Part 48 (1/2)

Ella's had been a weary life at Crescent Villas, and she had had much to contend with: the evil tempers of three spoiled children, who resented every word of correction, complained to their weak mother, and enlisted her sympathy; the pettish frivolous complaints of the lady herself; and the bitter knowledge that, according to all appearances, she was being made a screen for the foolish flirting attentions of Max Bray.

At one time she was under the impression that the attentions to Mrs Marter were an excuse for obtaining the entree of the house; but the conduct of Max was so entirely different: he spoke to her so seldom, and then in so quiet and gentlemanly a tone, that, from being watchful and distant, Ella was at length completely thrown off her guard, though there seemed no occasion now for her to trouble herself respecting the visits paid to the house.

Vain to an excess, both Mr and Mrs Marter seemed to approve highly of the visits of so distinguished a leader of the fas.h.i.+on; but Mr Marter had his own ideas upon the subject, telling his lady that it would be a fine thing for Miss Bedford; whereupon the weak little woman nodded and smiled.

To use a very trite expression, there was not the slightest harm in Mrs Marter; but, all the same, she adored incense and the offerings of concert and opera tickets with an escort; when, had it not been for the said escort, she could not have gone, Mr Marter being a man without, so his lady said, a single taste; but all the same we must do Mrs Marter the credit of saying that she would not have stirred an inch to have seen the finest opera in the world without Ella Bedford was of the party; and hence it followed that, willing or no, Ella's visits to places of amus.e.m.e.nt were not very few.

But Ella was far from being at ease in her mind. She foresaw that the present state of things could not last; and during some capricious fit of Mrs Marter, when ill-temper, weakness, and petty annoyance were all employed to make her wretched, she would think that to stay out the year was a sheer impossibility. At such times, too, she would feel convinced that Max Bray was playing a part; so that, in spite of his distant respect, she became more cool and guarded in her behaviour; while, as to leaving, she determined to bear all, telling herself, with a feeling of something like despair, that, go where she would, she must be tracked.

Then her thoughts turned on Charley Vining, whom she knew to have called; and, as she congratulated herself upon having escaped him--upon his having given up the quest in despair--the warm tears fell, and she knew in her heart of hearts that she was bitterly disappointed.

But it was quite right,--it was as matters should be, she thought; and she hastily dashed away the tears, little thinking that letter after letter had been sent to her, to be smiled over by Mrs Marter and Max, as the latter redirected them to the sender, telling Mrs Marter the while that she was doing an act of kindness and thoughtfulness towards the motherless girl looking to her for protection.

In fact, Max Bray most carefully flattered the self-esteem of Mrs Marter, till the foolish little woman felt herself to be a perfect paragon of matronly greatness and virtue. Mr Marter, too, was taken into their confidence upon this matter of Charley Vining's attentions to Ella.

”Of course, Mr and Mrs Marter, you can act as you please; for you see, bai Jove! it would ill become me to be offering advice upon such a matter; but for my part, I should never let him write to her, or see her for a moment. It's a great pity, bai Jove it is, that the young men of the present day have not better aspirations.”

”Quite agree with you, Mr Bray--I do indeed!” said Mr Marter, while his lady smiled her approbation.

”You see, bai Jove! it hardly becomes me, as a near neighbour, to say anything against Vining: but I know as a fact that he worried the poor girl till she was obliged to leave Mrs Brandon's, the lady's, you know, where she went to last; and when a man has behaved, bai Jove! shabbily to another man's own sister, bai Jove! it's enough to make another man speak!”

”Very true, Mr Bray--very true. I quite agree with you,” said Mr Marter, in a satisfied air.

”But, there, bai Jove! don't let me come hyar dictating to you. It's like my dooced confounded impudence to say a word. I'm only too grateful to find a welcome, and a little refined female society; for to a man situated as I am, London is a very dreary place. One can get amongst set after set of fellows, and into plenty of inane fas.h.i.+onable drawing-rooms; but, bai Jove! Mr Marter, that isn't the sort of thing, if I may be allowed to say so, that a man of soul thirsts after. He wants something to satisfy his brain--something that when he's spent an evening, he can go and lay his head down upon his pillow, bai Jove! and say to himself, 'Look here, bai Jove! old fellow: you've been out this evening; you've been in refined and improving society; and, bai Jove!

here you are, just as you ought to be at the end of another day--a better man, bai Jove!'”

”Ah, Saint Clair,” sighed Mrs Marter, ”if you could only say that of a night!”

”To be sure,” said Max, ”mai dear fellow, you've no idea how much better you feel--you haven't indeed; but, bai Jove! we must change the conversation.”

With all due modesty on his part, Max changed the conversation; for just then Ella, in obedience to orders, entered the room, playing pianoforte piece after piecer till the hour for Mr Bray's departure, when--was she deceived? or was that a quiet firm pressure of the hand he was bestowing upon her at parting?

The next minute he had gone, and Ella felt a strange s.h.i.+ver pa.s.s through her; for if there had been any mistake about the pressure of the hand, there could have been none concerning the look which followed.

”Bai Jove!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Max, as he sought a cab on his departure, ”how confoundedly slow! But it's nearly ripe at last!”

Then to make up for the slowness, Max Bray had himself driven to a highly genteel tavern in Saint James's, where the society was decidedly fast; so that, on returning about three to his apartments, and laying his head upon his pillow, the slow and the fast society must have balanced one another; for he snored very pleasantly, no doubt feeling a better man, bai Jove!

Volume 3, Chapter XIII.

RATHER CLOSE.

”Bai Jove, Mrs Marter, it does a man good to see you,” said Max Bray, sauntering one afternoon into the Marter drawing-room, carefully dressed, as a matter of course, and with a choice Covent-garden exotic in his b.u.t.ton-hole. ”I declare it makes one quite disgusted with the flowers one buys, it does, bai Jove!” and then showing his white teeth, he raised her hand, touched the extreme tips of her nails with his lips, and then resigned the hand, which fell gracefully upon the side of the couch. ”Bai Jove, Marter, I envy you--I do, bai Jove! You're one of the lucky ones of this earth, only you don't know it: feast of reason, flow of soul, and all that sort of thing's blooming, if I may say so, upon your own premises.”

”I'm sure,” simpered Mrs Marter, ”there ought to be a new official made at the palace--Court flatterer--and Mr Bray given the post.”

”Wouldn't be amiss, if there was a good salary,” said Mr Marter, looking up from his newspaper.

”Bai Jove, now, that's too bad--'tis indeed, bai Jove! There are some of you people get so hardened by contact with the world, that, bai Jove!

you've no more faith in a fler's sincerity than if there wasn't such a thing to be found anywhere.”