THE SQUIRE OF DAMES (Concluded)
What with the lady's animated manner and dramatic conduct of her
voice, Challoner had thrilled to every incident with genuine
emotion. His fancy, which was not perhaps of a very lively
character, applauded both the matter and the style; but the more
judicial functions of his mind refused assent. It was an excellent
story; and it might be true, but he believed it was not. Miss
Fonblanque was a lady, and it was doubtless possible for a lady to
wander from the truth; but how was a gentleman to tell her so? His
spirits for some time had been sinking, but they now fell to zero;
and long after her voice had died away he still sat with a troubled
and averted countenance, and could find no form of words to thank
her for her narrative. His mind, indeed, was empty of everything
beyond a dull longing for escape. From this pause, which grew the
more embarrassing with every second, he was roused by the sudden
laughter of the lady. His vanity was alarmed; he turned and faced
her; their eyes met; and he caught from hers a spark of such frank
merriment as put him instantly at ease.
'You certainly,' he said, 'appear to bear your calamities with
excellent spirit.'
'Do I not?' she cried, and fell once more into delicious laughter.
But from this access she more speedily recovered. 'This is all
very well,' said she, nodding at him gravely, 'but I am still in a
most distressing situation, from which, if you deny me your help, I
shall find it difficult indeed to free myself.'
At this mention of help Challoner fell back to his original gloom.
'My sympathies are much engaged with you,' he said, 'and I should
be delighted, I am sure. But our position is most unusual; and
circumstances over which I have, I can assure you, no control,
deprive me of the power--the pleasure--Unless, indeed,' he added,
somewhat brightening at the thought, 'I were to recommend you to
the care of the police?'
She laid her hand upon his arm and looked hard into his eyes; and
he saw with wonder that, for the first time since the moment of
their meeting, every trace of colour had faded from her cheek.
'Do so,' she said, 'and--weigh my words well--you kill me as
certainly as with a knife.'
'God bless me!' exclaimed Challoner.
'Oh,' she cried, 'I can see you disbelieve my story and make light
of the perils that surround me; but who are you to judge? My
family share my apprehensions; they help me in secret; and you saw
yourself by what an emissary, and in what a place, they have chosen
to supply me with the funds for my escape. I admit that you are
brave and clever and have impressed me most favourably; but how are
you to prefer your opinion before that of my uncle, an ex-minister
of state, a man with the ear of the Queen, and of a long political
experience? If I am mad, is he? And you must allow me, besides, a
special claim upon your help. Strange as you may think my story,
you know that much of it is true; and if you who heard the
explosion and saw the Mormon at Victoria, refuse to credit and
assist me, to whom am I to turn?'
'He gave you money then?' asked Challoner, who had been dwelling
singly on that fact.
'I begin to interest you,' she cried. 'But, frankly, you are
condemned to help me. If the service I had to ask of you were
serious, were suspicious, were even unusual, I should say no more.
But what is it? To take a pleasure trip (for which, if you will
suffer me, I propose to pay) and to carry from one lady to another
a sum of money! What can be more simple?'
'Is the sum,' asked Challoner, 'considerable?'
She produced a packet from her bosom; and observing that she had
not yet found time to make the count, tore open the cover and
spread upon her knees a considerable number of Bank of England
notes. It took some time to make the reckoning, for the notes were
of every degree of value; but at last, and counting a few loose
sovereigns, she made out the sum to be a little under 710 pounds
sterling. The sight of so much money worked an immediate
revolution in the mind of Challoner.
'And you propose, madam,' he cried, 'to intrust that money to a
perfect stranger?'
'Ah!' said she, with a charming smile, 'but I no longer regard you
as a stranger.'
'Madam,' said Challoner, 'I perceive I must make you a confession.
Although of a very good family--through my mother, indeed, a lineal
descendant of the patriot Bruce--I dare not conceal from you that
my affairs are deeply, very deeply involved. I am in debt; my
pockets are practically empty; and, in short, I am fallen to that
state when a considerable sum of money would prove to many men an
irresistible temptation.'
'Do you not see,' returned the young lady, 'that by these words you
have removed my last hesitation? Take them.' And she thrust the
notes into the young man's hand.
He sat so long, holding them, like a baby at the font, that Miss
Fonblanque once more bubbled into laughter.
'Pray,' she said, 'hesitate no further; put them in your pocket;
and to relieve our position of any shadow of embarrassment, tell me
by what name I am to address my knight-errant, for I find myself
reduced to the awkwardness of the pronoun.'
