Part 25 (1/2)

The Miss Vernons' father had an only and a younger brother, who at an early age had embarked for the East, in the civil service. He had acquired great wealth, and, after a residence of twenty-five years in the Bengal Presidency, had returned to England a confirmed bachelor, and a wealthy nabob. His brother died, while Mr. Benjamin Vernon was on his pa.s.sage home. He arrived in England, and found himself a stranger in his native land.

He shouldered his cane through Regent Street, and wandered in the Quadrant's shade;--and in spite of the novelties that every where met him--in spite of cabs and plated gla.s.s--felt perfectly isolated and miserable.

It is true, his Indian friends found him out at the Burlington, and their cards adorned his mantelpiece--for Mr. Benjamin Vernon was said to be worth a plum, and to be on the look out for a vacancy in the Directory.

But although these were indisputably his Indian friends, it appeared to Mr. Vernon, that they were no longer his friends of India. They seemed to him to live in a constant state of unnatural excitement.

_Some_ prided themselves on being stars in fas.h.i.+on's gayest circle--others, whom he had hardly known, _were_ fathers--for their families were educating in England---he now found surrounded by children, on whose provision they were wholly intent.

These were off at a tangent, ”to see Peter Auber, at the India House,”

or, ”could not wait an instant; they were to meet Josh: Alexander precisely at two.”

And then their flippant sons! taking wine with him, forsooth--adjusting their neckcloths--and asking ”whether he had met their father at Madras or Calcutta?”

This to a true Bengalee!

Nor was this all!

The young renegades ate their curry with a knife!

Others, from whom he had parted years before, shook hands with him at the Oriental, as if his presence there was a matter of course; and then asked him ”what he thought of Stanley's speech?”

Now, there are few men breathing, who have their sympathies so keenly alive--who show and who look for, such warmth of heart---who are so chilled and hurt by indifference--as your bachelor East Indian.

The married one may solace himself for coldness abroad, by sunny smiles at home;--but the friendless bachelor is sick at heart, unless he encounter a hearty pressure of the hand--an eye that sparkles, as it catches his--an interested listener to his thousand and one tales of Oriental scenes, and of Oriental good fellows.h.i.+p.

Mr. Benjamin Vernon soon found this London solitude--it was worse than solitude--quite insupportable.

He determined to visit his brother's widow, and left town for Leamington.

The brother-in-law felt more than gratified at the cordial welcome that there met him.

His heart responded to their tones of kindness, and the old Indian, in the warmth of his grat.i.tude, thought he had at length discovered a congenial home. He plunged into the extreme of dangerous intimacy; and was soon domiciled in Mrs. Vernon's small mansion.

It is absurd what trifles can extinguish friends.h.i.+ps, and estrange affection. Mr. Vernon had always had the controul of his hours--loved his hookah, and his after-dinner dose.

His brother's widow was an amiable person, but a great deal too independent, to humour any person's foibles.

She liked activity, and disliked smoking; and was too matter-of-fact in her ideas, to conceive that these indulgences, merely from force of habit, might have now become absolute necessities.

Mrs. Vernon first used arguments; which were listened to very patiently, and as systematically disregarded.

As she thought she knew her ground better, she would occasionally secrete the hookah, and indulge in eloquent discourse, on the injurious effects, and waste of time, that the said hookah entailed.

Nor could the old man enjoy in peace, his evening slumber.

One of his nieces was always ready to shake him by the elbow, and address him with an expostulatory ”Oh! dear uncle!” which, though delivered with silvery voice, seemed to him deuced provoking.