CHAPTER XXXIV.
MR. AND MRS. SAM HUXTER.
"Dear Blanche," Arthur wrote, "you are always reading and dreamingpretty dramas, and exciting romances in real life, are you nowprepared to enact a part of one? And not the pleasantest part, dearBlanche--that in which the heroine takes possession of her father'spalace and wealth, and, introducing her husband to the loyal retainersand faithful vassals, greets her happy bridegroom with 'All of this ismine and thine;' but the other character--that of the luckless lady,who suddenly discovers that she is not the prince's wife, but ClaudeMelnotte's the beggar's; that of Alnaschar's wife, who comes in justas her husband has kicked over the tray of porcelain which was to bethe making of his fortune. But stay; Alnaschar, who kicked down thechina, was not a married man; he had cast his eye on the vizier'sdaughter, and his hopes of her went to the ground with the shatteredbowls and tea-cups.
"Will you be the vizier's daughter, and refuse and laugh to scornAlnaschar, or will you be the Lady of Lyons, and love the pennilessClaude Melnotte? I will act that part, if you like. I will love you mybest in return. I will do my all to make your humble life happy: forhumble it will be: at least the odds are against any other conclusion;we shall live and die in a poor, prosy, humdrum way. There will be nostars and epaulets for the hero of our story. I shall write one or twomore stories, which will presently be forgotten. I shall be calledto the bar, and try to get on in my profession: perhaps some day, if Iam very lucky, and work very hard (which is absurd), I may get acolonial appointment, and you may be an Indian judge's lady. MeanwhileI shall buy back the Pall Mall Gazette: the publishers are tired of itsince the death of poor Shandon, and will sell it for a small sum.Warrington will be my right hand, and write it up to a respectablesale. I will introduce you to Mr. Finucane, the sub-editor, and I knowwho, in the end, will be Mrs. Finucane--a very nice, gentle creature,who has lived sweetly through a sad life--and we will jog on, I say,and look out for better times, and earn our living decently. You shallhave the opera-boxes, and superintend the fashionable intelligence,and break your little heart in the poet's corner. Shall we live overthe offices?--there are four very good rooms, a kitchen, and a garretfor Laura, in Catherine-street, in the Strand; or would you like ahouse in the Waterloo-road?--it would be very pleasant, only there isthat halfpenny toll at the bridge. The boys may go to King's College,mayn't they? Does all this read to you like a joke?
"Ah, dear Blanche, it is no joke, and I am sober and telling thetruth. Our fine day-dreams are gone. Our carriage has whirled out ofsight like Cinderella's: our house in Belgravia has been whisked awayinto the air by a malevolent Genius, and I am no more a member ofParliament than I am a Bishop on his bench in the House of Lords, or aDuke with a garter at his knee. You know pretty well what my propertyis, and your own little fortune: we may have enough with those two tolive in decent comfort; to take a cab sometimes when we go out to seeour friends, and not to deny ourselves an omnibus when we are tired.But that is all: is that enough for you, my little dainty lady? Idoubt sometimes whether you can bear the life which I offer you--atleast, it is fair that you should know what it will be. If you say,'Yes, Arthur, I will follow your fate whatever it may be, and be aloyal and loving wife to aid and cheer you'--come to me, dear Blanche,and may God help me so that I may do my duty to you. If not, and youlook to a higher station, I must not bar Blanche's fortune--I willstand in the crowd, and see your ladyship go to Court where you arepresented, and you shall give me a smile from your chariot window. Isaw Lady Mirable going to the drawing-room last season: the happyhusband at her side glittered with stars and cordons. All the flowersin the garden bloomed in the coachman's bosom. Will you have these andthe chariot, or walk on foot and mend your husband's stockings?
"I can not tell you now--afterward I might, should the day come whenwe may have no secrets from one another--what has happened within thelast few hours which has changed all my prospects in life; but so itis, that I have learned something which forces me to give up the planswhich I had formed, and many vain and ambitious hopes in which I hadbeen indulging. I have written and dispatched a letter to Sir FrancisClavering, saying that I can not accept his seat in Parliament untilafter my marriage; in like manner I can not and will not accept anylarger fortune with you than that which has always belonged to yousince your grandfather's death, and the birth of your half-brother.Your good mother is not in the least aware--I hope she never maybe--of the reasons which force me to this very strange decision. Theyarise from a painful circumstance, which is attributable to none ofour faults; but, having once befallen, they are as fatal andirreparable as that shock which overset honest Alnaschar's porcelain,and shattered all his hopes beyond the power of mending. I write gaylyenough, for there is no use in bewailing such a hopeless mischance. Wehave not drawn the great prize in the lottery, dear Blanche: But Ishall be contented enough without it, if you can be so; and I repeat,with all my heart, that I will do my best to make you happy.
