CHAPTER XIII — CATCHING A SHRIMP
“Give me that boy.”
—Shakspeare.
“I was there
From college, visiting the son.”
—Princess.
“To bring in, Heaven shield us, a lion among ladies, is a
most dreadful thing.”
—Shakspeare.
“A MIGHTY stupid chapter that last!” “True for you, A reader, but how was it to be avoided? It was necessary to give you that short summary of my proceedings, the better to enable you to understand all that is to follow, and so, don't you see?”
“Yes, that will do. Above all things, Master Frank, avoid being prosy; it is the worst fault an author can fall into.”
“Reader, you're very cross!”
It was towards the close of the long vacation that, one morning as I was sitting at breakfast with my mother and sister, a note was brought to me. On opening it, it proved to be from Coleman, whose father had lately taken a country-house near Hillingford, a small town about fifteen miles from Heathfield, where he was now about to give a grand ball to all the neighbourhood by way of house-warming. At this ball Freddy (with whom I had kept up a constant correspondence, though we had never met since I left Dr. Mildman's) was most anxious I should be present, and his letter was really a master-piece of persuasion: not only should I meet all the beauty and fashion of the county, but he had for some days past employed himself in paving the way for me with several of the most desirable young ladies of his acquaintance, who were now, as he assured me, actually pining to be introduced to me. Moreover, the Honourable George Lawless had promised to be there; so we were safe for fun of some sort, Lawless's tastes and habits being about as congenial to the atmosphere of a ball-room, as those of a bull to the interior of a china-shop.
[These manifold temptations, together with the desire of again meeting Freddy himself, proved irresistible, and I decided to go. Oaklands, who had received a similar invitation, was unluckily not able to accept it, as his father had fixed a shooting-party for that day, at which, and at the dinner that was to follow, Harry's presence was indispensable.
It was in the afternoon of a glorious September day that I set off on horseback for Hillingford. I had accompanied the sportsmen in the morning, and had walked just enough to excite without fatiguing myself; and now the elastic motion of the horse (a valuable hunter of Sir John's)—the influence of the fair scene around me, as I cantered over the smooth turf of Heathfield Park, and along the green lanes beyond it—the prospect of seeing again an old companion of my boyhood's days—all contributed to produce in me an exhilaration of spirits which seemed to raise me above the kleinigkeiten, the little, nesses (as the Germans so well express it) of this world, and to exalt me to some higher and nobler sphere. Out of this day-dream I was at length aroused by the clatter of horses' feet and the rattle of wheels in the lane behind me, while a man's voice, in tones not of the most gentle description, accosted me as follows: “Now then, sir, if you've got a licence to take up the whole road, I'll just trouble you to show it!” With a touch of the spur I caused my horse to bound on one side, and, as I did so, I turned to look at the speaker. Perched high in mid-air, upon some mysterious species of dog-cart, bearing a striking resemblance to the box of a mail-coach, which had contrived, by some private theory of development of its own, to dispense with its body, while it had enlarged its wheels to an almost incredible circumference; perched on the top of this remarkable machine, and enveloped in a white greatcoat undermined in every direction by strange and unexpected pockets, was none other than the Honourable George Lawless! The turn-out was drawn by a pair of thorough-breds, driven tandem, which were now (their irascible tempers being disturbed by the delay which my usurpation of the road had occasioned) relieving their feelings by executing a kind of hornpipe upon their hindlegs. The equipage was completed by a tiger, so small, that beyond a vague sensation of top-boots and a livery hat, one's senses failed to realise him.
“Why, Lawless!” exclaimed I; “you are determined to astonish the natives, with a vengeance: such a turnout as that has never been seen in these parts before, I'm certain.”
“Frank Fairlegh, by Jove! How are you, old fellow? Is it my trap you're talking about? what do you think of it? rather the thing, isn't it, eh?” I signified my approval, and Lawless continued, “Yes, it's been very much admired, I assure you;—quiet, mare! quiet!—not a bad sort of dodge to knock about in, eh?—What are you at, fool?—Tumble out, Shrimp, and hit Spiteful a lick on the nose—he's eating the mare's tail. Spicy tiger, Shrimp—did you ever hear how I picked him up?” I replied in the negative, and Lawless resumed:—
“I was down at Broadstairs, the beginning of the long —wretched place, but I went there for a boat-race with some more fellows; well, of course, because we wanted it to be fine, the weather turned sulky, and the boat-race had to be put off; so, to prevent ourselves from going melancholy mad, we hired a drag, and managed to get together a team, such as it was. The first day we went out they elected me waggoner, and a nice job I had of it; three of the horses had never been in harness before, and the fourth was a bolter. It was pretty near half an hour before we could get them to start; and, when they were off, I had enough to do to keep their heads out of the shop-windows. However, as soon as they began to get warm to their work, things improved, and we rattled along merrily. We were spinning away at about twelve miles an hour when, just as we were getting clear of the town, we came suddenly upon a covey of juvenile blackguards who were manufacturing dirt pies right in the centre of the road. As soon as I saw them I sung out to them to clear the course, but before they had time to cut away we were slap into the middle of them. Well, I thought it was to be a regular case of Herod, and that there would be at least half a dozen of them spifflicated, but they all managed to save their bacon, except Shrimp—one of the wheels went over him and broke him somewhere. Where was it, Shrimp?”
"Left arm, sir, if you please,” replied Shrimp in a shrill treble.
“Ay, so it was,” continued Lawless. “As soon as I could contrive to pull up I sent the groom back, with orders to find a doctor, get the boy repaired, and tell them to come to me at the hotel in the morning, and I'd pay for all damages. Accordingly, while I was eating my breakfast next morning, an amphibious old female in a blue pea-jacket was shown in to me, who stated she was Shrimp's mother. First, she was extremely lachrymose, and couldn't speak a word; then she got the steam up, and began slanging me till all was blue: I was 'an unchristian-like, hard-hearted, heathen Turk, so I was, and I'd been and spiled her sweet boy completely, so I had; such a boy as he was too, bless him; it was quite a sight to hear him say his Catechism; and as to reading his book, he'd beat the parson himself into fits at it'. Fortunately for me, she was a little touched in the wind, and, when she pulled up to take breath for a fresh start, I managed to cut in. 'I tell you what it is, old lady,' said I, 'there's no need for you to put yourself into a fury about it; misfortunes will happen in the best-regulated families, and it seems to me a boy more or less can make no great odds to any one—no fear of the breed becoming extinct just at present, if one may judge from appearances; however, as you seem to set a value upon this particular boy, I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll buy him of you, and then, if anything should go wrong with him, it will be my loss and not yours. I'll give you twenty pounds for him, and that's more than he would be worth if he was sound.' By Jove, the old girl brightened up in a moment, wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her coat, and said: 'Five pounds more, and it's a bargain'. And the end of it all was, the brat got well before I left the place; I paid the old woman her money, and brought Shrimp away with me, and it hasn't turned out such a bad spec either, for he makes a capital tiger; and now I've broken him in, I would not take twice the money for him. You'll be at old Coleman's hop to-night, I suppose; so bye! bye! for the present.”
Thus saying he drew the whip lightly across the leader's back, the horses sprang forward, and in another moment he was out of sight.
Half an hour's ride brought me within view of Elm Lodge, the house lately taken by Mr. Coleman, senior. As I rang at the bell a figure leaped out of one of the front windows, and came bounding across the lawn to meet me, and in another minute my hand was seized and my arm nearly shaken off by Coleman.
“Freddy, old boy!” “Frank, my dear old fellow!” were our mutual exclamations, as we once more shook hands with an energy which must have highly edified a pompous footman whom my ring had summoned. After the first excitement of our meeting had a little subsided we found time to examine each other more minutely, and note the changes a couple of years had wrought in us. Coleman was the first to speak.
“Why, Frank, how you are altered!” “If you were but decently civil, you would say 'improved' instead of 'altered,'” replied I; “but you'll never learn manners.”
“Oh, if you want compliments I'll soon get up a few, but it strikes me they are not required. A man with such a face and figure as yours soon finds out that he is a deucedly good-looking fellow. Why, how high do you stand?”
“About six feet without my boots,” replied I, laughing at Coleman, who kept turning me round, and examining me from top to toe, as if I had been some newly discovered animal.
“Well, you are a screamer, and no mistake,” exclaimed he at length. “Be merciful towards the young ladies tonight, or the floor will be so cumbered with the heaps of slain that we shall have no room to dance.”
“Never fear,” rejoined I, “the female breast is not so susceptible as you imagine; and I'll back your bright eyes and merry smile to do more execution than my long legs and broad shoulders any day.”
“No soft sawder, Master Frank, if you please; it's an article for which I've a particular distaste: people never make pretty speeches to one's face without laughing at one behind one's back afterwards by way of compensation.”
“Which rule of course applies to the remarks you have just been making about me,” returned I.
“You've caught me there fairly,” laughed Coleman; “but come along in, now, I want to introduce you to my mother and the governor; they are longing to see you after all I've told them about you, though I can't say you look much like the thin delicate youth I have described you.”
Mr. Coleman, who was a short, stout, red-faced old gentleman, with a bald head and a somewhat pompous manner, came forward and welcomed me warmly, saying all sorts of complimentary things to me in extremely high-flown and grandiloquent language, and referring to my having saved his son's life, in doing which, however, he quite won my heart by the evident pride and affection with which he spoke of Freddy. The lady of the house was a little, round, merry-looking woman, chiefly remarkable (as I soon discovered) for a peculiar mental obliquity, leading her always to think of the wrong thing at the wrong time, whereby she was perpetually becoming involved in grievous colloquial entanglements, and meeting with innumerable small personal accidents, at which no one laughed so heartily as herself.
About half-past nine that evening some of the guests began to arrive, amongst the foremost of whom was Lawless, most expensively got up for the occasion in a stock and waistcoat, which, as Coleman observed, required to be seen ere they could be believed in. As the arrivals succeeded each other more rapidly, and the rooms began to fill, Lawless took me by the arm and led me to a corner, whence, unnoticed ourselves, we could observe the whole scene.
“This will be a very full meet, Fairlegh,” he began; “I'm getting confoundedly nervous, I can tell you; I'm not used to this sort of affair, you know; I used always to shirk everything of the kind, but my Mater has got it into her head, since she's become 'My Lady,' that she must flare up and give balls, because 'ladies of rank always do so,' forsooth; and so she's taken me in hand, to try and polish me up into something like 'a man of fashion,' as she calls those confounded puppies one sees lounging about drawing-rooms. Well, as I didn't like to rile the old woman by refusing to do what she wanted, I went to a French mounseer, to teach me my paces; I've been in training above a month, so I thought I'd come here just as a sort of trial to see how I could go the pace.” “This is your debut, in fact,” returned I. “My how much?” was the reply. “Oh, I see, starting for the maiden stakes, for untried horses only—that sort of thing—eh? Yes, it's the first time I've been regularly entered; I hope I shan't bolt off the course; I feel uncommon shy at starting, I can assure you.”
“Oh, you'll do very well when you're once off; your partner will tell you if you are going to make any mistake,” replied I.
“My partner, eh? You mean one of those white-muslined young ladies, who is to run in double harness with me, I suppose?—that's another sell;—I shall be expected to talk to her, and I never know what to say to women; if one don't pay 'era compliments, and do a bit of the sentimental, they set you down as a brute directly. What an ass I was to come here! I wish it was bedtime!”
“Nonsense, man; never be afraid!” exclaimed Freddy, who had just joined us; “I'll pick you out a partner who's used to the thing, and will do all the talking herself, and be glad of the opportunity of giving her tongue a little exercise; and here comes the very girl, of all others—Di Clapperton.” Then turning towards a tall, showy-looking girl, who had just arrived, he addressed her with—“Delighted to see you, Miss Clapperton; a ball-room never appears to me properly arranged till it is graced by your presence: here's my friend, the Hon. George Lawless, dying to be introduced to you”.
“Pleasure—ar—dancing—with you, eh?” muttered the Hon. George, giving a little quick nod between each word, and getting very red in the face.
The young lady smiled a gracious assent, and saying, “I think they are forming a quadrille—shall we take our places?” marched him off in triumph.
“Frank, are you provided; or can I do anything for you?” inquired Coleman.