Had borrowing been in question, the wisdom of our ancestors had
come lightly to the young man's aid; but upon what pretext could he
refuse so generous a trust? Upon none he saw, that was not
unpardonably wounding; and the bright eyes and the high spirits of
his companion had already made a breach in the rampart of
Challoner's caution. The whole thing, he reasoned, might be a mere
mystification, which it were the height of solemn folly to resent.
On the other hand, the explosion, the interview at the public-
house, and the very money in his hands, seemed to prove beyond
denial the existence of some serious danger; and if that were so,
could he desert her? There was a choice of risks: the risk of
behaving with extraordinary incivility and unhandsomeness to a
lady, and the risk of going on a fool's errand. The story seemed
false; but then the money was undeniable. The whole circumstances
were questionable and obscure; but the lady was charming, and had
the speech and manners of society. While he still hung in the
wind, a recollection returned upon his mind with some of the
dignity of prophecy. Had he not promised Somerset to break with
the traditions of the commonplace, and to accept the first
adventure offered? Well, here was the adventure.
He thrust the money into his pocket.
'My name is Challoner,' said he.
'Mr. Challoner,' she replied, 'you have come very generously to my
aid when all was against me. Though I am myself a very humble
person, my family commands great interest; and I do not think you
will repent this handsome action.'
Challoner flushed with pleasure.
'I imagine that, perhaps, a consulship,' she added, her eyes
dwelling on him with a judicial admiration, 'a consulship in some
great town or capital--or else--But we waste time; let us set about
the work of my delivery.'
She took his arm with a frank confidence that went to his heart;
and once more laying by all serious thoughts, she entertained him,
as they crossed the park, with her agreeable gaiety of mind. Near
the Marble Arch they found a hansom, which rapidly conveyed them to
the terminus at Euston Square; and here, in the hotel, they sat
down to an excellent breakfast. The young lady's first step was to
call for writing materials and write, upon one corner of the table,
a hasty note; still, as she did so, glancing with smiles at her
companion. 'Here,' said she, 'here is the letter which will
introduce you to my cousin.' She began to fold the paper. 'My
cousin, although I have never seen her, has the character of a very
charming woman and a recognised beauty; of that I know nothing, but
at least she has been very kind to me; so has my lord her father;
so have you--kinder than all--kinder than I can bear to think of.'
She said this with unusual emotion; and, at the same time, sealed
the envelope. 'Ah!' she cried, 'I have shut my letter! It is not
quite courteous; and yet, as between friends, it is perhaps better
so. I introduce you, after all, into a family secret; and though
you and I are already old comrades, you are still unknown to my
uncle. You go then to this address, Richard Street, Glasgow; go,
please, as soon as you arrive; and give this letter with your own
hands into those of Miss Fonblanque, for that is the name by which
she is to pass. When we next meet, you will tell me what you think
of her,' she added, with a touch of the provocative.
'Ah,' said Challoner, almost tenderly, 'she can be nothing to me.'
'You do not know,' replied the young lady, with a sigh. 'By-the-
bye, I had forgotten--it is very childish, and I am almost ashamed
to mention it--but when you see Miss Fonblanque, you will have to
make yourself a little ridiculous; and I am sure the part in no way
suits you. We had agreed upon a watchword. You will have to
address an earl's daughter in these words: "NIGGER, NIGGER, NEVER
DIE;" but reassure yourself,' she added, laughing, 'for the fair
patrician will at once finish the quotation. Come now, say your
lesson.'
'"Nigger, nigger, never die,"' repeated Challoner, with undisguised
reluctance.
Miss Fonblanque went into fits of laughter. 'Excellent,' said she,
'it will be the most humorous scene.' And she laughed again.
'And what will be the counterword?' asked Challoner stiffly.
'I will not tell you till the last moment,' said she; 'for I
perceive you are growing too imperious.'
Breakfast over, she accompanied the young man to the platform,
bought him the Graphic, the Athenaeum, and a paper-cutter, and
stood on the step conversing till the whistle sounded. Then she
put her head into the carriage. 'BLACK FACE AND SHINING EYE!' she
whispered, and instantly leaped down upon the platform, with a
thrill of gay and musical laughter. As the train steamed out of
the great arch of glass, the sound of that laughter still rang in
the young man's ears.
