Felix Holt, the Radical

by George Eliot

  CHAPTER VII.

  _M._ It was but yesterday you spoke him well-- You've changed your mind so soon?

  _N._ Not I--'tis he That, changing to my thought, has changed my mind. No man puts rotten apples in his pouch Because their upper side looked fair to him. Constancy in mistake is constant folly.

  The news that the rich heir of the Transomes was actually come back, andhad been seen at Treby, was carried to some one else who had morereasons for being interested in it than the Reverend Rufus Lyon was yetconscious of having. It was owing to this that at three o'clock, twodays afterward, a carriage and pair, with coachman and footman incrimson and drab, passed through the lodge gates at Transome Court.Inside there was a hale, good-natured-looking man of sixty, whose handsrested on a knotted stick held between his knees; and a blue-eyed,well-featured lady, fat and middle-aged--a mountain of satin, lace, andexquisite muslin embroidery. They were not persons of a highlyremarkable appearance, but to most Trebians they seemed absolutelyunique, and likely to be known anywhere. If you had looked down uponthem from the box of Sampson's coach, he would have said, after liftinghis hat, "Sir Maximus and his lady--did you see?" thinking it needlessto add the surname.

  "We shall find her greatly elated, doubtless," Lady Debarry was saying."She has been in the shade so long."

  "Ah, poor thing!" said Sir Maximus. "A fine woman she was in her bloom.I remember the first county ball she attended we were all ready to fightfor the sake of dancing with her. I always liked her from that time--Inever swallowed the scandal about her myself."

  "If we are to be intimate with her," said Lady Debarry, "I wish youwould avoid making such allusions, Sir Maximus. I should not like Selinaand Harriet to hear them."

  "My dear, I should have forgotten all about the scandal, only you remindme of it sometimes," retorted the baronet, smiling and taking out hissnuff-box.

  "These sudden turns of fortune are often dangerous to an excitableconstitution," said Lady Debarry, not choosing to notice her husband'sepigram. "Poor Lady Alicia Methurst got heart-disease from a suddenpiece of luck--the death of her uncle, you know. If Mrs. Transome waswise she would go to town--she can afford it now, and consult Dr.Truncheon. I should say myself he would order her digitalis: I haveoften guessed exactly what a prescription would be. But it certainly wasone of her weak points to think she understood medicine better thanother people."

  "She's a healthy woman enough, surely: see how upright she is, and sherides about like a girl of twenty."

  "She is so thin that she makes me shudder."

  "Pooh! she's slim and active; women are not bid for by the pound."

  "Pray don't be so coarse."

  Sir Maximus laughed and showed his good teeth, which made his laughtervery becoming. The carriage stopped, and they were soon ushered to Mrs.Transome's sitting-room, where she was working at her worstedembroidery. A little daily embroidery had been a constant element inMrs. Transome's life; but that soothing occupation of taking stitches toproduce what neither she nor any one else wanted, was then the resourceof many a well-born and unhappy woman.

  She received much warm congratulation and pressure of her hand withperfect composure of manner; but she became paler than usual, and herhands turned quite cold. The Debarrys did not yet know what Harold'spolitics were.

  "Well, our lucky youngster is come in the nick of time," said SirMaximus: "if he'll stand, he and Philip can run in harness together andkeep out both the Whigs."

  "It is really quite a providential thing--his returning just now," saidLady Debarry. "I couldn't help thinking that something would occur toprevent Philip from having such a man as Peter Garstin for hiscolleague."

  "I call my friend Harold a youngster," said Sir Maximus, "for, you know,I remember him only as he was when that portrait was taken."

  "That is a long while ago," said Mrs. Transome. "My son is much altered,as you may imagine."

  There was a confused sound of voices in the library while this talk wasgoing on. Mrs. Transome chose to ignore that noise, but her face, frombeing pale, began to flush a little.

