CHAPTER XXXIV.
IN WHICH FRESH MISCHIEF IS BREWED.
Charles's duties were light enough; he often wished they had beenheavier. There were such long idle periods left for thinking andbrooding. He rather wondered at first why he was not more employed. Henever was in attendance on the lieutenant, save in the daytime. One ofthe young men under him drove the brougham, and was out all night and inbed all day; and the other was a mere stable-lad from the country.Charles's duty consisted almost entirely in dressing himself about twoo'clock, and loitering about town after his master; and, after he hadbeen at this work about a fortnight, it seemed to him as if he had beenat it a year or more.
Charles soon found out all he cared to know about the lieutenant. He wasthe only son and heir of an eminent solicitor, lately deceased, who hadput him into the splendid regiment to which he belonged in order to gethim into good society. The young fellow had done well enough in thatway. He was amazingly rich, amazingly handsome, and passionately fond ofhis profession, at which he really worked hard; but he was terriblyfast. Charles soon found that out; and the first object which he placedbefore himself, when he began to awaken from the first dead torpor whichcame on him after his fall, was to gain influence with him and save himfrom ruin.
"He is burning the candle at both ends," said Charles. "He is too goodto go to the deuce. In time, if I am careful, he may listen to me."
And, indeed, it seemed probable. From the very first, Hornby had treatedCharles with great respect and consideration. Hornby knew he was agentleman. One morning, before Charles had been many days with him, thebrougham had not come into the mews till seven o'clock; and Charles,going to his lodgings at eight, had found him in uniform, bolting a cupof coffee before going on duty. There was a great pile of money,sovereigns and notes, on the dressing-table, and he caught Charleslooking at it.
Hornby laughed. "What are you looking at with that solemn face ofyours?" said he.
"Nothing, sir," said Charles.
"You are looking at that money," said Hornby; "and you are thinking thatit would be as well if I didn't stay out all night playing--eh?"
"I might have thought so, sir," said Charles. "I did think so."
"Quite right, too. Some day I will leave off, perhaps."
And then he rattled out of the room, and Charles watched him riding downthe street, all blue, and scarlet, and gold, a brave figure, with theworld at his feet.
"There is time yet," said Charles.
The first time Charles made his appearance in livery in the street hefelt horribly guilty. He was in continual terror lest he should meetsome one he knew; but, after a time, when he found that day after day hecould walk about and see never a familiar face, he grew bolder. Hewished sometimes he could see some one he knew from a distance, so asnot to be recognised--it was so terrible lonely.
Day after day he saw the crowds pass him in the street, and recognisedno one. In old times, when he used to come to London on a raid fromOxford, he fancied he used to recognise an acquaintance at every step;but now, day after day went on, and he saw no one he knew. The world hadbecome to him like a long uneasy dream of strange faces.
After a very few days of his new life, there began to grow on him adesire to hear of those he had left so abruptly; a desire which was atfirst mere curiosity, but which soon developed into a yearning regret.At first, after a week or so, he began idly wondering where they allwere, and what they thought of his disappearance; and at this time,perhaps, he may have felt a little conceited in thinking how he occupiedtheir thoughts, and of what importance he had made himself by his suddendisappearance. But his curiosity and vanity soon wore away, and weresucceeded by a deep gnawing desire to hear something of them all--tocatch hold of some little thread, however thin, which should connect himwith his past life, and with those he had loved so well. He would havedied in his obstinacy sooner than move one inch towards his object; butevery day, as he rode about the town, dressed in the livery ofservitude, which he tried to think was his heritage, and yet of which hewas ashamed, he stared hither and thither at the passing faces, tryingto find one, were it only that of the meanest servant, which shouldconnect him with the past.
At last, and before long, he saw some one.
