CHAPTER XXVI.
A HOUSE FULL OF VISITORS.
The difference between the girls did not last long. Laura was alwaystoo eager to forgive and be forgiven, and as for Miss Blanche, herhostilities, never very long or durable, had not been provoked by theabove scene. Nobody cares about being accused of wickedness. No vanityis hurt by that sort of charge: Blanche was rather pleased than provokedby her friend's indignation, which never would have been raised but fora cause which both knew, though neither spoke of.
And so, Laura, with a sigh, was obliged to confess that the romanticpart of her first friendship was at an end, and that the object of itwas only worthy of a very ordinary sort of regard.
As for Blanche, she instantly composed a copy of touching verses,setting forth her desertion and disenchantment. It was only the oldstory she wrote, of love meeting with coldness, and fidelity returnedby neglect; and some new neighbors arriving from London about this time,in whose family there were daughters, Miss Amory had the advantageof selecting an eternal friend from one of these young ladies, andimparting her sorrows and disappointments to this new sister. Thetall footmen came but seldom now with notes to the sweet Laura; thepony-carriage was but rarely dispatched to Fairoaks to be at the ordersof the ladies there. Blanche adopted a sweet look of sufferingmartyrdom when Laura came to see her. The other laughed at her friend'ssentimental mood, and treated it with a good humor that was by no meansrespectful.
But if Miss Blanche found new female friends to console her, thefaithful historian is also bound to say, that she discovered someacquaintances of the other sex who seemed to give her consolation too.If ever this artless young creature met a young man, and had tenminutes' conversation with him in a garden walk, in a drawing-roomwindow, or in the intervals of a waltz, she confided in him, so tospeak--made play with her beautiful eyes--spoke in a tone of tenderinterest, and simple and touching appeal, and left him, to perform thesame pretty little drama in behalf of his successor.
When the Claverings first came down to the Park, there were very fewaudiences before whom Miss Blanche could perform: hence Pen had all thebenefits of her glances, and confidences, and the drawing-room window,or the garden walk all to himself. In the town of Clavering, it has beensaid, there were actually no young men: in the near surrounding country,only a curate or two, or a rustic young squire, with large feet, andill-made clothes. To the dragoons quartered at Chatteries the baronetmade no overtures: it was unluckily his own regiment: he had leftit on bad terms with some officers of the corps--an ugly businessabout a horse bargain--a disputed play account--blind-Hookey--a whitefeather--who need ask?--it is not our business to inquire too closelyinto the bygones of our characters, except in so far as their previoushistory appertains to the development of this present story.
But the autumn, and the end of the parliamentary session, and the Londonseason, brought one or two country families down to their houses, andfilled tolerably the neighboring little watering-place of Baymouth,and opened our friend Mr. Bingley's Theater Royal at Chatteries, andcollected the usual company at the Assizes and Race-balls there. Up tothis time, the old county families had been rather shy of our friends ofClavering Park. The Fogys of Drummington: the Squares of Tozely Park;the Welbores of The Barrow, &c. All sorts of stories were current amongthese folks regarding the family at Clavering;--indeed, nobody ought tosay that people in the country have no imagination, who heard them talkabout new neighbors. About Sir Francis and his lady, and her birth andparentage, about Miss Amory, about Captain Strong, there had beenendless histories which need not be recapitulated; and the family of thePark had been three months in the country before the great people aroundbegan to call.
But at the end of the season, the Earl of Trehawke, Lord Lieutenantof the County, coming to Eyrie Castle, and the Countess Dowager ofRockminster, whose son was also a magnate of the land, to occupy amansion on the Marine Parade at Baymouth--these great folks camepublicly immediately, and in state, to call upon the family of ClaveringPark; and the carriages of the county families speedily followed in thetrack, which had been left in the avenue by their lordly wheels.