Challoner's position was too unusual to be long welcome to his
mind. He found himself projected the whole length of England, on a
mission beset with obscure and ridiculous circumstances, and yet,
by the trust he had accepted, irrevocably bound to persevere. How
easy it appeared, in the retrospect, to have refused the whole
proposal, returned the money, and gone forth again upon his own
affairs, a free and happy man! And it was now impossible: the
enchantress who had held him with her eye had now disappeared,
taking his honour in pledge; and as she had failed to leave him an
address, he was denied even the inglorious safety of retreat. To
use the paper-knife, or even to read the periodicals with which she
had presented him, was to renew the bitterness of his remorse; and
as he was alone in the compartment, he passed the day staring at
the landscape in impotent repentance, and long before he was landed
on the platform of St. Enoch's, had fallen to the lowest and
coldest zones of self-contempt.
As he was hungry, and elegant in his habits, he would have
preferred to dine and to remove the stains of travel; but the words
of the young lady, and his own impatient eagerness, would suffer no
delay. In the late, luminous, and lamp-starred dusk of the summer
evening, he accordingly set forward with brisk steps.
The street to which he was directed had first seen the day in the
character of a row of small suburban villas on a hillside; but the
extension of the city had long since, and on every hand, surrounded
it with miles of streets. From the top of the hill a range of very
tall buildings, densely inhabited by the poorest classes of the
population and variegated by drying-poles from every second window,
overplumbed the villas and their little gardens like a sea-board
cliff. But still, under the grime of years of city smoke, these
antiquated cottages, with their venetian blinds and rural
porticoes, retained a somewhat melancholy savour of the past.
The street when Challoner entered it was perfectly deserted. From
hard by, indeed, the sound of a thousand footfalls filled the ear;
but in Richard Street itself there was neither light nor sound of
human habitation. The appearance of the neighbourhood weighed
heavily on the mind of the young man; once more, as in the streets
of London, he was impressed with the sense of city deserts; and as
he approached the number indicated, and somewhat falteringly rang
the bell, his heart sank within him.
The bell was ancient, like the house; it had a thin and garrulous
note; and it was some time before it ceased to sound from the rear
quarters of the building. Following upon this an inner door was
stealthily opened, and careful and catlike steps drew near along
the hall. Challoner, supposing he was to be instantly admitted,
produced his letter, and, as well as he was able, prepared a
smiling face. To his indescribable surprise, however, the
footsteps ceased, and then, after a pause and with the like
stealthiness, withdrew once more, and died away in the interior of
the house. A second time the young man rang violently at the bell;
a second time, to his keen hearkening, a certain bustle of discreet
footing moved upon the hollow boards of the old villa; and again
the fainthearted garrison only drew near to retreat. The cup of
the visitor's endurance was now full to overflowing; and,
committing the whole family of Fonblanque to every mood and shade
of condemnation, he turned upon his heel and redescended the steps.
Perhaps the mover in the house was watching from a window, and
plucked up courage at the sight of this desistance; or perhaps,
where he lurked trembling in the back parts of the villa, reason in
its own right had conquered his alarms. Challoner, at least, had
scarce set foot upon the pavement when he was arrested by the sound
of the withdrawal of an inner bolt; one followed another, rattling
in their sockets; the key turned harshly in the lock; the door
opened; and there appeared upon the threshold a man of a very
stalwart figure in his shirt sleeves. He was a person neither of
great manly beauty nor of a refined exterior; he was not the man,
in ordinary moods, to attract the eyes of the observer; but as he
now stood in the doorway, he was marked so legibly with the extreme
passion of terror that Challoner stood wonder-struck. For a
fraction of a minute they gazed upon each other in silence; and
then the man of the house, with ashen lips and gasping voice,
inquired the business of his visitor. Challoner replied, in tones
from which he strove to banish his surprise, that he was the bearer
of a letter to a certain Miss Fonblanque. At this name, as at a
talisman, the man fell back and impatiently invited him to enter;
and no sooner had the adventurer crossed the threshold, than the
door was closed behind him and his retreat cut off.
It was already long past eight at night; and though the late
twilight of the north still lingered in the streets, in the passage
it was already groping dark. The man led Challoner directly to a
parlour looking on the garden to the back. Here he had apparently
been supping; for by the light of a tallow dip the table was seen
to be covered with a napkin, and set out with a quart of bottled
ale and the heel of a Gouda cheese. The room, on the other hand,
was furnished with faded solidity, and the walls were lined with
scholarly and costly volumes in glazed cases. The house must have
been taken furnished; for it had no congruity with this man of the
shirt sleeves and the mean supper. As for the earl's daughter, the
earl and the visionary consulships in foreign cities, they had long
ago begun to fade in Challoner's imagination. Like Doctor Grierson
and the Mormon angels, they were plainly woven of the stuff of
dreams. Not an illusion remained to the knight-errant; not a hope
was left him, but to be speedily relieved from this disreputable
business.
