Chippinge Borough

  XI

  DON GIOVANNI FLIXTON

  In the political world the last week of April and the first week ofMay of that year were fraught with surprises. It is probable that theysaw more astonished people than are to be found in England in anordinary twelvemonth. The party which had monopolised power for half acentury, and to that end and the advancement of themselves, theirinfluence, their friends, and their dependants, had spent the publicmoney, strained the law, and supported the mob, were incredibly, nay,were bitterly surprised when they saw all these engines turned againstthem; when they found dependants falling off and friends growing cold;above all, when they found that rabble, which they had so oftendirected, aiming its yells and brickbats against their windows.

  But it is unlikely that any Tory of them all was more surprised by thechange in the political aspect than Arthur Vaughan--when he came tothink of it--by the position in which he had put himself. Certainly hehad taken no step that was not revocable. He had said nothingpositive; his honour was not engaged. But he had said a good deal. Onthe spur of the moment, moved by the strange attraction which the girlhad for him, he had spoken after a fashion which only farther speechcould justify. And then, not content with that, as if fortune weredetermined to make sport of his discretion, he had been led by anotherimpulse--call it generosity, call it jealousy, call it what youwill--to say more to Bob Flixton than he had said to her.

  He had done this who had hitherto held himself a little above thecommon run of men. Who had chalked out his career and never doubtedthat he had the strength to follow it. Who had not been content towait, idle and dissipated, for a dead man's shoes, but in the pride ofa mind which he believed to be the master of his passions had set hisface towards the high prizes of the senate and the forum. He, who ifhe could not be Fox, would be Erskine. Who would be anything, in aword, except the empty-headed man of pleasure, or the plain dullardsatisfied to sit in a corner with a little.

  He, who had planned such a future, now found himself on the brink--ay,on the very point--of committing as foolish an act as the mostthoughtless could commit. He was proposing to marry a girl below himin station, still farther below him in birth, whom he had only knownthree days, whom he had only seen three times! And all because she hadbeautiful eyes, and looked at him--Heavens, how she had looked at him!

  He went hot as he pictured her with her melting eyes, hanging towardshim a little as the ivy inclines to the oak. And then he turned cold.And cold, he considered what he was going to do!

  Of course he was not going to marry her.

  No doubt he had said to her more than he had the right to say. But hishonour was not engaged. The girl was not the worse for him; even ifthat which he had read in her eyes were true, she would get over it asquickly as he would. But marry her, give way to a feeling doubtlessevanescent, let himself be swayed by a fancy at which he would laugh ayear later--no! No! He was not so weak. He had not only his career tothink of, but the family honours which would be his one day. Whatwould old Vermuyden say if he impaled a baton sinister with the familyarms, added a Smith to the family alliances, married the nameless,penniless teacher in a girls' school?

  No, of course, he was not going to marry her. He had said what he hadsaid to the Honourable Bob merely to shield her from a Don Juan. Hehad not meant it. He would go for a long fatiguing walk and put thenotion and the girl out of his head, and come back cured of his folly,and make a merry night of it with the old set. And to-morrow--no, themorrow was Sunday--on Monday he would return to London and to all thechances which the changing political situation must open to anambitious man. He regretted that he had not taken the Chancellor'shint and sought for a seat in the House.

  But the solitary ramble in the valley of the Avon, which was ahundredfold more beautiful in those days than in these, because lessspoiled by the hand of man, a ramble by the Logwood Mills, with theirclear-running weedy stream, by King's Weston and Leigh Woods--such aramble, tuneful with the songs of birds and laden with the scents ofspring, may not be the surest cure for that passion, which

  _is not to be reasoned down or lost In high ambition or a thirst for greatness!_

  At any rate he returned uncured, and for the first part of theHonourable Bob's dinner was wildly merry. After that, and suddenly, hefell into a moody silence which his host was not the last to note.

  Fortunately with the removal of the cloth and the first brisk journeyof the decanters came news. A waiter brought it. Hart Davies, the Torycandidate for Bristol, and for twenty years its popular member, hadwithdrawn, seeing his chance hopeless. The retirement was unexpected,and it caused so much surprise that the party could think of nothingelse. Nine-tenths of those present were Tories, and Flixton proposedthat they should sally forth and vent their feelings by smashing thewindows of the Bush, the Radical headquarters; a feat performed many atime before with no worse consequences than a broken head or two. ButColonel Brereton set his foot sharply on the proposal.

