CHAPTER X.
"Is there a heart that never loved,
Nor felt soft woman's sigh?"
If there be such a heart, it is not in the breast of a pocket-
cannibal. Your true man-eater is usually of an amorous temperament:
he can be indeed sufficiently fond of a lady to eat her up. Mr.
Losely makes the acquaintance of a widow. For further particulars
inquire within.
The dignified serenity of Gloucester Place, Portman Square, is agitated
by the intrusion of a new inhabitant. A house in that favoured locality,
which had for several months maintained "the solemn stillness and the
dread repose" which appertain to dwellings that are to be let upon lease,
unfurnished, suddenly started into that exuberant and aggressive life
which irritates the nerves of its peaceful neighbours. The bills have
been removed from the windows; the walls have been cleaned down and
pointed; the street-door repainted a lively green; workmen have gone in
and out. The observant ladies (single ones) in the house opposite,
discover, by the help of a telescope, that the drawing-rooms have been
new papered, canary-coloured ground, festoon borders; and that the
mouldings of the shutters have been gilded. Gilt shutters! that looks
ominous of an ostentatious and party-giving tenant. Then carts full of
furniture have stopped at the door; carpets, tables, chairs, beds,
wardrobes,--all seemingly new, and in no inelegant taste,--have been
disgorged into the hall. It has been noticed, too, that every day a lady
of slight figure and genteel habiliments has come, seemingly to inspect
progress; evidently the new tenant. Sometimes she comes alone; sometimes
with a dark-eyed, handsome lad, probably her son. Who can she be? what
is she? what is her name? her history? has she a right to settle in
Gloucester Place, Portman Square? The detective police of London is not
peculiarly vigilant; but its defects are supplied by the voluntary
efforts of unmarried ladies. The new comer was a widow; her husband had
been in the army; of good family; but a /mauvais sujet/; she had been
left in straitened circumstances with an only son. It was supposed that
she had unexpectedly come into a fortune, on the strength of which she
had removed from Pimlico into Gloucester Place. At length, the
preparations completed, one Monday afternoon the widow, accompanied by
her son, came to settle. The next day a footman, in genteel livery
(brown and orange), appeared at the door. Then, for the rest of the
week, the baker and butcher called regularly. On the following Sunday,
the lady and her son appeared at church.
No reader will be at a loss to discover in the new tenant of No. --
Gloucester Place the widowed mother of Lionel Haughton. The letter for
that lady which Darrell had entrusted to his young cousin had, in
complimentary and cordial language, claimed the right to provide for her
comfortable and honourable subsistence; and announced that henceforth
L800 a year would be placed quarterly to her account at Mr. Darrell's
banker, and that an additional sum of L1200 was already there deposited
in her name, in order to enable her to furnish any residence to which she
might be inclined to remove. Mrs. Haughton therewith had removed to
Gloucester Place.
She is seated by the window in her front drawing-room, surveying with
proud though grateful heart the elegances by which she is surrounded.
A very winning countenance: lively eyes, that in themselves may be over-
quick and petulant; but their expression is chastened by a gentle kindly
mouth. And over the whole face, the attitude, the air, even the dress
itself, is diffused the unmistakable simplicity of a sincere natural
character. No doubt Mrs. Haughton has her tempers and her vanities, and
her little harmless feminine weaknesses; but you could not help feeling
in her presence that you were with an affectionate, warm-hearted, honest,
good woman. She might not have the refinements of tone and manner which
stamp the high-bred gentlewoman of convention; she might evince the
deficiencies of an imperfect third-rate education: but she was saved from
vulgarity by a certain undefinable grace or person and music of voice,--
even when she said or did things that well-bred people do not say or do;
and there was an engaging intelligence in those quick hazel eyes that
made you sure that she was sensible, even when she uttered what was
silly.
Mrs. Haughton turned from the interior of the room to the open window.
She is on the look-out for her son, who has gone to call on Colonel
Morley, and who ought to be returned by this time. She begins to get a
little fidgety, somewhat cross. While thus standing and thus watchful,
there comes thundering down the street a high-stepping horse, bay, with
white legs; it whirls on a cabriolet,--blue, with vermilion wheels; two
hands, in yellow kid gloves, are just seen under the hood. Mrs. Haughton
suddenly blushes and draws in her head. Too late! the cabriolet has
stopped; a gentleman leans forward, takes off his hat, bows respectfully.
