Part 19 (1/2)

”A great coa.r.s.e creature like that! I never could understand you....

Have you heard of Lily Young lately?”

Mike's face fell.

”No,” he said, ”I have not. She is the only woman I ever loved. I would sooner see her than the green cloth. I really believe I love that girl. Somehow I cannot forget her.”

”Well, come and see her to-day. Take your eyes off that disgusting harlot.”

”No, not to-day,” he replied, without removing his eyes. Five minutes after he said, ”Very well, I will go. I must see her.”

The waiter was called, the bill was paid, a hansom was hailed, and they were rolling westward. In the pleasure of this little expedition, Mike's rankling animosity was almost forgotten. He said--

”I love this drive west; I love to see London opening up, as it were, before the wheels of the hansom--Trafalgar Square, the Clubs, Pall Mall, St. James' Street, Piccadilly, the descent, and then the gracious ascent beneath the trees. You see how I antic.i.p.ate it all.”

”Do you remember that morning when Lady Helen committed suicide? What did you think of my article?”

”I didn't see it. I should have liked to have written about it; but you said that I wouldn't write feelingly.”

Mrs. Young hardly rose from her sofa; but she welcomed them in plaintive accents. Lily showed less astonishment and pleasure at seeing him than Mike expected. She was talking to a lady, who was subsequently discovered to be the wife of a strange fat man, who, in his character of Orientalist, squatted upon the lowest seat in the room, and wore a velvet turban on his head, a voluminous overcoat circulating about him.

”As I said to Lady Hazeldean last night--I hope Mr. Gladstone did not hear me, he was talking to Lady Engleton Dixon about divorce, I really hope he did not hear me--but I really couldn't help saying that I thought it would be better if he believed less in the divorce of nations, even if I may not add that he might with advantage believe more in the divorce of persons not suited to each other.”

When the conversation turned on Arabi, which it never failed to do in this house, the perfume-burners that had been presented to her and Mr. Young on their triumphal tour were pointed out.

”I telegraphed to Dilke,” said Sir Joseph, ”'You must not hang that man.' And when Mrs. Young accused him of not taking sufficient interest in Africa, he said--'My dear Mrs. Young, I not interested in Africa! You forget what I have done for Africa; how I have laboured for Africa. I shall not believe in the synthesis of humanity, nor will it be complete, till we get the black votes.'”

”Mr. Young and Lord Granville used to have such long discussions about Buddhism, and it always used to end in Mr. Young sending a copy of your book to Lord Granville.”

”A very great distinction for me--a very great distinction for me,”

murmured Buddha; and allowing Mrs. Young to relieve him of his tea-cup, he said--”and now, Mrs. Young, I want to ask for your support and co-operation in a little scheme--a little scheme which I have been nouris.h.i.+ng like a rose in my bosom for some years.”

Sir Joseph raised his voice; and it was not until he had imposed silence on his wife that he consented to unfold his little scheme.

Then the fat man explained that in a certain province in Cylone (a name of six syllables) there was a temple, and this temple had belonged in the sixth century to a tribe of Buddhists (a name of seven syllables), and this temple had in the eighth century been taken from the Buddhists by a tribe of Brahmins (a name of eight syllables).

”And not being Mr. Gladstone,” said Sir Joseph, ”I do not propose to dispossess the Brahmins without compensation. I am merely desirous that the Brahmins should be bought out by the Indian Government at a cost of a hundred and fifty or two hundred thousand. If this were done the number of pilgrims to this holy shrine would be doubled, and the best results would follow.”

”Oh, Mrs. Jellaby, where art thou?” thought Mike, and he boldly took advantage of the elaborate preparations that were being made for Sir Joseph to write his name on a fan, to move round the table and take a seat by Lily.

But Frank's patience was exhausted, and he rose to leave.

”People wonder at the genius of Shakespeare! I must say the stupidity of the ordinary man surprises me far more,” said Mike.

”I'm a poor man to-day,” said Frank, ”but I would give 25 to have had d.i.c.kens with us--fancy walking up Piccadilly with him afterwards!

”Now I must go,” he said. ”Lizzie is waiting for me. I'll see you to-morrow,” he cried, and drove away.

”Just fancy having to look after her, having to attend to her wants, having to leave a friend and return home to dine with her in a small room! How devilish pleasant it is to be free!--to say, 'Where shall I dine?' and to be able to answer, 'Anywhere.' But it is too early to dine, and too late to play whist. d.a.m.n it! I don't know what to do with myself.”