Miss Guyon said not another word, but rose from the table as her father ceased speaking. She wished Mr. Streightley "good-night," and after a moment's hesitation gave him her hand; she kissed Mr. Guyon's forehead--the little space which was not covered with his carefully-poodled hair--with her lips, and left the room. But as she passed the glass, Streightley caught a glimpse of the reflection of her face, and saw that every nerve in it was quivering with repressed passion. He knew the reason well enough, and it did not tend to raise his already-drooping spirits; so he shortly afterwards took his leave and went home, where he found his sister Ellen waiting up for him to tell him that Hester Gould had been spending the evening with her, having previously been to the Botanical Fête, where she had seen the beautiful Miss Guyon.
"And you were walking with her, Hester says, Robert," said Miss Ellen; "she saw you, though you didn't see her. How I should like to see her, Robert! Now tell me all about her. Is she so beautiful? and is she going to be married?"
"My dear child," said Robert in rather a harsh tone, "do you imagine I tell you the names of a tithe of the people I know in business? Mr. Guyon is a business acquaintance of mine; and I have been introduced to his daughter. So far as I am a judge, she is very beautiful; but really though I have seen her a few times, she has not yet confided to me whether she is going to be married or not."
On the receipt of which short answer, Miss Ellen Streightley, telling her brother "he need not snap her head off," handed him his candle and went to bed.
Mr. Guyon had said that the "perusal" of certain "documents" would occupy him until daybreak; but long before the first faint thread of dawn appeared in the eastern sky that gentleman was sleeping the sleep of the just, having immediately after Streightley's departure slipped down to his Club, and returned lighter in heart and heavier in purse after playing a few rubbers with consummate skill and great luck. But gleaming on certain characters in this veracious history, the first rays of the rising sun found them defiant of sleep, if not actively engaged. Found Katharine Guyon with her dark hair streaming over her pillow, bedewed with tears of rage and disappointment, and her eyes, under their swollen lids, bright and staring; found Robert Streightley, racked with sharp pangs of jealousy and doubt, vainly courting repose; found Gordon Frere lounging homeward up Piccadilly, his hands plunged in his trousers-pockets, his opera-hat hanging listlessly on the back of his head, a cigar in his mouth, and a faded flower in his coat, chafing bitterly against the absence of his heart's idol from Mrs. Tresillian's ball, and at the postponement of the love-avowal which he had determined to make; finally, found Charles Yeldham, bright, fresh, and glowing from his morning bath, just settling down to his desk, with his mind filled partly with thoughts of the work he was about to commence, partly with reminiscences of a queenly figure, a stately walk, and a bright pair of eyes, seen yesterday for the first time.
[CHAPTER IX.]
INVESTMENTS.
It was seldom that Robert Streightley allowed himself the luxury of thought. He was so much in the habit of deciding, after a rapid business calculation, upon any thing that was submitted to him, of accepting or rejecting the proposition at once, that he scarcely knew what it was to ponder, and weigh, and calculate chances. In his business he had never, apparently, had occasion to calculate them. The knowledge which guided him seemed to come to him intuitively, and hitherto had scarcely ever failed in producing a good result. But in these recent days he had proposed to himself a venture such as he had never previously contemplated, a risk which was a risk indeed, a prize for which he should have to enter against sharp competition, and which, even if he gained it, he yet felt would be uncertain and difficult to deal with. It was a troublous time for this honest, straightforward, simple man of business, who for the first time in his life found himself possessed by a mania over which he had not the least control; this long-headed, cool, calculating fellow, who was accustomed to look far ahead, and see clearly what would be the end of any step he proposed to take before he took it, and who now found himself irresistibly impelled to rush blindly on, ignoring consequences, content to leave all to Fate, and to console himself with the victory of the moment. Never before during his career had he felt the smallest pang of jealousy; never before, when bidding for great contracts, involving such an amount of capital as made the boldest hesitate before speculating, had he, after a few minutes' rapid calculation, wavered for an instant. But the present case was different: it was "the house" then; it was "the heart" now. Luck, carefully steered by prudence and by foresight, and acumen more than prudence, had brought his ventures safely riding over the billows, and through the shoals and shallows; would it do so now?
