CHAPTER EIGHT.
ONLY ABOUT A LITTLE BIRD.
Oh! let them ne'er, with artificial note, To please a tyrant, strain their little bill; But sing what heaven inspires, and wander where they will!
I was ten times angrier with myself when I got home.
What a fool I had been--what an idiot--to have thrown away my chances asI had done! I had wished for "the roc's egg" to complete my happiness;and I had obtained it with a vengeance.
My roc's egg had been the "open sesame" to Mrs Clyde's castle. I hadsighed for it, striven for it, gained it at last; and, a fine mess I hadmade of it, all things considered!
What must she think me?
An ill-bred, untutored, unlicked cub, most probably!
I did not let myself off easily, I promise you. My conscience gave itto me well, and I could find no satisfactory terms in which I couldexpress my opinion of my own surly behaviour.
I think if some people only knew the bitter pangs that social culpritsafterwards experience within themselves for their slips and slidings bythe way, they would be less harsh in their judgments and unsparing intheir condemnation than they usually are. Sending him to Coventry is apoor punishment in comparison with the offender's own remorse. He findsthe "labor et opus redintegrare gradum" hard enough, without thatRhadamanthus, "society," making the ascent slippery for him!
As I recalled the incidents of the evening, I could not help allowing tomy conscience that Mr Mawley the curate, whom I disliked, had shownhimself a gentleman, where I had only acted like a snob; while Horner, aman whom I, in my conceit, had looked down upon and affected to despiseas an empty-headed fop and nonentity, was a prince beside me!
They had but played their respective social parts, and accepted thegifts that the gods provided; while I--dunder-headed dolt that I was--had conducted myself worse than a budding school-boy who had but justdonned swallow-tails, and made his first entry into society!
Jealousy had been the cause of it all, of course; but, although I havealways held, and will continue to believe, that the presence of that"green-eyed monster," as the passion is euphuistically termed, isinseparable from all cases of real, thorough, heart-felt, engrossinglove--still, jealousy is no excuse for ill-manners. "Noblesse oblige"always. There is no half-way medium; no middle course to take.
Then, fancy my being such a brute as to quarrel with Min, merely becauseshe could not avoid being courteous to her guests! The fact of theirbeing personally obnoxious to me, did not affect the scale one way orthe other; she could not help _that_. I doubt whether she even knew it.
I was unable to forgive myself, and wondered if she would excuse myconduct, and speak to me again; although, I really deserved socialextinction.
But, I surely could not belie her angel nature, I thought? When shecame to know all I had suffered that evening, and the miserable self-upbraidings I had since endured, she would pity me, and forgive me,forgetting all that had occurred "as a dream when one awaketh?" I wassure she would; and I gained renewed courage from the impression.
I now bethought me how I should next present myself before her. Inaccordance with the usages of conventionality, it would be right for meto make an early call at Mrs Clyde's, in recognition of her lateassembly; and, unless I should chance to meet Min out alone, I wouldhave no chance of making my apology before then, while, even on thatoccasion, the presence of her mother might prevent my speaking to her asopenly as I wished. What should I do?
I determined, under the circumstances, and from the fact of our beingsuch old friends--she had said so herself, had she not?--that I wouldmake her a little peace-offering, in the shape of a present of some sortor other.
This did not occur to me with the idea of propitiating her as anoffended goddess, sacrifices being out of date in the existing era--except those to Moloch! No, such a thought never occurred to me for amoment.
Min was not the class of girl whose pardon or good-will could bepurchased, as is frequently the case, perhaps, with others of her sex!
What suggested the scheme to me was, my not having made her any birthdaygift, as her other friends, without exception, had done. It is "nevertoo late to mend;" so, why should I not take her a little present now,to show her that she lived in my heart and had not been intentionallyforgotten? If she accepted my offering, good. I should then be certainthat she extenuated my gaucherie at her party, whether I got speech withher or no. Yes, that would be the proper course for me to pursue.Would you not have thought so in a like contingency?
The present being decided on, what should I get for her? Flowers,photographs, books, music, and all those delicate nothings, which peoplegenerally tender as souvenirs for other people's acceptance, she had inabundance.
None of these would do at all. I wanted her to have some special, out-of-the-way something from me, which would always call the giver beforeher mind whenever she saw it. You may think my wish a selfish one,perhaps, but we generally like to be remembered by those we love. Ithink so, at least; and, I do not believe I am a very exceptionalindividual.
What should my gift be? It would not be proper for me to offer, nor wasit likely that her mother would allow her to accept, anything veryvaluable, or of intrinsic worth: such as a watch, which I first thoughtof. Besides, she had a watch already--one that kept time, unlike mostladies' "time-keepers"--and a particularly pretty one it was, too; so,that was out of the question at once. Jewellery would be just asinadmissible. What on earth should my present consist of?
