Part 84 (1/2)

”I could not dare,” he said, ”to handle all that gorgeous drapery of lace. You were dressed up then for an exhibition. You look now as my wife ought to look.”

”It had to be done, Llwddythlw.”

”I make no complaint, dearest. I only say that I like you better as you are, as a girl to kiss, and to embrace, and to talk to, and to make my own.” Then she curtsied to him prettily, and kissed him again; and after that they walked out arm-in-arm down to the carriage.

There were many carriages drawn up within the quadrangle of which the Foreign Office forms a part, but the carriage which was to take the bride and the bridegroom away was allowed a door to itself,--at any rate till such time as they should have been taken away. An effort had been made to keep the public out of the quadrangle; but as the duties of the four Secretaries of State could not be suspended, and as the great gates are supposed to make a public thoroughfare, this could only be done to a certain extent. The crowd, no doubt, was thicker out in Downing Street, but there were very many standing within the square. Among these there was one, beautifully arrayed in frock coat and yellow gloves, almost as though he himself was prepared for his own wedding. When Lord Llwddythlw brought Lady Amaldina out from the building and handed her into the carriage, and when the husband and wife had seated themselves, the well-dressed individual raised his hat from his head, and greeted them. ”Long life and happiness to the bride of Castle Hautboy!” said he at the top of his voice. Lady Amaldina could not but see the man, and, recognizing him, she bowed.

It was Crocker,--the irrepressible Crocker. He had been also in the church. The narrator and he had managed to find standing room in a back pew under one of the galleries. Now would he be able to say with perfect truth that he had been at the wedding, and had received a parting salute from the bride; whom he had known through so many years of her infancy. He probably did believe that he was ent.i.tled to count the future d.u.c.h.ess of Merioneth among his intimate friends.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CROCKER'S TALE.

A thing difficult to get is the thing mostly prized, not the thing that is valuable. Two or three additional Kimberley mines found somewhere among the otherwise uninteresting plains of South Africa would bring down the price of diamonds amazingly. It could hardly have been the beauty, or the wit, or the accomplishments of Clara Demijohn which caused Mr. Tribbledale to triumph so loudly and with so genuine an exultation, telling all Broad Street of his success, when he had succeeded in winning the bride who had once promised herself to Crocker. Were it not that she had all but slipped through his fingers he would never surely have thought her to be worthy of such a paean. Had she come to his first whistle he might have been contented enough,--as are other ordinary young men with their ordinary young women. He would probably have risen to no enthusiasm of pa.s.sion. But as things had gone he was as another Paris who had torn a Helen from her Menelaus,--only in this case an honest Paris, with a correct Helen, and from a Menelaus who had not as yet made good his claim. But the subject was worthy of another Iliad, to be followed by another aeneid. By his bow and his spear he had torn her from the arms of a usurping lover, and now made her all his own. Another man would have fainted and abandoned the contest, when rejected as he had been. But he had continued the fight, even when lying low on the dust of the arena. He had nailed his flag to the mast when all his rigging had been cut away;--and at last he had won the battle. Of course his Clara was doubly dear to him, having been made his own after such difficulties as these.

”I'm not one of those who easily give way in an affair of the heart,”

he said to Mr. Littlebird, the junior partner in the firm, when he told that gentleman of his engagement.

”So I perceive, Mr. Tribbledale.”

”When a man has set his affection on a young lady,--that is, his real affection,--he ought to stick to it,--or die.” Mr. Littlebird, who was the happy father of three or four married and marriageable daughters, opened his eyes with surprise. The young men who had come after his young ladies had been pressing enough, but they had not died. ”Or die!” repeated Tribbledale. ”It is what I should have done.

Had she become Mrs. Crocker, I should never again have been seen in the Court,”--”the Court” was the little alley in which Pogson and Littlebird's office was held,--”unless they had brought my dead body here to be identified.” He was quite successful in his enthusiasm.

Though Mr. Littlebird laughed when he told the story to Mr. Pogson, not the less did they agree to raise his salary to 160 on and from the day of his marriage.

”Yes, Mr. Fay,” he said to the poor old Quaker, who had lately been so broken by his sorrow as hardly to be as much master of Tribbledale as he used to be, ”I have no doubt I shall be steady now. If anything can make a young man steady it is--success in love.”

”I hope thou wilt be happy, Mr. Tribbledale.”

”I shall be happy enough now. My heart will be more in the business,--what there isn't of it at any rate with that dear creature in our mutual home at Islington. It was lucky about his having taken those lodgings, because Clara had got as it were used to them. And there are one or two things, such as a clock and the like, which need not be moved. If anything ever should happen to you, Mr. Fay, Pogson and Littlebird will find me quite up to the business.”

”Something will happen some day, no doubt,” said the Quaker.

On one occasion Lord Hampstead was in the Court having a word to say to Marion's father, or, perhaps, a word to hear. ”I'm sure you'll excuse me, my lord,” said Tribbledale, following him out of the office.

”Oh, yes,” said Hampstead, with a smile,--for he had been there often enough to have made some acquaintance with the junior clerk. ”If there be anything I can do for you, I will do it willingly.”

”Only just to congratulate me, my lord. You have heard of--Crocker?”

Lord Hampstead owned that he had heard of Crocker. ”He has been interfering with me in the tenderest of parts.” Lord Hampstead looked serious. ”There is a young woman”--the poor victim frowned, he knew not why; but remitted his frown and smiled again; ”who had promised herself to me. Then that rude a.s.sailant came and upset all my joy.”

Here, as the narrator paused, Lord Hampstead owned to himself that he could not deny the truth of the description. ”Perhaps,” continued Tribbledale,--”perhaps you have seen Clara Demijohn.” Lord Hampstead could not remember having been so fortunate. ”Because I am aware that your steps have wandered in the way of Paradise Row.” Then there came the frown again,--and then the smile. ”Well;--perhaps it may be that a more perfect form of feminine beauty may be ascribed to another.”

This was intended as a compliment, more civil than true, paid to Marion Fay on Lord Hampstead's behalf. ”But for a combination of chast.i.ty and tenderness I don't think you can easily beat Clara Demijohn.” Lord Hampstead bowed, as showing his readiness to believe such a statement coming from so good a judge. ”For awhile the interloper prevailed. Interlopers do prevail;--such is the female heart. But the true rock shows itself always at last. She is the true rock on which I have built the castle of my happiness.”

”Then I may congratulate you, Mr. Tribbledale.”

”Yes;--and not only that, my lord. But Crocker is nowhere. You must own that there is a triumph in that. There was a time! Oh! how I felt it. There was a time when he triumphed; when he talked of 'my Clara,'

as though I hadn't a chance. He's up a tree now, my lord. I thought I'd just tell you as you are so friendly, coming among us, here, my lord!” Lord Hampstead again congratulated him, and expressed a hope that he might be allowed to send the bride a small present.