Kate Coventry: An Autobiography

by G. J. Whyte-Melville

The manoeuvre answered admirably so far. I heard the enemy swearing volubly as he blundered along the passage, thinking I was still before him; and I now prepared to grope my way back in the dark to my own room. But I had not escaped yet. To my infinite dismay, I heard the voices of gentlemen wishing each other the usual "Good-night, old fellow," and proceeding along the passage from the direction of the smoking-room. Horror of horrors! a light approached the door of the very room in which I had taken refuge; in another second he would enter—the man would find me in his room. He stopped a moment on the threshold to fire a parting jest at his companions, and the light from his candle showed me my only chance. A covered showerbath stood in the corner of the apartment, and into that shower-bath I jumped, closing the curtains all round me, but, as may be easily believed, taking very particular care not to pull the string. Scarcely was I fairly ensconced before Frank Lovell made his appearance; and I saw at once, through a hole in the curtains, that he was the lawful occupier and possessor of the apartment.

Here was a predicament indeed! If the emergency had not been so desperate, I must have fainted. "Good gracious," I thought, "if he should lock the door!" Frank, however, seemed to have no such intention; I believe this is a precaution gentlemen seldom adopt. On the contrary, he proceeded to make himself thoroughly at home. Lighting his candle, he leisurely divested himself of his coat, waistcoat, and neckcloth, enfolded his person in a large loose dressing-gown, leaned his head on both hands, and gave a deep sigh. Apparently much relieved by this process, he took up his hair-brushes, and after a good refreshing turn at his locks and whiskers, and a muttered compliment to his own reflection in the glass, that sounded very like "You fool!" he unlocked a small writing-case, and producing from it a little bundle of letters, tied up with pink ribbon, selected them one by one, and read them over from beginning to end, kissing each with devout fervour as he replaced it carefully in its envelope. I would have given a great deal to know who they were from; their perusal seemed to afford him mingled satisfaction and annoyance; but he sighed heavily again, and I saw he had a long lock of hair in his fingers, which he gazed at till the tears stood in his eyes. He kissed it, the traitor! and fondled it, and spoke to it, and clasped it to his heart (men are just as great fools as we are). Whose could it be? Not mine, certainly, for I never gave him such a thing; Miss Molasses'? No; hers was black, and rather coarse; this was a silky chestnut. Could it have belonged to Mrs. Lumley? Hers was very much the colour, and I often thought Frank rather épris with her. Nonsense! that lively lady had not an atom of sentiment in her composition; she would just as soon have thought of working him a counterpane!

I was so interested in my discoveries that I forgot altogether my own critical position, the impracticability of escape till Frank had gone to sleep, the chance of arousing him as I went out, or, more alarming still, the awful possibility of his lying awake all night. When morning dawned, concealment could no longer be preserved, and what to do then? I meditated a bold stroke. To rush from my hiding-place, blow out both the candles before my host had recovered his surprise, and then run for it. Thrice was I on the eve of this perilous enterprise. Thrice my courage failed me at the critical moment. The fourth time I think I should have gone, when a knock at the door arrested my attention, and Frank's "Come in" welcomed a visitor whose voice I well knew to be that of Cousin John. The plot began to thicken. It was impossible to get away now.

"Lovell," said John, in an unusually grave voice, "I told you I wanted to speak a word with you, and this is the only time I can make sure of finding you alone."

Frank was busy huddling his treasures back into the writing-case.

"Drive on, old fellow," said he, "there's lots of time; it's not two o'clock yet."

"Lovell," proceeded John, "you are an old friend of mine, and I have a great regard for you, but I have a duty to perform, and I must go through with it. Point-blank, on your honour as a gentleman, I ask you, Are you or are you not engaged to be married to Miss Molasses?"

Frank coloured, hesitated, looked confused, and then got angry.

"No intimacy can give you a right to ask such a question," he replied, talking very fast and excitedly: "you take an unwarrantable liberty, both with her and me. Who told you I was going to be married at all? or what business is it of yours whether I am married or not?"

John began to get heated too, but he looked very determined.