The man had continued to regard his visitor with undisguised
anxiety, and began once more to press him for his errand.
'I am here,' said Challoner, 'simply to do a service between two
ladies; and I must ask you, without further delay, to summon Miss
Fonblanque, into whose hands alone I am authorised to deliver the
letter that I bear.'
A growing wonder began to mingle on the man's face with the lines
of solicitude. 'I am Miss Fonblanque,' he said; and then,
perceiving the effect of this communication, 'Good God!' he cried,
'what are you staring at? I tell you, I am Miss Fonblanque.'
Seeing the speaker wore a chin-beard of considerable length, and
the remainder of his face was blue with shaving, Challoner could
only suppose himself the subject of a jest. He was no longer under
the spell of the young lady's presence; and with men, and above all
with his inferiors, he was capable of some display of spirit.
'Sir,' said he, pretty roundly, 'I have put myself to great
inconvenience for persons of whom I know too little, and I begin to
be weary of the business. Either you shall immediately summon Miss
Fonblanque, or I leave this house and put myself under the
direction of the police.'
'This is horrible!' exclaimed the man. 'I declare before Heaven I
am the person meant, but how shall I convince you? It must have
been Clara, I perceive, that sent you on this errand--a madwoman,
who jests with the most deadly interests; and here we are
incapable, perhaps, of an agreement, and Heaven knows what may
depend on our delay!'
He spoke with a really startling earnestness; and at the same time
there flashed upon the mind of Challoner the ridiculous jingle
which was to serve as password. 'This may, perhaps, assist you,'
he said, and then, with some embarrassment, '"Nigger, nigger, never
die."'
A light of relief broke upon the troubled countenance of the man
with the chin-beard. '"Black face and shining eye"--give me the
letter,' he panted, in one gasp.
'Well,' said Challoner, though still with some reluctance, 'I
suppose I must regard you as the proper recipient; and though I may
justly complain of the spirit in which I have been treated, I am
only too glad to be done with all responsibility. Here it is,' and
he produced the envelope.
The man leaped upon it like a beast, and with hands that trembled
in a manner painful to behold, tore it open and unfolded the
letter. As he read, terror seemed to mount upon him to the pitch
of nightmare. He struck one hand upon his brow, while with the
other, as if unconsciously, he crumpled the paper to a ball. 'My
gracious powers!' he cried; and then, dashing to the window, which
stood open on the garden, he clapped forth his head and shoulders,
and whistled long and shrill. Challoner fell back into a corner,
and resolutely grasping his staff, prepared for the most desperate
events; but the thoughts of the man with the chin-beard were far
removed from violence. Turning again into the room, and once more
beholding his visitor, whom he appeared to have forgotten, he
fairly danced with trepidation. 'Impossible!' he cried. 'Oh,
quite impossible! O Lord, I have lost my head.' And then, once
more striking his hand upon his brow, 'The money!' he exclaimed.
'Give me the money.'
'My good friend,' replied Challoner, 'this is a very painful
exhibition; and until I see you reasonably master of yourself, I
decline to proceed with any business.'
'You are quite right,' said the man. 'I am of a very nervous
habit; a long course of the dumb ague has undermined my
constitution. But I know you have money; it may be still the
saving of me; and oh, dear young gentleman, in pity's name be
expeditious!' Challoner, sincerely uneasy as he was, could scarce
refrain from laughter; but he was himself in a hurry to be gone,
and without more delay produced the money. 'You will find the sum,
I trust, correct,' he observed 'and let me ask you to give me a
receipt.'
But the man heeded him not. He seized the money, and disregarding
the sovereigns that rolled loose upon the floor, thrust the bundle
of notes into his pocket.
'A receipt,' repeated Challoner, with some asperity. 'I insist on
a receipt.'
'Receipt?' repeated the man, a little wildly. 'A receipt?
Immediately! Await me here.'
Challoner, in reply, begged the gentleman to lose no unnecessary
time, as he was himself desirous of catching a particular train.
'Ah, by God, and so am I!' exclaimed the man with the chin-beard;
and with that he was gone out of the room, and had rattled
upstairs, four at a time, to the upper story of the villa.