One afternoon he was under orders to attend his master on horseback, asusual. After lunch, Hornby came out, beautifully dressed, handsome andhappy, and rode up Grosvenor Place into the park. At the entrance toRotten Row he joined an old gentleman and his two daughters, and theyrode together, chatting pleasantly. Charles rode behind with the othergroom, who talked to him about the coming Derby, and would have bettedagainst Haphazard at the current odds. They rode up and down the Rowtwice, and then Hornby, calling Charles, gave him his horse and walkedabout by the Serpentine, talking to every one, and getting a kindlywelcome from great and small, for the son of a great attorney, withwealth, manners, and person, may get into very good society, if he isworth it; or, quite possibly, if he isn't.
Then Hornby and Charles left the park, and, coming down Grosvenor Place,passed into Pall Mall. Here Hornby went into a club, and left Charleswaiting in the street with his horse half an hour or more.
Then he mounted again, and rode up St. James's Street, into Piccadilly.He turned to the left; and, at the bottom of the hill, not far fromHalf-moon Street, he went into a private house, and, giving Charles hisreins, told him to wait for him; and so Charles waited there, in theafternoon sun, watching what went by.
It was a sleepy afternoon, and the horses stood quiet, and Charles was acontented fellow, and he rather liked dozing there and watching theworld go by. There is plenty to see in Piccadilly on an afternoon in theseason, even for a passer-by; but, sitting on a quiet horse, withnothing to do or think about, one can see it all better. And Charles hadsome humour in him, and so he was amused at what he saw, and would havesat there an hour or more without impatience.
Opposite to him was a great bonnet-shop, and in front of it was anorange-woman. A grand carriage dashed up to the bonnet-shop, so that hehad to move his horses, and the orange-woman had to get out of the way.Two young ladies got out of the carriage, went in, and (as he believes)bought bonnets, leaving a third, and older one, sitting in a back seat,who nursed a pug dog, with a blue riband. Neither the coachman norfootman belonging to the carriage seemed to mind this lady. The footmanthought he would like some oranges; so he went to the orange-woman. Theorange-woman was Irish, for her speech bewrayed her, and the footman wasfrom the county Clare; so those two instantly began comparing notesabout those delectable regions, to such purpose, that the two ladies,having, let us hope, suited themselves in the bonnet way, had to opentheir own carriage-door and get in, before the footman was recalled to asense of his duties--after which he shut the door, and they drove away.
Then there came by a blind man. It was not the same blind man thatCharles saw fall down the area, because that blind man's dog was a brownone, with a curly tail, and this one's dog was black with no tail atall. Moreover, the present dog carried a basket, which the other one didnot. Otherwise they were so much alike (all blind men are), that Charlesmight have mistaken one for the other. This blind man met with no suchserious accident as the other, either. Only, turning into thepublic-house at the corner, opposite Mr. Hope's, the dog lagged behind,and, the swing-doors closing between him and his master, Charles saw himpulled through by his chain, and nearly throttled.
Next there came by Lord Palmerston, with his umbrella on his shoulder,walking airily arm-in-arm with Lord John Russell. They were talkingtogether; and, as they passed, Charles heard Lord Palmerston say that itwas much warmer on this side of the street than on the other. Withwhich proposition Lord John Russell appeared to agree; and so theypassed on westward.
After this there came by three prize fighters, arm-in-arm; each of themhad a white hat and a cigar; two had white bull-dogs, and one ablack-and-tan terrier. They made a left wheel, and looked at Charles andhis horses, and then they made a right wheel, and looked into thebonnet-shop; after wh
ich they went into the public-house into which theblind man had gone before; and, from the noise which immediately arosefrom inside, Charles came to the conclusion that the two white bull-dogsand the black-and-tan terrier had set upon the blind man's dog, andtouzled him.
After the prize-fighters came Mr. Gladstone, walking very fast. A largeNewfoundland dog with a walking-stick in his mouth blundered up againsthim, and nearly threw him down. Before he got under way again, the Irishorange-woman bore down on him, and faced him with three oranges in eachhand, offering them for sale. Did she know, with the sagacity of hernation, that he was then on his way to the house, to make a GreatStatement, and that he would want oranges? I cannot say. He probably gothis oranges at Bellamy's for he bought none of her. After him came aquantity of indifferent people; and then Charles's heart beat high--forhere was some one coming whom he knew with a vengeance.
