CHAPTER XV. I PAY COURT TO MY LADY LYNDON
As my uncle's attainder was not reversed for being out with thePretender in 1745, it would have been inconvenient for him to accompanyhis nephew to the land of our ancestors; where, if not hanging, at leasta tedious process of imprisonment, and a doubtful pardon, would haveawaited the good old gentleman. In any important crisis of my life, hisadvice was always of advantage to me, and I did not fail to seek it atthis juncture, and to implore his counsel as regarded my pursuit of thewidow. I told him the situation of her heart, as I have described it inthe last chapter; of the progress that young Poynings had made in heraffections, and of her forgetfulness of her old admirer; and I got aletter, in reply, full of excellent suggestions, by which I did not failto profit. The kind Chevalier prefaced it by saying, that he was forthe present boarding in the Minorite convent at Brussels; that he hadthoughts of making his salut there, and retiring for ever from theworld, devoting himself to the severest practices of religion. Meanwhilehe wrote with regard to the lovely widow: it was natural that a personof her vast wealth and not disagreeable person should have many adorersabout her; and that, as in her husband's lifetime she had shown herselfnot at all disinclined to receive my addresses, I must make no mannerof doubt I was not the first person whom she had so favoured; nor was Ilikely to be the last.
'I would, my dear child,' he added, 'that the ugly attainder round myneck, and the resolution I have formed of retiring from a world of sinand vanity altogether, did not prevent me from coming personally to youraid in this delicate crisis of your affairs; for, to lead them to agood end, it requires not only the indomitable courage, swagger, andaudacity, which you possess beyond any young man I have ever known' (asfor the 'swagger,' as the Chevalier calls it, I deny it in toto, beingalways most modest in my demeanour); 'but though you have the vigour toexecute, you have not the ingenuity to suggest plans of conduct for thefollowing out of a scheme that is likely to be long and difficult ofexecution. Would you have ever thought of the brilliant scheme of theCountess Ida, which so nearly made you the greatest fortune in Europe,but for the advice and experience of a poor old man, now making up hisaccounts with the world, and about to retire from it for good and all?
'Well, with regard to the Countess of Lyndon, your manner of winning heris quite en l'air at present to me; nor can I advise day by day, asI would I could, according to circumstances as they arise. But yourgeneral scheme should be this. If I remember the letters you used tohave from her during the period of the correspondence which the sillywoman entertained you with, much high-flown sentiment passed betweenyou; and especially was written by her Ladyship herself: she is ablue-stocking, and fond of writing; she used to make her griefs with herhusband the continual theme of her correspondence (as women will do). Irecollect several passages in her letters bitterly deploring her fate inbeing united to one so unworthy of her.
'Surely, in the mass of billets you possess from her, there must beenough to compromise her. Look them well over; select passages, andthreaten to do so. Write to her at first in the undoubting tone of alover who has every claim upon her. Then, if she is silent, remonstrate,alluding to former promises from her; producing proofs of her formerregard for you; vowing despair, destruction, revenge, if she proveunfaithful. Frighten her--astonish her by some daring feat, which willlet her see your indomitable resolution: you are the man to do it. Yoursword has a reputation in Europe, and you have a character for boldness;which was the first thing that caused my Lady Lyndon to turn her eyesupon you. Make the people talk about you at Dublin. Be as splendid, andas brave, and as odd as possible. How I wish I were near you! You haveno imagination to invent such a character as I would make for you--butwhy speak; have I not had enough of the world and its vanities?'
There was much practical good sense in this advice; which I quote,unaccompanied with the lengthened description of his mortifications anddevotions which my uncle indulged in, finishing his letter, as usual,with earnest prayers for my conversion to the true faith. But hewas constant to his form of worship; and I, as a man of honour andprinciple, was resolute to mine; and have no doubt that the one, in thisrespect, will be as acceptable as the other.
Under these directions it was, then, I wrote to Lady Lyndon, to ask onmy arrival when the most respectful of her admirers might be permittedto intrude upon her grief? Then, as her Ladyship was silent, I demanded,Had she forgotten old times, and one whom she had favoured with herintimacy at a very happy period? Had Calista forgotten Eugenio? At thesame time I sent down by my servant with this letter a present of alittle sword for Lord Bullingdon, and a private note to his governor;whose note of hand, by the way, I possessed for a sum--I forgetwhat--but such as the poor fellow would have been very unwilling to pay.To this an answer came from her Ladyship's amanuensis, stating that LadyLyndon was too much disturbed by grief at her recent dreadful calamityto see any one but her own relations; and advices from my friend, theboy's governor, stating that my Lord George Poynings was the youngkinsman who was about to console her.