"Dear, dear!" murmurs Mrs. Haughton, "I do think he is going to call:
some people are born to be tempted; my temptations have been immense! He
is getting out; he knocks; I can't say, now, that I am not at home,--very
awkward! I wish Lionel were here! What does he mean, neglecting his own
mother, and leaving her a prey to tempters?"
While the footman is responding to the smart knock of the visitor,
we will explain how Mrs. Haughton had incurred that gentleman's
acquaintance. In one of her walks to her new house while it was in
the hands of the decorators, her mind being much absorbed in the
consideration whether her drawing-room curtains should be chintz or
tabouret,--just as she was crossing the street, she was all but run over
by a gentleman's cabriolet. The horse was hard-mouthed, going at full
speed. The driver pulled up just in time; but the wheel grazed her
dress, and though she ran back instinctively, yet when she was safe on
the pavement, the fright overpowered her nerves, and she clung to the
street-post almost fainting. Two or three passers-by humanely gathered
round her; and the driver, looking back, and muttering to himself, "Not
bad-looking; neatly dressed; lady-like; French shawl; may have tin; worth
while perhaps!" gallantly descended and hastened to offer apologies, with
a respectful hope that she was not injured.
Mrs. Haughton answered somewhat tartly, but being one of those good-
hearted women who, apt to be rude, are extremely sorry for it the moment
afterwards, she wished to repair any hurt to his feelings occasioned by
her first impulse; and when, renewing his excuses, he offered his arm
over the crossing, she did not like to refuse. On gaining the side of
the way on which her house was situated, she had recovered sufficiently
to blush for having accepted such familiar assistance from a perfect
stranger, and somewhat to falter in returning thanks for his politeness.
Our gentleman, whose estimate of his attractions was not humble, ascribed
the blushing cheek and faltering voice to the natural effect produced by
his appearance; and he himself admiring very much a handsome bracelet on
her wrist, which he deemed a favourable prognostic of "tin," watched her
to her door, and sent his groom in the course of the evening to make
discreet inquiries in the neighbourhood. The result of the inquiries
induced him to resolve upon prosecuting the acquaintance thus begun. He
contrived to learn the hours at which Mrs. Haughton usually visited the
house, and to pass by Gloucester Place at the very nick of time. His bow
was recognizing, respectful, interrogative,--a bow that asked "How much
farther?" But Mrs. Haughton's bow respondent seemed to declare, "Not at
all!" The stranger did not venture more that day; but a day or two
afterwards he came again into Gloucester Place on foot. On that occasion
Mrs. Haughton was with her son, and the gentleman would not seem to
perceive her. The next day he returned; she was then alone, and just as
she gained her door, he advanced. "I beg you ten thousand pardons,
madam; but if I am rightly informed, I have the honour to address Mrs.
Charles Haughton!"
The lady bowed in surprise.
"Ah, madam, your lamented husband was one of my most particular friends."
"You don't say so!" cried Mrs. Haughton. And looking more attentively
at the stranger, there was in his dress and appearance something that she
thought very stylish; a particular friend of Charles Haughton's was sure
to be stylish, to be a man of the first water. And she loved the poor
Captain's memory; her heart warmed to any "particular friend of his."
"Yes," resumed the gentleman, noting the advantage he had gained, "though
I was considerably his junior, we were great cronies; excuse that
familiar expression; in the Hussars together--"
"The Captain was not in the Hussars, sir; he was in the Guards."
"Of course he was; but I was saying--in the Hussars, together with the
Guards, there were some very fine fellows; very fine; he was one of them.
I could not resist paying my respects to the widowed lady of so fine a
fellow. I know it is a liberty, ma'am, but 't is my way. People who
know me well--and I have a large acquaintance--are kind enough to excuse
my way. And to think that villanous horse, which I had just bought out
of Lord Bolton's stud (200 guineas, ma'am, and cheap), should have nearly
taken the life of Charles Haughton's lovely relict! If anybody else had
been driving that brute, I shudder to think what might have been the
consequences; but I have a wrist of iron. Strength is a vulgar
qualification,--very vulgar; but when it saves a lady from perishing, how
can one be ashamed of it? But I am detaining you. Your own house, Mrs.
Haughton?"
"Yes, sir, I have just taken it, but the workmen have not finished. I am
not yet settled here."
"Charming situation! My friend left a son, I believe? In the army
already?"
"No, sir, but he wishes it very much."
"Mr. Darrell, I think, could gratify that wish."
"What! you know Mr. Darrell, that most excellent generous man. All we
have we owe to him."
The gentleman abruptly turned aside,--wisely; for his expression of face
at that praise might have startled Mrs.
