Part 8 (1/2)
Livingstone rose slowly.
”I'll go and receive him. Let Mr. Raymond know, Wise. I suppose he will not care to see any one else before dressing-time; it must be near that now.”
As he pa.s.sed his cousin, he whispered something inaudible to us; and I saw his heavy hand fall on Charley's shoulder, crus.h.i.+ng him down again like a child.
Then Flora went to Miss Raymond, and asked her, with more kindness in her manner than usual, to come to her rooms for some tea; they always seriously inclined to the consumption of that cheerful herb about this hour. Isabel clung to her companion as they went out with a meek helplessness which was sad to see.
Charley had vanished before them. After that first involuntary movement he had become _nonchalant_ as ever, so I remained alone to ruminate. I confess, after some thought, I was still in the dark as to where things would end.
The meeting had been got over somehow, for, when I came down before dinner, Bruce was sitting on a sofa by Miss Raymond's side.
Why does a man in such a position invariably look as if he were on the stool of repentance, expiating some misdeed of unutterable shame? He has sat by the same woman before, when it was only a strong flirtation; more eyes, curious and spiteful, were upon him then, and he met them with perfect self-possession. Now that he is in his right, why does he look blus.h.i.+ngly uneasy, as if he would call on the curtains to hide him, and the cus.h.i.+ons to cover him? Have any mortals existed so good, or great, or wise, as to be exempt from that dreadful poll-tax levied on all males unprivileged to woo by proxy--the necessity of looking ridiculous from the moment their engagement is announced to that when they leave the church as Benedicts? I should like to have watched Burke, or Herschel, or the Iron Duke, or _any_ Archbishop of Canterbury, through the ordeal of a recognized courts.h.i.+p. Would the dignity of the statesman, the sage, the soldier, or the saint have been sustained? I trow not.
In truth, it is a sight full of sad warning, that ever-recurring spectacle of an engaged man (the lady is always provokingly at her ease) in general society. His friends turn away in compa.s.sion and charity; the girls, whom he ought to have married and--didn't, look on, exchanging smiles with their mothers; it is their hour of savage triumph. The French manage things more comfortably, I think. The promessi sposi meet so seldom before the contract is signed--between sentence and execution the time is so brief that there is little s.p.a.ce for intermediate terrors.
Nature had not been bountiful to Mr. Bruce in externals. He was very tall, with round shoulders, long, lean limbs, large feet and hands, and immense joints. There was a good deal of strength about him, but it wanted concentration and arrangement. His features were rather exaggerated and coa.r.s.e in outline, with the high cheek-bones common on the north side of the Tweed; his hair of an unhappy vacillating color that could not make its mind up to be red; and his eyes, that rarely met you fairly, of a light cold gray. About the mouth, in particular, there was a very unpleasant expression, alternately vicious and cunning.
I do not believe that his intimates, if he had any, in their wildest moments of conviviality, ever called him ”Jack;” nor his mother, in his earliest childhood, ”Johnnie.” Plain ”John Bruce” was written uncompromisingly in every line of his face; just the converse of Forrester, whom old maids of rigid virtue, after seeing him twice, were irresistibly impelled to speak of as ”Charley.”
I wish some profound psychologist would give us his theory on the question of ”The influence of nomenclature on disposition and destiny.”
It is all very well to ask, ”What's in a name?” I think there is a great deal; and that our sponsors have much to answer for in indulging their baptismal fancies. Not to go into the subject (which some have already done without exhausting it), have you not remarked that Georgiana is always pretty and slightly sarcastic; that Isabella has large, soft, l.u.s.trous eyes--generally they are dark; that f.a.n.n.y invariably flirts; and that Kate is decided in character, if not haughty?
Tragedy and comedy both are forced to observe these nominal proprieties. Who was it that illuminated his house, and had the church bells rung, on finding a name for his hero? We should never have believed in Iago's treacheries if he had appeared before us as simple ”James.”
The new arrival seemed to have chilled us all into stupidity. Dinner languished; and afterward, Guy, after trying at first to be laboriously civil--the sense of duty was painfully evident--lapsed into silence, pa.s.sing the claret rather faster than usual, so that Mr. Raymond, to his intense disgust, had to make an effort and force the conversation.
When we entered, Isabel was nestling under Miss Bellasys' wing, from which shelter she had to emerge at Bruce's request for some music. She went directly, and played several pieces that he asked for straight through, while he stood gravely behind her with a complacent air of proprietors.h.i.+p which was inexpressibly aggravating.
When her task was done she went back to her sofa again; there she was safe, for all Bruce's devotion to his ladye-love and stubbornness of character could not give him courage enough to affront, at close quarters, the mingled dislike and scornful humor that played round Flora's lips, and gleamed in her eyes like summer lightning. He had to retreat upon Lady Catharine, who, thinking him hardly used, in her inextinguishable charity exerted herself to entertain him.
We were all glad when that first evening was over, and we got into the smoking-room, whither Mr. Bruce was not entreated to follow. It was always an augury of foul weather in Livingstone's temper when, instead of the decent evening cigar, he smoked the short black _brule-gueule_, loaded to the muzzle with cavendish. He sat thus for some minutes, rolling out stormy puffs from under his mustache, and then broke out,
”I haven't an idea what to do with him” (there was no need to name the object of his thoughts); ”I made up my mind to risk a horse or two, for, of course, he would have broken their knees; but when I offered him a mount, he thanked me and said, 'He didn't hunt.' It would have got him away from home, at all events. Poor Bella! how heavy on hand she _will_ find him.”
”Ah! and he might have come to a timely end over timber; Providence does interfere so benevolently sometimes.” This was Forrester's pious reflection.
”Well, that's over,” Guy went on. ”He must shoot, though; every one shoots, or thinks he does. We have all the pheasants to kill yet (by-the-by, Fallowfield comes over on Thursday for the Home Wood); that will keep him employed for some time; but it's only putting off the evil day. My match-making aunt, of blessed memory, how much she has to answer for! I hate to think of Bella's _mignonne_ face alongside of that flinty-cheeked Scotchman's.”
”Don't be angry, Guy,” suggested Charley, with some diffidence; ”but, if it's not an impertinent question, do you think he ever tries to kiss your cousin?”
”I never thought of that,” replied Livingstone, not without an oath; ”there's another pleasant reflection. No, I should think not. He _is_ ceremonious, to give the devil his due. I'll find out to-morrow, though, without making Bella blush. Miss Bellasys is sure to know. I saw them exchanging confidences all this evening, and I am certain there were instigations to rebellion. Flora would delight in an _emeute_; she's a perfect Red Republican, that girl.”
”The opposition seems organizing,” I remarked; ”ministers will find themselves soon, I fear, without a working majority.”
”Not unlikely,” said Guy, filling another pipe; ”but they won't resign.
Some men never know when they are beaten. Well, he who lives will see.
If this wind lasts, we shall have a cracker from Lilbourne to-morrow.