Why, a bird, of course! How stupid I was growing, to be sure! I reallyhad become quite dull. A bird would be the very thing of all others tosuit her, so I need not worry my brains any longer. She had plenty offlowers in her bay window conservatory, besides a tiny crystal fountain,that leaped and sparkled to the astounding altitude of some eighteeninches, and which, on festive occasions, ran Florida-water or Eau-de-Cologne. In addition to these, she required, to my mind, a bird tocomplete the effect of the whole. A bird she, accordingly, should have.
I had often heard her say that she loved birds dearly. Not wildsongsters, however, who sing best in their native freedom of the skies,like the spotted-breasted, circle-carolling lark, the thicket-hauntingblackbird, and the sweet-throated thrush.--It would have afforded her nopleasure to prison up one of these in a cage. But, a little fledglingthat had never known what it was to roam at its own sweet will, and who,when offered the liberty of the air, would hardly care to "takeadvantage of the situation;" _that_ would be the bird which she wouldlike to have, I was certain.
I knew just such an one. I had him, in fact. He was "Dicky Chips:"--the funniest, quaintest, most intelligent, and most amusing littlebullfinch you ever clapped eyes on.
I resolved that Dicky Chips should be Min's property from henceforth.
Whenever she watched him going through his varied pantomimic role, andheard his well-turned, whistling notes--he had a rare ear for music--shewould think of _him_ who gave him to her, although he might then be faraway. I decided the point at once before going to bed. Dicky Chipsshould, like Caliban, have a new master, or rather mistress; and be anew man, or rather bird, to adopt Mr Toots' peculiar ellipto-synthetical style of speaking. Where do you think I got hold of him?Do you know a travelling naturalist who goes about London during thesummer months--and all over the country, too, for that matter, as I'vemet him north of Tweed, and down also at the Land's End, in Cornwall?
He has birds for sale, and he sells them only at that period.
Where he hides himself when winter, dark and drear, approaches, I'm sureI cannot tell; but I've never seen him _then_ perambulating the streets.He may possibly, at that season, join company with Jamrack--thatcuriosity of the animal world; or, he may hibernate in the Seven Dials,as most feather-fanciers do; or, he may retire to his private mansion inBelgrave Square; or, again, he may, peradventure, go abroad "to increasehis store," in the fashion of Norval's father, the "frugal swain" whofattened his flocks on the Grampian Hills--though, I
prefer South Downmutton, myself!
The bird-seller may do either and all of these things in the wintermonths; but, I only know his summer habitude:--then he is always to beobserved going about the streets with birds for sale.
Do I mean the gentleman who wheels about a costermonger's table-cart,whereon he makes a number of unfortunate canaries pull about tinycarriages, with yokes, shaped like those of the Roman chariots, and firecannons, and appear as if they liked it; while a decrepit white mouseruns up a cane flag-staff, supporting himself finally, and veryuncomfortably, on the top?
No; I do not mean anything of the sort. The person I refer to is quitea different character.
He is generally to be seen driving in a large, full-bodied gipsy waggon,or covered-in break, with open sides and a tarpaulin roof, in which hehas, carefully stowed away, tiers upon tiers of cages, that containalmost every description of English and foreign birds; not excluding,also, sundry small pet animals--monkeys, squirrels, and toy dogs, towit.
He invariably accommodates two horribly-ugly, black-faced pugs,underneath the driving seat of his vehicle; and you may generally hearhis approach, when distant more than a mile, through the chirping, andsqueaking, and squalling, of his motley cargo.
Canaries are there by the hundred, packed up separately in those squarelittle wooden boxes, each fitted with a small, red, goblet-shapedpitcher and seed-rack, in which they are imported from Germany; parrots,macaws, cockatoos, and lories; larks, thrushes, blackbirds; starlings,magpies, and such like--down to the common hedge-sparrow and poor littleJenny wren.
There, now! I have pointed out the distinguishing characteristics ofthe itinerant bird-fancier; and, should you never have seen him before,you will be able at once to recognise him in case of your possiblyencountering him in the future.
Well, one day, meeting this gentleman "drumming around" our suburb, Ihad the curiosity to stop and inspect his live freight. In doing so Ilighted upon Dicky Chips, as I subsequently christened him: a sturdylittle bullfinch, who looked somewhat out of place, and lonesome,amongst his screaming companions from foreign lands. I purchased himfor a trifle, and have never since regretted the bargain, for, he was adear, bright little fellow; so tractable, too, and intelligent, that Iwas able to educate him to a pitch of excellence, which, I believe, nobullfinch in England ever reached, before or since.
When invited properly, he would dance a hornpipe, whistling his ownmusic in sharp staccato notes, as from a piccolo. He could likewise"present arms" with a little straw musket which I had provided for him;besides feigning to be dead, and allowing you to take him up by thelegs, his head hanging down, apparently lifeless, the while, withoutstirring--although he would sometimes, if you kept him too long in thisposition, open one of his beady black eyes, and seem to give you a slywink, as if to say, "A joke is a joke, certainly; but you may, perhaps,carry it too far!" I could not enumerate half his accomplishments inthis line; and, as for whistling operatic tunes--the most difficultones, with unlimited roulades, were his especial choice--"Bai-ey Je-ove!" as Horner would say, you should only have heard him.