“Who is that interesting-looking girl, with dark hair?” asked I, in return.
“What, the she-male with the white camellia in her head, leaning on the arm of that old fellow with a cast-iron face? What a splendid pair of eyes she has got! I'll rind out her name, and get you introduced,” replied Coleman, disappearing in the crowd. In a minute or two he returned, and informed me that the young lady's name was Saville. “You've not made such a bad hit either,” continued he; “they tell me she's to be a great heiress, and old Ironsides there is her guardian. They say he keeps her shut up so close that nobody can see her; he would hardly let her come to-night, only he's under some business obligations to my governor, and he persuaded him to bring her, in order to give me a chance, I suppose.”
“What an expression of sadness there is in those deep blue eyes of hers! I am afraid she is not happy, poor thing!” said I, half thinking aloud.
“Why, you're getting quite romantic about it!” returned Coleman; “for my part, I think she looks rather jolly than otherwise;—see how she's laughing with my cousin Lucy; by Jove, how her face lights up when she smiles!—she's very decidedly pretty. Well, will you be introduced?—they are going to waltz.”
I signified my assent, and Coleman set off in search of his father to perform the ceremony, not having courage enough himself to face “old Stiff-back,” as he irreverently termed the young lady's guardian.
“I am sorry to refuse your young friend, Mr. Coleman,” was the reply to my introduction; “but Miss Saville never waltzes.”
“Come, don't be crabbed, Vernor; young people ought to enjoy themselves; recollect, we were young ourselves once!”
“If old Time had dealt as leniently by me as he seems to have done by you, Coleman, I should consider myself young yet,” replied Mr. Vernor. “I believe I have spoken my ward's wishes upon this point; but, if it would be more satisfactory to your friend to hear her decision from her own lips I can have no objection.—Clara, my dear, this gentleman, Mr. Fairlegh, does you the honour of wishing to waltz with you.”
Thus accosted, Miss Saville raised her eyes to my face for a moment, and, instantly casting them down again, coloured slightly, as she replied: “If Mr. Fairlegh will excuse me, I had rather not waltz”.
I could, of course, only bow in acquiescence, and was turning away, when old Mr. Coleman stopped me with:—
“There, wait a minute, Mr. Fairlegh; my little niece, Lucy Markham, will be only too glad to console you for your disappointment; she's never so happy as when she's waltzing”.
“If you are impertinent, uncle, I'll make you waltz with me till you're quite tired, by way of punishment!” replied his niece, as she accepted my proffered arm.
During a pause in the waltz I referred to the refusal just received, and asked my partner (a lively little brunette, with very white teeth and a bewitching smile) whether her friend Miss Saville were not somewhat of a prude?
“Poor dear Clara—a prude?—oh no!” was the reply. “You mean because she would not waltz, I suppose?”
I bowed my head in assent, and she continued:—
“I gave you credit for more penetration, Mr. Fairlegh; did you not see it was all that horrible Mr. Vernor, her guardian?—he chose her not to waltz; and she is too much afraid of him to dare to do anything he does not approve;—he would hardly let her come here to-night, only Uncle Coleman worried him into it”.
"She is exceedingly pretty,” remarked I; “there is something peculiar in the expression of those beautiful blue eyes which particularly pleases me; an earnest, trustful look, which—you will laugh at what I am going to say—which I have never seen before, except in the eyes of a dog!”
“Oh! I know so well what you mean,” replied my partner; “I have observed it often, but I never should have known how to express it. What a good idea!”
“May I ask whether you are very intimate with her? Is she an old friend of yours?”
“No, I never saw her till my uncle took this house; but Mr. Vernor sometimes brings her with him when he drives over on business, and she comes and sits with me while they are puzzling about their parchments. I like her so much; she seems as agreeable and good as she is pretty.”
“How is it,” asked I, “that my friend Freddy did not know her by sight even?—he had to inquire her name this evening.”
“Why, Frederick is generally obliged to be in town, you know; and I have observed that when he is down here Mr. Vernor never brings her with him.”
“He had better make a nun of her at once,” said I.
“Perhaps she won't be a nun!” said, or rather sang Lucy. And here we joined the waltzers again, and the conversation ended.