Part 28 (1/2)
So her letter was written and posted, Mrs. Lascelles never doubting that the recipient would answer it in person ere three hours had elapsed. But when the clock struck again and again, when luncheon pa.s.sed without his appearance, and the summer afternoon waned, bringing no Mr. Goldthred, Mrs. Lascelles could not decide whether she felt most hurt, vexed, angry, disappointed, or distressed.
No doubt, if he had known such a letter was coming, he would have ignored other business without scruple, and remained at home to receive it all day; but Goldthred had left his own house for the City directly after breakfast, having no intention of returning to dress for dinner, because he had cut out for himself some fifteen hours' work that he must get through in less than twelve.
Of this task, the hardest part, in his estimation, was the entertainment of a large and rather _loud_ party he had invited to dine with him at Greenwich. From these friends he felt there would be no escape till eleven o'clock at night.
It will be remembered that Goldthred, in an hour of exuberant feeling, had tried to organise a pic-nic, which unfortunately fell through from the inability to attend of those he was most anxious to invite. In such cases, however, some responsibility is almost always incurred by the adhesion of a few less important guests, who must nevertheless be provided with food and amus.e.m.e.nt, though the others are unable to come.
For Goldthred, indeed, there was no difficulty in subst.i.tuting with these makeweights a Greenwich dinner-party for a Maidenhead pic-nic.
Stray men were soon recruited to fill up the necessary complement.
Failing ladies of higher calibre, Mrs. Battersea and Kate Cremorne were persuaded to enliven the gathering with their beauty, their dresses, and their mirth. Picard, who was glad of any scheme to take him away from Frank Vanguard, in that officer's present state of perturbation, agreed to drive them all down on his coach; and thus it fell out that Goldthred, with his heart rather sore about Mrs. Lascelles, little dreaming a letter from her was at that moment lying on his table, found himself sitting, in a glare of suns.h.i.+ne, by an open window, overlooking the river, between Mrs. Battersea and Kate Cremorne.
Two or three hot waiters were bringing in as many dishes, with imposing covers, that would have served for a burlesque feast in a pantomime.
Shawls, fans, hats, parasols, and overcoats, lay scattered about the room; men lounged and straddled in uncomfortabe att.i.tudes, as not knowing how to dispose of their limbs and persons; a confusion of many tongues prevailed; and above the babble rose Mrs. Battersea's voice, clear, shrill, and dominant, like the steam-whistle of a railway through the puffing diapason of the engine and continuous roar of the advancing train.
”I vote against waiting,” dictated that imperious lady, when the probability was hazarded of a fresh batch of guests arriving later.
”Never wait dinner for anybody, particularly at Greenwich. Now, Mr.
Goldthred, don't be shy, take the top of the table. I'll sit by you here. Kate, support him on the other side. Sir Henry, come next me. I won't have you by Kate. I know what you're going to say--you'd rather be close to me, and have her to look at. I'm so tired of those old compliments. I wish men would find out something new! _Rangez vous, Messieurs! Le jeu est fait. Rien n'va plus!_”
”_Rouge gagne, et couleur_,” whispered Sir Henry Hallaton, with a glance at Mrs. Battersea's brilliant complexion and toilette to match, accompanied by a jerk of his elbow in his next neighbour's ribs. The latter, who had never been to Baden or Homburg, and whose French was that of ”Stratford-atte-Bow,” did not the least understand, so laughed heartily, and Sir Henry set him down in his own mind as ”a pleasant young fellow, with a great idea of fun.” The baronet had turned up at this gathering, as he generally did turn up wherever gaiety and absence of restraint were likely to prevail. Notwithstanding his better reason and his good resolutions, he was fast drifting down the stream of easy self-indulgence, which sooner or later carries a man so helplessly out to sea.
He had now struck up a close alliance with Picard, whereby that scheming adventurer hoped he might win his way into Helen's good graces, and so attain a certain standing-point in society, from which to push his fortunes with a daring energy that ought to command success. Sir Henry could not, or would not, see the false position in which he placed himself by affecting such terms of intimacy with such a man.
The dinner was good enough, and to Goldthred seemed almost interminable, although exerting himself to do his duty towards his guests; he reaped a reward by gradually sliding into amus.e.m.e.nt in their conversation, and before the devilled whitebait came on, began even to interest himself in their society. The latter sentiment was due to the good feeling of Miss Cremorne, who, guessing her host was somewhat overweighted by his company, and altogether depressed in spirits, exerted herself very successfully to cheer him up, and bring him, as she expressed it, ”out of the downs.”
Kate did not miscalculate her own powers; indeed few men could have long resisted her low pleasant tones, kindly glances, and soft, sympathising manner; for notwithstanding high spirits, high courage, high temper, and sometimes high words, she could be gentle on occasion, and when Kate _was_ gentle, she became simply irresistible.
Neglecting a dandy on her right, who accepted that calamity with the utmost philosophy, she devoted herself to Goldthred, till they grew so confidential, that when dinner was over, he brought his coffee-cup and cigar to a little corner she had purposely reserved by her side on the balcony. She was so unused to shyness amongst men, there was something so different from all her previous experience of his s.e.x in Goldthred's simple, honest nature, homely though courteous manner, and utter absence of pretension, that she positively felt interested in him, and Miss Cremorne was the last young person in the world to be ashamed of the sentiment, or afraid to exhibit it.
”Why don't you offer me a cigar?” said she, with a killing glance that would have finished any other man in the room on the spot.
”You shall have a dozen,” he answered, pulling out a well-filled case in some confusion. ”I really didn't know you smoked.”
”No more I do,” she replied, laughing, ”except sometimes a very tiny cigarette. No; I don't want one now; but that's no reason you shouldn't offer it. Don't you know, Mr. Goldthred, that with ladies you should always take the initiative?”
”It's so difficult,” he answered doubtfully, sliding into the corner by her side. ”One is never sure how far one ought to go, and I have the greatest horror of being a bore.”
”There you're wrong,” decided Kate;--”women _like_ bores. For the matter of that, so does everybody. Who are the people that get on in society?
Bores. Who manage your clubs, your race-meetings, your amus.e.m.e.nts?
Bores. Who make the best marriages, keep the best houses, and insist on having all the pleasant people to dance attendance on them?
Bores--bores--bores! They are in the majority, they have the upper hand, and they mean to keep it. Shall I tell you why? A bore is always in earnest; the more in earnest the greater bore! Have I made out my case?”
”At least you have given me a claim to bore _you_,” said Goldthred laughing.
”And _without_ being in earnest,” she replied; ”though I think you could be very much in earnest with some people. That's why I'm interested in you. That's why I'm going to give you a piece of advice. There is an English proverb I need not repeat about 'a faint heart.' There is a French one more to the purpose, I think in your case, 'il faut se faire valoir.' Now, you mustn't flirt with me any longer. You'll hear of it again if you do, and two of my admirers are looking as black as thunder already. Go and circulate among your guests, but don't forget my advice, and good luck to you!”
_Il faut se faire valoir._ The words rang in his ears all the evening--through the bustle of breaking up, the noisy departure, the chatter, and clatter, and hurry of the drive back to London--the very wheels seemed to tell it over and over in monotonous refrain, and ere Goldthred was set down at his own door, this sentence and its meaning seemed indelibly impressed on his brain.