Part 27 (2/2)
They were the young Clevelands. With what miraculous quickness will man shake off the outward semblance of grief when his sorrow is a secret!
The mighty merchant, who knows that in four-and-twenty hours the world must be astounded by his insolvency, will walk in the front of his confident creditor as if he were the lord of a thousand argosies; the meditating suicide will smile on the arm of a companion as if to breathe in this sunny world were the most ravis.h.i.+ng and rapturous bliss. We cling to our stations in our fellow-creatures' minds and memories; we know too well the frail tenure on which we are in this world great and considered personages. Experience makes us shrink from the specious sneer of sympathy; and when we are ourselves falling, bitter Memory whispers that we have ourselves been neglectful.
And so it was that even unto these infants Vivian Grey dared not appear other than a gay and easy-hearted man; and in a moment he was dancing them on his knee, and playing with their curls, and joining in their pretty prattle, and pressing their small and fragrant lips.
It was night when he paced down--. He pa.s.sed his club; that club to become a member of which had once been the object of his high ambition, and to gain which privilege had cost such hours of canva.s.sing, such interference of n.o.ble friends, and the incurring of favours from so many people, ”which never could be forgotten!”
A desperate feeling actuated him, and he entered the Club-house. He walked into the great saloon and met some fifty ”most particular friends,” all of whom asked him ”how the Marquess did,” or ”have you seen Cleveland?” and a thousand other as comfortable queries. At length, to avoid these disagreeable rencontres, and indeed to rest himself, he went to a smaller and more private room. As he opened the door his eyes lighted upon Cleveland.
He was standing with his back to the fire. There were only two other persons in the room; one was a friend of Cleveland's, and the other an acquaintance of Vivian's. The latter was writing at the table.
When Vivian saw Cleveland he would have retired, but he was bid to ”come in” in a voice of thunder.
As he entered he instantly perceived that Cleveland was under the influence of wine. When in this situation, unlike other men, Mr.
Cleveland's conduct was not distinguished by any of the little improprieties of behaviour by which a man is always known by his friends ”to be very drunk.” He neither reeled, nor hiccuped, nor grew maudlin.
The effect of drinking upon him was only to increase the intensity of the sensation by which his mind was at the moment influenced. He did not even lose the consciousness of ident.i.ty of persons. At this moment it was clear to Vivian that Cleveland was under the influence of the extremest pa.s.sion; his eyes rolled wildly, and seemed fixed only upon vacancy. As Vivian was no friend to scenes before strangers he bowed to the two gentlemen and saluted Cleveland with his wonted cordiality; but his proffered hand was rudely repelled.
”Away!” exclaimed Cleveland, in a furious tone; ”I have no friends.h.i.+p for traitors.”
The two gentlemen stared, and the pen of the writer stopped.
”Cleveland!” said Vivian, in an earnest whisper, as he came up close to him; ”for G.o.d's sake contain yourself. I have written you a letter which explains all; but--”
”Out! out upon you. Out upon your honied words and your soft phrases! I have been their dupe too long;” and he struck Vivian.
”Sir John Poynings!” said Vivian, with a quivering lip, turning to the gentleman who was writing at the table, ”we were school-fellows; circ.u.mstances have prevented us from meeting often in after-life; but I now ask you, with the frankness of an old acquaintance, to do me the sad service of accompanying me in this quarrel, a quarrel which I call Heaven to witness is not of my seeking.”
The Baronet, who was in the Guards, and although a great dandy, quite a man of business in these matters, immediately rose from his seat and led Vivian to a corner of the room. After some whispering he turned round to Mr. Cleveland, and bowed to him with a very significant look. It was evident that Cleveland comprehended his meaning, for, though he was silent, he immediately pointed to the other gentleman, his friend, Mr.
Castleton.
”Mr. Castleton,” said Sir John, giving his card, ”Mr. Grey will accompany me to my rooms in Pall Mall; it is now ten o'clock; we shall wait two hours, in which time I hope to hear from you. I leave time, and place, and terms to yourself. I only wish it to be understood that it is the particular desire of my princ.i.p.al that the meeting should be as speedy as possible.”
About eleven o'clock the communication from Mr. Castleton arrived. It was quite evident that Cleveland was sobered, for in one instance Vivian observed that the style was corrected by his own hand. The hour was eight the next morning, at ---- Common, about six miles from town.
Poynings wrote to a professional friend to be on the ground at half-past seven, and then he and Vivian retired.
Did you ever fight a duel? No? nor send a challenge either? Well! you are fresh, indeed! 'Tis an awkward business, after all, even for the boldest. After an immense deal of negotiation, and giving your opponent every opportunity of coming to an honourable understanding, the fatal letter is at length signed, sealed, and sent. You pa.s.s your mornings at your second's apartments, pacing his drawing-room with a quivering lip and uncertain step. At length he enters with an answer; and while he reads you endeavour to look easy, with a countenance merry with the most melancholy smile. You have no appet.i.te for dinner, but you are too brave not to appear at table; and you are called out after the second gla.s.s by the arrival of your solicitor, who comes to alter your will. You pa.s.s a restless night, and rise in the morning as bilious as a Bengal general.
Urged by impending fate, you make a desperate effort to accommodate matters; but in the contest between your pride and your terror you at the same time prove that you are a coward and fail in the negotiation.
You both fire and miss, and then the seconds interfere, and then you shake hands: everything being arranged in the most honourable manner and to the mutual satisfaction of both parties. The next day you are seen pacing Bond Street with an erect front and a flas.h.i.+ng eye, with an air at once dandyish and heroical, a mixture at the same time of Brummell and the Duke of Wellington.
It was a fine February morning. Sir John drove Vivian to the ground in his cabriolet.
”Nothing like a cab, Grey, for the business you are going on: you glide along the six miles in such style that it actually makes you quite courageous. I remember once going down, on a similar purpose, in a post and pair, and 'pon my soul, when I came to the ground, my hand shook so that I could scarcely draw. But I was green then. Now, when I go in my cab, with Philidor with his sixteen-mile-an-hour paces, egad! I wing my man in a trice; and take all the parties home to Pall Mall, to celebrate the event with a grilled bone, Havannahs, and Regent's punch. Ah! there!
that is Cleveland that we have just pa.s.sed, going to the ground in a chariot: he is a dead man, or my name is not Poynings.”
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