  "I'll put you under arrest if you do," he said. "I'm senior officer ofthe district, and I'll not have it, Flixton! Do you think that this isthe time, you madmen," he continued, looking round the table andspeaking with indignation, "to provoke the rabble, and get the throatsof half Bristol cut?"

  "Oh, come, Colonel, it is not as bad as that!" Flixton remonstrated.

  "You don't know how bad it is," Brereton answered, his brooding eyeskindling. And he developed anew his fixed idea that the forces ofdisorder, once provoked, were irresistible; that the country was attheir mercy, and that only by humouring them, a course suggested alsoby humanity, could the storm be weathered.

  The company consisted, for the most part, of reckless young subalternsflushed with wine. They listened out of respect to his rank, but theywinked and grinned behind his back; until, half conscious of ridicule,he grew angry. On ordinary occasions Flixton would have been the worstoffender. But he had the grace to remember that the Colonel was hisguest, and he sought to turn the subject.

  "Come, come!" he cried, hammering the table and pushing the bottle."Let the Colonel alone. For Heaven's sake shelve the cursed Bill! I'msick of it! It's the death of all fun and jollity. I'll give you asentiment: 'The Fair when they are Kind, and the Kind when they areFair.' Fill up! Fill up, all, and drink it!"

  They echoed the toast in various tones, sober or fuddled. And somebegan to grow excited. A glass was shattered and flung noisily intothe fire. A new one was called for, also noisily.

  "Now, Bill," Flixton continued to his right-hand neighbour, "it's yourturn! Give us something spicy!" And he hammered the table. "CaptainCodrington's sentiment."

  "Let's have a minute!" pleaded the gentleman assailed.

  "Not a minute," boisterously. "See, the table's waiting for you!Captain Codrington's sentiment!"

  Men of small genius kept a written list, and committed some lines tomemory before dinner. The Captain was one of these. But the call onhim was sudden, and he sought, with an agonised mind, for one whichwould seem in the least degree novel. At last, with a sigh of relief,"_Maids and Missuses!_" he cried.

  "Ay, ay, Maids and Missuses!" the Honourable Bob echoed, raising hisglass. "And especially," he whispered, calling his neighbour'sattention to Vaughan by a shove, "schoolmissuses! Schoolmissuses, mylad! Here, Vaughan," he continued aloud, "you must drink this, and noheeltaps!"

  Vaughan caught his name and awoke from a reverie. "Very good," hesaid, raising his glass. "What is it?"

  "Maids and Missuses!" the Honourable Bob replied, with a wink at hisneighbour. And then, incited by the fumes of the wine he had taken, herose to his feet and raised his glass. "Gentlemen," he said,"gentlemen!"

  "Silence," they cried. "Silence! Silence for Bob's speech."

  "Gentlemen," he resumed, a spark of malice in his eyes, "I've a pieceof news to give you! It's news that--that's been mighty slyly kept bya gentleman here present. Devilish close he's kept it, I'll say thatfor him! But he's a neat
hand that can bamboozle Bob Flixton, and I'verun him to earth, run him to earth this morning and got it out ofhim."

  "Hear! Hear! Bob! Go on, Bob; what is it?" from the company.

  "You are going to hear, my Trojans! And no flam! Gentlemen, chargeyour glasses! I've the honour to inform you that our old friend andtiptopper, Arthur Vaughan, otherwise the Counsellor, has got himselfregularly put up, knocked down, and sold to as pretty a piece of thefeminine as you'll see in a twelvemonth! Prettiest in Bristol, 'ponhonour," with feeling, "be the other who she may! Regular caseof--" and in irresistibly comic accents, with his head and glass aliketilted, he drolled,

  "_There first for thee my passion grew, Sweet, sweet Matilda Pottingen; Thou wast the daughter of my tu- tor, law professor at the U- niversity of Goettingen!_

  'Niversity of Goettingen! Don't laugh, gentlemen! It's so! He's enteredon the waybill, book through to matrimony, and"--the Honourable Bobwas undoubtedly a little tipsy--"and it only remains for us to givehim a good send-off. So charge your glasses, and----"

  Brereton laid his hand on his arm. He was sober and he did not likethe look on Vaughan's disgusted face. "One moment, Flixton," he said;"is this true, Mr. Vaughan?"

