CHAPTER X.
MABEL CHESTER was the beauty and toast of South Shropshire. She hadrefused the hand of half the country squires in a circle of some dozenmiles, till at last Mr. Vane became her suitor. Besides a handsome faceand person, Mr. Vane had accomplishments his rivals did not possess. Heread poetry to her on mossy banks an hour before sunset, and awakenedsensibilities which her other suitors shocked, and they them.
The lovely Mabel had a taste for beautiful things, without any excess ofthat severe quality called judgment.
I will explain. If you or I, reader, had read to her in the afternoon,amid the smell of roses and eglantine, the chirp of the mavis, the humof bees, the twinkling of butterflies, and the tinkle of distant sheep,something that combined all these sights, and sounds, and smells--sayMilton's musical picture of Eden, P. L., lib. 3, and after that "Tripleton Kew," she would have instantly pronounced in favor of "Eden"; butif _we_ had read her "Milton," and Mr. Vane had read her "Triplet," shewould have as unhesitatingly preferred "Kew" to "Paradise."
She was a true daughter of Eve; the lady, who, when an angel was tellingher and her husband the truths of heaven in heaven's own music, slippedaway into the kitchen, because she preferred hearing the story atsecond-hand, encumbered with digressions, and in mortal but maritalaccents.
When her mother, who guarded Mabel like a dragon, told her Mr. Vane wasnot rich enough, and she really must not give him so many opportunities,Mabel cried and embraced the dragon, and said, "Oh, mother!" Thedragon, finding her ferocity dissolving, tried to shake her off, but thegoose would cry and embrace the dragon till it melted.
By and by Mr. Vane's uncle died suddenly and left him the greatStoken Church estate, and a trunk full of Jacobuses and Queen Anne'sguineas--his own hoard and his father's--then the dragon spakecomfortably and said: "My child, he is now the richest man inShropshire. He will not think of you now; so steel your heart."
Then Mabel, contrary to all expectations, did not cry; but, withflushing cheek, pledged her life upon Ernest's love and honor: andErnest, as soon as the funeral, etc., left him free, galloped to Mabel,to talk of our good fortune. The dragon had done him injustice; thatwas not his weak point. So they were married! and they were very, veryhappy. But, one month after, the dragon died, and that was their firstgrief; but they bore it together.
And Vane was not like the other Shropshire squires. His idea of pleasurewas something his wife could share. He still rode, walked, and sat withher, and read to her, and composed songs for her, and about her, whichshe played and sang prettily enough, in her quiet, lady-like way, and ina voice of honey dropping from the comb. Then she kept a keen eye uponhim; and, when she discovered what dishes he liked, she superintendedthose herself; and, observing that he never failed to eat of a certainlemon-pudding the dragon had originated, she always made this puddingherself, and she never told her husband she made it.
The first seven months of their marriage was more like blue sky thanbrown earth; and if any one had told Mabel that her husband was amortal, and not an angel, sent to her that her days and nights mightbe unmixed, uninterrupted heaven, she could hardly have realized theinformation.
When a vexatious litigant began to contest the will by which Mr. Vanewas Lord of Stoken Church, and Mr. Vane went up to London to concertthe proper means of defeating this attack, Mrs. Vane would gladly havecompounded by giving the man two or three thousand acres or the wholeestate, if he wouldn't take less, not to rob her of her husband fora month; but she was docile, as she was amorous; so she cried (out ofsight) a week; and let her darling go with every misgiving a lovingheart could have; but one! and that one her own heart told her wasimpossible.
The month rolled away--no symptom of a return. For this, Mr. Vane wasnot, in fact, to blame; but, toward the end of the next month, businessbecame a convenient excuse. When three months had passed, Mrs. Vanebecame unhappy. She thought he too must feel the separation. She offeredto come to him. He answered uncandidly. He urged the length, the fatigueof the journey. She was silenced; but some time later she began to takea new view of his objections. "He is so self-denying," said she. "DearErnest, he longs for me; but he thinks it selfish to let me travel sofar alone to see him."