It was then that Mirobolant began to have an opportunity of exercisingthat skill which he possessed, and of forgetting, in the occupations ofhis art, the pangs of love. It was then that the large footmen were toomuch employed at Clavering Park to be able to bring messages, or dallyover the cup of small beer with the poor little maids at Fairoaks. Itwas then that Blanche found other dear friends than Laura, and otherplaces to walk in besides the river side, where Pen was fishing. He cameday after day, and whipped the stream, but the "fish, fish!" wouldn't dotheir duty, nor the Peri appear. And here, though in strict confidence,and with a request that the matter go no further, we may as well alludeto a delicate business, of which previous hint has been given. Mentionhas been made, in a former page, of a certain hollow tree, at whichPen used to take his station when engaged in his passion for MissFotheringay, and the cavity of which he afterward used for otherpurposes than to insert his baits and fishing-cans in. The truth is,he converted this tree into a post-office. Under a piece of moss and astone, he used to put little poems, or letters equally poetical, whichwere addressed to a certain Undine, or Naiad who frequented the stream,and which, once or twice, were replaced by a receipt in the shape of aflower, or by a modest little word or two of acknowledgment, writtenin a delicate hand, in French or English, and on pink scented paper.Certainly, Miss Amory used to walk by this stream, as we have seen; andit is a fact that she used pink scented paper for her correspondence.But after the great folks had invaded Clavering Park, and the familycoach passed out of the lodge-gates, evening after evening, on their wayto the other great country houses, nobody came to fetch Pen's letters atthe post-office; the white paper was not exchanged for the pink, but layundisturbed under its stone and its moss, while the tree was reflectedinto the stream, and the Brawl went rolling by. There was not much inthe letters certainly; in the pink notes scarcely any thing--merely alittle word or two, half jocular, half sympathetic, such as might bewritten by any young lady. But oh, you silly Pendennis, if you wantedthis one, why did you not speak? Perhaps neither party was in earnest.You were only playing at being in love, and the sportive little Undinewas humoring you at the same play.
But if a man is balked at this game; he not unfrequently loses histemper; and when nobody came any more for Pen's poems, he began to lookupon those compositions in a very serious light. He felt almost tragicaland romantic again, as in his first affair of the heart:--at any rate hewas bent upon having an explanation. One day he went to the Hall, andthere was a room-full of visitors: on another, Miss Amory was not to beseen; she was going to a ball that night, and was lying down to take alittle sleep. Pen cursed balls, and the narrowness of his means, and thehumility of his position in the county, that caused him to be passedover by the givers of these entertainments. On a third occasion, MissAmory was in the garden, and he ran thither; she was walking therein state with no less personages than the Bishop and Bishopess ofChatteries and the episcopal family, who scowled at him, and drew up ingreat dignity when he was presented to them, and they heard his name.The Right Reverend prelate had heard it before, and also of the littletransaction in the dean's garden.
"The bishop says you're a sad young man," good-natured Lady Claveringwhispered to him. "What have you been a doing of? Nothink, I hope, tovex such a dear Mar as yours? How is your dear Mar? Why don't she comeand see me? We an't seen her this ever such a time. We're a goin about agaddin, so that we don't see no neighbors now. Give my love to her andLaurar, and come all to dinner to-morrow."
Mrs. Pendennis was too unwell to come out, but Laura and Pen came, andthere was a great party, and Pen only got an opportunity of a hurriedword with Miss Amory. "You never come to the river now," he said.
"I can't," said Blanche, "the house is full of people."
"Undine has left the stream," Mr. Pen went on, choosing to be poetical.
"She never ought to have gone there,"
Miss Amory answered. "She won't goagain. It was very foolish: very wrong: it was only play. Besides, youhave other consolations at home," she added, looking him full in theface an instant, and dropping her eyes.
If he wanted her, why did he not speak then? She might have said "Yes"even then. But as she spoke of other consolations at home, he thought ofLaura, so affectionate and so pure, and of his mother at home, who hadbent her fond heart upon uniting him with her adopted daughter."Blanche!" he began, in a vexed tone--"Miss Amory!"
"Laura is looking at us, Mr. Pendennis," the young lady said. "I must goback to the company," and she ran off, leaving Mr. Pendennis to bite hisnails in perplexity, and to look out into the moonlight in the garden.
Laura indeed was looking at Pen. She was talking with, or appearing tolisten to the talk of, Mr. Pynsent, Lord Rockminster's son, and grandsonof the Dowager Lady, who was seated in state in the place of honor,gravely receiving Lady Clavering's bad grammar, and patronizing thevacuous Sir Francis, whose interest in the county she was desirous tosecure. Pynsent and Pen had been at Oxbridge together, where the latter,during his heyday of good fortune and fashion, had been the superior ofthe young patrician, and perhaps rather supercilious toward him. Theyhad met for the first time, since they parted at the University, at thetable to-day, and given each other that exceedingly impertinent andamusing demi-nod of recognition which is practiced in England only, andonly to perfection by University men--and which seems to say, "Confoundyou--what do you do here?"
