Contraband; Or, A Losing Hazard

by G. J. Whyte-Melville

"But our London engagements," said she doubtfully.

"There are none for the next week we need mind throwing over," replied Jin, whose memory was always to be depended on. "A heavy dinner at Lord Gasper's—twenty people we don't know, not a man under forty, and all the windows shut. Mrs. Potterton's concert—second-rate company, third-rate singers, two hundred people asked and sitting-room for fifty. Lady Jericho's drum—small and early, like young potatoes; she'll be mortally affronted, and won't ask us again; but she's not going to give anything more this season, so that don't signify! Dear Rose, it would be very nice. Let us stay."

Now, in justice to Miss Ross, I feel bound to insist that this sudden hatred of London gaiety and passion for rural scenery was not due solely to her adventure with Frank Vanguard. One of the strongest motives that can sway a woman's feelings prompted her to remain in the neighbourhood of Mrs. Mole. To have seen her long-lost child for one short hour, to have held him in her arms, set him on her knees, and folded his curly little head to her bosom, was like a mouthful of water to a man fainting from thirst, delightful, invigorating, life-restoring, but creating an insupportable craving for more.

It may be that this interview had softened Jin's whole moral being, rendering her more susceptible to the gentler emotions of her nature, against which she had long waged unnatural war. It may be that in the subjection of Frank Vanguard she hoped to acquire another vassal, or at least an ally, against the time when she might want to summon all her forces for the furtherance of her plans. Perhaps she had many reasons, perhaps she had none at all, but acted, woman-like, on her instinct and her desires. However this may be, she brought out all her powers of persuasion to fortify her friend in the plan that seemed so delightful, of remaining yet a while longer at The Lilies; but I must leave to those who understand a woman's nature, if such philosophers there be, the task of explaining why Jin should have felt at this moment less affection, less gratitude to Mrs. Lascelles, and altogether less dependence on her benefactress, than during the whole of their previous acquaintance.

Dinner that day, at least until the champagne had circulated, was less lively than usual. Everybody seemed silent and pre-occupied. Sir Henry, to use his own expression, had not "got out" in time on one of the principal races, and as the favourite was never "in the hunt," being beaten half a mile from home, the baronet experienced a double annoyance, of losing his money, and feeling also that he had been less astute than his neighbours when he suffered Outrigger to carry a large stake for him in the Thames Handicap. Mrs. Lascelles, watching his face narrowly, began to torment herself, but taking her tone from his, these two presently recovered their equanimity. Sir Henry liked champagne, and drank it freely. The exhilarating tendency of that agreeable wine, acting on the buoyancy of his disposition, soon put dull care to flight, and before dinner was half over, he had forgotten ill-luck, losses, and embarrassments, and disposed himself to grasp the enjoyments of the present as only such natures can.

But not all the wine that ever was corked at Epernay could have enlivened Uncle Joseph after the disclosures of to-day. He hardly spoke to Miss Ross before they sat down; and when she offered him the usual little posy for his button-hole, refused the flowers with a rudeness that would have been brutal, but for the wounded feelings his petulance revealed. Truth compels me to admit that, notwithstanding his mercantile probity, Uncle Joseph scarcely behaved like an honest man in the present transaction. He was not really half so angry as he pretended to be; but remembering, in his previous experience, that such little quarrels often cleared the way to mutual understanding and good-will, he resolved to stick by the precepts of that great amatory authority, "Ovid with the Nose," and prepare, by a good dose of sulks to-night, for a "redinte-gratio amoris" to-morrow.

Jin, on the contrary, whose present idea it was to keep all her irons in the fire, suffering no profusion of birds in the bush to distract her entirely from the one in hand, proceeded to approach and circumvent her host as craftily as a Scotch keeper stalks an old cock grouse in October. She gazed on him at intervals with mournful curiosity, withdrawing her eyes the instant they met his glance. She sighed, she talked at him, she even tried to flirt a little with Goldthred, something in the day's adventures preventing her from sharpening her weapons on Sir Henry; as a last resource, she affected headache and extreme fatigue, while she related, with touching frankness, the accident she had sustained, making light of its danger, and most ungratefully ignoring the gallantry of her preserver.

But all to no purpose—she deceived nobody. Uncle Joseph grew crustier every moment, and Sir Henry, who was easily amused, smiled as he bethought him that, but for the good looks of the lady, this ill-matched couple reminded him forcibly of a monkey and a bear.

Goldthred, I need hardly observe, was always the same in the presence of his mistress, absent, confused, over-polite, and prone to blush at short notice. At no time did he aspire to be a vivacious companion, but in the company of Mrs. Lascelles he became simply idiotic.

Helen, too, seemed absent and pre-occupied; of course, with the old excuse, that she was over-tired. The weather had been so hot, the road so dusty! and if she had indeed expected to meet Captain Vanguard on the Heath, his absence might perhaps have been accounted for more satisfactorily than by the recital of his adventure with Miss Ross, which met her immediately on her return. Dinner, therefore, in spite of the cook's undoubted talents, progressed but heavily, and with long intervals of silence, dispiriting in the extreme.