'This is certainly a most amazing business,' thought Challoner;
'certainly a most disquieting affair; and I cannot conceal from
myself that I have become mixed up with either lunatics or
malefactors. I may truly thank my stars that I am so nearly and so
creditably done with it.' Thus thinking, and perhaps remembering
the episode of the whistle, he turned to the open window. The
garden was still faintly clear; he could distinguish the stairs and
terraces with which the small domain had been adorned by former
owners, and the blackened bushes and dead trees that had once
afforded shelter to the country birds; beyond these he saw the
strong retaining wall, some thirty feet in height, which enclosed
the garden to the back; and again above that, the pile of dingy
buildings rearing its frontage high into the night. A peculiar
object lying stretched upon the lawn for some time baffled his
eyesight; but at length he had made it out to be a long ladder, or
series of ladders bound into one; and he was still wondering of
what service so great an instrument could be in such a scant
enclosure, when he was recalled to himself by the noise of some one
running violently down the stairs. This was followed by the
sudden, clamorous banging of the house door; and that again, by
rapid and retreating footsteps in the street.
Challoner sprang into the passage. He ran from room to room,
upstairs and downstairs; and in that old dingy and worm-eaten
house, he found himself alone. Only in one apartment, looking to
the front, were there any traces of the late inhabitant: a bed
that had been recently slept in and not made, a chest of drawers
disordered by a hasty search, and on the floor a roll of crumpled
paper. This he picked up. The light in this upper story looking
to the front was considerably brighter than in the parlour; and he
was able to make out that the paper bore the mark of the hotel at
Euston, and even, by peering closely, to decipher the following
lines in a very elegant and careful female hand:
'DEAR M'GUIRE,--It is certain your retreat is known. We have just
had another failure, clockwork thirty hours too soon, with the
usual humiliating result. Zero is quite disheartened. We are all
scattered, and I could find no one but the SOLEMN ASS who brings
you this and the money. I would love to see your meeting.--Ever
yours,
SHINING EYE.'
Challoner was stricken to the heart. He perceived by what
facility, by what unmanly fear of ridicule, he had been brought
down to be the gull of this intriguer; and his wrath flowed forth
in almost equal measure against himself, against the woman, and
against Somerset, whose idle counsels had impelled him to embark on
that adventure. At the same time a great and troubled curiosity,
and a certain chill of fear, possessed his spirit. The conduct of
the man with the chin-beard, the terms of the letter, and the
explosion of the early morning, fitted together like parts in some
obscure and mischievous imbroglio. Evil was certainly afoot; evil,
secrecy, terror, and falsehood were the conditions and the passions
of the people among whom he had begun to move, like a blind puppet;
and he who began as a puppet, his experience told him, was often
doomed to perish as a victim.
From the stupor of deep thought into which he had glided with the
letter in his hand, he was awakened by the clatter of the bell. He
glanced from the window; and, conceive his horror and surprise when
he beheld, clustered on the steps, in the front garden and on the
pavement of the street, a formidable posse of police! He started
to the full possession of his powers and courage. Escape, and
escape at any cost, was the one idea that possessed him. Swiftly
and silently he redescended the creaking stairs; he was already in
the passage when a second and more imperious summons from the door
awoke the echoes of the empty house; nor had the bell ceased to
jangle before he had bestridden the window-sill of the parlour and
was lowering himself into the garden. His coat was hooked upon the
iron flower-basket; for a moment he hung dependent heels and head
below; and then, with the noise of rending cloth, and followed by
several pots, he dropped upon the sod. Once more the bell was
rung, and now with furious and repeated peals. The desperate
Challoner turned his eyes on every side. They fell upon the
ladder, and he ran to it, and with strenuous but unavailing effort
sought to raise it from the ground. Suddenly the weight, which was
thus resisting his whole strength, began to lighten in his hands;
the ladder, like a thing of life, reared its bulk from off the sod;
and Challoner, leaping back with a cry of almost superstitious
terror, beheld the whole structure mount, foot by foot, against the
face of the retaining wall. At the same time, two heads were dimly
visible above the parapet, and he was hailed by a guarded whistle.