  "Yes, yes, on the outside, I dare say. But he was a fine fellow--Ialways liked him. And if anybody should ask me what I should choose forthe good of the country, I couldn't have thought of anything better thanhaving a young Transome for a neighbor who will take an active part. TheTransomes and the Debarrys were always on the right side together in olddays. Of course he'll stand--he has made up his mind to it?"

  The need for an answer to this embarrassing question was deferred by theincrease of inarticulate sounds accompanied by a bark from the library,and the sudden appearance at the tapestry-hung doorway of old Mr.Transome with a cord around his waist, playing a very poor-paced horsefor a black-maned little boy about three years old, who was urging himon with loud encouraging noises and occasional thumps from a stick whichhe wielded with difficulty. The old man paused with a vague smile at thedoorway while the baronet got up to speak to him. Nimrod snuffed at hismaster's legs to ascertain that he was not hurt, and the little boy,finding something new to be looked at, let go the cord and came round infront of the company, dragging his stick, and standing at a safewar-dancing distance as he fixed his great black eyes on Lady Debarry.

  "Dear me, what a splendid little boy, Mrs. Transome! why--it cannotbe--can it be--that you have the happiness to be a grandmamma?"

  "Yes; that is my son's little boy."

  "Indeed!" said Lady Debarry, really amazed. "I never heard you speak ofhis marriage. He has brought you home a daughter-in-law, then?"

  "No," said Mrs. Transome, coldly; "she is dead."

  "O--o--oh!" said Lady Debarry, in a tone ludicrously undecided betweencondolence, satisfaction, and general mistiness. "How very singular--Imean that we should not have heard of Mr. Harold's marriage. But he's acharming little fellow: come to me, you round-cheeked cherub."

  The black eyes continued fixed as if by a sort of fascination on LadyDebarry's face, and her affable invitation was unheeded. At last,putting his head forward and pouting his lips, the cherub gave forthwith marked intention the sounds, "Nau-o-oom," many times repeated:apparently they summed up his opinion of Lady Debarry, and may perhapshave meant "naughty old woman," but his speech was a broken lispingpolyglot of hazardous interpretation. Then he turned to pull at theBlenheim spaniel, which, being old and peevish, gave a little snap.

  "Go, go, Harry; let poor Puff alone--he'll bite you," said Mrs.Transome, stooping to release her aged pet.

  Her words were too suggestive, for Harry immediately laid hold of herarm with his teeth, and bit with all his might. Happily the stuffs uponit were some protection, but the pain forced Mrs. Transome to give a lowcry; and Sir Maximus, who had now turned to reseat himself, shook thelittle rascal off, whereupon he burst away and trotted into the libraryagain.

  "I fear you are hurt," said Lady Debarry, with sincere concern. "What alittle savage! Do have your arm attended to, my dear--I recommendfomentation--don't think of me."

  "Oh, thank you, it is nothing," said Mrs. Transome, biting her lip andsmiling alternately; "it will soon go off. The pleasures of being agrandmamma, you perceive. The child has taken a dislike to me; but hemakes quite a new life for Mr. Transome; they were playfellows at once."

  "Bless my heart!" said Sir Maximus, "it is odd to think of Harold havingbeen a family man so long. I made up my mind he was a young bachelor.What an old stager I am, to be sure! And whom has he married? I hope weshall soon have the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Harold Transome." SirMaximus, occupied with old Mr. Transome, had not overheard the previousconversation on that subject.

  "She is no longer living," Lady Debarry hastily interposed; "but now, mydear Sir Maximus, we must not hinder Mrs. Transome from attending to herarm. I am sure she is in pain. Don't say another word, my dear--we shallsee you again--you and Mr. Harold will come and dine with us onThursday--say yes, only yes. Sir Maximus is longing to see him: andPhilip will be down."r />
  "Yes, yes!" said Sir Maximus; "he must lose no time in making Philip'sacquaintance. Tell him Philip is a fine fellow--carried everythingbefore him at Oxford. And your son must be returned along with him forNorth Loamshire. You said he meant to stand?"