Lord Welter, walking calmly down the street, with his big chest thrownout, and his broad, stupid face in moody repose. He was thinking. Hecame so close to Charles that, stepping aside to avoid a passer-by, hewhitened the shoulder of his coat against the pipe-clay on Charles'sknee; then he stood stock still within six inches of him, but lookingthe other way towards the houses.
He pulled off one of his gloves and bit his nails. Though his back wastowards Charles, still Charles knew well what expression was on his faceas he did that. The old cruel lowering of the eyebrows, and pinching inof the lips was there, he knew. The same expression as that whichMarston remarked the time he quarrelled with Cuthbert once atRavenshoe--mischief!
He went into the house where Charles's master, Hornby, was; and Charlessat and wondered.
Presently there came out on to the balcony above, six or sevenwell-dressed young men, who lounged with their elbows on the redcushions which were fixed to the railing, and talked, looking at thepeople in the street.
Lord Welter and Lieutenant Hornby were together at the end. There was noscowl on Welter's face now; he was making himself agreeable. Charleswatched him and Hornby; the conversation between them got eager, andthey seemed to make an appointment. After that they parted, and Hornbycame down stairs and got on his horse.
They rode very slowly home. Hornby bowed right and left to the people heknew but seemed absent. When Charles took his horse at the door, he saidsuddenly to Charles--
"I have been talking to a man who knows something of you, Ibelieve--Lord Welter."
"Did you mention me to him, sir?"
"No; I didn't think of it."
"You would do me a great kindness if you would not do so, sir."
"Why," said Hornby, looking suddenly up.
"I am sorry I cannot enter into particulars, sir; but, if I thought hewould know where I was, I should at once quit your service and try tolose myself once more."
"Lose yourself?"
"Yes, sir."
"H'm!" said Hornby, thoughtfully. "Well, I know there is something aboutyou which I don't understand. I ain't sure it is any business of minethough. I will say nothing. You are not a man to chatter about anythingyou see. Mind you don't. You see how I trust you." And so he went in,and Charles went round to the stable.
"Is the brougham going out to night?" he asked of his fellow-servant.
"Ordered at ten," said the man. "Night-work again, I expect, I wanted toget out too. Consume the darned card-playing. Was you going anywhereto-night?"
"Nowhere," said Charles.
"It's a beautiful evening," said the man. "If you should by chancesaunter up towards Grosvenor Square, and could leave a note for me, Ishould thank you very much; upon my soul I should."
I don't think Charles ever hesitated at doing a good-natured action inhis life. A request to him was like a command. It came as natural to himnow to take a dirty, scrawled love-letter from a groom to ascullery-maid as in old times it did to lend a man fifty pounds. He saidat once he would go with great pleasure.
The man (a surly fellow enough at ordinary times) thanked him heartily;and, when Charles had got the letter, he sauntered away in thatdirection slowly, thinking of many things.
"By Jove," he said to himself, "my scheme of hiding does not seem to bevery successful. Little more than a fortnight gone, and I am thrownagainst Welter. What a strange thing!"
It was still early in the afternoon--seven o'clock, or thereabouts--andhe was opposite Tattersall's. A mail phaeton, with a pair of splendidhorses, attracted his attention and diverted his thoughts. He turneddown. Two eminent men on the turf walked past him up the nearly emptyyard, and he heard one say to the other--
"Ascot will run to win; that I know. He _must_. If Haphazard can stay,he is safe."
To which the other said, "Pish!" and they passed on.
"There they are again," said Charles, as he turned back. "The very birdsof the air are talking about them. It gets interesting, though--ifanything could ever be interesting again."
St. George's Hospital. At the door was a gaudily-dressed, handsome youngwoman, who was asking the porter could she see some one inside. No. Thevisiting hours were over. She stood for a few minutes on the steps,impatiently biting her nails, and then fluttered down the street.
What made him think of his sister Ellen? She must be found. That was theonly object in the world, so to speak. There was nothing to be done,only to wait and watch.
"I shall find her some day, in God's good time."
