CHAPTER XV.
_In Which the Count Mirabel Commences His Operations with Great Success_.
IS THERE a more gay and graceful spectacle in the world than Hyde Park,at the end of a long sunny morning in the merry months of May and June?Where can we see such beautiful women, such gallant cavaliers, such finehorses, and such brilliant equipages? The scene, too, is worthy ofsuch agreeable accessories: the groves, the gleaming waters, and thetriumphal arches. In the distance, the misty heights of Surrey, and thebowery glades of Kensington.
It was the day after the memorable voyage from Richmond. Eminent amongthe glittering throng, Count Mirabel cantered along on his Arabian,scattering gay recognitions and bright words. He reined in his steedbeneath a tree, under whose shade was assembled a knot of listlesscavaliers. The Count received their congratulations, for this morning hehad won his pigeon match.
'Only think of that old fool, Castlefyshe, betting on Poppington,' saidthe Count. 'I want to see him, old idiot! Who knows where Charley is?'
'I do, Mirabel,' said Lord Catchimwhocan. 'He has gone to Richmond withBlandford and the two little Furzlers.'
'That good Blandford! Whenever he is in love he always gives a dinner.It is a droll way to succeed.'
'Apropos, will you dine with me to-day, Mirabel?' said Mr. deStockville.
'Impossible, my dear fellow; I dine with Fitz-warrene.'
'I say, Mirabel,' drawled out a young man, 'I saw you yesterday drivinga man down to Richmond yourself. Who is your friend?'
'No one you know, or will know. 'Tis the best fellow that ever lived;but he is under my guidance, and I shall be very particular to whom heis introduced.'
'Lord! I wonder who he can be!' said the young man.
'I say, Mirabel, you will be done on Goshawk, if you don't take care, Ican tell you that.'
'Thank you, good Coventry; if you like to bet the odds, I will takethem.'
'No, my dear fellow, I do not want to bet, but at the same time------'
'You have an opinion that you will not back. That is a luxury, forcertainly it is of no, use. I would advise you to enjoy it.'
'Well, I must say, Mirabel,' said Lord Catchimwhocan, 'I think the sameabout Goshawk.'
'Oh, no, Catch, you do not think so; you think you think. Go and takeall the odds you can get upon Goshawk. Come, now, to-morrow you willtell me you have a very pretty book. Eh! _mon cher_ Catch?'
'But do you really think Goshawk will win?' asked Lord Cathimwhocan,earnestly.
'Certain!'
'Well, damned if I don't go and take the odds,' said his lordship.
'Mirabel,' said a young noble, moving his horse close to the Count, andspeaking in a low voice, 'shall you be at home to-morrow morning?'
'Certainly. But what do you want?'
'I am in a devil of a scrape; I do not know what to do. I want you toadvise me.'
'The Count moved aside with this cavalier. 'And what is it?' said he.'Have you been losing?'
'No, no,' said the young man, shaking his head. 'Much worse. It is themost infernal business; I do not know what I shall do. I think I shallcut my throat.'
'_Betise!_ It cannot be very bad, if it be not money.'
'Oh, my dear Mirabel, you do not know what trouble I am in.'
'_Mon cher Henri, soyez tranquille,_' said the Count, in a kind voice.'I am your friend. Rest assured, I will arrange it. Think no more of ituntil to-morrow at one o'clock, and then call on me. If you like, I amat your service at present.'
'No, no, not here: there are letters.'
'Ha, ha! Well, to-morrow, at one. In the meantime, do not write anynonsense.'
At this moment, the duchess, with a party of equestrians, passed andbowed to the Count Mirabel.
'I say, Mirabel,' exclaimed a young man, 'who is that girl? I wantto know. I have seen her several times lately. By Jove, she is a finecreature!'
'Do not you know Miss Temple?' said the Count. 'Fancy a man not knowingMiss Temple! She is the only woman in London to be looked at.'
Now there was a great flutter in the band, and nothing but the name ofMiss Temple was heard. All vowed they knew her very well, at leastby sight, and never thought of anybody else. Some asked the Count topresent them, others meditated plans by which that great result mightbe obtained; but, in the midst of all this agitation, Count Mirabel rodeaway, and was soon by the very lady's side.
'What a charming voyage yesterday,' said the Count to Miss Temple. 'Youwere amused?'
'Very.'
'And to think you should all know my friend Armine so well! I wasastonished, for he will never go anywhere, or speak to anyone.'
'You know him intimately?' said Miss Temple.
'He is my brother! There is not a human being in the world I love somuch! If you only knew him as I know him. Ah! _chere_ Miss Temple, thereis not a man in London to be compared with him, so clever and sogood! What a heart! so tender! and what talent! There is no one so_spirituel_.'
'You have known him long, Count?'
'Always; but of late I find a great change in him. I cannot discoverwhat is the matter with him. He has grown melancholy. I think he willnot live.'
'Indeed!'
'No, I am never wrong. That _cher_ Armine will not live.'
'You are his friend, surely------'
'Ah! yes; but I do not know what it is. Even me he cares not for. Icontrive sometimes to get him about a little; yesterday, for instance;but to-day, you see, he will not move. There he is, sitting alone, in adull hotel, with his eyes fixed on the ground, dark as night. Never wasa man so changed. I suppose something has happened to him abroad. Whenyou first knew him, I daresay now, he was the gayest of the gay?'