  "I will write and let you know if Harold has any engagement forThursday; he would of course be happy otherwise," said Mrs. Transome,evading the question.

  "If not Thursday, the next day--the very first day he can."

  The visitors left, and Mrs. Transome was almost glad of the painful bitewhich had saved her from being questioned further about Harold'spolitics. "This is the last visit I shall receive from them," she saidto herself as the door closed behind them, and she rang for Denner.

  "That poor creature is not happy, Sir Maximus," said Lady Debarry asthey drove along. "Something annoys her about her son. I hope there isnothing unpleasant in his character. Either he kept his marriage asecret from her, or she was ashamed of it. He is thirty-four at least bythis time. After living in the East so long he may have become a sort ofperson one would not care to be intimate with, and that savage boy--hedoesn't look like a lady's child."

  "Pooh, my dear," said Sir Maximus, "women think so much of thoseminutiae. In the present state of the country it is our duty to look at aman's position and politics. Philip and my brother are both of thatopinion, and I think they know what's right, if any man does. We arebound to regard every man of our party as a public instrument, and topull all together. The Transomes have always been a good Tory family,but it has been a cipher of late years. This young fellow coming backwith a fortune to give the family a head and a position is a clear gainto the county; and with Philip he'll get into the right hands--of coursehe wants guiding, having been out of the country so long. All we have toask is, whether a man's a Tory, and will make a stand for the good ofthe country?--that's the plain English of the matter. And I do beg ofyou, my dear, to set aside all these gossiping niceties, and exertyourself, like a woman of sense and spirit as you are, to bring theright people together."

  Here Sir Maximus gave a deep cough, took out his snuff-box, and tappedit: he had made a serious marital speech, an exertion to which he wasrarely urged by anything smaller than a matter of conscience. And thisoutline of the whole duty of a Tory was a matter of conscience with him;though the _Duffield Watchman_ had pointed expressly to Sir MaximusDebarry amongst others, in branding the co-operation of the Tories as aconscious selfishness and reckless immorality, which, however, would bedefeated by the co-operation of all the friends of truth and liberty,who, the _Watchman_ trusted, would subordinate all non-politicaldifferences in order to return representatives pledged to support thepresent government.

  "I am sure, Sir Maximus," Lady Debarry answered, "you could not haveobserved that anything was wanting in my manners to Mrs. Transome."

  "No, no, my dear; but I say this by way of caution. Never mind what wasdone at Smyrna, or whether Transome likes to sit with his heels tuckedup. We may surely wink at a few things for the sake of the publicinterest, if God Almighty does; and if He didn't, I don't know whatwould have become of the country--Government could never have beencarried on, and many a good battle would have been lost. That's thephilosophy of the matter, and common-sense too."

  Good Sir Maximus gave a deep cough and tapped his box again, inwardlyremarking, that if he had not been such a lazy fellow he might have madeas good a figure as his son Philip.

  But at this point the carriage, which was rolling by a turn toward TrebyMagna, passed a well-dressed man, who raised his hat to Sir Maximus, andcalled to the coachman to stop.

  "Excuse me, Sir Maximus," said this personage, standing uncovered at thecarriage-door, "but I have just learned something of importance atTreby, which I thought you would like to know as soon as possible."

  "Ah! what's that? Something about Garstin or Clement?" said Sir Maximus,seeing the other draw a poster from his pocket.

  "No; rather worse, I fear you will think. A new Radical candidate. I gotthis by a stratagem from the printer's boy. They're not posted yet."

  "A Radical!" said Sir Maximus, in a tone of incredulous disgust, as hetook the folded bill. "What fool is he?--he'll have no chance."

  "They say he's richer than Garstin."

  "Harold Transome!" shouted Sir Maximus, as he read the name inthree-inch letters. "I don't believe it--it's a trick--it's a squib:why--why--we've just been to his place--eh? do you know any more? Speak,sir--speak; don't deal out your story like a damned mountebank, whowants to keep people gaping."

