“Oh, my love, I suppose I ought not to tell you anything about it, but I must, for I’ve no one else to confide in. That wretch Gus!—would you believe it? he actually wanted me to leave poor dear Alessandro, and to run away with him;” and then with many ejaculations, and much flourishing of the homoeopathic sized handkerchief, she went on to relate how, when she became separated from Annie at the Opera-house, “which was all that creature Gus’s fault, and done on purpose,” she was certain, the “creature” had availed himself of the opportunity he had thus secured to urge his undying attachment to her, which affection, despite its inherent principle of vitality, he declared would assuredly bring him to an early grave in the event of her obduracy continuing; but Emily, though positively a flirt, and negatively rather a goose than otherwise, was not unprincipled, and so when she had overcome her first impulse of surprise and mortification, all the virtuous wife arose within her, and she gave Gus to understand, by dint of sundry short, sharp, and decisive plain-spoken unpleasantnesses, that he had made a false move and ruined his game. Thence lapsing abruptly into a fit of sulky dignity, she ordered him, with the voice and gestures of a tragedy queen, to lead her to her carriage, finally despatching the foiled “Lionne” hunter to remedy one of his ill deeds by finding Annie, on which mission he departed in a state of mind the reverse of seraphic. Having concluded this historical episode, la Contessa proceeded to append thereunto certain annotations and reflections, in the course of which she contrived to fix much blame on society in general, and on Gus and Alessandro in particular, but none whatsoever on her own flirting manner and inordinate love of attention, which self-deluding analysis was by no means an original feature in the case, but rather an unconscious imitation of the proceedings of many a deeper thinker than poor little Emily.
The conference between the girls was still at its height when a summons for Annie from her father interrupted the proceedings; whereupon Emily, declaring that neither her health nor spirits were then capable of undergoing the pain forte et dure of an interview with Aunt Martha, drove home again, to fortify her principles and console her breaking heart with a volume of George Sand’s last novel. The General was in a great state of virtuous indignation. Lord Bellefield’s note had been as gunpowder sprinkled over the smouldering embers of his wrath, and when Annie arrived they (or, to translate the metaphor slang-icè, he) “flared up” to an immense extent. He told her of all the enormities which the newspapers attributed to her cousin, and signified his belief that the case had been rather understated than otherwise; he informed her of Lewis’s rencontre with the delinquent at the door of a gaming-house; he adduced the note which he had just received as a proof that its writer must be lost to all better feeling—utterly wanting in a proper respect for age and position; and, in short, he said a great many severe and unwise things, after the fashion of angry men in general, for which he was afterwards very sorry, finding such speeches easier to say than to unsay—which result is also by no means uncommon in similar cases.
Having relieved his feelings by this explosion, he proceeded to the more serious business of the interview by informing her that the necessary consequence of these uncomfortable revelations must be the dissolution of all ties, present or prospective, between herself and Lord Bellefield, which autocratic act he performed with outward austerity and inward trepidation, as he fully expected Annie to receive the harsh decree with a violent burst of tears, and, man-like, there was nothing he dreaded so much—he would rather have faced a charge of cavalry any day. But to his surprise Annie sustained the information with a degree of stoical self-control that was perfectly marvellous. She neither wept, sighed, nor attempted the hysteric line; she only said gravely, “It’s all very sad and shocking; but of course, dear papa, I am ready to agree to whatever you think best.” The General rubbed his hands—there was a daughter for you! Not a word of opposition—to hear was to obey; it actually restored him to good humour. He talked to her kindly and sensibly for a quarter of an hour, and then went out and purchased for her a valuable diamond bracelet, which was his idea of rewarding self-sacrifice in woman. And so did Annie, involuntarily and unconsciously, gain high praise and honour for submitting with resignation to a decree which afforded her unmitigated satisfaction. As she left the library she encountered poor Walter, who appeared in unusually high spirits. Next to Lewis, Annie held the foremost place in Walter’s affections, from the unvarying patience and kindness with which she treated him. Moreover, having failed to inspire him with the degree of respect not unmingled with awe with which he was accustomed to regard his tutor, he looked upon her in the light of a companion and an equal, to whom it might be safe to confide certain mischievous performances in which, as his spirits acquired more elasticity, and his mental powers began to develop, he saw fit from time to time to indulge. With some such intention did he now approach her, whispering as he drew near, “I want you, Annie; I want you to come with me and see Faust dressed like a gentleman.”
“See what, you silly boy?” returned Annie, laughing.
“Come with me and you shall see,” was the rhythmical and oracular response; and seizing her by the hand, he dragged her off in the direction of the sitting-room appropriated to his own use and that of his tutor.
“Is Mr. Arundel there?” inquired Annie, pausing when she discovered their destination.
“No, he’s not att home; there’s no other gentleman there except Mr. Faust,” was the reply; and thus reassured, Annie complied with the boy’s whim, and allowed him to carry her off unopposed. Now, since we have had any especial intercourse with that worthy dog, Faust’s education had progressed rapidly as well as Walter’s. Lewis, partly from want of occupation during the many weary hours his attendance on Walter necessitated, partly because by so doing he was enabled to excite and interest the feeble intellect of his poor charge, had availed himself of the unusual power of control he had acquired over the dog to teach him sundry tricks somewhat more difficult to perform than the ordinary routine of canine accomplishments; for instance, having perfected him in sitting on his hind legs in the attitude popularly supposed to represent the act of begging, he went on to teach him to sit thus perched up in a corner for a space of time gradually increasing, as by practice the animal’s muscles acquired more rigidity, until at length it was no uncommon feat for him to remain in this attitude for an hour at literally a “sitting.” Moreover, if a light book or pamphlet were placed on his forepaws, he would support it, and remain gazing on the open page before him with a solemn gravity of countenance, indicating, apparently, the deepest interest in the work he seemed to be perusing. Of the results of this educational course Walter had on the present occasion availed himself; and accordingly, Annie, on her introduction to the study, found the excellent dog seated on his hind legs in a corner, with an extempore mantle formed of a red scarf drooping gracefully from his shoulders, and an old cap of Walter’s on his head. Thus attired, he appeared to be conning, with an expression of puzzled diligence, a tract against profane swearing by Mrs. Hannah More, presented to Walter by Miss Livingstone on the occasion of his inadvertently making use in her presence of the scandalous expression, “Bless my heart!” Annie, duly impressed by this spectacle, laughed even more than Walter had hoped for, and told Faust that he was much the best dog in the world, in which assertion she was not, as we think, guilty of any great exaggeration. And Faust, taking the compliment to himself only when the occurrence of his name rendered the allusion unmistakably personal, slobbered affectionately with his great comic mouth, and winked with his foolish, loving eyes, and made abortive attempts to wag his ridiculous friendly tail, which was crumpled up un-wag-ably in the corner, and in the plenitude of his excellence sat more erect than ever, and studied his profane swearing still more diligently.
As soon as Walter’s delight at Annie’s amusement had in some degree subsided, he turned to her, saying—
“But, Annie, you have not found out why! told you Faust looked like a gentleman.”
“Oh! because he sits there reading his book with such an air ol dignified composure, I suppose,” was the reply.