This caused the quarrel between me and the young nobleman; whom I tookcare to challenge on his first arrival at Dublin.
When the news of the duel was brought to the widow at Castle Lyndon, myinformant wrote me that Lady Lyndon shrieked and flung down the journal,and said, 'The horrible monster! He would not shrink from murder, Ibelieve;' and little Lord Bullingdon, drawing his sword--the sword I hadgiven him, the rascal!--declared he would kill with it the man who hadhurt Cousin George. On Mr. Runt telling him that I was the donor of theweapon, the little rogue still vowed that he would kill me all the same!Indeed, in spite of my kindness to him, that boy always seemed to detestme.
Her Ladyship sent up daily couriers to inquire after the health of LordGeorge; and, thinking to myself that she would probably be induced tocome to Dublin if she were to hear that he was in danger, I managed tohave her informed that he was in a precarious state; that he grew worse;that Redmond Barry had fled in consequence: of this flight I caused theMercury newspaper to give notice also, but indeed it did not carry mebeyond the town of Bray, where my poor mother dwelt; and where, underthe difficulties of a duel, I might be sure of having a welcome.
Those readers who have the sentiment of filial duty strong in theirmind, will wonder that I have not yet described my interview with thatkind mother whose sacrifices for me in youth had been so considerable,and for whom a man of my warm and affectionate nature could not but feelthe most enduring and sincere regard.
But a man, moving in the exalted sphere of society in which I nowstood, has his public duties to perform before he consults his privateaffections; and so, upon my first arrival, I despatched a messengerto Mrs. Barry, stating my arrival, conveying to her my sentiments ofrespect and duty, and promising to pay them to her personally so soon asmy business in Dublin would leave me free.
This, I need not say, was very considerable. I had my horses to buy, myestablishment to arrange, my entree into the genteel world to make; and,having announced my intention to purchase horses and live in a genteelstyle, was in a couple of days so pestered by visits of the nobility andgentry, and so hampered by invitations to dinners and suppers, thatit became exceedingly difficult for me during some days to manage myanxiously desired visit to Mrs. Barry.
It appears that the good soul provided an entertainment as soon as sheheard of my arrival, and invited all her humble acquaintances of Bray tobe present: but I was engaged subsequently to my Lord Ballyragget on theday appointed, and was, of course, obliged to break the promise that Ihad made to Mrs. Barry to attend her humble festival.
I endeavoured to sweeten the disappointment by sending my mother ahandsome satin sack and velvet robe, which I purchased for her at thebest mercers in Dublin (and indeed told her I had brought from Parisexpressly for her); but the messenger whom I despatched with thepresents brought back the parcels, with the piece of satin torn halfway up the middle: and I did not need his descriptions to be aware thatsomething had offended the good lady; who
came out, he said, andabused him at the door, and would have boxed his cars, but that she wasrestrained by a gentleman in black; who I concluded, with justice, washer clerical friend Mr. Jowls.
This reception of my presents made me rather dread than hope for aninterview with Mrs. Barry, and delayed my visit to her for some daysfurther. I wrote her a dutiful and soothing letter, to which there wasno answer returned; although I mentioned that on my way to the capital Ihad been at Barryville, and revisited the old haunts of my youth.
I don't care to own that she is the only human being whom I am afraidto face. I can recollect her fits of anger as a child, and thereconciliations, which used to be still more violent and painful: andso, instead of going myself, I sent my factotum, Ulick Brady, to her;who rode back, saying that he had met with a reception he would notagain undergo for twenty guineas; that he had been dismissed the house,with strict injunctions to inform me that my mother disowned me forever. This parental anathema, as it were, affected me much, for I wasalways the most dutiful of sons; and I determined to go as soon aspossible, and brave what I knew must be an inevitable scene of reproachand anger, for the sake, as I hoped, of as certain a reconciliation.
I had been giving one night an entertainment to some of the genteelestcompany in Dublin, and was showing my Lord Marquess downstairs with apair of wax tapers, when I found a woman in a grey coat seated at mydoorsteps: to whom, taking her for a beggar, I tendered a piece ofmoney, and whom my noble friends, who were rather hot with wine, beganto joke, as my door closed and I bade them all good-night.