Full of this idea, she yielded to her love. She made her preparations,and wrote to him, that, if he did not forbid her peremptorily, he mustexpect to see her at his breakfast-table in a very few days.
Mr. Vane concluded this was a jest, and did not answer this letter atall.
Mrs. Vane started. She traveled with all speed; but, coming to a haltat ----, she wrote to her husband that she counted on being with him atfour of the clock on Thursday.
This letter preceded her arrival by a few hours. It was put into hishand at the same time with a note from Mrs. Woffington, telling him sheshould be at a rehearsal at Covent Garden. Thinking his wife's letterwould keep, he threw it on one side into a sort of a tray; and, after ahurried breakfast, went out of his house to the theater. He returned, aswe are aware, with Mrs. Woffington; and also, at her request, with Mr.Cibber, for whom they had called on their way. He had forgotten hiswife's letter, and was entirely occupied with his guests.
Sir Charles Pomander joined them, and found Mr. Colander, the headdomestic of the London establishment, cutting with a pair of scissorsevery flower Mrs. Woffington fancied, that lady having a passion forflowers.
Colander, during his temporary absence from the interior, had appointedJames Burdock to keep the house, and receive the two remaining guests,should they arrive.
This James Burdock was a faithful old country servant, who had come upwith Mr. Vane, but left his heart at Willoughby. James Burdock had forsome time been ruminating, and his conclusion was, that his mistress,Miss Mabel (as by force of habit he called her), was not treated as shedeserved.
Burdock had been imported into Mr. Vane's family by Mabel; he hadcarried her in his arms when she was a child; he had held her upon adonkey when she was a little girl; and when she became a woman, it washe who taught her to stand close to her horse, and give him her foot andspring while he lifted her steadily but strongly into her saddle, and,when there, it was he who had instructed her that a horse was not amachine, that galloping tires it in time, and that galloping it onthe hard road hammers it to pieces. "I taught the girl," thought Jameswithin himself.
This honest silver-haired old fellow seemed so ridiculous to Colander,the smooth, supercilious Londoner, that he deigned sometimes to conversewith James, in order to quiz him. This very morning they had had aconversation.
"Poor Miss Mabel! dear heart. A twelvemonth married, and nigh six monthsof it a widow, or next door."
"We write to her, James, and entertain her replies, which are atconsiderable length."
"Ay, but we don't read 'em!" said James, with an uneasy glance at thetray.
"Invariably, at our leisure; meantime we make ourselves happy among thewits and the sirens."
"And she do make others happy among the poor and the ailing."
"Which shows," said Colander, superciliously, "the difference oftastes."
Burdock, whose eye had never been off his mistress's handwriting, atlast took it up and said: "Master Colander, do if ye please, sir, takethis into master's dressing-room, do now?"
Colander looked down on the missive with dilating eye. "Not a bill,James Burdock," said he, reproachfully.
"A bill! bless ye, no. A letter from missus."
No, the dog would not take it in to his master; and poor James, with asigh, replaced it in the tray.
This James Burdock, then, was left in charge of the hall by Colander,and it so happened that the change was hardly effected before a hurriedknocking came to the street door.
"Ay, ay!" grumbled Burdock, "I thought it would not be long. London forknocking and ringing all day, and ringing and knocking all night." Heopened the door reluctantly and suspiciously, and in darted a lady,whose features were concealed by a hood. She glided across the hall,as if she was making for some point, and old James shuffl
ed after her,crying: "Stop, stop! young woman. What is your name, young woman?"
"Why, James Burdock," cried the lady, removing her hood, "have youforgotten your mistress?"
"Mistress! Why, Miss Mabel, I ask your pardon, madam--here, John,Margery!"
"Hush!" cried Mrs. Vane.
"But where are your trunks, miss? And where's the coach, and Darby andJoan? To think of their drawing you all the way here! I'll have 'em intoyour room directly, ma'am. Miss, you've come just in time."
