Now the converse of this relation between the sexes holds equally good. To live entirely with men and horses; to rough it habitually; from day to day enduring hardships, voluntary or otherwise, in the pursuit of field-sports; to share his studies with a dog, and take his pastime with a prize-fighter, does not necessarily unfit a man for the society of gentler, softer, sweeter, craftier creatures. On the contrary, in many natures, and those, perhaps, the strongest, such habits produce a longing for female society deeper and keener, that it has to be continually repudiated and repressed.
When he had started Daisy for the station, Bill renewed his toilet with peculiar care, and in spite of a few scars on his face, some the effects of falls, others, alas! of fights, a very good-looking young gentleman he saw reflected in his glass. Smoothing a pair of early moustaches, and sleeking a close-cropped head, he searched about in vain for a scent-bottle, and actually drew on a pair of kid gloves. Obviously, "Soldier Bill" was going to call on a lady. He could not help laughing, while he thought how the cornets would chaff him, if they knew. Nevertheless, with a farewell caress to the badger, fresh, radiant, and undaunted, he sallied forth.
It was quite in accordance with the doctrine of opposites, propounded above, that Bill should have experienced a sensation of refreshment and repose, in the society of a charming married woman, very much his senior, who made light of him no doubt, but amused, indulged, and instructed him while she laughed. Her boudoir was indeed a pleasant change from his barrack-room. He could not but admit that in her society tea seemed a more grateful beverage than brandy and soda; the tones of a pianoforte sweeter than any stable call; and the perfume that pervaded every article about her, far more delightful, if less pungent, than that which hung round his retiring friend "Benjamin," in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe.
In his wildest moments, however, Bill never dreamed of making love to her; and it is not difficult to understand, that his goddess, being no less experienced a person than Mrs. Lushington, was well able to take care of herself.
"I like the boy," she used to say to any one who would listen, even to her husband, if nobody else could be found. "He is so fresh and honest, and he looks so clean! It's like having a nice child about one, and then I can do him so much good. I form his manners, teach him the ways of society, prevent his being imposed upon, and generally make him fit for civilised life. If there were no good-natured people like me, Frank, these poor young things would fall a prey to the first designing girl who comes across them on the war-path, looking out to catch a husband coûte que coûte. I'm sure his mother ought to be infinitely obliged to me. She couldn't take more pains with him herself! When he began coming here, he didn't know how to waltz or to take off his hat, or to answer a note even; in short, he couldn't say Boo to a goose! And now I've made him learn all these things, and he does them well, particularly the last. He's still absurdly shy, I grant you, but it's wearing off day by day. When I'm grown old, Frank, and wrinkled (though I'd sooner die first), he'll be grateful, and understand what care I've taken of him, and what a sad fate might have befallen him, but for me! Isn't there something in Dr. Watts, or somebody,
Regardless of their doom,
The little victims play.
Frank! I don't believe you're listening!"
"Oh yes, I am," answers Frank, whose thoughts have wandered to Skindle's, Richmond, Newmarket—who knows where? "What you say is very true, my dear—very true—and nobody understands these things better than yourself. Good gracious! is that clock right! I had no idea it was so late! I must be off at once, and—let me see—I'll get back to dinner if I can; but don't wait."
So exit Mr. Lushington on his own devices, and enter a footman with tea, closely followed by the butler ushering in "Soldier Bill."
"Talk of somebody," says the lady, graciously extending her hand, "and, we are told, he is sure to appear. How odd, I was abusing you not five minutes ago to Frank—you must have met him as you came in,—and, behold, here you are—not having been near me for a month!"