“You tell me that you once served with Captain Martin, and I see you understand him; not that it requires much study to do so. You say he was reckoned a good officer; what a sneer is that on the art military!
“There are, however, many suitable qualities about him, and he certainly possesses the true and distinctive element of a gentleman,—he knows how to be idle. Ay, Harry, that is a privilege that your retired banker or enriched cotton-spinner never attains to. They must be up and doing,—where there is nothing to do. They carry the spirit of the counting-house and the loom into society with them, and having found a pleasure in business, they want to make a business of pleasure. Now, Martin understands idling to perfection. His tea and toast, his mutton cutlet, and his mustachios are abundant occupation for him. With luncheon about two o'clock, he saunters through the stables, sucking a lighted cigar, filing his nails, and admiring his boots, till it 's time to ride out. He comes to me about nine of an evening, and we play piquet till I get sleepy; after which he goes to 'the rooms,' and, I believe, plays high; at least, I suspect so; for he has, at times, the forced calm—that semi-jocular resignation—one sees in a heavy loser. He has been occasionally, too, probing me about Merl,—you remember the fellow who had the rooms near Knightsbridge,—so that I opine he has been dabbling in loans. What a sorry spectacle such a creature as this in the toils of the Israelite, for he is the 'softest of the soft.' I see it from the effect La Henderson has produced upon him. He is in love with her,—actually in love. He even wanted to make me his confidant—and I narrowly escaped the confession—only yesterday evening. Of course, he has no suspicion of my attachment in the same quarter, so that it would be downright treachery in me to listen to his avowal. Another feeling, too, sways me, Harry,—I don't think I could hear a man profess admiration for the woman that I mean to marry, without the self-same sense of resentment I should experience were I already her husband. I 'm certain I 'd shoot him for it.
“La belle Kate and I parted coldly—dryly, I should call it—this evening. I had fancied she was above coquetry, but she is not. Is any woman? She certainly gave the Captain what the world would call encouragement all the night; listened attentively to tiresome tiger-huntings and stories of the new country; questioned him about his Mahratta campaigns, and even hinted at how much she would like an Indian life. Perhaps the torment she was inflicting on Lady Dorothea amused her; perhaps it was the irritation she witnessed in me gave the zest to this pastime. It is seldom that she condescends to be either amused or amusing; and I own it is a part does not suit her. She is a thousand times more attractive sitting over her embroidery-frame, raising her head at times to say a few words,—ever apposite and well chosen,—always simple, too, and to the purpose; or even by a slight gesture bearing agreement with what is said around her; till, with a sudden impulse, she pours forth fast, rapidly, and fluently some glowing sentiment of praise or censure, some glorious eulogy of the good, or some withering depreciation of the wrong. Then it is that you see how dark those eyes can be, how deep-toned that voice, and with what delicacy of expression she can mould and fashion every mood of mind, and give utterance to sentiments that till then none have ever known how to embody.
“It is such a descent to her to play coquette! Cleopatra cannot—should not be an Abigail. I am low and depressed to-night; I scarcely know why: indeed, I have less reason than usual for heavy-heartedness. These people are singularly kind and attentive to me, and seem to have totally forgotten how ungratefully once before I repaid their civilities. What a stupid mistake do we commit in not separating our public life from our social one, so as to show that our opinions upon measures of state are disconnected with all the sentiments we maintain for our private friendships. I detect a hundred sympathies, inconceivable points of contact, between these people and myself. We pass hours praising the same things, and abusing the same people; and how could it possibly sever our relations that I would endow Maynooth when they would pull it down, or that I liked forty-shilling freeholders better than ten-pound householders? You 'll say that a certain earnestness accompanies strong convictions, and that when a man is deeply impressed with some supposed truths, he 'll not measure his reprobation of those who assail them. But a lawyer does all this, and forfeits nothing of the esteem of 'his learned brother on the opposite side.' Nay, they exchange very-ugly knocks at times, and inflict very unseemly marks even with the gloves on; still they go homeward, arm-in-arm, after, and laugh heartily at both plaintiff and defendant. By Jove! Harry, it may sound ill, but somehow it seems as though to secure even a moderate share of enjoyment in this life one must throne Expediency in the seat of Principle. I 'll add the conclusion to-morrow, and now say good-night.
“Three days have passed over since I wrote the last time to you, and it would require as many weeks were I to chronicle all that has passed through my mind in the interval. Events there have been few; but sensations—emotions, enough for a lifetime. Nor dare I recall them! Faintly endeavoring to trace a few broken memories, my pains of mind and body come back again, so that you must bear with me if I be incoherent, almost unintelligible.
“The day after I wrote to you, I never saw her. My Lady, who came as usual to visit me in the day, said something about Miss Henderson having a headache. Unpleasant letters from her family—obliged to give up the day to answering them; but all so confused and with such evident constraint as to show me that something disagreeable loomed in view.
“The Captain dropped in about four o'clock, and as the weather was unfavorable, we sat down to our party of piquet. By a little address, I continued to lose nearly every game, and so gradually led him into a conversation while we played; but I soon saw that he only knew something had occurred 'upstairs,' but knew not what.
“' I suspect, however,' added he, 'it is only the old question as to Kate's going away.' “'Going away! Going where?' cried I.
“'Home to her father; she is resolutely bent upon it,—has been so ever since we left Paris. My mother, who evidently—but on what score I know not—had some serious difference with her, is now most eager to make concessions, and would stoop to—what for her is no trifle—even solicitation to induce her to stay, has utterly failed; so, too, has my father. Persuasion and entreaty not succeeding, I suspect—but it is only suspicion—that they have had recourse to parental authority, and asked old Henderson to interfere. At least, a letter has come this morning from the West of Ireland, for Kate, which I surmise to be in his hand. She gave it, immediately on reading it, to my mother, and I could detect in her Ladyship's face, while she perused it, unmistakable signs of satisfaction. When she handed it back, too, she gave a certain condescending smile, which, in my mother, implies victory, and seems to say, “Let us be friends now,—I 'm going to signal—cease firing.”'
“'And Kate, did she make any remark—say anything?' “'Not a syllable. She folded up the document, carefully and steadily, and placed it in her work-box, and then resumed her embroidery in silence. I watched her narrowly, while I affected to read the paper, and saw that she had to rip out half she had done. After a while my mother said,—“'”You 'll not answer that letter to-day, probably?”