  "Sir Maximus, pray don't give way so," said Lady Debarry.

  "I'm afraid there's no doubt about it, sir," said Christian. "Aftergetting the bill, I met Mr. Labron's clerk, and he said he had just hadthe whole story from Jermyn's clerk. The Ram Inn is engaged already, anda committee is being made up. He says Jermyn goes like a steam engine,when he has a mind, although he makes such long-winded speeches."

  "Jermyn be hanged for a two-faced rascal! Tell Mitchell to drive on.It's of no use to stay chattering here. Jump up on the box and go homewith us. I may want you."

  "You see I was right, Sir Maximus," said the baronet's wife. "I had aninstinct that we should find him an unpleasant person."

  "Fudge! if you had such a fine instinct, why did you let us go toTransome Court and make fools of ourselves?"

  "Would you have listened to me? But of course you will not have him todine with you?"

  "Dine with me? I should think not. I'd sooner he should dine off me. Isee how it is clearly enough. He has become a regular beast among thoseMahometans--he's got neither religion nor morals left. He can't know anything about English politics. He'll go and cut his own nose off as alandholder, and never know. However, he won't get in--he'll spend hismoney for nothing."

  "I fear he is a very licentious man," said Lady Debarry. "We know nowwhy his mother seemed so uneasy. I should think she reflects a little,poor creature."

  "It's a confounded nuisance we didn't meet Christian on our way, insteadof coming back; but better now than later. He's an uncommonly adroit,useful fellow, that factotum of Philip's. I wish Phil would take my manand give me Christian. I'd make him house-steward: he might reduce theaccounts a little."

  Perhaps Sir Maximus would not have been so sanguine as to Mr.Christian's economical virtues if he had seen that gentleman relaxinghimself the same evening among the other distinguished dependents of thefamily and frequenters of the steward's room. But a man of Sir Maximus'srank is like those antediluvian animals whom the system of thingscondemned to carry such a huge bulk that they really could not inspecttheir bodily appurtenance, and had no conception of their own tails:their parasites doubtless had a merry time of it, and often didextremely well when the high-bred saurian himself was ill at ease. TrebyManor, measured from the front saloon to the remotest shed, was as largeas a moderate-sized village, and there were certainly more lightsburning in it every evening, more wine, spirits, and ale drunk, morewaste and more folly, than could be found in some large villages. Therewas fast revelry in the steward's room, and slow revelry in the Scotchbailiff's room; short whist, costume, and flirtation in thehousekeeper's room, and the same at a lower price in the servants' hall;a select Olympian feast in the private apartment of the cook, who was amuch grander person than her ladyship, and wore gold and jewelry to avast amount of suet; a gambling group in the stables, and the coachman,perhaps the most innocent member of the establishment, tippling inmajestic solitude by a fire in the harness-room. For Sir Maximus, asevery one said, was a gentleman of the right sort, condescended to nomean enquiries, greeted his head-servants with a "good-evening,gentlemen," when he met them in the park, and only snarled in a subduedway when he looked over the accounts, willing to endure some personalinconvenience in order to keep up the institutions of the country, tomaintain his hereditary establishment, and do his duty in that stationof life--the station of the long-tailed saurian--to which it had pleasedProvidence to call him.

  The focus of brilliancy at Treby Man
or that evening was in no way thedining-room, where Sir Maximus sipped his port under some mentaldepression, as he discussed with his brother, the Reverend Augustus, thesad fact that one of the oldest names in the county was to be on thewrong side--not in the drawing-room, where Miss Debarry and Miss Selina,quietly elegant in their dress and manners, were feeling rather dullthan otherwise, having finished Mr. Bulwer's "Eugene Aram," and beingthrown back on the last great prose work of Mr. Southey, while theirmamma slumbered a little on the sofa. No; the centre of eager talk andenjoyment was the steward's room, where Mr. Scales, house-steward andhead-butler, a man most solicitous about his boots, wristbands, the rollof his whiskers, and other attributes of a gentleman, distributedcigars, cognac, and whiskey, to various colleagues and guests who werediscussing, with that freedom of conjecture which is one of ourinalienable privileges as Britons, the probable amount of HaroldTransome's fortune, concerning which fame had already been busy longenough to have acquired vast magnifying power.

