CHAPTER XXXVI
ANIMATED CONVERSATION AT A LUNCHEON-TABLE
Vernon was crossing the hall to the dining-room as Mrs Mountstuartstepped in. She called to him: "Are the champions reconciled?"
He replied: "Hardly that, but they have consented to meet at an altarto offer up a victim to the gods in the shape of modern poeticimitations of the classical."
"That seems innocent enough. The Professor has not been anxious abouthis chest?"
"He recollects his cough now and then."
"You must help him to forget it."
"Lady Busshe and Lady Culmer are here," said Vernon, not supposing itto be a grave announcement until the effect of it on Mrs. Mountstuartadmonished him.
She dropped her voice: "Engage my fair friend for one of your walks themoment we rise from table. You may have to rescue her; but do. I meanit."
"She's a capital walker." Vernon remarked in simpleton style.
"There's no necessity for any of your pedestrian feats," MrsMountstuart said, and let him go, turning to Colonel De Craye topronounce an encomium on him: "The most open-minded man I know!Warranted to do perpetual service, and no mischief. If you were all. . . instead of catching at every prize you covet! Yes, you wouldhave your reward for unselfishness, I assure you. Yes, and where youseek it! That is what none of you men will believe."
"When you behold me in your own livery!" cried the colonel.
"Do I?" said she, dallying with a half-formed design to beconfidential. "How is it one is always tempted to address you inthe language of innuendo? I can't guess."
"Except that as a dog doesn't comprehend good English we naturally talkbad to him."
The great lady was tickled. Who could help being amused by this man?And after all, if her fair Middleton chose to be a fool there could beno gainsaying her, sorry though poor Sir Willoughby's friends must feelfor him.
She tried not to smile.
"You are too absurd. Or a baby, you might have added."
"I hadn't the daring."
"I'll tell you what, Colonel De Craye, I shall end by falling in lovewith you; and without esteeming you, I fear."
"The second follows as surely as the flavour upon a draught of Bacchus,if you'll but toss off the glass, ma'am."
"We women, sir, think it should be first."
"'Tis to transpose the seasons, and give October the blossom and Aprilthe apple, and no sweet one! Esteem's a mellow thing that comes afterbloom and fire, like an evening at home; because if it went before itwould have no father and couldn't hope for progeny; for there'd be nonature in the business. So please, ma'am, keep to the original order,and you'll be nature's child, and I the most blessed of mankind."
"Really, were I fifteen years younger. I am not so certain . . . Imight try and make you harmless."
"Draw the teeth of the lamb so long as you pet him!"
"I challenged you, colonel, and I won't complain of your pitch. Butnow lay your wit down beside your candour, and descend to an every-daylevel with me for a minute."
"Is it innuendo?"
"No; though I daresay it would be easier for you to respond to if itwere."
"I'm the straightforwardest of men at a word of command."
"This is a whisper. Be alert, as you were last night. Shuffle the tablewell. A little liveliness will do it. I don't imagine malice, butthere's curiosity, which is often as bad, and not so lightly foiled. Wehave Lady Busshe and Lady Culmer here."
"To sweep the cobwebs out of the sky!"
"Well, then, can you fence with broomsticks?"
"I have had a bout with them in my time."
"They are terribly direct."
"They 'give point', as Napoleon commanded his cavalry to do."
"You must help me to ward it."
"They will require variety in the conversation."
"Constant. You are an angel of intelligence, and if I have the judgeingof you, I'm afraid you'll be allowed to pass, in spite of the scandalabove. Open the door; I don't unbonnet."
De Craye threw the door open.
Lady Busshe was at that moment saying, "And are we indeed to have youfor a neighbour, Dr. Middleton?"
The Rev. Doctor's reply was drowned by the new arrivals.
"I thought you had forsaken us," observed Sir Willoughby to Mrs.Mountstuart.
"And run away with Colonel De Craye? I'm too weighty, my dear friend.Besides, I have not looked at the wedding-presents yet."
"The very object of our call!" exclaimed Lady Culmer.
"I have to confess I am in dire alarm about mine," Lady Busshe noddedacross the table at Clara. "Oh! you may shake your head, but I wouldrather hear a rough truth than the most complimentary evasion."
"How would you define a rough truth, Dr. Middleton?" said Mrs.Mountstuart.
Like the trained warrior who is ready at all hours for the trumpet toarms, Dr. Middleton waked up for judicial allocution in a trice.
"A rough truth, madam, I should define to be that description of truthwhich is not imparted to mankind without a powerful impregnation of theroughness of the teller."
"It is a rough truth, ma'am, that the world is composed of fools, andthat the exceptions are knaves," Professor Crooklyn furnished thatexample avoided by the Rev. Doctor.
"Not to precipitate myself into the jaws of the foregone definition,which strikes me as being as happy as Jonah's whale, that could carryprobably the most learned man of his time inside without the necessityof digesting him," said De Craye, "a rough truth is a rather strongcharge of universal nature for the firing off of a modicum of personalfact."
"It is a rough truth that Plato is Moses atticizing," said Vernon toDr. Middleton, to keep the diversion alive.
"And that Aristotle had the globe under his cranium," rejoined the Rev.Doctor.
"And that the Moderns live on the Ancients."
"And that not one in ten thousand can refer to the particular treasuryhe filches."
"The Art of our days is a revel of rough truth," remarked ProfessorCrooklyn.
"And the literature has laboriously mastered the adjective, wherever itmay be in relation to the noun," Dr. Middleton added.
"Orson's first appearance at court was in the figure of a rough truth,causing the Maids of Honour, accustomed to Tapestry Adams, astonishmentand terror," said De Craye. That he might not be left out of thesprightly play, Sir Willoughby levelled a lance at the quintain,smiling on Laetitia: "In fine, caricature is rough truth."
She said, "Is one end of it, and realistic directness is the other."
He bowed. "The palm is yours."
Mrs. Mountstuart admired herself as each one trotted forth in turncharacteristically, with one exception unaware of the aid which wasbeing rendered to a distressed damsel wretchedly incapable of decenthypocrisy. Her intrepid lead had shown her hand to the colonel anddrawn the enemy at a blow.
Sir Willoughby's "in fine", however, did not please her: still less didhis lackadaisical Lothario-like bowing and smiling to Miss Dale: and heperceived it and was hurt. For how, carrying his tremendous load, washe to compete with these unhandicapped men in the game of nonsense shehad such a fondness for starting at a table? He was further annoyed tohear Miss Eleanor and Miss Isabel Patterne agree together that"caricature" was the final word of the definition. Relatives shouldknow better than to deliver these awards to us in public.
"Well?" quoth Lady Busshe, expressive of stupefaction at the strangedust she had raised.
"Are they on view, Miss Middleton?" inquired Lady Culmer.
"There's a regiment of us on view and ready for inspection." Colonel DeCraye bowed to her, but she would not be foiled.
"Miss Middleton's admirers are always on view." said he.
"Are they to be seen?" said Lady Busshe.
Clara made her face a question, with a laudable smoothness.
"The wedding-presents," Lady Culmer explained.
"No."
"Otherwise, my dear, we are in danger of duplicating and triplicatingand qu
adruplicating, not at all to the satisfaction of the bride."
"But there's a worse danger to encounter in the 'on view', my lady,"said De Craye; "and that's the magnetic attraction a display ofwedding-presents is sure to have for the ineffable burglar, who musthave a nuptial soul in him, for wherever there's that collection onview, he's never a league off. And 'tis said he knows a lady'sdressing-case presented to her on the occasion fifteen years after theevent."
"As many as fifteen?" said Mrs. Mountstuart.
"By computation of the police. And if the presents are on view, dogsare of no use, nor bolts, nor bars:--he's worse than Cupid. The onlyprotection to be found, singular as it may be thought, is in a coupleof bottles of the oldest Jamaica rum in the British isles."
"Rum?" cried Lady Busshe.
"The liquor of the Royal Navy, my lady. And with your permission, I'llrelate the tale in proof of it. I had a friend engaged to a young lady,niece of an old sea-captain of the old school, the Benbow school, thewooden leg and pigtail school; a perfectly salt old gentleman with apickled tongue, and a dash of brine in every deed he committed. Helooked rolled over to you by the last wave on the shore, sparkling: hewas Neptune's own for humour. And when his present to the bride wasopened, sure enough there lay a couple of bottles of the oldest Jamaicarum in the British Isles, born before himself, and his father to boot.'Tis a fabulous spirit I beg you to believe in, my lady, the sole meritof the story being its portentous veracity. The bottles were tied tomake them appear twins, as they both had the same claim to seniority.And there was a label on them, telling their great age, to maintaintheir identity. They were in truth a pair of patriarchal bottlesrivalling many of the biggest houses in the kingdom for antiquity. Theywould have made the donkey that stood between the two bundles of haylook at them with obliquity: supposing him to have, for an animal, arum taste, and a turn for hilarity. Wonderful old bottles! So, on thelabel, just over the date, was written large: UNCLE BENJAMIN'S WEDDINGPRESENT TO HIS NIECE BESSY. Poor Bessy shed tears of disappointment andindignation enough to float the old gentleman on his native element,ship and all. She vowed it was done curmudgeonly to vex her, becauseher uncle hated wedding-presents and had grunted at the exhibition ofcups and saucers, and this and that beautiful service, and epergnes andinkstands, mirrors, knives and forks, dressing-cases, and the wholemighty category. She protested, she flung herself about, she declaredthose two ugly bottles should not join the exhibition in thedining-room, where it was laid out for days, and the family ate theirmeals where they could, on the walls, like flies. But there was alsoUncle Benjamin's legacy on view, in the distance, so it was ruledagainst her that the bottles should have their place. And one finemorning down came the family after a fearful row of the domestics;shouting, screaming, cries for the police, and murder topping all. Whatdid they see? They saw two prodigious burglars extended along thefloor, each with one of the twin bottles in his hand, and a remainderof the horror of the midnight hanging about his person like a blownfog, sufficient to frighten them whilst they kicked the rascalsentirely intoxicated. Never was wilder disorder of wedding-presents,and not one lost!--owing, you'll own, to Uncle Benjy's two bottles ofancient Jamaica rum."
Colonel De Craye concluded with an asseveration of the truth of thestory.
"A most provident, far-sighted old sea-captain!" exclaimed Mrs.Mountstuart, laughing at Lady Busshe and Lady Culmer. These ladieschimed in with her gingerly.
"And have you many more clever stories, Colonel De Craye?" said LadyBusshe.
"Ah! my lady, when the tree begins to count its gold 'tis nigh uponbankruptcy."
"Poetic!" ejaculated Lady Culmer, spying at Miss Middleton's rippledcountenance, and noting that she and Sir Willoughby had notinterchanged word or look.
"But that in the case of your Patterne Port a bottle of it wouldoutvalue the catalogue of nuptial presents, Willoughby, I wouldrecommend your stationing some such constabulary to keep watch andward." said Dr. Middleton, as he filled his glass, taking Bordeaux inthe middle of the day, under a consciousness of virtue and its rewardto come at half-past seven in the evening.
"The rascals would require a dozen of that, sir," said De Craye.
"Then it is not to be thought of. Indeed one!" Dr. Middleton negativedthe idea.
"We are no further advanced than when we began," observed Lady Busshe.
"If we are marked to go by stages," Mrs. Mountstuart assented.
"Why, then, we shall be called old coaches," remarked the colonel.