"I knew that man at Oxbridge," Mr. Pynsent said to Miss Bell--"a Mr.Pendennis, I think."
"Yes," said Miss Bell.
"He seems rather sweet upon Miss Amory," the gentleman went on. Lauralooked at them, and perhaps thought so too, but said nothing.
"A man of large property in the county, ain't he? He used to talk aboutrepresenting it. He used to speak at the Union. Whereabouts do hisestates lie?"
Laura smiled. "His estates lie on the other side of the river, near thelodge gate. He is my cousin, and I live there."
"Where?" asked Mr. Pynsent, with a laugh.
"Why, on the other side of the river, at Fairoaks," answered Miss Bell.
"Many pheasants there? Cover looks rather good," said the simplegentleman.
Laura smiled again. "We have nine hens and a cock, a pig, and an oldpointer."
"Pendennis don't preserve then?" continued Mr. Pynsent.
"You should come and see him," the girl said, laughing, and greatlyamused at the notion that her Pen was a great county gentleman, andperhaps had given himself out to be such.
"Indeed, I quite long to renew our acquaintance," Mr. Pynsent said,gallantly, and with a look which fairly said, "It is you that I wouldlike to come and see"--to which look and speech Miss Laura vouchsafed asmile, and made a little bow.
Here Blanche came stepping up with her most fascinating smile and ogle,and begged dear Laura to come and take the second in a song. Laura wasready to do any thing good-natured, and went to the piano; by which Mr.Pynsent listened as long as the duet lasted, and until Miss Amory beganfor herself, when he strode away.
"What a nice, frank, amiable, well-bred girl that is, Wagg," said Mr.Pynsent to a gentleman who had come over with him from Baymouth--"thetall one I mean, with the ringlets and the red lips--monstrous red,ain't they?"
"What do you think of the girl of the house?" asked Mr. Wagg.
"I think she's a lean scraggy humbug;" said Mr. Pynsent, with greatcandor. "She drags her shoulders out of her dress: she never lets hereyes alone: and she goes simpering and ogling about like a Frenchwaiting-maid."
"Pynsent, be civil," cried the other, "somebody can hear."
"Oh, it's Pendennis of Boniface," Mr. Pynsent said. "Fine evening, Mr.Pendennis; we were just talking of your charming cousin."
"Any relation to my old friend, Major Pendennis?" asked Mr. Wagg.
"His nephew. Had the pleasure of meeting you at Gaunt House," Mr. Pensaid, with his very best air--the acquaintance between the gentleman wasmade in an instant.
* * * * *
In the afternoon of the next day, the two gentleman who were stayingat Clavering Park were found by Mr. Pen on his return from a fishingexcursion, in which he had no sport, seated in his mother's drawing-roomin comfortable conversation with the widow and her ward. Mr. Pynsent,tall and gaunt, with large red whiskers and an imposing tuft to hischin, was striding over a chair in the intimate neighborhood of MissLaura. She was amused by his talk, which was simple, straightforward,rather humorous and keen, and interspersed with homely expressions of astyle which is sometimes called slang. It was the first specimen of ayoung London dandy that Laura had seen or heard: for she had been but achit at the time of Mr. Foker's introduction at Fairoaks, nor indeed wasthat ingenuous gentleman much more than a boy, and his refinement wasonly that of a school and college.
Mr. Wagg, as he entered the Fairoaks premises with his companion, eyedand noted every thing. "Old gardener," he said, seeing Mr. John at thelodge--"old red livery waistcoat--clothes hanging out to dry on thegooseberry bushes--blue aprons, white ducks--gad, they must be youngPendennis's white ducks--nobody else wears 'em in the family. Rathera shy place for a sucking county member, ay, Pynsent?"
"Snug little crib," said Mr. Pynsent, "pretty cozy little lawn."
"Mr. Pendennis at home, old gentleman?" Mr. Wagg said to the olddomestic. John answered, "No, Master Pendennis was agone out."