  The chief part in this scene was undoubtedly Mr. Christian's, althoughhe had hitherto been comparatively silent; but he occupied two chairswith so much grace, throwing his right leg over the seat of the second,and resting his right hand on the back; he held his cigar and displayeda splendid seal-ring with such becoming nonchalance, and had his grayhair arranged with so much taste, that experienced eyes would at oncehave seen even the great Scales himself to be but a secondary character.

  "Why," said Mr. Crowder, an old respectable tenant, though much inarrear as to his rent, who condescended frequently to drink in thesteward's room for the sake of the conversation "why, I suppose theyget money so fast in the East--it's wonderful. Why," he went on, with ahesitating look toward Mr. Scales, "this Transome p'r'aps got a matterof a hundred thousand."

  "A hundred thousand, my dear sir! fiddle-stick's end of a hundredthousand," said Mr. Scales, with a contempt very painful to be borne bya modest man.

  "Well," said Mr. Crowder, giving way under torture, as the all-knowingbutler puffed and stared at him, "perhaps not so much as that."

  "Not so much, sir! I tell you that a hundred thousand pounds is abagatelle."

  "Well, I know it's a big sum," said Mr. Crowder, deprecatingly.

  Here there was a general laugh. All the other intellects present weremore cultivated than Mr. Crowder's.

  "Bagatelle is the French for trifle, my friend," said Mr. Christian."Don't talk over people's heads so, Scales. I shall have hard work tounderstand you myself soon."

  "Come, that's a good one," said the head-gardener, who was a readyadmirer; "I should like to hear the thing you don't understand,Christian."

  "He's a first-rate hand at sneering," said Mr. Scales, rather nettled.

  "Don't be waspie, man. I'll ring the bell for lemons, and make somepunch. That's the thing for putting people up to the unknown tongues,"said Mr. Christian, starting up and slapping Scales's shoulder as hepassed him.

  "What I mean, Mr. Crowder, is this." Here Mr. Scales paused to puff,and pull down his waistcoat in a gentlemanly manner, and drink. He waswont in this way to give his hearers time for meditation.

  "Come, then, speak English; I'm not against being taught," said thereasonable Crowder.

  "What I mean is, that in a large way of trade a man turns his capitalover almost as soon as he can turn himself. Bless your soul! I knowsomething about these matters, eh, Brent?"

  "To be sure you do--few men more," said the gardener, who was the personappealed to.

  "Not that I've had anything to do with commercial families myself. I'vethose feelings that I look to other things besides lucre. But I can'tsay that I've not been intimate with parties who have been less nicethan I am myself; and knowing what I know, I shouldn't wonder ifTransome had as much as five hundred thousand. Bless your soul, sir!people who get their money out of land are as long scraping five poundstogether as your trading men are in turning five pounds into a hundred."

  "That's a wicked thing, though," said Mr. Crowder, meditatively."However," he went on, retreating from this difficult ground, "trade orno trade, the Transomes have been poor enough this many a long year.I've a brother a tenant on their estate--I ought to know a little bitabout that."

  "They've kept up no establishment at all," said Mr. Scales, withdisgust. "They've even let their kitchen gardens. I suppose it was theson's gambling. I've seen something of that. A man who has always livedin first-rate families is likely to know a thing or two on thatsubject."

  "Ah, but it wasn't gambling did the first mischief," said Mr. Crowder,with a slight smile, feeling that it was his turn to have somesuperiority. "New-comers don't know what happened in this country twentyand thirty years ago. I'm turned fifty myself, and my father lived underSir Maximus's father. But if anybody from London can tell me more than Iknow about this country-side, I'm willing to listen."