  Vaughan's brow was as black as thunder. He had never dreamt that,drunk or sober, Flixton would be guilty of such a breach ofconfidence. He hesitated. Then, "No!" he said.

  "It's not true?" Codrington struck in. "You are not going to bemarried, old chap?"

  "No!"

  "But, man," Flixton hiccoughed, "you told me so--or something likeit---only this morning."

  "You either misunderstood me," Vaughan answered, in a tone so distinctas to be menacing, "for you have said far more than I said. Or, if youprefer it, I've changed my mind. In either case it is my business! AndI'll trouble you to leave it alone!"

  "Oh, if you put it--that way, old chap?"

  "I do put it that way!"

  "And any way," Brereton said, interposing hurriedly, "this is no timefor marrying! I've told you boys before, and I tell you again----"

  And he plunged into a fresh argument on the old point. Two or threejoined issue, grinning. And Vaughan, as soon as attention was divertedfrom him, slipped away.

  He was horribly disgusted, and sunk very low in his own eyes. Heloathed what he had done. He had not, indeed, been false to the girl,for he had given her no promise. He had not denied her, for her namehad not been mentioned. And he had not gone back on his resolution,for he had never formed one seriously. Yet in a degree he had done allthese things. He had played a shabby part by himself and by the girl.He had been meanly ashamed of her. And though his conduct had followedthe lines which he had marked out for himself, he hoped that he mightnever again feel so unhappy, and so poor a thing, as he felt as hewalked the streets and cursed his discretion.

  Discretion! Cowardice was the right name for it. Because the girl, themost beautiful, pure, and gentle creature on whom his eyes had everrested, was called Mary Smith, and taught in a school, he disavowedher and turned his back on her.

  He did not know that he was suffering what a man, whose mind has sofar governed his heart, must suffer when the latter rebels. Inplanning his life he had ignored his heart; now he must pay thepenalty. He went to bed at last, but not to sleep. Instead he livedthe scene over and over again, now wondering what he ought to havedone; now brooding on what Flixton must think of him; now on what she,whose nature, he was sure, was as perfect as her face, would think ofhim, if she knew. How she would despise him!

  The next day was Sunday, and he spent it, in accordance with aprevious promise, with Brereton, at his pleasant home at Newchurch, amile from the city. Though the most recent of his Bristolacquaintances, Brereton was the most congenial; and a dozen timesVaughan was on the point of confiding his trouble to him. He wasdeterred by the melancholy cast of Brereton's character, which gavepromise of no decisive advice. And early in the evening he took leaveof his host and strolled towards the Downs, balancing _I would_against _I will not_; now facing the bleak of a prudent decision, nowthrilling with foolish rapture, as he pondered another event. LordEldon had married young and with as little prudence; it had notimpeded his rise, nor Erskine's. Doubtless Sir Robert Vermuyden wouldsay that he had disgraced himself; but he cared little for that. Whathe had to combat was the more personal pride of the man who, holdinghimself a little wiser than his fellows, cannot bear to do a thingthat in the eyes of the foolish may set him below them!

  Of course he came to no decision; though he wandered on Brandon Hilluntil the Float at his feet ceased to mirror the lights, and Bristollay dark below him. And Monday found him still hesitating. Thrice hestarted to take his place on the coach. And thrice he turned back,hating himself for his weakness. If he could not overcome a foolishfancy, how could he hope to scale the heights of the Western Circuit,or hurl Coleridge and Follett from their pride of place? Or, stillharder task, how would he dare to confront in the House the cold eyeof Croker or of Goulburn? No, he could not hope to do either. He hadbeen wrong in his estimate of himself. He was a poor creature, unableto hold his own amongst his fellows, impotent to guide his own life!

  He was still contesting the matter when, a little before noon, heespied Flixton in the act of threading his way through the busy crowdof Broad Street. The Honourable Bob was wearing hessians, and ahigh-collared green riding-coat, with an orange vest and a softmany-folded cravat. In fine, he was so smart that suspicion enteredVaughan's head; and on its heels--jealousy.

