Part 11 (1/2)
T. G. DESMOND.
I could find no objection to accepting this kindly offer, so delicately made, but I did not dare to do so before consulting Bessie and her mother, so I stepped into the carriage and had John drive me to the cottage. There was a consultation, and after I had overcome some feeble scruples on Mrs. Pinkerton's part, which I am afraid were hypocritical, we decided to take advantage of Mr. Desmond's generosity. I sent a note of thanks back by John, and thenceforth we took our rides behind ”old Dives's” black ponies. Occasionally the old gentleman himself came out in the carriage, and proved himself as trustworthy and careful a driver as John, handling the ”ribbons” with the air of an accomplished whip.
The rides were very pleasant, those beautiful summer days, and the change from a hired ”team” to the sumptuous establishment of Mr. Desmond was extremely grateful.
Mr. Desmond was doubtless very lonely without his niece. She had been the light of his home, and her absence was probably felt by the old gentleman with more keenness than he had antic.i.p.ated at the outset. His large and beautifully furnished mansion needed the presence of just such a person of vivacious and cheery character as Clara, to prevent it from becoming cheerless in its grandeur. He intimated as much, and appeared unusually restless and low-spirited for him. He sought to make up for the absence of the suns.h.i.+ne and joyousness that ”Miss Van” had taken away with her, by applying himself with especial diligence to business; but he really had not much business to engross his attention, beyond collecting his interest and looking out for his agents, and it failed to fill the void. He betook himself to his club, and killed time a.s.siduously, talking with the men-about-town he found there, playing whist, and running through the magazines and reviews in search of wit and wisdom wherewith to divert himself. The dull season had set in; there was little doing, in affairs, commerce, politics, or literature; and direct efforts at killing time always result in making time go more heavily than ever. Mr. Desmond's attempt was like a curious _pas seul_, executed by a nimble actor in a certain extravaganza, the peculiarity of which is that at every forward step the dancer slides farther and farther backward, until finally an unseen power appears to drag him back into the flies.
It was during one of our afternoon drives, when Mr. Desmond usurped the office of his coachman, that he confided to us a plan which he had devised to cure his _ennui_.
”I have made up my mind,” he said, ”to go abroad for a good long tour.
It will be the best move I could possibly make.”
”I don't doubt it,” I said. ”How soon do you propose to go?” And Bessie sighed, ”O dear, how delightful!”
”My plans are not matured,” Mr. Desmond continued, ”but I think I shall sail early next month. My favorite steamer leaves on the 6th.”
”I hope you will enjoy a pleasant voyage, and a delightful trip on the other side,” said Mrs. Pinkerton politely.
Mr. Desmond returned thanks. Nothing more was said that day concerning his project. When he left us at the cottage, he remarked,-
”By the way, Mr. Travers, I wish you would call at my office to-morrow morning at or about eleven o'clock, if you can make it convenient to do so.”
”I will do so,” I replied, wondering what he could want of me.
At the appointed hour the next day I was on hand at his office. He motioned to me to be seated and then said,-
”Yesterday morning I met John K. Blunt, of Blunt Brothers & Company, at my club, and he told me that their cas.h.i.+er had defaulted. An account of the affair is in this morning's papers. They want a new cas.h.i.+er. I have mentioned your name, and if you will go around to their office with me, we will talk with Blunt.”
”Mr. Desmond-” I began, but he stopped me.
”Don't let's have any talk but business,” he said. ”The figures will be satisfactory, I am confident.”
Satisfactory! They were munificent! Blunt liked me, and only a few short and sharp sentences from such a man as Desmond finished the business. I saw a future of opulence before me. My head was almost turned. I tried to thank Mr. Desmond, but he would not listen to my earnest expressions of grat.i.tude.
”I have engaged pa.s.sage for the 6th,” he told me when we were parting; ”I will try to call at your cottage before I get off. I am busy settling up some details now. Good day.”
I hastened home with my good news. Bessie's eyes glistened when she heard it, and even my mother-in-law showed a faint sign of pleasure at my good luck.
The following Sat.u.r.day evening Mr. Desmond came out to see us.
”Don't consider this my farewell appearance,” he said. ”I merely wished to tell you that my friends have inveigled me into giving an informal party Tuesday evening, at which I shall expect you all to appear.”
He talked glibly, for him, and gave us an outline sketch of his proposed tour. I thought he seemed strangely restless and nervous, and I pitied him.
His ”informal party” was really a noteworthy affair, and the wealth and respectability of the city were well represented. Bessie could not go, on account of the baby, so I acted as escort to Mrs. Pinkerton, who made herself amazingly agreeable. There were not many young people present, and the affair was quiet and genteel in the extreme. Bank presidents, capitalists, professional men, and ”solid” men, with their wives, attired in black silks, formed the majority of the guests. They were Mr.
Desmond's personal friends. My mother-in-law was in congenial company, and I believe she enjoyed the evening remarkably. Most of the conversation turned, very naturally, upon European travel. Americans who are possessed of wealth always have done ”the grand tour,” and they invariably speak of ”Europe” in a general way, as if it were all one country.
”When I returned from my first tour abroad, a friend said to me that he 'supposed it was a fine country over there,'” said Mr. Desmond to me, laughing.
Some one asked him where he had decided to go.