He was desperately in love with this girl--this bright, brilliant, haughty, wilful girl. Even in all the mad fervour of his passion he allowed to himself that she was haughty and wilful, and he loved her all the morel--loved her with a depth and earnestness, with a wild passionate longing such as he had never believed he could have felt. Haughty and wilful! were not these very qualities great ingredients in her charm? Had he not for nearly forty years been living with the tame and commonplace women among whom his lot had been cast, and had any of them ever had the slightest influence over him? had they ever caused his heart one extra vibration--his pulse one extra throb? Why should he not enter the lists and tilt amongst the others for the hand of this Queen of Beauty, who sat smiling so superciliously in the balcony? It was an open course, and he brought amongst his attributes a stout heart and a willing hand to the encounter. In curvettings and caracoles, and all the dainty manoeuvres of the manège, in courtly skill and trick of fence, there might be his superiors; but when the issue of the combat came to sheer hard fighting, where courage and persistency won the day, he would give way to none. And, carelessly fluttering over the leaves of his ledger, as in his dim City office he revolved all these thoughts within his mind, he felt--not without a blush of shame--that he had secured the services of a most potent ally within the citadel. In these portentous leaves the name of Edward Guyon, Esquire, of Queen-Anne Street, now had a small space reserved to itself, the details covering which, though insignificant in such a business as that of Streightley and Son, were multiplied amazingly since the first "transaction" which had brought the siren to the abode of Plutus. Over Robert Streightley Mr. Guyon had obtained an extraordinary influence; due, let it be stated, of course to a certain extent to the young merchant's infatuation, but also in a great degree to his own admirable tact. During the course of a life passed in business Robert had seen many specimens of tracasserie and humbug, which his good nurse had enabled him to estimate at their real value; but he had never been brought in contact with any of their professors who had, or seemed to have, the real charm of social influence. In Mr. Guyon's society--and of late he had been admitted into a great deal of Mr. Guyon's society--Robert Streightley seemed to feel himself a different being. There was nothing rough or unpleasant in his new friend and those to whom his new friend introduced him; he became for the first time in his life aware of the existence of another world, where well-bred ease, polished manners, and refined conversation were substituted for that eternal strife and fight and wrangle for money-getting in which his whole previous existence had been passed.
And she--Katharine--his adoration--she was of this world, and yet not of it so much as she might be; held not that queenly position in it which she might hold, were circumstances different. It would have taken a mind much less acute than Robert Streightley's to perceive at once the influence which the possession of wealth had among those who affected to despise it. In an instant he saw--few so rapidly--how many of the new society into which he had been introduced, while merely electro-plated and veneered, were endeavouring to pass themselves off as the genuine article; and he ascribed, correctly enough, the sneers at money, in which most members of the society indulged, to their lack of it. Why should he not be the means of giving her the position which she would so thoroughly adorn? She looked a duchess; why should he not give her the power of gratifying the tastes of a duchess? Robert Streightley, constantly engaged in the accumulation of money, had given very little thought to the amount that he had accumulated. Confident in the security of his investments, he left the heap to gather in rolling; his simple life and the even more simple life led by his mother and sister in the Brixton villa were provided for at a comparatively infinitesimal cost; and of the bulk of his possessions he had taken little heed, knowing that it was there "to the good." But recently, within the last few days, he had looked through his accounts, and found that he was the possessor of what would be considered, even in "the City," to be a large fortune. Money he had in funds, and stocks, and securities of all kinds; money in ships bound on antipodean voyages, and in semi-cleared Canadian forests; money in loans to Egyptian viceroys and Nicaraguan republics; money in an English estate, "all that house and estate known as 'Middlemeads,' in the county of Bucks, with five hundred acres of parklike land, well-preserved coverts, lake with fishing-temple, large stabling, forcing-houses, hothouses, orangery, delightfully situate on the brow of Holcomb Hill, with the silver Thames winding in the distance," as it was described in the auctioneer's advertisement. The auctioneer, whose descriptive powers are here recorded, had not the opportunity of bringing this "lot" to the hammer; for finding the previous bidding dull, Robert Streightley, to whom the estate had reverted on the foreclosure of a mortgage which he held upon it, determined to withdraw it from public competition, wisely thinking that he could sell it a better bargain to some private purchaser. When the bold idea of asking for Miss Guyon's hand first entered his head, the recollection of this property flashed upon him at once. He had never seen the place, but he knew from his agent that it was essentially a gentleman's house, and that the entire estate was large, productive, and one of which any one might be proud. "Mrs. Streightley of Middlemeads;" "Middlemeads, August;" "Mrs. R. Streightley presents"--Robert Streightley found himself sketching these words on his blotting-pad as these thoughts passed through his mind; and though he gave a short laugh of semi-contempt at the wildness of his fancy, the idea had so far possessed him, that he wrote off to his old friend and legal adviser Charles Yeldham, begging him to be at the Great-Western station at a given hour on the next morning, and go with him to see a place down the line which he had purchased as an investment.