Part 55 (1/2)

--”It does not seem to have been one of those moments with you just then,” continued Freddy, ”for the poem comes to an abrupt and untimely conclusion, unless three -364-- blots, and something that looks like a horse's head, may be a hieroglyphic mode of recording your inspirations, which I'm not learned enough to decipher.”

”Eh! no; I broke down there,” replied Lawless; ”the muse deserted me, and went off in a canter for--where was it those young women used to hang out?--the '_Gradus ad_' place, you know?”

”The tuneful Nine, whom you barbarously designate young women,” returned Coleman, ”are popularly supposed to have resided on Mount Parna.s.sus, which acclivity I have always imagined of a triangular or sugar-loaf form, with Apollo seated on the apex or extreme point, his attention divided between preserving his equilibrium and keeping up his playing, which latter necessity he provided for by executing difficult pa.s.sages on a golden (or, more probably, silver-gilt) lyre.”

”Eh! nonsense,” rejoined Lawless; ”now, do be serious for five minutes, and go ahead with this letter, there's a good fellow; for, 'pon my word, I'm in a wretched state of mind--I am indeed. It's a fact, I'm nearly half a stone lighter than I was when I came here; I know I am, for there was an old fellow weighing a defunct pig down at the farm yesterday, and I made him let me get into the scales when he took piggy out. I tell you what, if I'm not married soon I shall make a job for the s.e.xton; such incessant wear and tear of the sensibilities is enough to kill a prize-fighter in full-training, let alone a man that has been leading such a molly-coddle life as I have of late, lounging about drawing-rooms like a lapdog.”

”Well, then, let us begin at once,” said Freddy, seizing a pen; ”now, what am I to say?”

”Eh! why, you don't expect me to know, do you?” exclaimed Lawless aghast; ”I might just as well write it myself as have to tell you; no, no, you must help me, or else I'd better give the whole thing up at once.”

”I'll help you, man, never fear,” rejoined Freddy, ”but you must give me something to work upon; why, it's all plain sailing enough; begin by describing your feelings.”

”Feelings, eh?” said Lawless, rubbing his ear violently, as if to arouse his dormant faculties, ”that's easier said than done. Well, here goes for a start: 'My dear Miss Fairlegh'”.

”'My dear Miss Fairlegh,'” repeated Coleman, writing rapidly, ”yes.”

”Have you written that?” continued Lawless; ”ar--let me think--'I have felt for some time past very -365-- peculiar sensations, and have become, in many respects, quite an altered man'.” ”'Altered man,'”

murmured Freddy, still writing. ”'I have given up hunting,'” resumed Lawless, ”'which no longer possesses any interest in my eyes, though I think you'd have said, if you had been with us the last time we were out, that you never saw a prettier run in your life; the meet was at Chorley Bottom, and we got away in less than ten minutes after the hounds had been in cover, with as plucky a fox as ever puzzled a pack--'”

”Hold hard there!” interrupted Coleman, ”I can't put all that in; n.o.body ever wrote an account of a fox-hunt in a love-letter--no, 'You've given up hunting, which no longer possesses any interest in your eyes'; now go on.”

”My eyes,” repeated Lawless reflectively; ”yes: 'I am become indifferent to everything; I take no pleasure in the new dog-cart, King in Long Acre is building for me, with cane sides, the wheels larger, and the seat, if possible, still higher than the last, and which, if I am not very much out in my reckoning, will follow so light--'”

”I can't write all that trash about a dog-cart,” interrupted Freddy crossly; ”that's worse than the fox-hunting; stick to your feelings, man, can't you?”

”Ah! you little know the effect such feelings produce,” sighed Lawless.

”That's the style,” resumed Coleman with delight; ”that will come in beautifully--'such feelings produce'; now, go on.”

”'At night my slumbers are rendered distracting by visions of you--as--as----'”

”'The bride of another,'” suggested Coleman.

”Exactly,” resumed Lawless; ”or, 'sleep refusing to visit my----'”

”'Aching eye-b.a.l.l.s,'” put in Freddy. ”'I lie tossing restlessly from side to side, as if bitten by----'”

”'The gnawing tooth of Remorse;' that will do famously,” added his scribe; ”now tell her that she is the cause of it.”

”'All these unpleasantnesses are owing to you,'” began Lawless.

”Oh! that won't do,” said Coleman; ”no--'These tender griefs' (that's the term, I think) 'are some of the effects, goods and chattels'--psha!

I was thinking of drawing a will--'the effects produced upon me by----'”

-366-- ”'The wonderful way in which you stuck to your saddle when the mare bolted with you,'” rejoined Lawless enthusiastically; ”what, won't that do either?”

”No, be quiet, I've got it all beautifully now, if you don't interrupt me: 'Your many perfections of mind and person--perfections which have led me to centre my ideas of happiness solely in the fond hope of one day calling you my own'.”

”That's very pretty indeed,” said Lawless; ”go on.”