"And now, what news shall I give you? My uncle is very unwell, andtakes my refusal of the seat in Parliament in sad dudgeon: the schemewas his, poor old gentleman, and he naturally bemoans its failure. ButWarrington, Laura, and I had a council of war: they know this awfulsecret, and back me in my decision. You must love George as you lovewhat is generous and upright and noble; and as for Laura--she must beour sister, Blanche, our saint, our good angel. With two such friendsat home, what need we care for the world with-out, or who is memberfor Clavering, or who is asked or not asked to the great balls ofthe season?"
To this frank communication came back the letter from Blanche toLaura, and one to Pen himself, which perhaps his own letter justified."You are spoiled by the world," Blanche wrote; "you do not love yourpoor Blanche as she would be loved, or you would not offer thuslightly to take her or leave her. No, Arthur, you love me not--a manof the world, you have given me your plighted troth, and are ready toredeem it; but that entire affection, that love whole and abiding,where--where is that vision of my youth? I am but a pastime of yourlife, and I would be its all;--but a fleeting thought, and I would beyour whole soul. I would have our two hearts one; but ah, my Arthur,how lonely yours is! how little you give me of it! You speak of ourparting, with a smile on your lip; of our meeting, and you care not tohasten it! Is life but a disillusion, then, and are the flowers of ourgarden faded away? I have wept--I have prayed--I have passed sleeplesshours--I have shed bitter, bitter tears over your letter! To you Ibring the gushing poesy of my being--the yearnings of the soul thatlongs to be loved--that pines for love, love, love, beyond all!--thatflings itself at your feet, and cries, Love me, Arthur! Your heartbeats no quicker at the kneeling appeal of my love!--your proud eye isdimmed by no tear of sympathy!--you accept my soul's treasure asthough 'twere dross! not the pearls from the unfathomable deeps ofaffection! not the diamonds from the caverns of the heart. You treatme like a slave, and bid me bow to my master! Is this the guerdon of afree maiden--is this the price of a life's passion? Ah me! when was itotherwise? when did love meet with aught but disappointment? Could Ihope (fond fool!) to be the exception to the lot of my race; and laymy fevered brow on a heart that comprehended my own? Foolish girlthat I was! One by one, all the flowers of my young life have fadedaway; and this, the last, the sweetest, the dearest, the fondly, themadly loved, the wildly cherished--where is it? But no more of this.Heed not my bleeding heart.--Bless you, bless you always, Arthur!
"I will write more when I am more collected. My racking brain rendersthought almost impossible. I long to see Laura! She will come to usdirectly we return from the country, will she not? And you, coldone!" B.
The words of this letter were perfectly clear, and written inBlanche's neatest hand, upon her scented paper; and yet the meaning ofthe composition not a little puzzled Pen. Did Blanche mean to acceptor to refuse his polite offer? Her phrases either meant that Pen didnot love her, and she declined him, or that she took him, andsacrificed herself to him, cold as he was. He laughed sardonicallyover the letter, and over the transact
ion which occasioned it. Helaughed to think how Fortune had jilted him, and how he deserved hisslippery fortune. He turned over and over the musky, gilt-edgedriddle. It amused his humor: he enjoyed it as if it had been afunny story.
He was thus seated, twiddling the queer manuscript in his hand, jokinggrimly to himself, when his servant came in with a card from agentleman, who wished to speak to him very particularly. And if Penhad gone out into the passage, he would have seen sucking his stick,rolling his eyes, and showing great marks of anxiety, his oldacquaintance, Mr. Samuel Huxter.
"Mr. Huxter on particular business! Pray, beg Mr. Huxter to come in,"said Pen, amused rather; and not the less so when poor Sam appearedbefore him.
"Pray take a chair, Mr. Huxter," said Pen, in his most superb manner."In what way can I be of service to you?"
"I had rather not speak before the flunk--before the man, Mr.Pendennis;" on which Mr. Arthur's attendant quitted the room.
"I'm in a fix," said Mr. Huxter, gloomily.
"Indeed."
"_She_ sent me to you," continued the young surgeon.
"What, Fanny? Is she well? I was coming to see her, but I have had agreat deal of business since my return to London."