"What a dear, good, stupid old thing you are, James. Where isErnest--Mr. Vane? James, is he well and happy? I want to surprise him."
"Yes, ma'am," said James, looking down.
"I left the old stupid coach at Islington, James. The something--pin wasloose, or I don't know what. Could I wait two hours there? So I came onby myself; you wicked old man, you let me talk, and don't tell me how heis."
"Master is main well, ma'am, and thank you," said old Burdock, confusedand uneasy.
"But is he happy? Of course he is. Are we not to meet to-day after sixmonths? Ah! but never mind, they _are_ gone by."
"Lord bless her!" thought the faithful old fellow. "If sitting down andcrying could help her, I wouldn't be long."
By this time they were in the banqueting-room and at the preparationsthere Mabel gave a start; she then colored. "Oh, he has invited hisfriends to make acquaintance. I had rather we had been alone all thisday and to-morrow. But he must not know that. No; _his_ friends are _my_friends, and shall be too," thought the country wife. She then glancedwith some misgiving at her traveling attire, and wished she had brought_one_ trunk with her.
"James," said she, "where is my room? And, mind, I forbid you to tell asoul I am come."
"Your room, Miss Mabel?"
"Well, any room where there is looking-glass and water."
She then went to a door which opened in fact on a short passage leadingto a room occupied by Mr. Vane himself.
"No, no!" cried James. "That is master's room."
"Well, is not master's room mistress's room, old man? But stay; is hethere?"
"No, ma'am; he is in the garden, with a power of fine folks."
"They shall not see me till I have made myself a little more decent,"said the young beauty, who knew at bottom how little comparativelythe color of her dress could affect her appearance, and she opened Mr.Vane's door and glided in.
Burdock's first determination was, in spite of her injunction, to tellColander; but on reflection he argued: "And then what will they do?They will put their heads together, and deceive us some other way. No!"thought James, with a touch of spite, "we shall see how they will alllook." He argued also, that, at sight of his beautiful wife, his mastermust come to his senses, and the Colander faction be defeated; andperhaps, by the mercy of Providence, Colander himself turned off.
While thus ruminating, a thundering knock at the door almost knocked himoff his legs. "There ye go again," said he, and he went angrily to thedoor. This time it was Hunsdon, who was in a desperate hurry to see hismaster.
"Where is Sir Charles Pomander, my honest fellow?" said he.
"In the garden, my Jack-a-dandy!" said Burdock, furiously.
("Honest fellow," among servants, implies some moral inferiority.)
In the garden went Hunsdon. His master--all whose senses were playingsentinel--saw him, and left the company to meet him.
"She is in the house, sir."
"Good! Go--vanish!"
Sir Charles looked into the banquet-room; the haunch was being placed onthe table. He returned with the information. He burned to bring husbandand wife together; he counted each second lost that postponed this (tohim) thrilling joy. Oh, how happy he was!--happier than the serpent whenhe saw Eve's white teeth really strike into the apple!
"Shall we pay respect to this haunch, Mr. Quin?" said Vane, gayly.
"If you please, sir," said Quin, gravely. Colander ran down a by-pathwith an immense bouquet, which he arranged for Mrs. Woffington in a vaseat Mr. Vane's left hand. He then threw open the windows, which were onthe French plan, and shut within a foot of the lawn.
The musicians in the arbor struck up, and the company, led by Mr.Vane and Mrs. Woffington, entered the room. And a charming room itwas!--light, lofty, and large--adorned in the French way with white andgold. The table was an exact oval, and at it everybody could hear whatany one said; an excellent arrangement where ideaed guests only areadmitted--which is another excellent arrangement, though I see peopledon't think so.