  In a twinkling he was on Flixton's track. Broad Street, the heart ofBristol, was thronged, for Hart Davies's withdrawal was in the air andan election crowd was abroad. Newsboys with their sheets, tipsyward-leaders, and gossiping merchants jostled one another. The beau'sgreen coat, however, shone conspicuous,

  _Glorious was his course, And long the track of light he left behind him!_

  and before Vaughan had asked himself if he were justified infollowing, pursued and pursuer were over Bristol Bridge, and making,by way of the Welsh Back--a maze of coal-hoys and dangling cranes--forQueen's Square.

  Vaughan doubted no longer, weighed the propriety of his course nolonger. For a cool-headed man of the world, who asked nothing betterthan to master a silly fancy, he was foolishly perturbed. He made onwith a grim face; but a dray loading at a Newport coal-hulk drewacross his path, and Flixton was pacing under the pleasant elms andamid the groups that loitered up and down the sunlit Square, beforeVaughan came within hail, and called him by name.

  Flixton turned then, saw who it was, and grinned--nothing abashed."Well," he said, tipping his hat a little to one side, "well, oldchap! Are you let out of school too?"

  Vaughan had already discovered Mary Smith and her little troop underthe trees in the farthest corner. But he tried to smile--and did so, alittle awry. "This is not fair play, Flixton," he said.

  "That is just what I think it is," the Honourable Bob answeredcheerfully. "Eh, old chap? Neat trick of yours the other day, but notneat enough! Thought to bamboozle me and win a clear field! Neat! Butno go, I found you out and now it is my turn. That's what I call fairplay."

  "Look here, Flixton," Vaughan replied--he was fast losing hiscomposure--"I'm not going to have it. That's plain."

  The Honourable Bob stared. "Oh!" he answered. "Let's understand oneanother. Are you going to marry the girl after all?"

  "I've told you----"

  "Oh, you've told me, yes, and you've told me, no. The question is,which is it?"

  Vaughan controlled himself. He could see Mary out of the corner of hiseye, and knew that she had not yet taken the alarm. But the leastviolence might attract her attention. "Whichever it be," he saidfirmly, "is no business of yours."

  "If you claim the girl----"

  "I do not claim her, Flixton. I have told you that. But----"

  "But you mean to play the dog in the manger?"

  "I mean to see," Vaughan replied sternly,
"that you don't do her anyharm."

  Flixton hesitated. Secretly he held Vaughan in respect; and he wouldhave postponed his visit to Queen's Square had he foreseen that thatgentleman would detect him. But to retreat now was another matter. Theduel was still in vogue; barely two years before the Prime Ministerhad gone out with a brother peer in Battersea Fields; barely twentyyears before one Cabinet Minister had shot another on WimbledonCommon. He could not, therefore, afford to show the white feather, andthough he hesitated, it was not for long. "You mean to see to that, doyou?" he retorted.

  "I do."

  "Then come and see," he returned flippantly. "I'm going to have a chatwith the young lady now. That's not murder, I suppose?" And he turnedon his heel and strolled across the turf towards the group of whichMary was the centre.

  Vaughan followed with black looks; and when Mary Smith, informed oftheir approach by one of the children, turned a startled face towardsthem, he was at Flixton's shoulder, and pressing before him.

  But the Honourable Bob had the largest share of presence of mind, andhe was the first to speak. "Miss Smith," he said, raising his hat with_aplomb_, "I--you remember me, I am sure?"

  Vaughan pushed before him; and before the girl could speak--forjealousy is a fine spoiler of manners, "This gentleman," he said,"wishes to see----"

  "To see----" said Flixton, with a lower bow.

  "Miss Sibson!" Vaughan exclaimed.

  The children stared; gazing up into the men's faces with theundisguised curiosity of childhood. Fortunately the Mary Smith who hadto confront these two was no longer the Mary Smith whom Vaughan'sappearance had stricken with panic three days before. For one thing,she knew Miss Sibson better, and feared her less. For another, herfairy godmother--the gleam of whose gifts never failed to leave a hopeof change, a prospect of something other than the plodding, endlessround--had shown a fresh sign. And last, not least, a more potentfairy, a fairy whose wand had power to turn Miss Sibson's house into aPalace Beautiful, and Queen's Square, with its cawing rooks andordered elms, into an enchanted forest, had visited her.

  True, Vaughan had left her abruptly--to cool her burning cheeks andstill her heart as she best might! But he had said what she wouldnever forget, and though he had left her doubting, he had left herloving. And so the Mary who found herself addressed by two gallantswas much less abashed than she who on Friday had had to do with one.