"I heard of you through my governor and Jack Hobnell," broke inHuxter. "I wish you joy, Mr. Pendennis, both of the borough and thelady, sir. Fanny wishes you joy, too," he added, with something ofa blush.
"There's many a slip between the cup and the lip! Who knows what mayhappen, Mr. Huxter, or who will sit in Parliament for Claveringnext session?"
"You can do any thing with my governor," continued Mr. Huxter. "Yougot him Clavering Park. The old boy was very much pleased, sir, atyour calling him in. Hobnell wrote me so. Do you think you could speakto the governor for me, Mr. Pendennis?"
"And tell him what?" "I've gone and done it, sir," said Huxter, witha particular look.
"You--you don't mean to say you have--you have done any wrong to thatdear little creature, sir," said Pen, starting up in a great fury.
"I hope not," said Huxter, with a hang-dog look: "but I've marriedher. And I know there will be an awful shindy at home. It was agreedthat I should be taken into partnership when I had passed the College,and it was to have been Huxter and Son. But I _would_ have it,confound it. It's all over now, and the old boy's wrote to me thathe's coming up to town for drugs: he will be here to-morrow, and thenit must all come out."
"And when did this event happen?" asked Pen, not over well pleased,most likely, that a person who had once attracted some portion of hisroyal good graces should have transferred her allegiance, and consoledherself for his loss.
"Last Thursday was five weeks--it was two days after Miss Amory cameto Shepherd's Inn," Huxter answered.
Pen remembered that Blanche had written and mentioned her visit. "Iwas called in," Huxter said. "I was in the inn looking after old Cos'sleg; and about something else too, very likely: and I met Strong, whotold me there was a woman taken ill in Chambers, and went up to giveher my professional services. It was the old lady who attends MissAmory--her housekeeper, or some such thing. She was taken with stronghysterics: I found her kicking and screaming like a good one--inStrong's chamber, along with him and Colonel Altamont, and Miss Amorycrying and as pale as a sheet; and Altamont fuming about--a regularkick up. They were two hours in the chambers; and the old woman wentwhooping off in a cab. She was much worse than the young one. I calledin Grosvenor-place next day to see if I could be of any service, butthey were gone without so much as thanking me: and the day after I hadbusiness of my own to attend to--a bad business too," said Mr. Huxter,gloomily. "But it's done, and can't be undone; and we must make thebest of it."
She has known the story for a month, thought Pen, with a sharp pang ofgrief, and a gloomy sympathy--this accounts for her letter of to-day.She will not implicate her father, or divulge his secret; she wishesto let me off from the marriage--and finds a pretext--thegenerous girl!
"Do you know who Altamont is, sir?" asked Huxter, after the pauseduring which Pen had been thinking of his own affairs. "Fanny and Ihave talked him over, and we can't help fancying that it's Mrs.Lightfoot's first husband come to life again, and she who has justmarried a second. Perhaps Lightfoot won't be very sorry for it,"sighed Huxter, looking savagely at Arthur, for the demon of jealousywas still in possession of his soul; and now, and more than ever sincehis marriage, the poor fellow fancied that Fanny's heart belonged tohis rival.
"Let us talk about your affairs," said Pen. "Show me how I can be ofany service to you, Huxter. Let me congratulate you on yourmarriage, I am thankful that Fanny, who is so good, so fascinating, sokind a creature, has found an honest man, and a gentleman who willmake her happy. Show me what I can do to help you."
"She thinks you can, sir," said Huxter, accepting Pen's profferedhand, "and I'm very much obliged to you, I'm sure; and that you mighttalk over my father, and break the business to him, and my mother, whoalways has her back up about being a clergyman's daughter. Fanny ain'tof a good family, I know, and not up to us in breeding and that--butshe's a Huxter now."
"The wife takes the husband's rank, of course," said Pen.
"And with a little practice in society," continued Huxter, imbibinghis stick, "she'll be as good as any girl in Clavering. You shouldhear her sing and play on the piano. Did you ever? Old Bows taughther. And she'll do on the stage, if the governor was to throw me over;but I'd rather not have her there. She can't help being a coquette,Mr. Pendennis, she can't help it. Dammy, sir! I'll be bound to say,that two or three of the Bartholomew chaps, that I've brought into myplace, are sitting with her now: even Jack Linton, that I took down asmy best man, is as bad as the rest, and she will go on singing andmaking eyes at him. It's what Bows says, if there were twenty men in aroom, and one not taking notice of her, she wouldn't be satisfieduntil the twentieth was at her elbow."