I was rather surprised and affected to find afterwards that the hoodedwoman was no other than my mother; whose pride had made her vow that shewould not enter my doors, but whose natural maternal yearnings had madeher long to see her son's face once again, and who had thus plantedherself in disguise at my gate. Indeed, I have found in my experiencethat these are the only women who never deceive a man, and whoseaffection remains constant through all trials. Think of the hours thatthe kind soul must have passed, lonely in the street, listening to thedin and merriment within my apartments, the clinking of the glasses, thelaughing, the choruses, and the cheering.
When my affair with Lord George happened, and it became necessary to me,for the reasons I have stated, to be out of the way; now, thought I, isthe time to make my peace with my good mother: she will never refuse mean asylum now that I seem in distress. So sending to her a notice that Iwas coming, that I had had a duel which had brought me into trouble, andrequired I should go into hiding, I followed my messenger half-an-hourafterwards: and, I warrant me, there was no want of a good reception,for presently, being introduced into an empty room by the barefootedmaid who waited upon Mrs. Barry, the door was opened, and the poormother flung herself into my arms with a scream, and with transportsof joy which I shall not attempt to describe--they are but to becomprehended by women who have held in their arms an only child after atwelve years' absence from him.
The Reverend Mr. Jowls, my mother's director, was the only person towhom the door of her habitation was opened during my sojourn; and hewould take no denial. He mixed for himself a glass of rum-punch, whichhe seemed in the habit of drinking at my good mother's charge, groanedaloud, and forthwith began reading me a lecture upon the sinfulness ofmy past courses, and especially of the last horrible action I had beencommitting.
'Sinful!' said my mother, bristling up when her son was attacked;'sure we're all sinners; and it's you, Mr. Jowls, who have given me theinexpressible blessing to let me know THAT. But how else would you havehad the poor child behave?'
'I would have had the gentleman avoid the drink, and the quarrel, andthis wicked duel altogether,' answered the clergyman.
But my mother cut him short, by saying such sort of conduct might bevery well in a person of his cloth and his birth, but it neither becamea Brady nor a Barry. In fact, she was quite delighted with the thoughtthat I had pinked an English marquis's son in a duel; and so, to consoleher, I told her of a score more in which I had been engaged, and of someof which I have already informed the reader.
As my late antagonist was in no sort of danger when I spread that reportof his perilous situation, there was no particular call that my hidingshould be very close. But the widow did not know the fact as well as Idid: and caused her house to be barricaded, and Becky, her barefootedserving-wench, to be a perpetual sentinel to give alarm, lest theofficers should be in search of me.
The only person I expected, however, was my cousin Ulick, who was tobring me the welcome intelligence of Lady Lyndon's arrival; and I own,after two days' close confinement at Bray, in which I narrated all theadventures of my life to my mother, and succeeded in making her acceptthe dresses she had formerly refused, and a considerable addition toher income which I was glad to make, I was very glad when I saw thatreprobate Ulick Brady, as my mother called him, ride up to the door inmy carriage with the welcome intelligence for my mother, that the younglord was out of danger; and for me, that the Countess of Lyndon hadarrived in Dublin.
'And I wish, Redmond, that the young gentleman had been in danger alittle longer,' said the widow, her eyes filling with tears, 'and you'dhave stayed so much the more with your poor old mother.' But I dried hertears, embracing her warmly, and promised to see her often; and hintedI would have, mayhap, a house of my own and a noble daughter to welcomeher.
'Who is she, Redmond dear?' said the old lady.
'One of the noblest and richest women in the empire, mother,' answeredI. 'No mere Brady this time,' I added, laughing: with which hopes I leftMrs. Barry in the best of tempers.
No man can bear less malice than I do; and, when I have once carriedmy point, I am one of the most placable creatures in the world. I was aweek in Dublin before I thought it necessary to quit that capital. Ihad become quite reconciled to my rival in that time; made a point ofcalling at his lodgings, and speedily became an intimate consoler of hisbed-side. He had a gentleman to whom I did not neglect to be civil, andtowards whom I ordered my people to be particular in their attentions;for I was naturally anxious to learn what my Lord George's position withthe lady of Castle Lyndon had really been, whether other suitors wereabout the widow, and how she would bear the news of his wound.
