Part 56 (1/2)

There is a vast deal of character in the way that a man performs that operation of shaving! You should have seen Richard Avenel shave! You could have judged at once how he would shave his neighbours, when you saw the celerity, the completeness with which he shaved himself,--a forestroke and a backstroke, and tondenti barba cadebat. Cheek and chin were as smooth as gla.s.s. You would have b.u.t.toned up your pockets instinctively if you had seen him.

But the rest of Mr. Avenel's toilet was not completed with correspondent despatch. On his bed, and on his chairs, and on his sofa, and on his drawers, lay trousers and vests and cravats enough to distract the choice of a Stoic. And first one pair of trousers was tried on, and then another--and one waistcoat, and then a second, and then a third.

Gradually that chef-d'oeuvre of civilization--a man dressed--grew into development and form; and, finally, Mr. Richard Avenel emerged into the light of day. He had been lucky in his costume,--he felt it. It might not suit every one in colour or cut, but it suited him.

And this was his garb. On such occasion, what epic poet would not describe the robe and tunic of a hero?

His surtout--in modern phrase his frockcoat--was blue, a rich blue, a blue that the royal brothers of George the Fourth were wont to favour.

And the surtout, single-breasted, was thrown open gallantly; and in the second b.u.t.ton-hole thereof was a moss-rose. The vest was white, and the trousers a pearl gray, with what tailors style ”a handsome fall over the boot.” A blue and white silk cravat, tied loose and debonair; an ample field of s.h.i.+rt front, with plain gold studs; a pair of lemon-coloured kid gloves, and a white hat, placed somewhat too knowingly on one side, complete the description, and ”give the world a.s.surance of the man.”

And, with his light, firm, well-shaped figure, his clear complexion, his keen, bright eye, and features that bespoke the courage, precision, and alertness of his character,--that is to say, features bold, not large, well-defined, and regular,--you might walk long through town or country before you would see a handsomer specimen of humanity than our friend Richard Avenel.

Handsome, and feeling that he was handsome; rich, and feeling that he was rich; lord of the fete, and feeling that he was lord of the fete, Richard Avenel stepped out upon his lawn.

And now the dust began to rise along the road, and carriages and gigs and chaises and flies might be seen at near intervals and in quick procession. People came pretty much about the same time-as they do in the country--Heaven reward them for it!

Richard Avenel was not quite at his ease at first in receiving his guests, especially those whom he did not know by sight. But when the dancing began, and he had secured the fair hand of Mrs. M'Catchley for the initiary quadrille, his courage and presence of mind returned to him; and, seeing that many people whom he had not received at all seemed to enjoy themselves very much, he gave up the attempt to receive those who came after,--and that was a great relief to all parties.

Meanwhile Leonard looked on the animated scene with a silent melancholy, which he in vain endeavoured to shake off,--a melancholy more common amongst very young men in such scenes than we are apt to suppose.

Somehow or other, the pleasure was not congenial to him; he had no Mrs.

M'Catchley to endear it; he knew very few people, he was shy, he felt his position with his uncle was equivocal, he had not the habit of society, he heard, incidentally, many an ill-natured remark upon his uncle and the entertainment, he felt indignant and mortified. He had been a great deal happier eating his radishes and reading his book by the little fountain in Riccabocca's garden. He retired to a quiet part of the grounds, seated himself under a tree, leaned his cheek on his hand, and mused. He was soon far away;--happy age, when, whatever the present, the future seems so fair and so infinite!

But now the dejeune had succeeded the earlier dances; and, as champagne flowed royally, it is astonis.h.i.+ng how the entertainment brightened.

The sun was beginning to slope towards the west, when, during a temporary cessation of the dance, all the guests had a.s.sembled in such s.p.a.ce as the tent left on the lawn, or thickly filled the walks immediately adjoining it. The gay dresses of the ladies, the joyous laughter heard everywhere, and the brilliant sunlight over all, conveyed even to Leonard the notion, not of mere hypocritical pleasure, but actual healthful happiness. He was attracted from his revery, and timidly mingled with the groups. But Richard Avenel, with the fair Mrs.

M'Catchley--her complexion more vivid, and her eyes more dazzling, and her step more elastic than usual--had turned from the gayety just as Leonard had turned towards it, and was now on the very spot (remote, obscure, shaded by the few trees above five years old that Mr. Avenel's property boasted) which the young dreamer had deserted.

And then! Ah, then! moment so meet for the sweet question of questions, place so appropriate for the delicate, bashful, murmured popping thereof!--suddenly from the sward before, from the groups beyond, there floated to the ears of Richard Avenel an indescribable, mingled, ominous sound,--a sound as of a general t.i.tter, a horrid, malignant, but low cachinnation. And Mrs. M'Catchley, stretching forth her parasol, exclaimed, ”Dear me, Mr. Avenel, what can they be all crowding there for?”

There are certain sounds and certain sights--the one indistinct, the other vaguely conjecturable--which, nevertheless, we know, by an instinct, bode some diabolical agency at work in our affairs. And if any man gives an entertainment, and hears afar a general, ill-suppressed, derisive t.i.tter, and sees all his guests hurrying towards one spot, I defy him to remain unmoved and uninquisitive. I defy him still more to take that precise occasion (however much he may have before designed it) to drop gracefully on his right knee before the handsomest Mrs.

M'Catchley in the universe, and--pop the question! Richard Avenel blurted out something very like an oath; and, half guessing that something must have happened that it would not be pleasing to bring immediately under the notice of Mrs. M'Catchley, he said hastily, ”Excuse me. I'll just go and see what is the matter; pray, stay till I come back.” With that he sprang forward; in a minute he was in the midst of the group, that parted aside with the most obliging complacency to make way for him.

”But what's the matter?” he asked impatiently, yet fearfully. Not a voice answered. He strode on, and beheld his nephew in the arms of a woman!

”G.o.d bless my soul!” said Richard Avenel.

CHAPTER XVIII.

And such a woman!

She had on a cotton gown,--very neat, I dare say, for an under-housemaid; and such thick shoes! She had on a little black straw bonnet; and a kerchief, that might have cost tenpence, pinned across her waist instead of a shawl; and she looked altogether-respectable, no doubt, but exceedingly dusty! And she was hanging upon Leonard's neck, and scolding, and caressing, and crying very loud. ”G.o.d bless my soul!”

said Mr. Richard Avenel.

And as he uttered that innocent self-benediction, the woman hastily turned round, and darting from Leonard, threw herself right upon Richard Avenel--burying under her embrace blue-coat, moss rose, white waistcoat and all--with a vehement sob and a loud exclamation!

”Oh! brother d.i.c.k!--dear, dear brother d.i.c.k! And I lives to see thee agin!” And then came two such kisses--you might have heard them a mile off! The situation of brother d.i.c.k was appalling; and the crowd, that had before only t.i.ttered politely, could not now resist the effect of this sudden embrace. There was a general explosion! It was a roar! That roar would have killed a weak man; but it sounded to the strong heart of Richard Avenel like the defiance of a foe, and it plucked forth in an instant from all conventional let and barrier the native spirit of the Anglo-Saxon.