"Are the ladies at home?" asked the younger visitor. Mr. John answered,"Yes, they be;" and as the pair walked over the trim gravel, and bythe neat shrubberies, up the steps to the hall-door, which old Johnopened, Mr. Wagg noted every thing that he saw; the barometer and theletter-bag, the umbrellas and the ladies' clogs, Pen's hats and tartanwrapper, and old John opening the drawing-room door, to introduce thenew comers. Such minutiae attracted Wagg instinctively; he seized themin spite of himself.
"Old fellow does all the work," he whispered to Pynsent. "CalebBalderstone. Shouldn't wonder if he's the housemaid." The next minutethe pair were in the presence of the Fairoaks ladies; in whom Pynsentcould not help recognizing two perfectly well-bred ladies, and to whomMr. Wagg made his obeisance, with florid bows, and extra courtesy,accompanied with an occasional knowing leer at his companion. Mr.Pynsent did not choose to acknowledge these signals, except by extremehaughtiness toward Mr. Wagg, and particular deference to the ladies. Ifthere was one thing laughable in Mr. Wagg's eyes, it was poverty. He hadthe soul of a butler who had been brought from his pantry to make fun inthe drawing-room. His jokes were plenty, and his good-nature thoroughlygenuine, but he did not seem to understand that a gentleman could wearan old coat, or that a lady could be respectable unless she had hercarriage, or employed a French milliner.
"Charming place, ma'am," said he, bowing to the widow; "nobleprospect--delightful to us Cockneys, who seldom see any thing butPall-mall." The widow said simply, she had never been in London but oncein her life--before her son was born.
"Fine village, ma'am, fine village," said Mr. Wagg, "and increasingevery day. It'll be quite a large town soon. It's not a bad place tolive in for those who can't get the country, and will repay a visit whenyou honor it."
"My brother, Major Pendennis, has often mentioned your name to us," thewidow said, "and we have been very much amused by some of your drollbooks, sir," Helen continued, who never could be brought to like Mr.Wagg's books, and detested their tone most thoroughly.
"He is my very good friend," Mr. Wagg said, with a low bow, "andone of the best known men about town, and where known, ma'am,appreciated--I assure you, appreciated. He is with our friend Steyne,at Aix-la-Chapelle. Steyne has a touch of the gout, and so, betweenourselves, has your brother. I am going to Stillbrook for thepheasant-shooting, and afterward to Bareacres, where Pendennis andI shall probably meet;" and he poured out a flood of fashionabletalk, introducing the names of a score of peers, and rattling on withbreathless spirits, while the simple widow listened in silent wonder.What a man
, she thought; are all the men of fashion in London likethis? I am sure Pen will never be like him.
Mr. Pynsent was in the mean while engaged with Miss Laura. He namedsome of the houses in the neighborhood whither he was going, and hopedvery much that he should see Miss Bell at some of them. He hoped thather aunt would give her a season in London. He said that in the nextparliament it was probable that he should canvass the county, and hehoped to get Pendennis's interest here. He spoke of Pen's triumph asan orator at Oxbridge, and asked was he coming into parliament too? Hetalked on very pleasantly, and greatly to Laura's satisfaction, untilPen himself appeared, and, as has been said, found these gentlemen.
Pen behaved very courteously to the pair, now that they had found theirway into his quarters; and though he recollected with some twinges aconversation at Oxbridge, when Pynsent was present, and in which after agreat debate at the Union, and in the midst of considerable excitementproduced by a supper and champagne-cup--he had announced his intentionof coming in for his native county, and had absolutely returned thanksin a fine speech as the future member; yet Mr. Pynsent's manner wasso frank and cordial, that Pen hoped Pynsent might have forgotten hislittle fanfaronade, and any other braggadocio speeches or actions whichhe might have made. He suited himself to the tone of the visitors then,and talked about Plinlimmon and Magnus Charters, and the old set atOxbridge, with careless familiarity and high-bred ease, as if he livedwith marquises every day, and a duke was no more to him than a villagecurate.
But at this juncture, and it being then six o'clock in the evening,Betsy, the maid, who did not know of the advent of strangers, walkedinto the room without any preliminary but that of flinging the doorwide open before her, and bearing in her arms a tray, containing threetea-cups, a tea-pot, and a plate of thick bread-and-butter. All Pen'ssplendor and magnificence vanished away at this--and he faltered andbecame quite abashed. "What will they think of us?" he thought: and,indeed, Wagg thrust his tongue in his cheek, thought the tea infinitelycontemptible, and leered and winked at Pynsent to that effect.