"You should have her mother with her," said Pen, laughing.
"She must keep the lodge. She can't see so much of her family as sheused. I can't, you know, sir, go on with that lot. Consider my rank inlife," said Huxter, putting a very dirty hand up to his chin.
"_Au fait_" said Mr. Pen, who was infinitely amused, and concerningwhom _mutato nomine_ (and of course concerning nobody else in theworld) the fable might have been narrated.
As the two gentlemen were in the midst of this colloquy, another knockcame to Pen's door, and his servant presently announced Mr. Bows. Theold man followed slowly, his pale face blushing, and his handtrembling somewhat as he took Pen's. He coughed, and wiped his face inhis checked cotton pocket-handkerchief, and sat down, with his handson his knees, the sun shining on his bald head. Pen looked at thehomely figure with no small sympathy and kindness. This man, too, hashad his griefs, and his wounds, Arthur thought. This man, too, hasbrought his genius and his heart, and laid them at a woman's feet;where she spurned them. The chance of life has gone against him, andthe prize is with that creature yonder. Fanny's bridegroom, thusmutely apostrophized, had winked meanwhile with one eye at old Bows,and was driving holes in the floor with the cane which he loved.
"So we have lost, Mr. Bows, and here is the lucky winner," Pen said,looking hard at the old man.
"Here is the lucky winner, sir, as you say."
"I suppose you have come from my place?" asked Huxter, who, havingwinked at Bows with one eye, now favored Pen with a wink of theother--a wink which seemed to say, "Infatuated old boy--youunderstand--over head and ears in love with her--poor old fool."
"Yes, I have been there ever since you went away. It was Mrs. Sam whosent me after you: who said that she thought you might be doingsomething stupid--something like yourself, Huxter."
"There's as big fools as I am," growled the young surgeon.
"A few, p'raps," said the old man; "not many, let us trust. Yes, shesent me after you, for fear you should offend Mr. Pendennis; and Idaresay because she thought you wouldn't give her message to him, andbeg him to go and see her; and she knew _I_ would take her errand. Didhe tell yo
u that, sir?"
Huxter blushed scarlet, and covered his confusion with an imprecation.Pen laughed; the scene suited his bitter humor more and more.
"I have no doubt Mr. Huxter was going to tell me," Arthur said, "andvery much flattered I am sure I shall be to pay my respects tohis wife."
"It's in Charterhouse-lane, over the baker's, on the right hand sideas you go from St. John's-street," continued Bows, without any pity."You know Smithfield, Mr. Pendennis? St. John's-street leads intoSmithfield. Dr. Johnson has been down the street many a time withragged shoes, and a bundle of penny-a-lining for the 'Gent'sMagazine.' You literary gents are better off now--eh? You ride in yourcabs, and wear yellow kid gloves now."
"I have known so many brave and good men fail, and so many quacks andimpostors succeed, that you mistake me if you think I am puffed up bymy own personal good luck, old friend," Arthur said, sadly. "Do _you_think the prizes of life are carried by the most deserving? and set upthat mean test of prosperity for merit? You must feel that you are asgood as I. I have never questioned it. It is you that are peevishagainst the freaks of fortune, and grudge the good luck that befallsothers. It's not the first time you have unjustly accused me, Bows."
"Perhaps you are not far wrong, sir," said the old fellow, wiping hisbald forehead. "I am thinking about myself and grumbling; most men dowhen they get on that subject. Here's the fellow that's got the prizein the lottery; here's the fortunate youth."
"I don't know what you are driving at," Huxter said, who had been muchpuzzled as the above remarks passed between his two companions.
"Perhaps not," said Bows, drily. "Mrs. H. sent me here to look afteryou, and to see that you brought that little message to Mr. Pendennis,which you didn't, you see, and so she was right. Women always are;they have always a reason for every thing. Why, sir," he said, turninground to Pen with a sneer, "she had a reason even for giving me thatmessage. I was sitting with her after you left us, very quiet andcomfortable; I was talking away, and she was mending your shirts, whenyour two young friends, Jack Linton and Bob Blades, looked in fromBartholomew's; and then it was she found out that she had this messageto send. You needn't hurry yourself, she don't want you back again;they'll stay these two hours, I daresay."
Huxter rose with great perturbation at this news, and plunged hisstick into the pocket of his paletot, and seized his hat.
"You'll come and see us, sir, won't you?" he said to Pen. "You'll talkover the governor, won't you, sir, if I can get out of this place anddown to Clavering?"
"You will promise to attend me gratis if ever I fall ill at Fairoaks,will you, Huxter?" Pen said, good-naturedly. "I will do any thing Ican for you. I will come and see Mrs. Huxter immediately, and we willconspire together about what is to be done."
"I thought that would send him out, sir," Bows said, dropping into hischair again as soon as the young surgeon had quitted the room. "Andit's all true, sir--every word of it. She wants you back again, andsends her husband after you. She cajoles every body, the little devil.She tries it on you, on me, on poor Costigan, on the young chaps fromBartholomew's. She's got a little court of 'em already. And if there'snobody there, she practices on the old German baker in the shop, orcoaxes the black sweeper at the crossing."
"Is she fond of that fellow?" asked Pen.
"There is no accounting for likes and dislikes," Bows answered. "Yes,she is fond of him; and having taken the thing into her head, shewould not rest until she married him. They had their bans published atSt. Clement's, and nobody heard it or knew any just cause orimpediment. And one day she slips out of the porter's lodge, and hasthe business done, and goes off to Gravesend with Lothario; and leavesa note for me to go and explain all things to her ma. Bless you! theold woman knew it as well as I did, though she pretended ignorance.And so she goes, and I'm alone again. I miss her, sir, tripping alongthat court, and coming for her singing lesson; and I've no heart tolook into the porter's lodge now, which looks very empty without her,the little flirting thing. And I go and sit and dangle about herlodgings, like an old fool. She makes 'em very trim and nice, though;gets up all Huxter's shirts and clothes: cooks his little dinner, andsings at her business like a little lark. What's the use of beingangry? I lent 'em three pound to go on with: for they haven't got ashilling till the reconciliation, and pa comes down."
When Bows had taken his leave, Pen carried his letter from Blanche,and the news which he had just received, to his usual adviser, Laura.It was wonderful upon how many points Mr. Arthur, who generallyfollowed his own opinion, now wanted another person's counsel. Hecould hardly so much as choose a waistcoat without referring to MissBell: if he wanted to buy a horse he must have Miss Bell's opinion;all which marks of deference tended greatly to the amusement of theshrewd old lady with whom Miss Bell lived, and whose plans regardingher _protegee_ we have indicated.
Arthur produced Blanche's letter then to Laura, and asked her tointerpret it. Laura was very much agitated, and puzzled by thecontents of the note.
"It seems to me," she said, "as if Blanche is acting very artfully."
"And wishes so to place matters that she may take me or leave me? Isit not so?"
"It is, I am afraid, a kind of duplicity which does not augur well foryour future happiness; and is a bad reply to your own candor andhonesty, Arthur. Do you know I think, I think--I scarcely like to saywhat I think," said Laura, with a deep blush; but of course theblushing young lady yielded to her cousin's persuasion, and expressedwhat her thoughts were. "It looks to me, Arthur, as if there mightbe--there might be somebody else," said Laura, with a repetition ofthe blush.
"And if there is," broke in Arthur, "and if I am free once again, willthe best and dearest of all women--"
"You are not free, dear brother," Laura said, calmly. "You belong toanother; of whom I own it grieves me to think ill. But I can't dootherwise. It is very odd that in this letter she does not urge you totell her the reason why you have broken arrangements which would havebeen so advantageous to you; and avoids speaking on the subject. Shesomehow seems to write as if she knows her father's secret."
Pen said, "Yes, she must know it;" and told the story, which he hadjust heard from Huxter, of the interview at Shepherd's Inn. "It wasnot so that she described the meeting," said Laura; and, going to herdesk, produced from it that letter of Blanche's which mentioned hervisit to Shepherd's Inn. "Another disappointment--only the ChevalierStrong and a friend of his in the room." This was all that Blanche hadsaid. "But she was bound to keep her father's secret, Pen," Lauraadded. "And yet, and yet--it is very puzzling."
The puzzle was this, that for three weeks after this eventfuldiscovery Blanche had been, only too eager about her dearest Arthur;was urging, as strongly as so much modesty could urge, the completionof the happy arrangements which were to make her Arthur's forever; andnow it seemed as if something had interfered to mar these happyarrangements--as if Arthur poor was not quite so agreeable to Blancheas Arthur rich and a member of Parliament--as if there was somemystery. At last she said--
"Tunbridge Wells is not very far off, is it, Arthur? Hadn't you bettergo and see her?"
They had been in town a week and neither had thought of that simpleplan before!