Something in its modulation recalled, like an echo, the whistle of
the man with the chin-beard,
Had he chanced upon a means of escape prepared beforehand by those
very miscreants whose messenger and gull he had become? Was this,
indeed, a means of safety, or but the starting-point of further
complication and disaster? He paused not to reflect. Scarce was
the ladder reared to its full length than he had sprung already on
the rounds; hand over hand, swift as an ape, he scaled the
tottering stairway. Strong arms received, embraced, and helped
him; he was lifted and set once more upon the earth; and with the
spasm of his alarm yet unsubsided, found himself in the company of
two rough-looking men, in the paved back yard of one of the tall
houses that crowned the summit of the hill. Meanwhile, from below,
the note of the bell had been succeeded by the sound of vigorous
and redoubling blows.
'Are you all out?' asked one of his companions; and, as soon as he
had babbled an answer in the affirmative, the rope was cut from the
top round, and the ladder thrust roughly back into the garden,
where it fell and broke with clattering reverberations. Its fall
was hailed with many broken cries; for the whole of Richard Street
was now in high emotion, the people crowding to the windows or
clambering on the garden walls. The same man who had already
addressed Challoner seized him by the arm; whisked him through the
basement of the house and across the street upon the other side;
and before the unfortunate adventurer had time to realise his
situation, a door was opened, and he was thrust into a low and dark
compartment.
'Bedad,' observed his guide, 'there was no time to lose. Is
M'Guire gone, or was it you that whistled?
'M'Guire is gone,' said Challoner.
The guide now struck a light. 'Ah,' said he, 'this will never do.
You dare not go upon the streets in such a figure. Wait quietly
here and I will bring you something decent.'
With that the man was gone, and Challoner, his attention thus
rudely awakened, began ruefully to consider the havoc that had been
worked in his attire. His hat was gone; his trousers were cruelly
ripped; and the best part of one tail of his very elegant frockcoat
had been left hanging from the iron crockets of the window. He had
scarce had time to measure these disasters when his host re-entered
the apartment and proceeded, without a word, to envelop the refined
and urbane Challoner in a long ulster of the cheapest material, and
of a pattern so gross and vulgar that his spirit sickened at the
sight. This calumnious disguise was crowned and completed by a
soft felt hat of the Tyrolese design, and several sizes too small.
At another moment Challoner would simply have refused to issue
forth upon the world thus travestied; but the desire to escape from
Glasgow was now too strongly and too exclusively impressed upon his
mind. With one haggard glance at the spotted tails of his new
coat, he inquired what was to pay for this accoutrement. The man
assured him that the whole expense was easily met from funds in his
possession, and begged him, instead of wasting time, to make his
best speed out of the neighbourhood.
The young man was not loath to take the hint. True to his usual
courtesy, he thanked the speaker and complimented him upon his
taste in greatcoats; and leaving the man somewhat abashed by these
remarks and the manner of their delivery, he hurried forth into the
lamplit city. The last train was gone ere, after many deviations,
he had reached the terminus. Attired as he was he dared not
present himself at any reputable inn; and he felt keenly that the
unassuming dignity of his demeanour would serve to attract
attention, perhaps mirth and possibly suspicion, in any humbler
hostelry. He was thus condemned to pass the solemn and uneventful
hours of a whole night in pacing the streets of Glasgow;
supperless; a figure of fun for all beholders; waiting the dawn,
with hope indeed, but with unconquerable shrinkings; and above all
things, filled with a profound sense of the folly and weakness of
his conduct. It may be conceived with what curses he assailed the
memory of the fair narrator of Hyde Park; her parting laughter rang
in his ears all night with damning mockery and iteration; and when
he could spare a thought from this chief artificer of his
confusion, it was to expend his wrath on Somerset and the career of
the amateur detective. With the coming of day, he found in a shy
milk-shop the means to appease his hunger. There were still many
hours to wait before the departure of the South express; these he
passed wandering with indescribable fatigue in the obscurer by-
streets of the city; and at length slipped quietly into the station
and took his place in the darkest corner of a third-class carriage.
Here, all day long, he jolted on the bare boards, distressed by
heat and continually reawakened from uneasy slumbers. By the half
return ticket in his purse, he was entitled to make the journey on
the easy cushions and with the ample space of the first-class; but
alas! in his absurd attire, he durst not, for decency, commingle
with his equals; and this small annoyance, coming last in such a
series of disasters, cut him to the heart.
That night, when, in his Putney lodging, he reviewed the expense,
anxiety, and weariness of his adventure; when he beheld the ruins
of his last good trousers and his last presentable coat; and above
all, when his eye by any chance alighted on the Tyrolese hat or the
degrading ulster, his heart would overflow with bitterness, and it
was only by a serious call on his philosophy that he maintained the
dignity of his demeanour.