But to Mr. Pynsent the transaction appeared perfectly simple--there wasno reason present to his mind why people should not drink tea at sixif they were minded, as well as at any other hour; and he asked of Mr.Wagg, when they went away, "What the devil he was grinning and winkingat, and what amused him?"
"Didn't you see how the cub was ashamed of the thick bread-and-butter?I dare say they're going to have treacle if they are good. I'll takean opportunity of telling old Pendennis, when we get back to town," Mr.Wagg chuckled out.
"Don't see the fun," said Mr. Pynsent.
"Never thought you did," growled Wagg between his teeth; and they walkedhome rather sulkily.
Wagg told the story at dinner very smartly, with wonderful accuracyof observation. He described old John, the clothes that were drying,the clogs in the hall, the drawing-room, and its furniture andpictures;--"Old man with a beak and bald head--_feu_ Pendennis, I bettwo to one; sticking-plaster full-length of a youth in a cap andgown--the present Marquis of Fairoaks, of course; the widow when youngin a miniature, Mrs. Mee; she had the gown on when we came, or a dressmade the year after, and the tips cut off the fingers of her gloveswhich she stitches her son's collars with; and then the sarving maidcame in with their teas; and so we left the earl and the countess totheir bread-and-butter."
Blanche, near whom he sate as he told this story, and who adored _leshommes d'esprit_, burst out laughing, and called him such an odd, drollcreature. But Pynsent, who began to be utterly disgusted with him, brokeout in a loud voice, and said, "I don't know, Mr. Wagg, what sort ofladies you are accustomed to meet in your own family, but by gad, as faras a first acquaintance can show, I never met two better-bred women inmy life, and I hope, ma'am! you'll call upon 'em," he added, addressingLady Rockminster, who was seated at Sir Francis Clavering's right hand.
Sir Francis turned to the guest on his left, and whispered, "That'swhat I call a sticker for Wagg." And Lady Clavering, giving the younggentleman a delighted tap with her fan, winked her black eyes at him,and said, "Mr. Pynsent, you're a good feller."
After the affair with Blanche, a difference ever so slight, a toneof melancholy, perhaps a little bitter, might be perceived in Laura'sconverse with her cousin. She seemed to weigh him and find him wantingtoo; the widow saw the girl's clear and honest eyes watching the youngman at times, and a look of almost scorn pass over her face, as helounged in the room with the women, or lazily sauntered smoking upon thelawn, or lolled under a tree there over a book which he was too listlessto read.
"What has happened between you?" eager-sighted Helen asked of the girl."Something has happened. Has that wicked little Blanche been makingmischief? Tell me, Laura."
"Nothing has happened at all," Laura said.
"Then why do you look at Pen so?" asked his mother quickly.
"Look at him, dear mother!" said the girl. "We two women are no societyfor him: we don't interest him; we are not clever enough for such agenius as Pen. He wastes his life and energies away among us, tied toour apron-strings. He interests himself in nothing; he scarcely cares togo beyond the garden-gate. Even Captain Glanders and Captain Strong pallupon him," she added, with a bitter laugh; "and they are men, you know,and our superiors. He will never be happy while he is here. Why, is henot facing the world, and without a profession?"
"We have got enough, with great economy," said the widow, her heartbeginning to beat violently. "Pen has spent nothing for months. I'msure he is very good. I am sure he might be very happy with us."
"Don't agitate yourself so, dear mother," the girl answered. "I don'tlike to see you so. You should not be sad because Pen is unhappy here.All men are so. They must work. They must make themselves names anda place in the world. Look, the two captains have fought and seenbattles; that Mr. Pynsent, who came here, and who will be very rich,is in a public office; he works very hard, he aspires to a name and areputation. He says Pen was one of the best speakers at Oxbridge, andhad as great a character for talent as any of the young gentlemen there.Pen himself laughs at Mr. Wagg's celebrity (and indeed he is a horridperson), and says he is a dunce, and that any body could write hisbooks."
"I am sure they are odious and vulgar," interposed the widow.
"Yet he has a reputation.--You see the County Chronicle says,'The celebrated Mr. Wagg has been sojourning at Baymouth--let ourfashionables and eccentrics look out for something from his causticpen.' If Pen can write better than this gentleman, and speak better thanMr. Pynsent, why doesn't he? Mamma, he can't make speeches to us; ordistinguish himself here. He ought to go away, indeed he ought."