Haughton. "Yes, I knew him once. He has had many a fee out of my
family. Goodish lawyer; cleverish man; and rich as a Jew. I should like
to see my old friend's son, ma'am. He must be monstrous handsome with
such parents!"
"Oh, sir, very like his father. I shall be proud to present him to you."
"Ma'am, I thank you. I will have the honour to call--"
And thus is explained how Jasper Losely has knocked at Mrs. Haughton's
door; has walked up her stairs; has seated himself in her drawing-room,
and is now edging his chair somewhat nearer to her, and throwing into his
voice and looks a degree of admiration which has been sincerely kindled
by the aspect of her elegant apartments.
Jessica Haughton was not one of those women, if such there be, who do not
know when a gentleman is making up to them. She knew perfectly well that
with a very little encouragement her visitor would declare himself a
suitor. Nor, to speak truth, was she quite insensible to his handsome
person, nor quite unmoved by his flatteries. She had her weak points,
and vanity was one of them. Nor conceived she, poor lady, the slightest
suspicion that Jasper Losely was not a personage whose attentions might
flatter any woman. Though lie had not even announced a name, but,
pushing aside the footman, had sauntered in with as familiar an ease as
if he had been a first cousin; though he had not uttered a syllable that
could define his station, or attest his boasted friendship with the dear
defunct, still Mrs. Haughton implicitly believed that she was with one of
those gay chiefs of ton who had glittered round her Charlie in that
earlier morning of his life, ere he had sold out of the Guards, and
bought himself out of jail; a lord, or an honourable at least; and she
was even (I shudder to say) revolving in her mind whether it might not be
an excellent thing for her dear Lionel if she could prevail on herself to
procure for him the prop and guidance of a distinguished and brilliant
father-in-law,--rich, noble, evidently good-natured, sensible,
attractive. Oh! but the temptation was growing more and more IMMENSE!
when suddenly the door opened, and in sprang Lionel crying out, "Mother
dear, the Colonel has come with me on purpose to--"
He stopped short, staring hard at Jasper Losely. That gentleman advanced
a few steps, extending his hand, but came to an abrupt halt on seeing
Colonel Morley's figure now filling up the doorway. Not that he feared
recognition: the Colonel did not know him by sight, but he knew by sight
the Colonel. In his own younger day, when lolling over the rails of
Rotten Row, he had enviously noted the leaders of fashion pass by, and
Colonel Morley had not escaped his observation. Colonel Morley, indeed,
was one of those men who by name and repute are sure to be known to all
who, like Jasper Losely in his youth, would fain learn something about
that gaudy, babbling, and remorseless world which, like the sun, either
vivifies or corrupts, according to the properties of the object on which
it shines. Strange to say, it was the mere sight of the real fine
gentleman that made the mock fine gentleman shrink and collapse. Though
Jasper Losely knew himself to be still called a magnificent man,--one of
royal Nature's Lifeguardsmen; though confident that from top to toe his
habiliments could defy the criticism of the strictest martinet in polite
costume, no sooner did that figure, by no means handsome and clad in
garments innocent of buckram but guilty of wrinkles, appear on the
threshold than Jasper Losely felt small and shabby, as if he had been
suddenly reduced to five feet two, and had bought his coat out of an old
clothesman's bag.
Without appearing even to see Mr. Losely, the Colonel, in his turn, as he
glided past him towards Mrs. Haughton, had, with what is proverbially
called the corner of the eye, taken the whole of that impostor's superb
personnel into calm survey, had read him through and through, and decided
on these two points without the slightest hesitation,--"a lady-killer and
a sharper."
Quick as breathing had been the effect thus severally produced on Mrs.
Haughton's visitors, which it has cost so many words to describe,--so
quick that the Colonel, without any apparent pause of dialogue, has
already taken up the sentence Lionel left uncompleted, and says, as he
bows over Mrs. Haughton's hand, "Come on purpose to claim acquaintance
with an old friend's widow, a young friend's mother."
MRS. HAUGHTON.--"I am sure, Colonel Morley, I am very much flattered.
And you, too, knew the poor dear Captain; 't is so pleasant to think that
his old friends come round us now. This gentleman, also, was a
particular friend of dear Charles's."
The Colonel had somewhat small eyes, which moved with habitual slowness.
He lifted those eyes, let them drop upon Jasper (who still stood in the
middle of the room, with one hand still half-extended towards Lionel),
and letting the eyes rest there while he spoke, repeated,
"Particular friend of Charles Haughton,--the only one of his particular
friends whom I never had the honour to see before."