The young nobleman himself enlightened me somewhat upon the subjects Iwas most desirous to inquire into.
'Chevalier,' said he to me one morning when I went to pay him mycompliments, 'I find you are an old acquaintance with my kinswoman, theCountess of Lyndon. She writes me a page of abuse of you in a letterhere; and the strange part of the story is this, that one day when therewas talk about you at Castle Lyndon, and the splendid equipage you wereexhibiting in Dublin, the fair widow vowed and protested she never hadheard of you.
'"Oh yes, mamma," said the little Bullingdon, "the tall dark man at Spawith the cast in his eye, who used to make my governor tipsy and sent methe sword: his name is Mr. Barry."
'But my Lady ordered the boy out of the room, and persisted in knowingnothing about you.'
'And are you a kinsman and acquaintance of my Lady Lyndon, my Lord?'said I, in a tone of grave surprise.
'Yes, indeed,' answered the young gentleman. 'I left her house but toget this ugly wound from you. And it came at a most unlucky time too.'
'Why more unlucky now than at another moment?'
'Why, look you, Chevalier, I think the widow was not unpartial to me. Ithink I might have induced her to make our connection a little closer:and faith, though she is older than I am, she is the richest party nowin England.'
'My Lord George,' said I, 'will you let me ask you a frank but an oddquestion?--will you show me her letters?'
'Indeed I'll do no such thing,' replied he, in a rage.
'Nay, don't be angry. If _I_ show you letters of Lady Lyndon's to me,will you let me see hers to you?'
'What, in Heaven's name, do you mean, Mr. Barry?' said the younggentleman.
'_I_ mean that I passionately loved Lady Lyndon. I mean that I ama--that I rather was not indifferent to
her. I mean that I love her todistraction at this present moment, and will die myself, or kill the manwho possesses her before me.'
'YOU marry the greatest heiress and the noblest blood in England?' saidLord George haughtily.
'There's no nobler blood in Europe than mine,' answered I: 'and I tellyou I don't know whether to hope or not. But this I know, that therewere days in which, poor as I am, the great heiress did not disdain tolook down upon my poverty: and that any man who marries her passes overmy dead body to do it. It's lucky for you,' I added gloomily, 'that onthe occasion of my engagement with you, I did not know what were yourviews regarding my Lady Lyndon. My poor boy, you are a lad of courageand I love you. Mine is the first sword in Europe, and you would havebeen lying in a narrower bed than that you now occupy.'
'Boy!' said Lord George: 'I am not four years younger than you are.'
'You are forty years younger than I am in experience. I have passedthrough every grade of life. With my own skill and daring I have mademy own fortune. I have been in fourteen pitched battles as a privatesoldier, and have been twenty-three times on the ground, and never wastouched but once; and that was by the sword of a French maitre-d'armes,Whom I killed. I started in life at seventeen, a beggar, and am now atseven-and-twenty, with twenty thousand guineas. Do you suppose a manof my courage and energy can't attain anything that he dares, and thathaving claims upon the widow, I will not press them?'
This speech was not exactly true to the letter (for I had multiplied mypitched battles, my duels, and my wealth somewhat); but I saw that itmade the impression I desired to effect upon the young gentleman'smind, who listened to my statement with peculiar seriousness, and whom Ipresently left to digest it.
A couple of days afterwards I called to see him again, when I broughtwith me some of the letters that had passed between me and my LadyLyndon. 'Here,' said I, 'look--I show it you in confidence--it is alock of her Ladyship's hair; here are her letters signed Calista, andaddressed to Eugenio. Here is a poem, "When Sol bedecks the mead withlight, And pallid Cynthia sheds her ray," addressed by her Ladyship toyour humble servant.'
'Calista! Eugenio! Sol bedecks the mead with light?' cried the younglord. 'Am I dreaming? Why, my dear Barry, the widow has sent me thevery poem herself! "Rejoicing in the sunshine bright, Or musing in theevening grey."'
I could not help laughing as he made the quotation. They were, infact, the very words MY Calista had addressed to me. And we found, uponcomparing letters, that whole passages of eloquence figured in theone correspondence which appeared in the other. See what it is to be ablue-stocking and have a love of letter-writing!