"You," said Lady Culmer, "have the advantage of us in a closeracquaintance with Miss Middleton. You know her tastes, and how far theyhave been consulted in the little souvenirs already grouped somewhere,although not yet for inspection. I am at sea. And here is Lady Busshein deadly alarm. There is plenty of time to effect a change--though weare drawing on rapidly to the fatal day, Miss Middleton. We are, we arevery near it. Oh! yes. I am one who thinks that these little affairsshould be spoken of openly, without that ridiculous bourgeoisaffectation, so that we may be sure of giving satisfaction. It is atransaction like everything else in life. I, for my part, wish to beremembered favourably. I put it as a test of breeding to speak of thesethings as plain matter-of-fact. You marry; I wish you to have somethingby you to remind you of me. What shall it be?--useful or ornamental.For an ordinary household the choice is not difficult. But where wealthabounds we are in a dilemma."
"And with persons of decided tastes," added Lady Busshe.
"I am really very unhappy," she protested to Clara.
Sir Willoughby dropped Laetitia; Clara's look of a sedate resolution topreserve silence on the topic of the nuptial gifts made a diversionimperative.
"Your porcelain was exquisitely chosen, and I profess to be aconnoisseur," he said. "I am poor in Old Saxony, as you know; I canmatch the country in Savres, and my inheritance of China will noteasily be matched in the country."
"You may consider your Dragon vases a present from young Crossjay,"said De Craye.
"How?"
"Hasn't he abstained from breaking them? the capital boy! Porcelainand a boy in the house together is a case of prospective disaster fullyequal to Flitch and a fly."
"You should understand that my friend Horace--whose wit is in thisinstance founded on another tale of a boy--brought us a magnificentpiece of porcelain, destroyed by the capsizing of his conveyance fromthe station," said Sir Willoughby to Lady Busshe.
She and Lady Culmer gave out lamentable Ohs, while Miss Eleanor andMiss Isabel Patterne sketched the incident. Then the lady visitorsfixed their eyes in united sympathy upon Clara: recovering from which,after a contemplation of marble, Lady Busshe emphasized, "No, you donot love porcelain, it is evident, Miss Middleton."
"I am glad to be assured of it," said Lady Culmer.
"Oh, I know that face: I know that look," Lady Busshe affected toremark rallyingly: "it is not the first time I have seen it."
Sir Willoughby smarted to his marrow. "We will rout these fancies of anoverscrupulous generosity, my dear Lady Busshe."
Her unwonted breach of delicacy in speaking publicly of her present,and the vulgar persistency of her sticking to the theme, very muchperplexed him. And if he mistook her not, she had just alluded to thedemoniacal Constantia Durham.
It might be that he had mistaken her: he was on guard against histerrible sensitiveness. Nevertheless it was hard to account for thisbehaviour of a lady greatly his friend and admirer, a lady of birth.And Lady Culmer as well!--likewise a lady of birth. Were they incollusion? had they a suspicion? He turned to Laetitia's face for theantidote to his pain.
"Oh, but you are not one yet, and I shall require two voices toconvince me," Lady Busshe rejoined, after another stare at the marble.
"Lady Busshe, I beg you not to think me ungrateful," said Clara.
"Fiddle!--gratitude! it is to please your taste, to satisfy you. Icare for gratitude as little as for flattery."
"But gratitude is flattering," said Vernon.
"Now, no metaphysics, Mr.
Whitford."
"But do care a bit for flattery, my lady," said De Craye. "'Tis thefinest of the Arts; we might call it moral sculpture. Adepts in it cancut their friends to any shape they like by practising it with therequisite skill. I myself, poor hand as I am, have made a man actSolomon by constantly praising his wisdom. He took a sagacious turn atan early period of the dose. He weighed the smallest question of hisdaily occasions with a deliberation truly oriental. Had I pushed it,he'd have hired a baby and a couple of mothers to squabble over theundivided morsel."
"I shall hope for a day in London with you," said Lady Culmer to Clara.
"You did not forget the Queen of Sheba?" said Mrs. Mountstuart to DeCraye.
"With her appearance, the game has to be resigned to her entirely," herejoined.
"That is," Lady Culmer continued, "if you do not despise an old womanfor your comrade on a shopping excursion."
"Despise whom we fleece!" exclaimed Dr. Middleton. "Oh, no, LadyCulmer, the sheep is sacred."
"I am not so sure," said Vernon.
"In what way, and to what extent, are you not so sure?" said Dr.Middleton.
"The natural tendency is to scorn the fleeced."
"I stand for the contrary. Pity, if you like: particularly when theybleat."
"This is to assume that makers of gifts are a fleeced people: I demur,"said Mrs. Mountstuart.
"Madam, we are expected to give; we are incited to give; you havedubbed it the fashion to give; and the person refusing to give, orincapable of giving, may anticipate that he will be regarded asbenignly as a sheep of a drooping and flaccid wool by the farmer, whois reminded by the poor beast's appearance of a strange dog thatworried the flock. Even Captain Benjamin, as you have seen, was unableto withstand the demand on him. The hymeneal pair are licensedfreebooters levying blackmail on us; survivors of an uncivilizedperiod. But in taking without mercy, I venture to trust that themanners of a happier era instruct them not to scorn us. I apprehendthat Mr. Whitford has a lower order of latrons in his mind."
"Permit me to say, sir, that you have not considered the ignoble aspectof the fleeced," said Vernon. "I appeal to the ladies: would they not,if they beheld an ostrich walking down a Queen's Drawing Room,clean-plucked, despise him though they were wearing his plumes?"
"An extreme supposition, indeed," said Dr. Middleton, frowning over it;"scarcely legitimately to be suggested."
"I think it fair, sir, as an instance."
"Has the circumstance occurred, I would ask?"
"In life? a thousand times."
"I fear so," said Mrs. Mountstuart.
Lady Busshe showed symptoms of a desire to leave a profitless table.
Vernon started up, glancing at the window.
"Did you see Crossjay?" he said to Clara.
"No; I must, if he is there," said she.
She made her way out, Vernon after her. They both had the excuse.
"Which way did the poor boy go?" she asked him.
"I have not the slightest idea," he replied. "But put on your bonnet,if you would escape that pair of inquisitors."
"Mr. Whitford, what humiliation!"
"I suspect you do not feel it the most, and the end of it can't beremote," said he.
Thus it happened that when Lady Busshe and Lady Culmer quitted thedining-room, Miss Middleton had spirited herself away from summoningvoice and messenger.
Sir Willoughby apologized for her absence. "If I could be jealous, itwould be of that boy Crossjay."
"You are an excellent man, and the best of cousins," was Lady Busshe'senigmatical answer.
The exceedingly lively conversation at his table was lauded by LadyCulmer.
"Though," said she, "what it all meant, and what was the drift of it, Icouldn't tell to save my life. Is it every day the same with you here?"
"Very much."
"How you must enjoy a spell of dulness!"
"If you said simplicity and not talking for effect! I generally castanchor by Laetitia Dale."
"Ah!" Lady Busshe coughed. "But the fact is, Mrs. Mountstuart is madefor cleverness!"
"I think, my lady, Laetitia Dale is to the full as clever as any of thestars Mrs. Mountstuart assembles, or I."
"Talkative cleverness, I mean."
"In conversation as well. Perhaps you have not yet given her a chance."
"Yes, yes, she is clever, of course, poor dear. She is looking bettertoo."
"Handsome, I thought," said Lady Culmer.
"She varies," observed Sir Willoughby.
The ladies took seat in their carriage and fell at once into aclose-bonnet colloquy. Not a single allusion had they made to thewedding-presents after leaving the luncheon-table. The cause of theirvisit was obvious.