The world had just found out that it was hungry, and was beginning totear about in wheeled vehicles to its neighbours' houses to dinner. Asthe carriages passed Charles, he could catch glimpses of handsome girls,all a mass of white muslin, swan's-down fans, and fal-lals, going tobegin their night's work; of stiff dandies, in white ties, yawningalready; of old ladies in jewels, and old gentlemen buttoned up acrossthe chest, going, as one might say, to see fair play among the youngpeople. And then our philosophical Charles pleased himself by picturinghow, in two months more, the old gentlemen would be among their turnips,the old ladies among their flowers and poor folks, the dandies creeping,creeping, weary hours through the heather, till the last maddeningmoment when the big stag was full in view, sixty yards off; and(prettiest thought of all), how the girls, with their thick shoes on,would be gossiping with old Goody Blake and Harry Gill, or romping withthe village school-children on the lawn. Right, old Charles, with allbut the dandies! For now the apotheosis of dandies was approaching. Thetime was coming when so many of them should disappear into that blackthunder-cloud to the south, and be seen no more in park or club, inheather or stubble.
But, in that same year, the London season went on much as usual; onlyfolks talked of war, and the French were more popular than they are now.And through the din and hubbub poor Charles passed on like a lost sheep,and left his fellow-servant's note at an area in Grosvenor Square.
"And which," said he to the man who took it, with promises of instantdelivery, "is my Lord Hainault's house, now, for instance?"
Lord Hainault's house was the other side of the square; numbersomething. Charles thanked the man, and went across. When he had made itout he leant his back against the railings of the square, and watchedit.
The carriage was at the door. The coachman, seeing a handsomely-dressedgroom leaning against the rails, called to him to come over and altersome strap or another. Charles ran over and helped him. Charles supposedher ladyship was going out to dinner. Yes, her ladyship was now comingout. And, almost before Charles had time to move out of the way, out shecame, with her head in the air, more beautiful than ever, and droveaway.
He went back to his post from mere idleness. He wondered whether Maryhad come there yet or not. He had half a mind to inquire, but was afraidof being seen. He still leant against the railings of the gate, as Isaid, in mere idleness, when he heard the sound of children's voices inthe square behind.
"That woman," said a child's voice, "was a gipsy-woman. I looked throughthe rails, and I said, 'Hallo, ma'am, what are you doing there?' And sheasked me for a penny. And I said I couldn't give her anything, for I hadgiven
three halfpence to the Punch and Judy, and I shouldn't have anymore money till next Saturday, which was quite true, Flora, as youknow."
"But, Gus," said another child's voice, "if she had been a gipsy-womanshe would have tried to steal you, and make you beg in the streets; orelse she would have told your fortune in coffee-grounds. I don't thinkshe was a real gipsy."
"I should like to have my fortune told in the coffee-grounds," said Gus;"but, if she had tried to steal me, I should have kicked her in thestomach. There is a groom outside there; let us ask him. Grooms go tothe races, and see heaps of gipsies! I say, sir."
Charles turned. A child's voice was always music to him. He had such alook on his face as he turned to them, that the children had hisconfidence in an instant. The gipsy question was laid before himinstantly, by both Gus and Flora, with immense volubility, and he wasjust going to give an oracular opinion through the railings, when avoice--a low, gentle voice, which made him start--came from close by.
"Gus and Flora, my dears, the dew is falling. Let us go in."
"There is Miss Corby," said Gus. "Let us run to her."
They raced to Mary. Soon after the three came to the gate, laughing, andpassed close to him. The children were clinging to her skirt and talkingmerrily. They formed a pretty little group as they went across thestreet, and Mary's merry little laugh comforted him. "She is happythere," he said; "best as it is!"
Once, when half-way across the street, she turned and looked towardshim, before he had time to turn away. He saw that she did not dream ofhis being there, and went on. And so Charles sauntered home through thepleasant summer evening, saying to himself, "I think she is happy; I amglad she laughed."
"Three meetings in one day! I shall be found out, if I don't mind. Imust be very careful."