeander Tweddle upon his long neglect, and used it to the bestadvantage.
Perhaps he would have been better pleased by a little lessinsensibility, a touch of surprise and pleasure on her part at meetinghim again, as he allowed himself to show in a remark that his absencedid not seem to have affected her to any great extent.
"I don't know what you expected, Mr. Tweddle," she replied. "Ought I tohave cried both my eyes out? You haven't cried out either of yours, youknow!"
"'Men must work, and women must weep,' as Shakspeare says," he observed,with a vague idea that he was making rather an apt quotation. But hiscompanion pointed out that this only applied to cases where the womenhad something to weep about.
The party had a compartment to themselves, and Leander, who sat at oneend opposite to Ada, found his spirits rising under the influence of herlively sallies.
"That's the only thing Matilda wants," he thought, "a little moreliveliness and go about her. I like a little chaff myself, now and then,I must say."
At the other end of the carriage, Bella had been suggesting that thegardens might be closed so late in the year, and regretting that theyhad not chosen the new melodrama at the Adelphi instead; which causedJauncy to draw glowing pictures of the attractions of RosherwichGardens.
"I was there a year ago last summer," he said, "and it was first-rate:open-air dancing, summer theatre, rope-walking, fireworks, and supperout under the trees. You'll enjoy yourself, Bella, right enough when youget there!"
"If that isn't enough for you, Bella," cried her sister, "you must bedifficult to please! I'm sure I'm quite looking forward to it; aren'tyou, Mr. Tweddle?"
The poor man was cursed by the fatal desire of pleasing, andunconsciously threw an altogether unnecessary degree of _empressement_into his voice as he replied, "In the company I am at present, I shouldlook forward to it, if it was a wilderness with a funeral in it."
"Oh dear me, Mr. Tweddle, that _is_ a pretty speech!" said Ada, and sheblushed in a manner which appalled the conscience-stricken hairdresser.
"There I go again," he thought remorsefully, "putting things in the poorgirl's head--it ain't right. I'm making myself too pleasant!"
And then it struck him that it would be only prudent to make hisposition clearly understood, and, carefully lowering his voice, he begana speech with that excellent intention. "Miss Parkinson," he saidhuskily, "there's something I have to tell you about myself, veryparticular. Since I last enjoyed the pleasure of meeting with you myprospects have greatly altered, I am no longer----"
But she cut him short with a little gesture of entreaty. "Oh, not here,please, Mr. Tweddle," she said; "tell me about it in the gardens!"
"Very well," he said, relieved; "remind me when we get there--in case Iforget, you know."
"Remind you!" cried Ada; "the _idea_, Mr. Tweddle! I certainly shan't doany such thing."
"She thinks I am going to propose to her!" he thought ruefully; "it willbe a delicate business undeceiving her. I wish it was over and donewith!"
It was quite dark by the time they had crossed the river by the ferry,and made their way up to the entrance to the pleasure gardens, imposingenough, with its white colonnade, its sphinxes, and lines of colouredlamps.
But no one else had crossed with them; and, as they stood at theturnstiles, all they could see of the grounds beyond seemed so dark andsilent that they began to have involuntary misgivings. "I suppose,"said Jauncy to the man at the ticket-hole, "the gardens are open--eh?"
"Oh yes," he said gruffly, "_they're_ open--they're _open_; though thereain't much going on out-of-doors, being the last night of the season."
Bella again wished that they had selected the Adelphi for theirevening's pleasure, and remarked that Jauncy "might have known."
"Well," said the latter to the party generally, "what do you say--shallwe go in, or get back by the first train home?"
"Don't be so ridiculous, James!" said Bella, peevishly. "What's the goodof going back, to be too late for everything. The mischief's done now."
"Oh, let's go in!" advised Ada; "the amusements and things will be justas nice indoors--nicer on a chilly evening like this;" and Leanderseconded her heartily.
So they went in; Jauncy leading the way with the still complainingBella, and Leander Tweddle bringing up the rear with Ada. They pickedtheir way as well as they could in the darkness, caused by the closelyplanted trees and shrubs, down a winding path, where the sopped leavesgave a slippery foothold, and the branches flicked moisture insultinglyin their faces as they pushed them aside.
A dead silence reigned everywhere, broken only by the wind as it rustledamongst the bare twigs, or the whistling of a flaring gas-torchprotruding from some convenient tree.
Jauncy occasionally shouted back some desperate essay at jocularity, atwhich Ada laughed with some perseverance, until even she could no longerresist the influence of the surroundings.