'He was indeed very different,' said Miss Temple, turning away her face.
'You have known that dear Armine a long time?'
'It seems a long time,' said Miss Temple.
'If he dies, and die he must, I do not think I shall ever be in verygood spirits again,' said the Count. 'It is the only thing that wouldquite upset me. Now do not you think, Miss Temple, that our _cher_Armine is the most interesting person you ever met?'
'I believe Captain Armine is admired by all those who know him.'
'He is so good, so tender, and so clever. Lord Montfort, he knows himvery well?'
'They were companions in boyhood, I believe; but they have resumed theiracquaintance only recently.'
'We must interest Lord Montfort in his case. Lord Montfort must assistin our endeavours to bring him out a little.'
'Lord Montfort needs no prompting, Count. We are all alike interested inCaptain Armine's welfare.'
'I wish you would try to find out what is on his mind,' said CountMirabel. 'After all, men cannot do much. It requires a more delicatesympathy than we can offer. And yet I would do anything for the _cher_Armine, because I really love him the same as if he were my brother.'
'He is fortunate in such a friend.'
'Ah! he does not think so any longer,' said the Count; 'he avoids me, hewill not tell me anything. _Chere_ Miss Temple, this business hauntsme; it will end badly. I know that dear Armine so well; no one knows himlike me; his feelings are too strong: no one has such strong feelings.Now, of all my friends, he is the only man I know who is capable ofcommitting suicide.'
'God forbid!' said Henrietta Temple, with emphasis.
'I rise every morning with apprehension,' said the Count. 'When I callupon him every day, I tremble as I approach his hotel.'
'Are you indeed serious?'
'Most serious. I knew a man once in the same state. It was the Duc deCrillon. He was my brother friend, like this dear Armine. We were atcollege together; we were in the same regiment. He was exactly likethis dear Armine, young, beautiful, and clever, but with a heart alltenderness, terrible passions. He loved Mademoiselle de Guise, mycousin, the most beautiful girl in France. Pardon me, but I told Armineyesterday that you reminded me of her. They were going to be married;but there was a _contretemps_. He sent for me; I was in
Spain; shemarried the Viscount de Marsagnac. Until that dreadful morning heremained exactly in the same state as our dear Armine. Never was amelancholy so profound. After the ceremony he shot himself.'
'No, no!' exclaimed Miss Temple in great agitation.
'Perfectly true. It is the terrible recollection of that dreadfuladventure that overcomes me when I see our dear friend here, because Ifeel it must be love. I was in hopes it was his cousin. But it isnot so; it must be something that has happened abroad. Love alone canaccount for it. It is not his debts that would so overpower him. Whatare his debts? I would pay them myself. It is a heart-rending business.I am going to him. How I tremble!' 'How good you are!' exclaimed MissTemple, with streaming eyes. 'I shall ever be grateful; I mean, we allmust. Oh! do go to him, go to him directly; tell him to be happy.'
'It is the song I ever sing,' said the Count. 'I wish some of you wouldcome and see him, or send him a message. It is wise to show him thatthere are some who take interest in his existence. Now, give me thatflower, for instance, and let me give it to him from you.'
'He will not care for it,' said Miss Temple. 'Try. It is a fancy I have.Let me bear it.' Miss Temple gave the flower to the Count, who rode offwith his prize.
It was about eight o'clock: Ferdinand was sitting alone in hisroom, having just parted with Glastonbury, who was going to dine inBrook-street. The sun had set, and yet it was scarcely dark enough forartificial light, particularly for a person without a pursuit. It wasjust that dreary dismal moment, when even the most gay grow pensive,if they be alone. And Ferdinand was particularly dull; a reaction hadfollowed the excitement of the last eight-and-forty hours, and he was atthis moment feeling singularly disconsolate, and upbraiding himselffor being so weak as to permit himself to be influenced by Mirabel'sfantastic promises and projects, when his door flew open, and the Count,full dressed, and graceful as a Versailles Apollo, stood before him.
'_Cher ami!_ I cannot stop one minute. I dine with Fitzwarrene, and I amlate. I have done your business capitally. Here is a pretty flower! Whodo you think gave it me? She did, pardy. On condition, however, thatI should bear it to you, with a message; and what a message! that youshould be happy.'
'Nonsense, my dear Count'
'It is true; but I romanced at a fine rate for it. It is the only waywith women. She thinks we have known each other since the Deluge. Do notbetray me. But, my dear fellow, I cannot stop now. Only, mind, all ischanged. Instead of being gay, and seeking her society, and amusingher, and thus attempting to regain your influence, as we talked of lastnight; mind, suicide is the system. To-morrow I will tell you all. Shehas a firm mind and a high spirit, which she thinks is principle. Ifwe go upon the tack of last night, she will marry Montfort, and fall inlove with you afterwards. That will never do. So we must work upon herfears, her generosity, pity, remorse, and so on. Call upon me to-morrowmorning, at half-past two; not before, because I have an excellent boycoming to me at one, who is in a scrape. At half-past two, _cher, cher_Armine, we will talk more. In the meantime, enjoy your flower; and restassured that it is your own fault if you do not fling the good Montfortin a very fine ditch.'