The repast was luxurious and elegant. There was no profusion ofunmeaning dishes; each was a _bonne-bouche_--an undeniable delicacy. Theglass was beautiful, the plates silver. The flowers rose like wallsfrom the table; the plate massive and glorious; rose-water in thehand-glasses; music crept in from the garden, deliciously subdued intowhat seemed a natural sound. A broad stream of southern sun gushed infiery gold through the open window, and, like a red-hot rainbow, dancedthrough the stained glass above it. Existence was a thing to bask in--insuch a place, and so happy an hour!
The guests were Quin, Mrs. Clive, Mr. Cibber, Sir Charles Pomander, Mrs.Woffington, and Messrs. Soaper and Snarl, critics of the day. This pair,with wonderful sagacity, had arrived from the street as the haunchcame from the kitchen. Good-humor reigned; some cuts passed, but as theparties professed wit, they gave and took.
Quin carved the haunch, and was happy; Soaper and Snarl eating the same,and drinking Toquay, were mellowed and mitigated into human flesh. Mr.Vane and Mrs. Woffington were happy; he, because his conscience wasasleep; and she, because she felt nothing now could shake her hold ofhim. Sir Charles was in a sort of mental chuckle. His head burned, hisbones ached; but he was in a sort of nervous delight.
"Where is she?" thought he. "What will she do? Will she send her maidwith a note? How blue he will look! Or will she come herself? She is acountry wife; there must be a scene. Oh, why doesn't she come into thisroom? She must know we are here! is she watching somewhere?" His brainbecame puzzled, and his senses were sharpened to a point; he was alleye, ear and expectation; and this was why he was the only one to heara very slight sound behind the door we have mentioned, and next toperceive a lady's glove lying close to that door. Mabel had dropped itin her retreat. Putting this and that together, he was led to hope andbelieve she was there, making her toilet, perhaps, and her arrival atpresent unknown.
"Do you expect no one else?" said he, with feigned carelessness, to Mr.Vane.
"No," said Mr. Vane, with real carelessness.
"It must be so! What fortune!" thought Pomander.
_Soaper._ "Mr. Cibber looks no older than he did five years ago."
_Snarl._ "There was no room on his face for a fresh wrinkle."
_Soaper._ "He! he! Nay, Mr. Snarl: Mr. Cibber is like old port; the moreancient he grows, the more delicious his perfume."
_Snarl._ "And the crustier he gets."
_Clive._ "Mr. Vane, you should always separate those two. Snarl, byhimself, is just supportable; but, when Soaper paves the way with hishypocritical praise, the pair are too much; they are a two-edged sword."
_Woffington._ "Wanting nothing but polish and point."
_Vane._ "Gentlemen, we abandon your neighbor, Mr. Quin, to you."
_Quin._ "They know better. If they don't keep a civil tongue in theirheads, no fat goes from here to them."
_Cibber._ "Ah, Mr. Vane; this room is delightful; but it makes me sad. Iknew this house in Lord Longueville's time; an unrivaled gallant, Peggy.You may just remember him, Sir Charles?"
_Pomander_ (with his eye on a certain door). "Yes, yes; a gouty oldfellow."
Cibber fired up. "I wish you may ever be like him. Oh, the beauty, thewit, the _petits-soupers_ that used to be here! Longueville was a greatcreature, Mr. Vane. I have known him entertain a fine lady in this room,while her rival was fretting and fuming on the other side of that door."
"Ah, indeed!" said Sir Charles.
"More shame for him," said Mr. Vane.
Here
was luck! Pomander seized this opportunity of turning theconversation to his object. With a malicious twinkle in his eye, heinquired of Mr. Cibber what made him fancy the house had lost its virtuein Mr. Vane's hands.
"Because," said Cibber, peevishly, "you all want the true _savoir faire_nowadays, because there is no _juste milieu,_ young gentlemen. The youngdogs of the day are all either unprincipled heathen, like yourself, orAmadisses, like our worthy host." The old gentleman's face and mannerswere like those of a patriarch, regretting the general decay of virtue,not the imaginary diminution of a single vice. He concluded with a sighthat, "The true _preux des dames_ went out with the full periwig; stabmy vitals!"