On a hot summer's evening those grounds, brilliantly illuminated andcrowded by holiday-makers, have been the delight of thousands of honestLondoners, and will be so again; but it was undeniable that on thisparticular occasion they were pervaded by a decent melancholy.
Ada had slipped a hand, clad in crimson silk, through Leander's arm asthey groped through the gloom together, and shrank to his side now andthen in an alarm which was only half pretended. But if her lightpressure upon his arm made his heart beat at all the faster, it was onlyat the fancy that the trusting hand was his Matilda's, or so at leastdid he account for it to himself afterwards.
They followed on, down a broad promenade, where the ground glistenedwith autumn damps, and the unlighted lamps looked wan and spectral.There was a bear-pit hard by, over the railings of which Ada leaned andshouted a defiant "Boo;" but the bears had turned in for the night, andthe stone re-echoed her voice with a hollow ring. Indistinct bird formswere roosting in cages; but her umbrella had no effect upon them.
Jauncy was waiting for them to come up, perhaps as a protection againsthis _fiancee's_ reproaches. "In another hour," he said, with an impliedapology, "you'll see how different this place looks. We--we're come alittle too early. Suppose we fill up the time by a nice little dinner atthe Restorong--eh, Ada? What do you think, Tweddle?"
The suggestion was received favourably, and Jauncy, thankful to retrievehis reputation as leader, took them towards the spot where food was tobe had.
Presently they saw lights twinkling through the trees, and came to aplace which was clearly the focus of festivity. There was the open-airtheatre, its drop-scene lowered, its proscenium lost in the gloom;there was the circle for _al-fresco_ dancing, but it was bare, and theclustered lights were dead; there was the restaurant, dark and silentlike all else.
Jauncy stood there and rubbed his chin. "This is where I dined when wewere here last," he said, at length; "and a capital little dinner theygave us too!"
"What _I_ should like to know," said the elder Miss Parkinson, "is,where are we to dine to-night?"
"Yes," said Jauncy, encourag
ingly; "don't you fret yourself, Bella.Here's an old party sweeping up leaves, we'll ask him."
They did so, and were referred to a large building, in the Gothic style,with a Tudor doorway, known as the "Baronial All," where lights shonebehind the painted windows.
Inside, a few of the lamps around the pillars were lighted, and the bodyof the floor was roped in as if for dancing; but the hall was empty,save for a barmaid, assisted by a sharp little girl, behind the long baron one of its sides.
Jauncy led his dejected little party up to this, and again put hisinquiry with less hopefulness. When he found that the only availableform of refreshment that evening was bitter ale and captain's biscuits,mitigated by occasional caraway seeds, he became a truly pitiableobject.
"They--they don't keep this place up on the same scale in the autumn,you see," he explained weakly. "It's very different in summer; what theycall 'an endless round of amusements.'"
"There's an endless round of amusement now," observed Ada; "but it's anaught!"
"Oh, there'll be something going on by-and-by, never fear," said Jauncy,determined to be sanguine; "or else they wouldn't be open."
"There'll be dancing here this evening," the barmaid informed him. "Thatis all we open for at this time of year; and this is the last night ofthe season."
"Oh!" said Jauncy, cheerfully; "you see we only came just in time,Bella; and I suppose you'll have a good many down here to-night--eh,miss?"
"How much did we take last Saturday, Jenny?" said the barmaid to thesharp little girl.
"Seven and fourpence 'ap'ny--most of it beer," said the child."Margaret, I may count the money again to-night, mayn't I?"
The barmaid made some mental calculation, after which she replied toJauncy's question. "We may have some fifteen couples or so downto-night," she said; "but that won't be for half an hour yet."
"The question is," said Jauncy, trying to bear up under this last blow;"the question is, How are we to amuse ourselves till the dancingbegins?"
"I don't know what others are going to do," Bella announced; "but Ishall stay here, James, and keep warm--if I can!" and once more sheuttered her regret that they had not gone to the Adelphi.
Her sister declined to follow her example. "I mean to see all there isto be seen," she declared, "since we are here; and perhaps Mr. Tweddlewill come and take care of me. Will you, Mr. Tweddle?"
He was not sorry to comply, and they wandered out together through thegrounds, which offered considerable variety. There were alleys linedwith pale plaster statues, and a grove dedicated to the master minds ofthe world, represented by huge busts, with more or less appropriatequotations. There were alcoves, too, and neatly ruined castles.