Jasper, who, whatever his deficiency in other virtues, certainly did not
lack courage, made a strong effort at self-possession, and without
replying to the Colonel, whose remark had not been directly addressed to
himself, said in his most rollicking tone, "Yes, Mrs. Haughton, Charles
was my particular friend, but," lifting his eyeglass, "but this gentleman
was," dropping the eyeglass negligently, "not in our set, I suppose."
Then advancing to Lionel, and seizing his hand, "I must introduce
myself,--the image of your father, I declare! I was saying to Mrs.
Haughton how much I should like to see you; proposing to her, just as you
came in, that we should go to the play together. Oh, ma'am, you may
trust him to me safely. Young men should see Life!" Here Jasper tipped
Lionel one of those knowing winks with which he was accustomed to delight
and ensnare the young friends of Mr. Poole, and hurried on: "But in an
innocent way, ma'am, such as mothers would approve. We'll fix an evening
for it when I have the honour to call again. Good morning, Mrs.
Haughton. Your hand again, sir (to Lionel). Ah, we shall be great
friends, I guess! You must let me take you out in my cab; teach you to
handle the ribbons, eh? 'Gad, my old friend Charles was a whip. Ha!
Ha! Goodday, good-day!"
Not a muscle had moved in the Colonel's face during Mr. Losely's jovial
monologue. But when Jasper had bowed himself out, Mrs. Haughton,
courtesying, and ringing the bell for the footman to open the street-
door, the man of the world (and, as a man of the world, Colonel Morley
was consummate) again raised those small slow eyes,--this time towards
her face,--and dropped the words,
"My old friend's particular friend is--not bad looking, Mrs. Haughton!"
"And so lively and pleasant," returned Mrs. Haughton, with a slight rise
of colour, but no other sign of embarrassment. "It may be a nice
acquaintance for Lionel."
"Mother!" cried that ungrateful boy, "you are not speaking seriously?
I think the man is odious. If he were not my father's friend, I should
say he was--"
"What, Lionel?" asked the Colonel, blandly, "was what?"
"Snobbish, sir."
"Lionel, how dare you?" exclaimed Mrs. Haughton. "What vulgar words
boys do pick up at school, Colonel Morley."
"We must be careful that they do not pick up worse than words when they
leave school, my dear madam. You will forgive me, but Mr. Darrell has so
expressly--of course, with your permission--commended this young
gentleman to my responsible care and guidance; so openly confided to me
his views and intentions,--that perhaps you would do me the very great
favour not to force upon him, against his own wishes, the acquaintance of
--that very good-looking person."
Mrs. Haughton pouted, and kept down her rising temper. The Colonel began
to awe her.
"By the by," continued the man of the world, "may I inquire the name of
my old friend's particular friend?"
"His name? upon my word I really don't know it. Perhaps he left his
card; ring the bell, Lionel."
"You don't know his name, yet you know him, ma'am, and would allow your
son to see LIFE under his auspices! I beg you ten thousand pardons; but
even ladies the most cautious, mothers the most watchful, are exposed
to--"
"Immense temptations,--that is--to--to--"
"I understand perfectly, my dear Mrs. Haughton."
The footman appeared. "Did that gentleman leave a card?"
"No, ma'am."
"Did not you ask his name when he entered?"
"Yes, ma'am, but he said he would announce himself." When the footman
had withdrawn, Mrs. Haughton exclaimed piteously, "I have been to blame,
Colonel; I see it. But Lionel will tell you how I came to know the
gentleman,--the gentleman who nearly ran over me, Lionel, and then spoke
so kindly about your dear father."
"Oh, that is the person!--I supposed so," cried Lionel, kissing his
mother, who was inclined to burst into tears. "I can explain it all now,
Colonel Morley. Any one who says a kind word about my father warms my
mother's heart to him at once; is it not so, Mother dear?"
"And long be it so," said Colonel Morley, with grateful earnestness; "and
may such be my passport to your confidence, Mrs. Haughton. Charles was
my old schoolfellow,--a little boy when I and Darrell were in the sixth
form; and, pardon me, when I add, that if that gentleman were ever
Charles Haughton's particular friend, he could scarcely have been a very
wise one. For unless his appearance greatly belies his years he must
have been little more than a boy when Charles Haughton left Lionel
fatherless."
Here, in the delicacy of tact, seeing that Mrs. Haughton looked ashamed
of the subject, and seemed aware of her imprudence, the Colonel rose,
with a request--cheerfully granted--that Lionel might be allowed to come
to breakfast with him the next morning.