"Dear Laura," said Helen, taking the girl's hand. "Is it kind of you tohurry him so? I have been waiting. I have been saving up money thesemany months--to--to pay back your advance to us."
"Hush, mother!" Laura cried, embracing her friend hastily. "It was yourmoney, not mine. Never speak about that again. How much money have yousaved?"
Helen said there were more than two hundred pounds at the bank, and thatshe would be enabled to pay off all Laura's money by the end of the nextyear.
"Give it him--let him have the two hundred pounds. Let him go to Londonand be a lawyer: be something, be worthy of his mother--and of mine,dearest mamma," said the good girl; upon which, and with her usualtenderness and emotion, the fond widow declared that Laura was ablessing to her, and the best of girls--and I hope no one in thisinstance will be disposed to contradict her.
The widow and her daughter had more than one conversation on thissubject; and the elder gave way to the superior reason of the honestand stronger minded girl; and, indeed, whenever there was a sacrificeto be made on her part, this kind lady was only too eager to make it. Butshe took her own way, and did not lose sight of the end she had in view,in imparting these new plans to Pen. One day she told him of theseprojects, and who it was that had formed them; how it was Laura whoinsisted upon his going to London and studying; how it was Laura whowould not hear of the--the money arrangements when he
came back fromOxbridge--being settled just then; how it was Laura whom he had tothank, if indeed he thought that he ought to go.
At that news Pen's countenance blazed up with pleasure, and he huggedhis mother to his heart, with an ardor that I fear disappointed the fondlady; but she rallied when he said, "By Heaven! she is a noble girl,and may God Almighty bless her! O mother! I have been wearing myselfaway for months here, longing to work, and not knowing how. I've beenfretting over the thoughts of my shame, and my debts, and my past cursedextravagance and follies. I've suffered infernally. My heart has beenhalf-broken--never mind about that--if I can get a chance to redeemthe past, and to do my duty to myself and the best mother in the world,indeed, indeed, I will. I'll be worthy of you yet. Heaven bless you!God bless Laura! Why isn't she here, that I may go and thank her?"Pen went on with more incoherent phrases; paced up and down the room,drank glasses of water, jumped about his mother with a thousandembraces--began to laugh--began to sing--was happier than she had seenhim since he was a boy--since he had tasted of the fruit of that awfultree of life, which, from the beginning has tempted all mankind.
* * * * *
Laura was not at home. Laura was on a visit to the stately LadyRockminster, daughter to my Lord Bareacres, sister to the late LadyPontypool, and by consequence a distant kinswoman of Helen's, as herladyship, who was deeply versed in genealogy, was the first graciouslyto point out to the modest country lady. Mr. Pen was greatly delightedat the relationship being acknowledged, though perhaps not over wellpleased that Lady Rockminster took Miss Bell home with her for a coupleof days to Baymouth, and did not make the slightest invitation to Mr.Arthur Pendennis. There was to be a ball at Baymouth, and it was to beMiss Laura's first appearance. The dowager came to fetch her in hercarriage, and she went off with a white dress in her box, happy andblushing like the rose to which Pen compared her.
This was the night of the ball--a public entertainment at the BaymouthHotel. "By Jove!" said Pen, "I'll ride over.--No, I won't ride, but I'llgo too." His mother was charmed that he should do so; and as he wasdebating about the conveyance in which he should start for Baymouth,Captain Strong called opportunely, said he was going himself, and thathe would put his horse, the Butcher Boy, into the gig, and drive Penover.
When the grand company began to fill the house at Clavering Park, theChevalier Strong, who, as his patron said, was never in the way or outof it, seldom intruded himself upon its society, but went elsewhere toseek his relaxation. "I've seen plenty of grand dinners in my time," hesaid, "and dined, by Jove, in a company where there was a king and royalduke at top and bottom, and every man along the table had six starson his coat; but dammy, Glanders, this finery don't suit me; and theEnglish ladies with their confounded buckram airs, and the squireswith their politics after dinner, send me to sleep--sink me dead ifthey don't. I like a place where I can blow my cigar when the cloth isremoved, and when I'm thirsty, have my beer in its native pewter." Soon a gala day at Clavering Park, the chevalier would content himselfwith superintending the arrangements of the table, and drilling themajor-domo and servants; and having looked over the bill of fare withMonsieur Mirobolant, would not care to take the least part in thebanquet. "Send me up a cutlet and a bottle of claret to my room," thisphilosopher would say, and from the windows of that apartment, whichcommanded the terrace and avenue, he would survey the company as theyarrived in their carriages, or take a peep at the ladies in thehall through an oeil-de-boeuf which commanded it from his corridor.And the guests being seated, Strong would cross the park to CaptainGlanders's cottage at Clavering, or to pay the landlady a visit at theClavering Arms, or to drop in upon Madame Fribsby over her novel andtea. Wherever the chevalier went he was welcome, and whenever he cameaway a smell of hot brandy and water lingered behind him.