Ada talked almost the whole time in a sprightly manner, which gaveLeander no opportunity of introducing the subject of his engagement, andthis continued until they had reached a small battlemented platform onsome rising ground; below were the black masses of trees, with a faintfringe of light here and there; beyond lay the Thames, in which red andwhite reflections quivered, and from whose distant bends and reachescame the dull roar of fog-horns and the pantings of tugs.
Ada stood here in silence for some time; at last she said, "After all,I'm not sorry we came--are _you_?"
"If I don't take care what I say, I _may_ be!" he thought, and answeredguardedly, "On the contrary, I'm glad, for it gives me the opportunityof telling you something I--I think you ought to know."
"What was he going to say next?" she thought. Was a declaration coming,and if so, should she accept him? She was not sure; he had behaved verybadly in keeping so long away from her, and a proposal would be a verysuitable form of apology; but there was the gentleman who travelled fora certain firm in the Edgware Road, he had been very "particular" in hisattentions of late. Well, she would see how she felt when Leander hadspoken; he was beginning to speak now.
"I don't want to put it too abrupt," he said; "I'll come to itgradually. There's a young lady that I'm now looking forward to spendingthe whole of my future life with."
"And what is she called?" asked Ada. ("He's rather a nice little man,after all!" she was thinking.)
"Matilda," he said; and the answer came like a blow in the face. For themoment she hated him as bitterly as if he had been all the world toher; but she carried off her mortification by a rather hysterical laugh.
"Fancy you being engaged!" she said, by way of explanation of hermerriment; "and to any one with the name of Matilda--it's such a stupidsounding sort of name!"
"It ain't at all; it all depends how you say it. If you pronounce itlike I do, _Matilda_, it has rather a pretty sound. You try now."
"Well, we won't quarrel about it, Mr. Tweddle; I'm glad it isn't myname, that's all. And now tell me all about your young lady. What's herother name, and is she very good-looking?"
"She's a Miss Matilda Collum," said he; "she is considered handsome bycompetent judges, and she keeps the books at a florist's in the vicinityof Bayswater."
"And, if it isn't a rude question, why didn't you bring her with youthis evening?"
"Because she's away for a short holiday, and isn't coming back till thelast thing to-morrow night."
"And I suppose you've been wishing I was Matilda all the time?" she saidaudaciously; for Miss Ada Parkinson was not an over-scrupulous youngperson, and did not recognize in the fact of her friend's engagement anyreason why she should not attempt to reclaim his vagrant admiration.
Leander _had_ been guilty of this wish once or twice; but though he wasnot absolutely overflowing with tact, he did refrain from admitting theimpeachment.
"Well, you see," he said, in not very happy evasion, "Matilda doesn'tcare about this kind of thing; she's rather particular, Matilda is."
"And I'm not!" said Ada. "I see; thank you, Mr. Tweddle!"
"You do take one up so!" he complained. "I never intended nothing of thesort--far from it."
"Well, then, I forgive you; we can't all be Matildas, I suppose. Andnow, suppose we go back; they will be beginning to dance by now!"
"With pleasure," he said; "only you must excuse me dancing, because, asan engaged man, I have had to renounce (except with one person) thecharms of Terpsy-chore. I mean," he explained condescendingly, "that Ican't dance in public save with my intended."
"Ah, well," said Ada, "perhaps Terpsy-chore will get over it; still Ishould like to see the Terpsy-choring, if you have no objection."
And they returned to the Baronial Hall, which by this time presented amore cheerful appearance. The lamps round the mirror-lined pillars wereall lit, and the musicians were just striking up the opening bars of theLancers; upon which several gentlemen amongst the assembly, which nownumbered about forty, ran out into the open and took up positions, likecolour-sergeants at drill, to be presently joined, in some bashfulness,by such ladies as desired partners.
The Lancers were performed with extreme conscientiousness; and when itwas over, every gentleman with any _savoir faire_ to speak of presentedhis partner with a glass of beer.
Then came a waltz, to which Ada beat time impatiently with her foot, andbit her lip, as she had to look on by Leander's side.
"There's Bella and James going round," she said; "I've never had to sitout a waltz before!"
He felt the implied reproach, and thought whether there could be anyharm, after all, in taking a turn or two; it would be only polite. But,before he could recant in words, a soldier came up, a medium-sizedwarrior with a large nose and round little eyes, who had been very funnyduring the Lancers in directing all the figures by words of militarycommand.
"Will you allow me the honour, miss, of just one round?" he said to Ada,respectfully enough.
The etiquette of this ballroom was not of the strictest; but she wouldnot have consented but for the desire of showing Leander that she wasnot dependent upon him for her amusement. As it was, she accepted thecorporal's arm a little defiantly.