  Still she was astonished by their address; and she showed this,modestly and quietly. "If you wish to see Miss Sibson," shesaid--instinctively she looked at Vaughan's companion--"I will sendfor her." And she was in the act of turning, with comparative ease, todespatch one of the children on the errand, when the Honourable Bobinterposed.

  "But we don't want Miss Sibson--now," he said. "A man may change hismind as well as a woman! Eh, old chap?" turning to his friend withsimulated good-humour. "I'm sure you will say so, Miss Smith."

  She wondered what their odd manner to one another meant. And, to addto her dignity, she laid her hand on the shoulder of one of hercharges and drew her closer.

  "Moreover, I'm sure," Flixton continued--for Vaughan after his firsthasty intervention, stood sulkily silent--"I'm sure Mr. Vaughan willagree with me----"

  "I?"

  "Oh, yes he will, Miss Smith, because he is the most changeable of menhimself! A weathercock, upon my honour!" And he pointed to the towerof St. Mary, which from the high ground of Redcliffe Parade on thefarther side of the water, looks down on the Square. "Never of thesame mind two days together!"

  Vaughan snubbed him savagely. "Be good enough to leave me out!" hesaid.

  "There!" the Honourable Bob answered, laughing, "he wants to stop mymouth! But I'm not to be stopped. Of all men he's the least right tosay that I mustn't change my mind. Why, if you'll believe me, MissSmith, no farther back than Saturday morning he was all for beingmarried! 'Pon honour! Went away from here talking of nothing else! Inthe evening he was just as dead the other way! Nothing was fartherfrom his thoughts. Shuddered at the very idea! Come, old chap, don'tlook fierce!" And he grinned at Vaughan. "You can't deny it!"

  Vaughan could have struck him; the trick was so neat and so malicious.Fortunately a man who had approached the group touched Vaughan's elbowat this critical moment, and diverted his wrath. "Express for you,sir," he said. "Brought by chaise, been looking for you everywhere,sir!"

  Vaughan smothered the execration which rose to his lips, snatched theletter from the man, and waved him aside. Then, swelling with rage, heturned upon Flixton. But before he could speak the matter was takenout of his hands.

  "Children," said Mary Smith in a clear, steady voice, "it is time wewent in. The hour is up, collect your hoops. I think," she continued,looking stiffly at the Honourable Bob, "you have addressed me under amisapprehension, sir, intending to address yourself to Miss Sibson.Good-morning! Good-morning!" with a slight and significant bow whichincluded both gentlemen. And taking a child by either hand, she turnedher back on them, and with her little flock clustering about her, andher pretty head held high, she went slowly across the road to theschool. Her lips were trembling, but the men could not see that. Andher heart was bursting, but only she knew that.

  Without that knowledge Vaughan was furiously angry. It was not onlythat the other had got the better of him by a sly trick; but hewas conscious that he had shown himself at his worst--stupid whentongue-tied, and rude when he spoke. Still, he controlled himselfuntil Mary was out of earshot, and then he turned upon Flixton.

  "What right--what right," he snarled, "had you to say what I would do!And what I would not do? I consider your conduct----"

  "Steady, man!" Flixton, who was much the cooler of the two, said. Hewas a little pale. "Think before you speak. You would interfere. Whatdid you expect? That I was going to play up to you?"

  "I expected at least----"

  "Ah, well, you can tell me another time what you expected. I have anengagement now and must be going," the Honourable Bob said. "See youagain!" And with a cool nod he turned on his heel, and assured that,whatever came of the affair, he had had the best of that bout, hestrode off.

  Vaughan was only too well aware of the same fact; and but that he heldhimself in habitual control, he would have followed and struck hisrival. As it was, he stood a moment looking blackly after him. Then,sobered somewhat, though still bitterly chagrined, he took his waytowards his hotel, carrying in his oblivious hand the letter which hadbeen given him. Once he halted, half-minded to return to Miss Sibson'sand to see Mary and explain. He took, indeed, some steps in thebackward direction. But he reflected that if he went he must speak,and plainly. And, angry as he was, furiously in love as he was, was heprepared to speak?

  He was not prepared. And while he stood doubting between that eternalwould, and would not, his eyes fell on the letter in his hand.