Part 59 (1/2)
”To this absurd charge I at once plead guilty. The venerable lady in question was pa.s.sing through London, where she desired to be free from intrusion. At her ladys.h.i.+p's wish I stated that she was out of town; and would, under the same circ.u.mstances, unhesitatingly make the same statement. Your slight acquaintance with the person in question did not warrant that you should force yourself on her privacy, as you would doubtless know were you more familiar with the customs of the society in which she moves.
”I declare upon my honour as a gentleman, that I gave her the message which I promised to deliver from you, and also that I transmitted a letter with which you entrusted me; and repel with scorn and indignation the charges which you were pleased to bring against me, as I treat with contempt the language and the threats which you thought fit to employ.
”Our books show the amount of xl. xs. xd. to your credit, which you will be good enough to withdraw at your earliest convenience; as of course all intercourse must cease henceforth between you and--Yours, etc.
”B. Newcome Newcome.”
”I think, sir, he doesn't make out a bad case,” Mr. Pendennis remarked to the Colonel, who showed him this majestic letter.
”It would be a good case if I believed a single word of it, Arthur,”
replied my friend, placidly twirling the old grey moustache. ”If you were to say so-and-so, and say that I had brought false charges against you, I should cry mea culpa and apologise with all my heart. But as I have a perfect conviction that every word this fellow says is a lie, what is the use of arguing any more about the matter? I would not believe him if he brought twenty as witnesses, and if he lied till he was black in the other liars' face. Give me the walnuts. I wonder who Sir Barnes's military friend was.”
Barnes's military friend was our gallant acquaintance General Sir George Tufto, K.C.B., who a short while afterwards talked over the quarrel with the Colonel, and manfully told him that (in Sir George's opinion) he was wrong. ”The little beggar behaved very well, I thought, in the first business. You bullied him so, and in the front of his regiment, too, that it was almost past bearing; and when he deplored, with tears in his eyes, almost, the little humbug! that his relations.h.i.+p prevented him calling you out, ecod, I believed him! It was in the second affair that poor little Barnes showed he was a c.o.c.ktail.”
”What second affair?” asked Thomas Newcome.
”Don't you know? He! he! this is famous!” cries Sir George. ”Why, sir, two days after your business, he comes to me with another letter and a face as long as my mare's, by Jove. And that letter, Newcome, was from your young 'un. Stop, here it is!” and from his padded bosom General Sir George Tufto drew a pocket-book, and from the pocket-book a copy of a letter, inscribed, ”Clive Newcome, Esq., to Sir B. N. Newcome.” ”There's no mistake about your fellow, Colonel. No,----him!” and the man of war fired a volley of oaths as a salute to Clive.
And the Colonel, on horseback, riding by the other cavalry officer's side read as follows:--
”George Street, Hanover Square, February 16.
”SIR--Colonel Newcome this morning showed me a letter bearing your signature, in which you state--1. That Colonel Newcome has uttered calumnious and insolent charges against you. 2. That Colonel Newcome so spoke, knowing that you could take no notice of his charges of falsehood and treachery, on account of the relations.h.i.+p subsisting between you.
”Your statements would evidently imply that Colonel Newcome has been guilty of ungentlemanlike conduct, and of cowardice towards you.
”As there can be no reason why we should not meet in any manner that you desire, I here beg leave to state, on my own part, that I fully coincide with Colonel Newcome in his opinion that you have been guilty of falsehood and treachery, and that the charge of cowardice which you dare to make against a gentleman of his tried honour and courage, is another wilful and cowardly falsehood on your part.
”And I hope you will refer the bearer of this note, my friend, Mr.
George Warrington, of the Upper Temple, to the military gentleman whom you consulted in respect to the just charges of Colonel Newcome. Waiting a prompt reply, believe me, sir--Your obedient servant, Clive Newcome.
”Sir Barnes Newcome Newcome, Bart., M. P., etc.”
”What a blunderhead I am!” cries the Colonel, with delight on his countenance, spite of his professed repentance. ”It never once entered my head that the youngster would take any part in the affair. I showed him his cousin's letter casually, just to amuse him, I think, for he has been deuced low lately, about--about a young man's sc.r.a.pe that he has got into. And he must have gone off and despatched his challenge straightway. I recollect he appeared uncommonly brisk at breakfast the next morning. And so you say, General, the Baronet did not like the poulet?”
”By no means; never saw a fellow show such a confounded white feather.
At first I congratulated him, thinking your boy's offer must please him, as it would have pleased any fellow in our time to have a shot.
Dammy! but I was mistaken in my man. He entered into some confounded long-winded story about a marriage you wanted to make with that infernal pretty sister of his, who is going to marry young Farintosh, and how you were in a rage because the scheme fell to the ground, and how a family duel might occasion unpleasantries to Miss Newcome; though I showed him how this could be most easily avoided, and that the lady's name need never appear in the transaction. 'Confound it, Sir Barnes,' says I, 'I recollect this boy, when he was a youngster throwing a gla.s.s of wine in your face! We'll put it upon that, and say it's an old feud between you.' He turned quite pale, and he said your fellow had apologised for the gla.s.s of wine.”
”Yes,” said the Colonel, sadly, ”my boy apologised for the gla.s.s of wine. It is curious how we have disliked that Barnes ever since we set eyes on him.”
”Well, Newcome,” Sir George resumed, as his mettled charger suddenly jumped and curvetted, displaying the padded warrior's cavalry-seat to perfection. ”Quiet, old lady!--easy, my dear! Well, when I found the little beggar turning tail in this way I said to him, 'Dash me, sir, if you don't want me, why the dash do you send for me, dash me? Yesterday you talked as if you would bite the Colonel's head off, and to-day, when his son offers you every accommodation, by dash, sir, you're afraid to meet him. It's my belief you had better send for a policeman. A 22 is your man, Sir Barnes Newcome.' And with that I turned on my heel and left him. And the fellow went off to Newcome that very night.”
”A poor devil can't command courage, General,” said the Colonel, quite peaceably, ”any more than he can make himself six feet high.”
”Then why the dash did the beggar send for me?” called out General Sir George Tufto, in a loud and resolute voice; and presently the two officers parted company.
When the Colonel reached home, Mr. Warrington and Mr. Pendennis happened to be on a visit to Clive, and all three were in the young fellow's painting-room. We knew our lad was unhappy, and did our little best to amuse and console him. The Colonel came in. It was in the dark February days: we lighted the gas in the studio. Clive had made a sketch from some favourite verses of mine and George's: those charming lines of Scott's:--