Nevertheless, it would doubtless have been wiser in him, a man somewhat advanced in life, not to have made C. the bearer and utterer of his loving messages to the lady of his heart, quite so often or so unreservedly as he appears to have done. C., who was probably a well-favoured and fascinating fellow enough, must have seen more of Miss B. than did her lover; and in his capacity of the latter’s recognised confidant, he could easily have obtained access to her at any moment. Perhaps the young beauty was not averse to a little flirtation with the handsome and clever barrister. Perhaps she encouraged him; the evidence, such as it is, would seem to point that way. Be that as it may, we must admit that C. was exposed to pretty strong temptation. His virtue, be he who he might, must have had a struggle for it; and if we imagine him rather warm-blooded and tolerably weak-principled, we may be justly anxious as to virtue’s victory.
Having made what allowances we will, there is no denying that C. turned out a great scoundrel. A. one morning took his carriage and went up to London, and the coachman stopped at the door of the Court jeweller. Out steps Mr. A., with his velvet cloak, his silk stockings, his plumed hat, and his peaked beard; and, with his long rapier dangling at his side, and his lace ruffles half concealing his white hands, he makes his stately entry into the bowing tradesman’s shop. There he spends a long time examining, with all the whimsical particularity of an elderly lover, the trays upon trays of rare, rich, and costly nicknacks which are set before him. It seems as though he would never be suited. The pompous horses, standing outside, shake their rattling head-gear and stamp their proud hoofs impatiently; the obsequious jeweller racks his brain and exhausts his eloquence unavailingly. Never was there so difficult a customer. At length the man of jewels picks up a quaint-looking little locket, and is just on the point of putting it down again, as not even worth the trouble of offering, when Mr. A. exclaims:
“Hold, Mr. Jeweller, that is what we are looking for. What is the price of that locket?”
“Oh sir,” replies the shrewd man of business, quickly recovering from his first surprise, “I see you need not be informed of what is truly valuable. This little locket, which most persons would look upon as commonplace, is in fact, in more senses than one, the jewel of my stock. It is made, you perceive, out of a simple brown tourmaline, exquisitely cut in relief. The workmanship is really matchless, and the tourmaline itself—as perhaps you are aware—is believed to be endowed with certain mystic properties——”
“Yes, yes, Mr. Jeweller,” interrupts the dark-visaged customer, in a somewhat testy tone; “I know the nature and properties of the trinket quite as well as you do. What I desired of you was to name your price.”
The tradesman hesitated for a moment, and then, summoning all his audacity to his aid, mentioned a sum which made his own heart beat and his eyes water. But the composure of Mr. A. was not dashed a whit. He even appeared to smile a little satirically, as though to intimate that he considered himself as having altogether the best of the bargain. He paid the money without a moment’s demur, and taking up the locket before the excited jeweller had time to put it in a box for him, Mr. A. saluted him gravely and stalked out of the shop.
“Well,” thought the tradesman, as he watched the heavy coach roll away, “if he’s satisfied, I’m sure I ought to be. And yet—I wonder what that locket was after all! I don’t remember having ever noticed it amongst the stock before to-day. It really was finely enchased, and may have been more valuable than I supposed. But pshaw! fifty guineas! Such a stroke of business was never heard of before. If the locket had been a witch’s amulet, with power to drive men mad or raise the Devil, I should still have made a good profit!”
Meanwhile Mr. A. was speeding on his way to his betrothed. The fact is, they were to be married on the morrow, and the honest gentleman had bought the locket as a pre-nuptial gift. Probably the horses, fleet and well-conditioned as they were, were somewhat put to it to keep pace with their owner’s eagerness to be at the end of his journey. In due time, however, behold them reined snorting up at the gateway of the B. mansion, and Mr. A., locket in hand, preparing to alight.
But, alas! it is too evident that some disaster has occurred. The servant who opens the door is pale and scared; the household is in disorder. Twice does the visitor demand news of the master and mistress before he can elicit a reply.
“Present them my compliments, if they are at leisure,” continues Mr. A., “and ask whether I may request the honour of an interview with their daughter.”