The young man put down the papers in great perturbation. 'Well, thankHeaven!' said he, after a pause of some duration,--'thank Heaven fora good riddance! Ah, Mr. Barry, what a woman I MIGHT have married hadthese lucky papers not come in my way! I thought my Lady Lyndon had aheart, sir, I must confess, though not a very warm one; and that, atleast, one could TRUST her. But marry her now! I would as lief sendmy servant into the street to get me a wife, as put up with such anEphesian matron as that.'
'My Lord George,' said I, 'you little know the world. Remember what abad husband Lady Lyndon had, and don't be astonished that she, on herside, should be indifferent. Nor has she, I will dare to wager, everpassed beyond the bounds of harmless gallantry, or sinned beyond thecomposing of a sonnet or a billet-doux.'
'My wife,' said the little lord, 'shall write no sonnets orbillets-doux; and I'm heartily glad to think I have obtained, in goodtime, a knowledge of the heartless vixen with whom I thought myself fora moment in love.'
The wounded young nobleman was either, as I have said, very young andgreen in matters of the world--for to suppose that a man would give upforty thousand a year, because, forsooth, the lady connected with it hadwritten a few sentimental letters to a young fellow, is too absurd--or,as I am inclined to believe, he was glad of an excuse to quit the fieldaltogether, being by no means anxious to meet the victorious sword ofRedmond Barry a second time.
When the idea of Poynings' danger, or the reproaches probably addressedby him to the widow regarding myself, had brought this exceedingly weakand feeble woman up to Dublin, as I expected, and my worthy Ulick hadinformed me of her arrival, I quitted my good mother, who was quitereconciled to me (indeed the duel had done that), and found thedisconsolate Calista was in the habit of paying visits to the woundedswain; much to the annoyance, the servants told me, of that gentleman.The English are often absurdly high and haughty upon a point ofpunctilio; and, after his kinswoman's conduct, Lord Poynings swore hewould have no more to do with her.
I had this information from his Lordship's gentleman; with whom, asI have said, I took particular care to be friends; nor was I deniedadmission by his porter, when I chose to call, as before.
Her Ladyship had most likely bribed that person, as I had; for she hadfound her way up, though denied admission; and, in fact, I had watchedher from her own house to Lord George Poynings' lodgings, and seen herdescend from her chair there and enter, before I myself followed her. Iproposed to await her quietly in the ante-room, to make a scene there,and reproach her with infidelity, if necessary; but matters were, asit happened, arranged much more conveniently for me; and walking,unannounced, into the outer room of his Lordship's apartments, I had thefelicity of hearing in the next chamber, of which the door was partiallyopen, the voice of my Calista. She was in full cry, appealing to thepoor patient, as he lay confined in his bed, and speaking in the mostpassionate manner. 'What can lead you, George,' she said, 'to doubt ofmy faith? How can you break my heart by casting me off in this monstrousmanner? Do you wish to drive your poor Calista to the grave? Well, well,I shall join there the dear departed angel.'
'Who entered it three months since,' said Lord George, with a sneer.'It's a wonder you have survived so long.'
'Don't treat your poor Calista in this cruel cruel manner, Antonio!'cried the widow.
'Bah!' said Lord George, 'my wound is bad. My doctors forbid me muchtalk. Suppose your Antonio tired, my dear. Can't you console yourselfwith somebody else?'
'Heavens, Lord George! Antonio!'
'Console yourself with Eugenio,' said the young nobleman bitterly, andbegan ringing his bell; on which his valet, who was in an inner room,came out, and he bade him show her Ladyship downstairs.
Lady Lyndon issued from the room in the greatest flurry. She was dressedin deep weeds, with a veil over her face, and did not recognise theperson waiting in the outer apartment. As she went down the stairs, Istepped lightly after her, and as her chairman opened her door, sprangforward, and took her hand to place her in the vehicle. 'Dearest widow,'said I, 'his Lordship spoke correctly. Console yourself with Eugenio!'She was too frightened even to scream, as her chairman carried her away.She was set down at her house, and you may be sure that I was at thechair-door, as before, to help her out.
'Monstrous man!' said she, 'I desire you to leave me.'
'Madam, it would be against my oath,' replied I; 'recollect the vowEugenio sent to Calista.'
'If you do not quit me, I will call for the domestics to turn you fromthe door.'
'What! when I am come with my Calista's letters in my pocket, to returnthem mayhap? You can soothe, madam, but you cannot frighten RedmondBarry.'
'What is it you would have of me, sir?' said the widow, rather agitated.
'Let me come upstairs, and I will tell you all,' I replied; and shecondescended to give me her hand, and to permit me to lead her from herchair to her drawing-room.
When we were alone I opened my mind honourably to her.
'Dearest madam,' said I, 'do not let your cruelty drive a desperateslave to fatal measures. I adore you. In former days you allowed me towhisper my passion to you unrestrained; at present you drive me fromyour door, leave my letters unanswered, and prefer another to me. Myflesh and blood cannot bear such treatment. Look upon the punishment Ihave been obliged to inflict; tremble at that which I may be compelledto administer to that unfortunate young
man: so sure as he marries you,madam, he dies.'
'I do not recognise,' said the widow, 'the least right you have to givethe law to the Countess of Lyndon: I do not in the least understandyour threats, or heed them. What has passed between me and an Irishadventurer that should authorise this impertinent intrusion?'
'THESE have passed, madam,' said I,--'Calista's letters to Eugenio. Theymay have been very innocent; but will the world believe it? You may haveonly intended to play with the heart of the poor artless Irish gentlemanwho adored and confided in you. But who will believe the stories of yourinnocence, against the irrefragable testimony of your own handwriting?Who will believe that you could write these letters in the merewantonness of coquetry, and not under the influence of affection?'
'Villain!' cried my Lady Lyndon, 'could you dare to construe out ofthose idle letters of mine any other meaning than that which they reallybear?'
'I will construe anything out of them,' said I; 'such is the passionwhich animates me towards you. I have sworn it--you must and shall bemine! Did you ever know me promise to accomplish a thing and fail? Whichwill you prefer to have from me--a love such as woman never knew fromman before, or a hatred to which there exists no parallel?'
'A woman of my rank, sir, can fear nothing from the hatred of anadventurer like yourself,' replied the lady, drawing up stately.
'Look at your Poynings--was HE of your rank? You are the cause of thatyoung man's wound, madam; and, but that the instrument of your savagecruelty relented, would have been the author of his murder--yes, of hismurder; for, if a wife is faithless, does not she arm the husband whopunishes the seducer! And I look upon you, Honoria Lyndon, as my wife.'
'Husband? wife, sir!' cried the widow, quite astonished.
'Yes, wife! husband! I am not one of those poor souls with whomcoquettes can play, and who may afterwards throw them aside. You wouldforget what passed between us at Spa: Calista would forget Eugenio; butI will not let you forget me. You thought to trifle with my heart, didyou? When once moved, Honoria, it is moved for ever. I love you--love aspassionately now as I did when my passion was hopeless; and, now thatI can win you, do you think I will forego you? Cruel cruel Calista! youlittle know the power of your own charms if you think their effect is soeasily obliterated--you little know the constancy of this pure and nobleheart if you think that, having once loved, it can ever cease toadore you. No! I swear by your cruelty that I will revenge it; by yourwonderful beauty that I will win it, and be worthy to win it. Lovely,fascinating, fickle, cruel woman! you shall be mine--I swear it! Yourwealth may be great; but am I not of a generous nature enough to use itworthily? Your rank is lofty; but not so lofty as my ambition. You threwyourself away once on a cold and spiritless debauchee: give yourselfnow, Honoria, to a MAN; and one who, however lofty your rank may be,will enhance it and become it!'
As I poured words to this effect out on the astonished widow, I stoodover her, and fascinated her with the glance of my eye; saw her turn redand pale with fear and wonder; saw that my praise of her charms and theexposition of my passion were not unwelcome to her, and witnessed withtriumphant composure the mastery I was gaining over her. Terror, be sureof that, is not a bad ingredient of love. A man who wills fiercely towin the heart of a weak and vapourish woman MUST succeed, if he haveopportunity enough.
'Terrible man!' said Lady Lyndon, shrinking from me as soon as I haddone speaking (indeed, I was at a loss for words, and thinking ofanother speech to make to her)--'terrible man! leave me.'
I saw that I had made an impression on her, from those very words. 'Ifshe lets me into the house to-morrow,' said I, 'she is mine.'
As I went downstairs I put ten guineas into the hand of the hall-porter,who looked quite astonished at such a gift.
'It is to repay you for the trouble of opening the door to me,' said I;'you will have to do so often.'