Though conversing with nearly everybody he met, he evidently knew no one; and as evidently no one knew him.
Want of politeness to a stranger would not comport with the character of Newport people; especially when that stranger had all the appearance of an accomplished gentleman, followed at respectful distance by a well-dressed and obsequious servant.
Those with whom he came in contact had but one thought:
“A distinguished visitor.”
There was nothing in the appearance of Mr Swinton to contradict the supposition. He was a man who had seen some thirty summers, with no signs to show that they had been unpleasantly spent. Amidst his glossy curls of dark auburn colour, the eye could not detect a single strand of grey; and if the crow had set its claw upon his face, the track could not be observed. Under a well-cultivated whisker uniting to the moustache upon his lips—in short the facial tonsure which distinguishes the habitué of the Horse Guards. There could be no mistaking him for any other than a “Britisher”; and as such was he set down, both by the citizens of the town, and the guests at the hotel.
The meal called “tea-supper” being over, and the stranger, having nothing better to do, was leaning out of the window of his sleeping room, on the fourth storey—tranquilly smoking a cigar.
A conversation that occurred between himself and his servant—exhibiting on the one side condescension, on the other a strange familiarity—need not be repeated. It had ended; and the servant had thrown himself, sans façon, on a sofa; while the master, with arms resting on the window-sill, continued to inspire the perfume of the nicotian weed, along with the iodised air that came up from the algae of the ocean.
The tranquil scene was favourable to reflection, and thus Mr Swinton reflected:
“Deuced nice place! Devilish pretty girls! Hope I’ll find one of them who’s got money, and command of it as well. Sure to be some old hag here with a well-filled stocking, though it may take time to discover it. Let me get a glance at her cornucopia, and if I don’t turn the small end upward, then—then I shall believe what I have heard of these Yankee dames: that they hold their purse-strings tighter than do their simple cousins of England. Several heiresses about, I’ve heard. One or two with something like a million a piece—dollars, of course. Five dollars to the pound. Let me see! A million of dollars makes two hundred thousand pounds. Well! that would do, or even the half of it. I wonder if that good-looking girl, with the maternal parent attached to her, has got any blunt? A little love mixed with the play would make my game all the more agreeable. Ah! What’s below? The shadows of women from an open window, the occupants of the apartment underneath. Talking they are. If they would only come out on the balcony, there would be some chance of my hearing them. I’m just in the humour for listening to a little scandal; and if they’re anything like their sex on the other side of the Atlantic, that’s sure to be the theme. By Jove! they’re coming out! Just to oblige me.”
It was just at this moment that Cornelia retired to her room, and Mrs Girdwood, following her daughter, took stand upon the balcony to continue the conversation which had been carried on inside.