Two, by Tricks: A Novel

by Edmund Yates

There was a pause for a few moments. Then Lord Forestfield said:

'You take advantage of your position to drive a hard bargain, sir; but I am at your mercy, and I don't see how I can resist. How long will you give me to think it over?'

'Till this afternoon,' said Uffington. 'I have promised my lawyers instructions in regard to the mortgage affair, which admits of no delay. So that I must return to England to-night, and I should be glad if you would accompany me. If I do not hear from you before, I shall expect to meet you at the mail train at the Chemin du Nord.'

'Was there ever such a beaten hound?' said Uffington, after his companion had left him. 'There is no doubt about his accepting my terms. The thought of a future without money to spend in drink and gambling was too dreadful for him to contemplate.'

[CHAPTER XV.]

FIVE-O'CLOCK TEA.

The pleasant intercourse which had sprung up between Mrs. Hamblin and Mrs. Chadwick lasted throughout the whole of the dead season. For her own purposes Mrs. Hamblin had affected a great interest in all that concerned, not merely the mistress of the house in Fairfax-gardens, but all her family, and Mrs. Chadwick was only too delighted to revel in the friendship thus offered to her. For she was quick-witted enough and sufficiently a woman of the world to see plainly that, although she had secured the attendance of the best people in London at her parties, and in return was regularly invited to their set and formal entertainments, she had as yet no intimacy with any members of that world in which alone she cared to live. Men dropped in to dinner now and then certainly--there were always plenty to whom the boiler-maker's capital cuisine and exquisite wine were sufficient attraction--but there had hitherto been none but the most ceremonious visiting on the part of the ladies, and none of those pleasant gatherings en petit comité at which Mrs. Chadwick longed so much to assist, and from which she bitterly felt her exclusion. Mrs. Hamblin's house was one at which, as Mrs. Chadwick knew, there was a constant influx of visitors, and where the coziest little impromptu luncheons, tea-parties, and suppers were frequently taking place, all the guests being people of position in society. Mrs. Hamblin herself looking upon flirtation with a lenient eye, was scarcely likely to disapprove of in others; and the consequence was that many very pleasant meetings took place, apparently quite unexpectedly, in the handsome drawing-rooms of her house in Cumberland-place, or better still in the pretty little boudoir, all green-silk hangings and Dresden china, which was approached by double doors on the first landing, and was only accessible to the initiated. When, therefore, Mrs.. Hamblin was not merely constantly in Fairfax-gardens, but had received Mrs. Chadwick in the most friendly manner at Cumberland-place and made her free, as it were, of the boudoir, the latter lady was surely justified in thinking that when the season arrived she would be permitted to associate on a footing of intimacy with Mrs. Hamblin's friends, who, in their turn, would become intimate friends of her own, and that after this fashion her highest hopes would be realised.

One morning, when one of those opaque yellow fogs which visit London in the early days of November had settled down like a pall over the metropolis, when gas was lighted in the shops, and locomotion rendered next to impossible, Mrs. Hamblin sat in her boudoir in rather a dejected frame of mind. The utter ghastliness of the weather would have been alone sufficient to account for that, but there were other causes. Mrs. Hamblin had become thoroughly sick of London; the letters received each morning from her friends spoke of pleasant times in country houses, where hunting and shooting parties were assembled, and made her long for escape from the dead dull monotony of empty streets and deserted houses to which, for the first time in her life during this season of the year, she had for three months been relegated. She was, moreover, excessively annoyed at having to confess to herself the fact that it was wholly her own fault; that she had no one but herself to blame for the weariness she had undergone. It was true that circumstances had prevented Mr. Hamblin from taking his official holiday at the usual time, but that was no reason why she should have remained in town; they had managed before now to get on very comfortably without seeing each other for three or four months, and indeed when domesticated under the same roof they met but seldom; for Mr. Hamblin, away from his office, was a bibliomaniac, spending most of his time in hunting up rare editions and curious copies, surrounded by which musty old tomes he would sit for hours in his library, perfectly content in looking at his book-treasures, and not taking the slightest notice of whatever fun or festivity might be going on in other portions of the house. So that it was not entirely on her husband's account Mrs. Hamblin had refused the numerous invitations which she had received to stay with friends, and had given up her usual visit to Hombourg. If Spiridion Pratt had been an intending guest at any of the country houses to which she was invited, or had been going, according to custom, to the German spas, assuredly Mrs. Hamblin would not have chosen to immure herself in Cumberland-place during the autumn months; but he, to whom anything like a change was most welcome, even though it involved flying in the face of all conventional and set rules, had determined to see whether London was really habitable in September, and as he had decided upon staying in town, Mrs. Hamblin had concluded it was better she should remain there also. Not that the feeling, which had always been rather a caprice than a passion, which she had at one time entertained for the dilettante little man had not passed away; but her pride was touched at the notion of his escaping her so easily, at his attempt to slip from his bonds without giving her the notice to which she had been accustomed in such cases, and she thought it would be actually worth while to attempt to bring him back into slavery. The season of the year promised well for this project; she would be able to devote all her time to carrying it out, and there would not, as she thought, be any one in town likely to divert her quondam admirer's attention.

The discovery which she had made concerning Eleanor Irvine had entirely dispelled this pleasant idea. Here was a rival on the spot, one to whom she had never given any heed, and of whom, if she had not had evidence which it was impossible to set aside, she could never have had the least fear. To be sure she had done her best to ruin the girl in Spiridion's opinion; all that she had seen during the performance of her self-imposed duties of espionnage was not merely constantly hinted at in Spiridion's presence, but actually formed the subject of various anonymous letters which Mr. Pratt was in the habit of receiving, written in an unknown female hand, and posted in the south-eastern district of London. If these communications were intended to frighten the little man, and to induce him to neglect those frequent opportunities of being in Eleanor's society which the assiduous foresight of Mrs. Chadwick provided for him, they failed in their effect. Mr. Pratt was greatly pleased to think that the fact of his paying attention to one woman induced another to resort to such means for undermining her rival. In matters of this kind he was by no means a fool, perfectly understanding whence the letters came, and appreciating the motive which caused them to be sent. He therefore continued without intermission his pursuit of Eleanor, of whom he day by day became, after his queer fashion, more and more enamoured, and made up his mind that he would most certainly propose to her.

Though Mrs. Hamblin was not aware of her former admirer's intention to carry matters to an such serious pitch, she could not but see that her own influence over him was at an end; and she was musing over this, and regretting her misspent autumn, on the foggy morning in November, when a note was handed to her, which, in addition to the usual superscription, bore the words 'Private and immediate' and 'Answer.' Mrs. Hamblin had no difficulty in recognising the rather florid handwriting of Mrs. Chadwick, and the little excitement consequent upon the idea that some one might have returned to town and be coming to see her therefore subsided before she broke the seal. The note ran thus: