He was a man of middle height, with small regular features, keen black eyes, thick black hair and moustache, small hands and feet, and a youthful, almost a boyish, figure. At a distance you might have guessed him five-and-twenty; and it was only when you looked closely at him that you noticed the lines round the eyes and deep indented furrows stretching from the nostrils to the corner of the mouth, which, like the ground-swell on the shore, told of the storms that had been. In the year '51 Nugent Uffington was looked upon as one of the likeliest young fellows in town, though he had nothing in the world beyond his handsome face, some two hundred a year, and his commission in the Grenadiers. Every one, however, was kind to the cheery good-looking lad; men lent him money and horses, women smiled upon him, and manoeuvring mothers, when they had no more daughters of their own to provide for, enlisted themselves in Nugent's service, and actually tried to procure for him some of the season's prizes. It was said at one time that he might have married Miss Amelia M'Craw, the prettier of the twin Scotch heiresses, who in their marriage gave up to the peerage what was meant for themselves. Good-natured Mrs. Waddledot Hepburn gave three dances (at the command of the Marchioness of Melton) in order that the young people might be thrown together; and old Waddledot himself used to lean across the railings by Apsley House regarding them caracoling in the distant Row with a 'Bless-you,-my-children!' kind of aspect. But, as fate would have it, in the month of June that year Mr. Mudge, whose father and grandfather had made an enormous fortune by converting old rags into shoddy-cloth in the village of Batley, Yorkshire, came to town to see the Great Exhibition, bringing with him his wife and letters of introduction to the members for the county and several leading spirits among the commercial magnates who were just beginning to colonise the now plutocratic region of Tyburnia. The people who asked them out to dinner did not think much of Mr. Mudge, who was a fat, stupid, good-looking man of a common type, but they (the male portion at least) found Mrs. Mudge very charming. She was a Canadian blonde, very pretty and piquante, whom Alfred Mudge had met when on a business excursion to Montreal, had a captivating way of saying saucy things with a tinge of French accent, and was sometimes full of sentiment, at others full of raillery, but always coquettish in the highest degree.
After Nugent Uffington had seen Julie Mudge once or twice, he left off thinking about Miss M'Craw and her hundred thousand pounds, though, indeed, that heavily-ingoted lady had never occupied many of his thoughts; after he had met Julie half a dozen times, he thought of no one else. Julie was very much taken by the appearance and manners of Captain Uffington, who belonged to quite a different world from any which she had known. She did not care for Alfred Mudge; but she had no intention of doing him any harm; that was all Nugent Uffington could get out of her after assailing her with more numerous and more delicate temptations than ever beset St. Antony. This continued for three weeks, and Nugent, who had never given so much attention to any matter before, and who was becoming exhausted, thought of retiring from the pursuit, when one night after Alfred had started off to dine with the Bellowsmenders' Company in the City, and Julie had announced to him her intention of going to bed at eight o'clock as some compensation for unwonted dissipation, a note came from Lady Rosemount saying that she had stalls at the French plays, where M. Levassor was then giving his delightful entertainment, and nothing would so please her as that her dear Mrs. Mudge should keep her company. Julie pondered for an instant. She knew that Lady Rosemount was a great friend of Nugent Uffington's, and would probably arrange for his attendance; but she wanted to see M. Levassor, and as Alfred had deserted her for the Bellowsmenders, she could see no reason why she could not accept such innocent amusement. Lady Rosemount called for her at half-past eight. They found Nugent Uffington on escort duty at the theatre-door, and as they walked up the stairs they were stopped by an altercation between the checktaker and a lady and gentleman immediately preceding them, as to the number of a certain box. The lady was gorgeously dressed in a cerise-coloured satin and a voluminous crinoline, as was the fashion in those days, very much decollétée, with diamonds on her neck and in her ears, and a liberal allowance of rouge and bismuth on her cheeks and chin. The gentleman who was with her seemed very angry at not being permitted immediate access to the theatre; but reference had to be made to another official, and in the mean time he stepped by to let the Rosemount party pass; in doing so he presented under the bright flare of the gaslight his full face, the full face of Mr. Alfred Mudge, who, instead of carousing with carnival Bellowsmenders, was acting as escort to the notorious Miss Leggat of the Theatre Royal, Hatton-garden.
The next day Mrs. Mudge, accompanied by her maid and Captain Uffington, crossed the Channel and proceeded by long stages to Switzerland. At the Hôtel Beau Rivage at Ouchy they remained during the summer and autumn months, and only left it to settle down into a pretty quaint old châlet in the neighbourhood of Lausanne. There was the usual three-days' scandal in town, where some laughed, some shrugged their shoulders, and all had a secret delight that Nugent Uffington, of whom, as a popular man, they had naturally been envious, had come to grief. Mr. Alfred Mudge brought an action in the Divorce Court, which he would probably have gained but for the intervention of the Queen's Proctor, who had heard of the petitioner's intimacy with Miss Leggat, an intimacy which had cost Mr. Mudge two or three thousand pounds, which the lady had duly divided with her complacent husband, Mr. Tapps, the leader of the orchestra.
For ten years Julie and Nugent lived in the little Swiss châlet, a guilty life of course, but a thoroughly happy one. They were rich enough to satisfy all their wants, for, in addition to his small income and the price of his commission, she had five hundred a year, and they were devoted to each other. No boy and girl in their first delicious dream, which is never to be renewed, though its every detail haunts our latest memories; no sharers of that bliss beyond all which the minstrel has told; no two who were linked in one heavenly tie--were more all in all to each other than this pair of sinners. The ex-Guardsman was never dull; occasionally he had cheery letters from friends in England telling him of what was going on there; but he knew that on the day of his flight with Julie he had renounced all his old life, and his chief amusement was in shooting and in fishing, of which at most seasons of the year there was abundance in the neighbourhood.
Well-regulated people will be pleased to hear that Nemesis, which is always supposed to await such evil-doers, came down upon them at last. One autumn night, as they were crossing the lake after dining at the Beau Rivage with an American gentleman and his family, a sudden storm swept down and overset their little boat. Nugent came to the surface at once, and, being a splendid swimmer, struck out, swimming round and round in search of Julie. The night was very dark, and it is probable, encumbered by the weight of her clothing, she never rose; it is certain that Nugent never saw her again, and that his own life was only saved by his being dragged on to the bottom of the boat, when half-dead with exhaustion, by the servant, who had already found a refuge there.
When Nugent Uffington recovered from the illness consequent upon the cold and exhaustion, he broke up the little establishment at the châlet and disappeared, no one knew where. Letters were occasionally read from men who thought they had seen him, but they were from such diverse latitudes that no reliance could be placed upon them; and when his nephew Sir Mark Uffington died, the lawyers did not know where to write to Nugent to tell him of his succession. That was the key-note struck by Tom Lydyeard in their conversation.
'Heard you were lost, my dear boy, and scarcely a possible chance of ever seeing you again; private detectives, and all that kind of thing, hunting for you all over the globe--been to Australia after you, some one said, and didn't find you there.'
'No,' said Uffington, with a slight smile. 'I had been in Australia, but when the agent went out there to search for me I was living in a little place in Brittany, where there was wonderful sport, but where I never saw an English newspaper, not even Galignani; and even if I had seen the announcement of poor young Mark's death, I doubt whether I should have felt any impulse to hurry over here and claim his place.'
'Do you act upon impulse?' asked Tom Lydyeard.
'Always,' said Langton quickly. 'Three weeks ago the impulse seized me, and I came over here; and,' he added, shrugging his shoulders drearily, 'it looks as if in a very short time it would seize me again, and send me off to the uttermost ends of the earth.'