  "What was it, then, if it wasn't gambling?" said Mr. Scales, with someimpatience. "_I_ don't pretend to know."

  "It was law--law--that's what it was. Not but what the Transomes alwayswon."

  "And always lost," said the too-ready Scales. "Yes, yes; I think we allknow the nature of law."

  "There was the last suit of all made the most noise, as I understood,"continued Mr. Crowder; "but it wasn't tried hereabout. They said therewas a deal o' false swearing. Some young man pretended to be the trueheir--let me see--I can't justly remember the names--he'd got two. _He_swore he was one man, and _they_ swore he was another. However LawyerJermyn won it--they say he'd win a game against the Old One himself--andthe young fellow turned out to be a scamp. Stop a bit--his name wasScaddon--Henry Scaddon."

  Mr. Christian here let a lemon slip from his hand into the punch-bowlwith a splash which sent some of the nectar into the company's faces.

  "Hallo! What a bungler I am!" he said, looking as if he were quitejarred by this unusual awkwardness of his. "Go on with your tale, Mr.Crowder--a scamp named Henry Scaddon."

  "Well, that's the tale," said Mr. Crowder. "He was never seen nothing ofanymore. It was a deal talked of at the time--and I've sat by; and myfather used to shake his head; and always when this Mrs. Transome wastalked of, he used to shake his head, and say she carried things with ahigh hand once. But, Lord! it was before the battle of Waterloo, and I'ma poor hand at tales; I don't see much good in 'em myself--but ifanybody'll tell me a cure for the sheep-rot, I'll thank him."

  Here Mr. Crowder relapsed into smoking and silence, a little discomfitedthat the knowledge of which he had been delivered had turned out rathera shapeless and insignificant birth.

  "Well, well, bygones should be bygones; there are secrets in most goodfamilies," said Mr. Scales, winking, "and this young Transome, comingback with a fortune to keep up the establishment, and have things donein a decent and gentlemanly way--it would all have been right if he'dnot been this sort of Radical madman. But now he's done for himself. Iheard Sir Maximus say at dinner that he would be excommunicated; andthat's a pretty strong word, I take it."

  "What does it mean, Scales?" said Mr. Christian, who loved tormenting.

  "Ay, what's the meaning?" insisted Mr. Crowder, encouraged by findingthat even Christian was in the dark.

  "Well, it's a law term--speaking in a figurative sort of way--meaningthat a Radical was no gentleman."

  "Perhaps it's partly accounted for by his getting his money so fast, andin foreign countries," said Mr. Crowder, tentatively. "It's reasonableto think he'd be against the land and this country--eh, Sircome?"

  Sircome was an eminent miller who had considerable business transactionsat the Manor, and appreciated Mr. Scales's merits at a handsomepercentage on the yearly account. He was a highly honorable tradesman,but in this and in other matters submitted to the institutions of hiscountry; for great houses, as he observed, must have great butlers. Hereplied to his friend Crowder sententiously.

  "I say nothing. Before I bring words to market, I should like to see 'ema bit scarcer. There's the land and there's trade--I hold with both. Iswim with the stream."


  "Hey-day, Mr. Sircome! that's a Radical maxim," said Mr. Christian, whoknew that Mr. Sircome's last sentence was his favorite formula. "Iadvise you to give it up, else it will injure the quality of yourflour."

  "A Radical maxim!" said Mr. Sircome, in a tone of angry astonishment. "Ishould like to hear you prove that. It's as old as my grandfather,anyhow."

  "I'll prove it in one minute," said the glib Christian. "Reform has setin by the will of the majority--that's the rabble, you know; and therespectability and good sense of the country, which are in the minority,are afraid of Reform running on too fast. So the stream must be runningtoward Reform and Radicalism; and if you swim with it, Mr. Sircome,you're a Reformer and a Radical, and your flour is objectionable, andnot full weight--and being tried by Scales, will be found wanting."