The Butcher Boy--not the worst horse in Sir Francis's stable--wasappropriated to Captain Strong's express use; and the old campaignersaddled him or brought him home at all hours of the day or night,and drove or rode him up and down the country. Where there was apublic-house with a good tap of beer--where there was a tenant with apretty daughter who played on the piano--to Chatteries, to the play,or the barracks--to Baymouth, if any fun was on foot there; to therural fairs or races, the chevalier and his brown horse made their waycontinually; and this worthy gentleman lived at free quarters in afriendly country. The Butcher Boy soon took Pen and the chevalier toBaymouth. The latter was as familiar with the hotel and landlord thereas with every other inn round about; and having been accommodated witha bed-room to dress, they entered the ball-room. The chevalier wassplendid. He wore three little gold crosses in a brochette on the portlybreast of his blue coat, and looked like a foreign field-marshal.
The ball was public and all sorts of persons were admitted andencouraged to come, young Pynsent having views upon the county, and LadyRockminster being patroness of the ball. There was a quadrille for thearistocracy at one end, and select benches for the people of fashion.Toward this end the chevalier did not care to penetrate far (as he saidhe did not care for the nobs); but in the other part of the room he knewevery body--the wine-merchants', innkeepers', tradesmen's, solicitors',squire-farmers' daughters, their sires and brothers, and plunged aboutshaking hands.
"Who is that man with the blue ribbon and the three-pointed star?"asked Pen. A gentleman in black with ringlets and a tuft stood gazingfiercely about him, with one hand in the arm-hole of his waistcoat andthe other held his claque.
"By Jupiter, it's Mirobolant!" cried Strong, bursting out laughing."_Bon Jour, Chef!--Bon Jour, chevalier!_"
"_De la croix de Juillet, chevalier_," said the Chef, laying his hand onhis decoration.
"By Jove, here's some more ribbon!" said Pen, amused.
A man with very black hair and whiskers, dyed evidently with thepurple of Tyre, with twinkling eyes and white eyelashes, and a thousandwrinkles in his face, which was of a strange red color, with twounder-vests, and large gloves and hands, and a profusion of diamondsand jewels in his waistcoat and stock, with coarse feet crumpledinto immense shiny boots, and a piece of parti-colored ribbon in hisbutton-hole, here came up and nodded familiarly to the chevalier.
The chevalier shook hands. "My friend Mr. Pendennis," Strong said,"Colonel Altamont, of the body guard of his Highness the Nawaub ofLucknow." That officer bowed to the salute of Pen; who was now lookingout eagerly to see if the person he wanted had entered the room.
Not yet. But the band began presently performing "See the ConqueringHero comes," and a host of fashionables--Dowager Countess ofRockminster, Mr. Pynsent and Miss Bell, Sir Francis Clavering, Bart., ofClavering Park, Lady Clavering and Miss Amory, Sir Horace Fogey, Bart.,Lady Fogey, Colonel and Mrs. Higgs, ---- Wagg, Esq. (as the county paperafterward described them), entered the room.
Pen rushed by Blanche, ran up to Laura, and seized her hand. "God blessyou!" he said, "I want to speak to you--I must speak to you--Let medance with you." "Not for three dances, dear Pen," she said, smiling:and he fell back, biting his nails with vexation, and forgetting tosalute Pynsent.
After Lady Rockminster's party, Lady Clavering's followed in theprocession.
Colonel Altamont eyed it hard, holding a most musky pocket-handkerchiefup to his face, and bursting with laughter behind it.
"Who's the gal in green along with 'em, cap'n?" he asked of Strong.
"That's Miss Amory, Lady Clavering's daughter," replied the chevalier.
The colonel could hardly contain himself for laughing.