Leander watched them round the hall with an odd sensation, almost ofjealousy--it was quite ridiculous
, because he could have danced with Adahimself had he cared to do so; and besides, it was not she, but Matilda,whom he adored.
But, as he began to notice, Ada was looking remarkably pretty thatevening, and really was a partner who would bring any one credit; andher corporal danced villainously, revolving with stiff and wooden jerks,like a toy soldier. Now Leander flattered himself he could waltz--havinghad considerable practice in bygone days in a select assembly, where thetickets were two shillings each, and the gentlemen, as the notices saidambiguously enough, "were restricted to wearing gloves."
So he felt indignantly that Ada was not having justice done to her."I've a good mind to give her a turn," he thought, "and show them allwhat waltzing is!"
Just then the pair happened to come to a halt close to him. "Shockin'time they're playing this waltz in," he heard the soldier exclaim withhumorous vivacity (he was apparently the funny man of the regiment, andhad brought a silent but appreciative comrade with him as audience),"abominable! excruciatin'! comic!! 'orrible!!!"
Leander seized the opportunity. "Excuse me," he said politely, "but ifyou don't like the music, perhaps you wouldn't mind giving up this younglady to me?"
"Oh come, I say!" said the man of war, running his fingers through hisshort curly hair; "my good feller, you'd better see what the lady saysto that!" (He evidently had no doubt himself.)
"I'm very well content as I am, thank you all the same, Mr. Tweddle,"said Ada, unkindly adding in a lower tone, "If you're so anxious todance, dance with Terpsy-chore!"
And again he was left to watch the whirling couples with melancholyeyes. The corporal's brother-in-arms was wheeling round with a plainyoung person, apparently in domestic service, whose face was overspreadby a large red smile of satiated ambition. James and Bella flitted by,dancing vigorously, and Bella's discontent seemed to have vanished forthe time. There were jigging couples and prancing couples; couples thatbounced round like imprisoned bees, and couples that glided past in calmand conscious superiority. He alone stood apart, excluded from the happythrong, and he began to have a pathetic sense of injury.
But the music stopped at last, and Ada, dismissing her partner, cametowards him. "You don't seem to be enjoying yourself, Mr. Tweddle," shesaid maliciously.
"Don't I?" he replied. "Well, so long as you are, it don't matter, MissParkinson--it don't matter."
"But I'm not--at least, I didn't that dance," she said. "That soldierman did talk such rubbish, and he trod on my feet twice. I'm so hot! Iwonder if it's cooler outside?"
"Will you come and see?" he suggested, and this time she did not disdainhis arm, and they strolled out together.
Following a path they had hitherto left unexplored, they came to alittle enclosure surrounded by tall shrubs; in the centre, upon a lowpedestal, stood a female statue, upon which a gas lamp, some paces off,cast a flickering gleam athwart the foliage.
The exceptional grace and beauty of the figure would have been apparentto any lover of art. She stood there, her right arm raised, partly ingracious invitation, partly in queenly command, her left hand extended,palm downwards, as if to be reverentially saluted. The hair was partedin boldly indicated waves over the broad low brow, and confined by afillet in a large loose knot at the back. She was clad in a long chiton,which lapped in soft zig-zag folds over the girdle and fell to the feetin straight parallel lines, and a chlamys hanging from her shouldersconcealed the left arm to the elbow, while it left the right arm free.
In the uncertain light one could easily fancy soft eyes swimming inthose wide blank sockets, and the ripe lips were curved by a dreamysmile, at once tender and disdainful.
Leander Tweddle and Miss Ada Parkinson, however, stood before the statuein an unmoved, not to say critical, mood.
"Who's she supposed to be, I wonder?" asked the young lady, rather as ifthe sculptor were a harmless lunatic whose delusions took a marble shapeoccasionally. This, by the way, is a question which may frequently beheard in picture galleries, and implies an enlightened tolerance.
"I don't know," said Leander; "a foreign female, I fancy--that'sRussian on the pedestal." He inferred this from a resemblance to thecharacters on certain packets of cigarettes.
"But there's some English underneath," said Ada; "I can just make itout. Ap--Apro--Aprodyte. What a funny name!"
"You haven't prenounced it quite correckly," he said; "out there theysound the ph like a f, and give all the syllables--Afroddity." He felt akind of intuition that this was nearer the correct rendering.
"Well," observed Ada, "she's got a silly look, don't you think?"
Leander was less narrow, and gave it as his opinion that she had been"done from a fine woman."