As I allowed him to go in and out of his cage at pleasure, he roamed thegarden according to his own sweet will, whenever and wherever hepleased, without reservation; and he, I may add, seldom abused theprivilege. Some time after I had given him to Min, he actually foundhis way back one morning to our house again. I shall never forget thecircumstance: you should have witnessed his delight at seeing the oldplace and his old friends again! He flirted, he danced, he rolled inparoxysms of joy on the little table by the window, whereon he had beenaccustomed to go through his performances:--he chirped, he whistled; infact, he behaved just like a mad bird.
But he did not desert his mistress, mind you. I think he even gotfonder of her than he had even been of me. Still, often afterdiscovering that he could thus vary the monotony of his existence bypaying a visit to his old domicile--which only lay a short distance fromhis new quarters--he would come round; and, after spending an hour ortwo with me, when he would conscientiously insist on going through theentire round of his accomplishments without any invitation on my part,as if to show that he yet retained his early instructions well in mind,he would return to Min's house, and the no less warm affection thatawaited him there.
This was the little present that I intended for a birthday gift to mydarling: one that I valued beyond gold. The very next afternoon Icarried him round to her in my coat-pocket--he having a tiny cage thatjust fitted into it comfortably "to a _t_."
Fortunately, I found Min alone in the drawing-room, when I was usheredin. She was sitting on the sofa reading, and, although she rose up onmy entrance, she only bowed, looking distant, and somewhat embarrassed.
This did not look well for my chances of forgiveness, and for gettingher to accept Dicky Chips, did it?
I went up to her impulsively.
"Min!" I exclaimed, "can you, will you, excuse and forgive me foracting so rudely last night? I cannot forgive myself; and I shall bemiserable till you pardon me!"
She looked down gravely a minute.
"What made you so naughty, sir?" she asked at length, looking up againwith a dancing light in the clear grey eyes, and a smile on her prettylittle mouth.
"I thought that you did not want me, Min; and I wished myself away, whenI saw you speaking to every one else that came, as if you did not careto speak to me. I was very unhappy, and--"
"Oh, Frank!" she said; "unhappy!"
"Yes," I said, "I was never more so in my life. I believed youpreferred speaking to Mr Mawley and Horner, to talking to me, and Ithought it very unkind of you."
"Well, do not think so again, sir," she said, with such a prettyaffectation of sternness, and laughing one of her light, silvery laughs.
"And you did not wish me away?" I asked, anxiously.
"Of course not," she answered. "Why should I have done so? You wouldnot have been invited, sir, if your noble presence had not been wishedfor, Master Frank."
"And you didn't care so much for Mawley after all?" I continued,rendered bolder by her changed manner.
"You must not ask too many questions, sir!" she said. "This just showshow very unreasonable you were! How could I have neglected everybodyelse to speak to you, only, all the evening; what would they havethought, sir? what would mamma have said? Besides, you were not veryentertaining, Master Frank; you were very cross, sir; you know youwere!"
"But you forgive me now, Min, don't you?" I implored.
"Yes," she said, "if you promise never to be cross with me again."
"What, cross with _you_?" I exclaimed.
"You were, though, last night," she said, with a little toss of herwell-shaped head.
I thought the time had now arrived for making my little peace-offering;and yet, I felt as shy and nervous about it as did poor "Young John,"the gaoler's son of the Marshalsea, when he went to call on LittleDorrit's father in the grand Bond Street hotel, and drew his humblepresent of a bundle of cigars from his coat-pocket.
"Min," I said, "you have heard me speak of a clever little bird I had--Dicky Chips?"
"Oh, yes," she said. "You mean the nice little fellow you taught to doso many funny things? Nothing has happened to him, I hope, Frank? Ishould be so very sorry," she added, sympathisingly, "for I know you arevery fond of him."
"No," said I hesitatingly; "nothing has happened to him, exactly; thatis, Min, I have brought him over for you; and, unless you accept him, Ishall think you are still angry with me, and have not forgiven me."
I thereupon pulled the little chap, cage and all, out of my pocket, andpresented him to her.
"Oh, Frank!" she exclaimed, in her sweet, earnest accents, with a ringof emotion in them. "He's such a little pet of yours; and you have hadhim so long! I would not take him from you for the world!"
"Then," said I, just as earnestly, "you have not forgiven me. Oh, Min!when you promised to do so!" And I took up my hat as if to go away.
We argued the po
int; but, the end of the matter was, that Dicky Chipswas made over to his new mistress, with all his goods, chattels, andappurtenances. A happy bird he might consider himself henceforth, Iknew. He would be idolised--a very nice situation, indeed, for abullfinch!
By-and-by I got closer to Min, as we were standing up, talking togetherand making Dicky go through a few of his tricks on the drawing-roomtable.
"Min," said I, softly, bending over her and looking down into herhonest, truth-telling grey eyes--"my darling!"
But, at that precise moment, the door opened; and, in walked Mrs Clyde.