"A bit of fat, Mr. Cibber?" said Quin, whose jokes were not polished.
"Jemmy, thou art a brute," was the reply.
"You refuse, sir?" said Quin, sternly.
"No, sir!" said Cibber, with dignity. "I accept."
Pomander's eye was ever on the door.
"The old are so unjust to the young," said he. "You pretend that theDeluge washed away iniquity, and that a rake is a fossil. What," saidhe, leaning as it were on every word, "if I bet you a cool hundredthat Vane has a petticoat in that room, and that Mrs. Woffington shallunearth her?"
The malicious dog thought this was the surest way to effect a dramaticexposure, because if Peggy found Mabel to all appearances concealed,Peggy would scold her, and betray herself.
"Pomander!" cried Vane, in great heat; then, checking himself, he saidcoolly: "but you all know Pomander."
"None of you," replied that gentleman. "Bring a chair, sir," said he,authoritatively, to a servant; who, of course, obeyed.
Mrs. Clive looked at him, and thought: "There is something in this!"
"It is for the lady," said he, coolly. Then, leaning over the table,he said to Mrs. Woffington, with an impudent affectation of friendlyunderstanding: "I ran her to earth in this house not ten minutes ago.Of course I don't know who she is! But," smacking his lips, "a rusticAmaryllis, breathing all May-buds and Meadowsweet."
"Have her out, Peggy!" shouted Cibber. "I know the run--there's thecovert! Hark, forward! Ha, ha, ha!"
Mr. Vane rose, and, with a sternness that brought the old beau up witha run, he said: "Mr. Cibber, age and infirmity are privileged; but foryou, Sir Charles--"
"Don't be angry," interposed Mrs. Woffington, whose terror was lest heshould quarrel with so practiced a swordsman. "Don't you see it is ajest! and, as might be expected from poor Sir Charles, a very sorry one.
"A jest!" said Vane, white with rage. "Let it go no further, or it willbe earnest!"
Mrs. Woffington placed her hand on his shoulder, and at that touch heinstantly yielded, and sat down.
It was at this moment, when Sir Charles found himself for the presentbaffled--for he could no longer press his point, and search that room;when the attention of all was drawn to a dispute, which, for a moment,had looked like a quarrel; while Mrs. Woffington's hand still lingered,as only a woman's hand can linger in leaving the shoulder of the man sheloves; it was at this moment the door opened of its own accord, and amost beautiful woman stood, with a light step, upon the threshold!
Nobody's back was to her, except Mr. Vane's. Every eye but his wasspellbound upon her.
Mrs. Woffington withdrew her hand, as if a scorpion had touched her.
A stupor of astonishment fell on them all.
Mr. Vane, seeing the direction of all their eyes, slewed himself roundin his chair into a most awkward position, and when he saw the lady, hewas utterly dumfounded! But she, as soon as he turned his face her way,glided up to him, with a little half-sigh, half-cry of joy, and takinghim round the neck, kissed him deliciously, while every eye at the tablemet every other eye in turn. One or two of the men rose; for the lady'sbeauty was as worthy of homage as her appearing was marvelous.
Mrs. Woffington, too astonished for emotion to take any definite shape,said, in what seemed an ordinary tone: "Who is this lady?"
"I am his wife, madam," said Mabel, in the voice of a skylark, andsmiling friendly on the questioner.
"It is my wife!" said Vane, like a speaking-machine; he was scarcely ina conscious state. "It is my wife!" he repeated, mechanically.
The words were no sooner out of Mabel's mouth than two servants, who hadnever heard of Mrs. Vane before, hastened to place on Mr. Vane's righthand the chair Pomander had provided, a plate and napkin were there in atwinkling, and the wife modestly, but as a matter of course, courtesiedlow, with an air of welcome to all her guests, and then glided into theseat her servants obsequiously placed before her.
The whole thing did not take half a minute!