Ada remarked that she herself would never consent to be taken in sounbecoming a costume. "One might as well have no figure at all in thingshanging down for all the world like a sack," she said.
Proceeding to details, she was struck by the smallness of the hands; andit must be admitted that, although the statue as a whole was slightlyabove the average female height, the arms from the elbow downwards, andparticularly the hands, were by no means in proportion, and almostjustified Miss Parkinson's objection, that "no woman could have hands sosmall as that."
"I know some one who has--quite as small," said he softly.
Ada instantly drew off one of the crimson gloves and held out her handbeside the statue's. It was a well-shaped hand, as she very well knew,but it was decidedly larger than the one with which she compared it. "I_said_ so," she observed; "now are you satisfied, Mr. Tweddle?"
But he had been thinking of a hand more slender and dainty than hers,and allowed himself to admit as much. "I--I wasn't meaning you at all,"he said bluntly.
She laughed a little jarring laugh. "Oh, Matilda, of course! Nobody islike Matilda now! But come, Mr. Tweddle, you're not going to stand thereand tell me that this wonderful Matilda of yours has hands no biggerthan those?"
"She has been endowed with quite remarkable small hands," said he; "youwouldn't believe it without seeing. It so happens," he added suddenly,"that I can give you a very fair ideer of the size they are, for I'vegot a ring of hers in my pocket at this moment. It came about this way:my aunt (the same that used to let her second floor to James, and thatMatilda lodges with at present), my aunt, as soon as she heard of ourbeing engaged, nothing would do but I must give Matilda an old ring witha posy inside it, that was in our family, and we soon found the ring wastoo large to keep on, and I left it with old Vidler, near my place ofbusiness, to be made tighter, and called for it on my way here this veryafternoon, and fortunately enough it was ready."
He took out the ring from its bed of pink cotton wool, and offered it toMiss Parkinson.
"You see if you can get it on," he said; "try the little finger!"
She drew back, offended. "_I_ don't want to try it, thank you," she said(she felt as if she might fling it into the bushes if she allowedherself to touch it). "If you _must_ try it on somebody, there's thestatue! You'll find no difficulty in getting it on any of herfingers--or thumbs," she added.
"You shall see," said Leander. "My belief is, it's too small for her, ifanything."
He was a true lover; anxious to vindicate his lady's perfections beforeall the world, and perhaps to convince himself that his estimate was notexaggerated. The proof was so easy, the statue's left hand hungtemptingly within his reach; he accepted the challenge, and slipped thering up the third finger, that was slightly raised as if to receive it.The hand struck no chill, so moist and mild was the evening, but feltwarm and almost soft in his grasp.
"There," he said triumphantly, "it might have been made for her!"
"THERE," HE SAID TRIUMPHANTLY, "IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN MADEFOR HER!"]
"Well," said Ada, not too consistently, "I never said it mightn't!"
"Excuse me," said he, "but you said it would be too large for her; and,if you'll believe me, it's as much as I can do to get it off her finger,it fits that close."
"Well, make haste and get it off, Mr. Twe
ddle, do," said Ada,impatiently. "I've stayed out quite long enough."
"In one moment," he replied; "it's quite a job, I declare, quite a job!"
"Oh, you men are so clumsy!" cried Ada. "Let _me_ try."
"No, no!" he said, rather irritably; "I can manage it," and he continuedto fumble.
At last he looked over his shoulder and said, "It's a singlersuccumstance, but I can't get the ring past the bend of the finger."
Ada was cruel enough to burst out laughing. "It's a judgment upon you,Mr. Tweddle!" she cried.
"You dared me to it!" he retorted. "It isn't friendly of you, I mustsay, Miss Parkinson, to set there enjoying of it--it's bad taste!"
"Well, then, I'm very sorry, Mr. Tweddle; I won't laugh any more; but,for goodness' sake, take me back to the Hall now."
"It's coming!" he said; "I'm working it over the joint now--it's comingquite easily."
"But I can't wait here while it comes," she said. "Do you want me to goback alone? You're not very polite to me this evening, I must say."
"What am I to do?" he said distractedly. "This ring is my engagementring; it's valuable. I can't go away without it!"
"The statue won't run away--you can come back again, by-and-by. Youdon't expect me to spend the rest of the evening out here? I neverthought you could be rude to a lady, Mr. Tweddle."
"No more I can," he said. "Your wishes, Miss Ada, are equivocal tocommands; allow me the honour of reconducting you to the Baronial Hall."
He offered his arm in his best manner; she took it, and together theypassed out of the enclosure, leaving the statue in undisturbedpossession of the ring.