  There was a roar of laughter. This pun upon Scales was highlyappreciated by every one except the miller and butler. The latter pulleddown his waistcoat, and puffed and stared in rather an excited manner.Mr. Christian's wit, in general, seemed to him a poor kind of quibbling.

  "What a fellow you are for fence, Christian," said the gardener. "Hangme, if I don't think you're up to everything."

  "That's a compliment you might pay Old Nick, if you come to that," saidMr. Sircome, who was in the painful position of a man deprived of hisformula.

  "Yes, yes," said Mr. Scales; "I'm no fool myself, and could parry athrust if I liked, but I shouldn't like it to be said of me that I wasup to everything. I'll keep a little principle if you please."

  "To be sure," said Christian, ladling out the punch. "What would justicebe without Scales?"

  The laughter was not quite so full-throated as before. Such excessivecleverness _was_ a little Satanic.

  "A joke's a joke among gentlemen," said the butler, getting exasperated;"I think there has been quite liberties enough taken with my name. Butif you must talk about names, I've heard of a party before now callinghimself a Christian, and being anything _but_ it."

  "Come, that's beyond a joke," said the surgeon's assistant, a fast man,whose chief scene of dissipation was the manor. "Let it drop, Scales."

  "Yes, I dare say it's beyond a joke. I'm not a harlequin to talk nothingbut jokes. I leave that to other Christians, who are up to everything,and have been everywhere--to the hulks, for what I know; and more thanthat, they come from nobody knows where, and try to worm themselves intogentlemen's confidence, to the prejudice of their betters."

  There was a stricter sequence in Mr. Scales's angry eloquence than wasapparent--some chief links being confined to his own breast, as is oftenthe case in energetic discourse. The company were in a state ofexpectation. There was something behind worth knowing, and somethingbefore them worth seeing. In the general decay of other fine Britishpugnacious sports, a quarrel between gentlemen was all the moreexciting, and though no one would himself have liked to turn on Scales,no one was sorry for the chance of seeing him put down. But the amazingChristian was unmoved. He had taken out his handkerchief and was rubbinghis lips carefully. After a slight pause, he spoke with perfectcoolness.

  "I don't intend to quarrel with you, Scales. Such talk as this is notprofitable to either of us. It makes you purple in the face--you _are_apoplectic, you know--and it spoils good company. Better tell a few fibsabout me behind my back--it will heat you less, and do me more harm.I'll leave you to it; I shall go and have a game of whist with theladies."

  As the door closed behind the questionable Christian, Mr. Scales was ina state of frustration that prevented speech. Every one was ratherembarrassed.

  "That's an uncommon sort o' fellow," said Mr. Crowder, in an undertone,to his next neighbor, the gardener. "Why, Mr. Philip picked him up inforeign parts, didn't he?"

  "He was a courier," said the gardener. "He's had a deal of experience.And I believe, by what I can make out--for he's been pretty free with mesometimes--there was a time when he was in that rank of life that hefought a duel."

  "Ah! that makes him such a cool chap," said Mr. Crowder.

  "He's what I call an overbearing fellow," said Mr. Sircome, also _sottovoce_, to his next neighbor, Mr. Filmore, the surgeon's assistant. "Heruns you down with a sort of talk that's neither here nor there. He'sgot a deal too many samples in his pocket for me."

  "All I know is, he's a wonderful hand at cards," said Mr. Filmore, whosewhiskers and shirt-pin were quite above the average. "I wish I couldplay _ecarte_ as he does; it's beautiful to see him; he can make a manlook pretty blue; he'll empty his pocket for him in no time."

  "That's none to his credit," said Mr. Sircome.

  The conversation had in this way broken up into _tete-a-tete_, and thehilarity of the evening might be considered a failure. Still the punchwas drunk, the accounts were duly swelled, and, notwithstanding theinnovating spirit of the time, Sir Maximus Debarry's establishment waskept up in sound hereditary British manner.