The Mysteries of London. George W. M. Reynolds
of snow, became now a settled habit.
Nevertheless, she was a lovely and fascinating woman, and one for whom a young heart would undertake a thousand sacrifices.
By accident Richard was seated next to Mrs. Arlington upon the sofa. He soon perceived that she was, indeed, as accomplished as the baronet had represented her to be; and her critical opinions upon the current literature, dramatic novelties, and new music of the day were delivered with judgment and good taste.
Richard could not help glancing from time to time in admiration at her beautiful countenance, animated as it now was with the excitement of the topics of discourse; and whenever her large blue eyes met his, a deep blush suffused his countenance, and he knew not what he said or did.
"Well, what shall we do to amuse ourselves?" said Chichester, at the expiration of about an hour, during which coffee had been handed round.
"Upon my honour," exclaimed the baronet, "I am perfectly indifferent. What say you to a game of whist or écarté?"
"Just as you choose," said Chichester carelessly.
At this moment the door opened, and a roguish-looking little tiger—a lad of about fourteen, in a chocolate-coloured livery, with three rows of bright-crested buttons down his Prussian jacket—entered to announce another guest.
A short, stout, vulgar-looking man, about forty years of age, with a blue coat and brass buttons, buff waistcoat, and grey trousers, entered the room.
"Holloa, old chap, how are you?" he exclaimed in a tone of most ineffable vulgarity. "Harborough, how are you? Chichester, my tulip, how goes it?"
The baronet hastened to receive this extraordinary visitor, and, as he shook hands with him, whispered something in his ear. The stranger immediately turned towards Richard, to whom he was introduced by the name of Mr. Augustus Talbot.
This gentleman and the baronet then conversed together for a few moments; and Chichester, drawing near Markham, seized the opportunity of observing, "Talbot is an excellent fellow—a regular John Bull—not over polished, but enormously rich and well connected. You will see that he is not more cultivated in mind than in manners; but he would go to the devil to do any one a service; and, somehow or another, you can't help liking the fellow when once you know him."
"Any friend of yours or of the baronet's will be agreeable to me," said Richard; "and, provided he is a man of honour, a little roughness of manner should be readily overlooked."
"You speak like a man of the world, and as a man of honour yourself," said Mr. Chichester.
Meantime the baronet and Mr. Talbot had seated themselves, and the Honourable Mr. Chichester returned to his own chair.
The conversation then became general.
"I didn't know that you were in town, Talbot," said Mr. Chichester.
"And I forgot to mention it," observed the baronet.
"Or rather," said the lady, "you meditated a little surprise for your friend Mr. Chichester."
"I hope you've been well, ma'am, since I saw you last—that is the day before yesterday," said Mr. Talbot. "You was complaining then of a slight cold, and I recommended a treacle-posset and a stocking tied round the throat."
"My dear Talbot, take some liqueur," cried the baronet, rising hastily, and purposely knocking down his chair to drown the remainder of Mr. Talbot's observation.
"But I dare say you didn't follow my advice, ma'am," pursued Mr. Talbot, with the most imperturbable gravity. "For my part I am suffering dreadful with a bad foot. I'll tell you how it were, ma'am. I've got a nasty soft corn on my little toe; and so what must I do, but yesterday morning I takes my razor, sharpens it upon the paytent strap, and goes for to cut off master corn. But instead of cutting the corn, I nearly sliced my toe off; and——"
"By the way, Diana, has the young gentleman called yet, whom we met the other evening at the Opera?" said the baronet, abruptly interrupting this vulgar tirade.
"Do you mean the effeminate youth whom we dubbed the Handsome Unknown?" said the Enchantress.
"Yes: he who was so very mysterious, but who seemed so excessively anxious to form our acquaintance."
"He promised to call some evening this week," answered Diana, "and play a game of écarté. He told me that he was invincible at écarté."
"Talking of écarté, let us play a game," ejaculated Mr. Chichester, who was sitting upon thorns lest Mr. Talbot should commence his vulgarities again.
"Well, I'll take a hand with pleasure," said this individual: then turning towards Diana, he added, "I will tell you the rest of the adventure about the soft corn another time, ma'am."
"What a nuisance this is!" whispered Chichester to the baronet. "The young fellow does stare so."
"You must give him some explanation or another," hastily replied the baronet; "or I'll tell Diana to say something presently that will smooth down matters."
The cards were produced, and Mr. Talbot and the Honourable Mr. Chichester sat down to play.
Sir Rupert backed the former, and considerable sums in gold and notes were placed upon the table. Presently the lady turned towards Richard, and said with a smile, "Are you fond of écarté?" "I must venture a guinea upon Mr. Chichester. Sir Rupert is betting against him; and I love to oppose Sir Rupert at cards. You will see how I shall tease him presently."
With these words the Enchantress rose and seated herself near Mr. Chichester. Of course Markham did the same; and in a very short time he was induced by the lady to follow her example, and back the same side which she supported.
Mr. Chichester, however, had a continued run of ill luck, and lost every rubber. Richard was thus the loser of about thirty sovereigns; but he was somewhat consoled by having so fair a companion in his bad fortune. He would have suffered himself to be persuaded by her to persist in backing Mr. Chichester, as she positively assured him that the luck must change, had not that gentleman himself suddenly risen, thrown down the cards, and declared that he would play no more.
"Would you, ma'am, like to take Mr. Chichester's place?" said Mr. Talbot.
Mr. Chichester shook his head to the baronet, and the baronet did the same to Diana, and Diana accordingly declined. The card-table was therefore abandoned; and Mrs. Arlington, at the request of Sir Rupert, seated herself at the piano. Without any affectation she sang and accompanied herself upon the instrument in a manner that quite ravished the heart of Richard Markham.
Suddenly the entire house echoed with the din of the front-door knocker, and almost simultaneously the bell was rung with violence.
In a few moments the young tiger announced Mr. Walter Sydney.
He was a youth apparently not more than nineteen or twenty, of middle height, and very slim. He wore a tight blue military frock coat buttoned up to the throat; ample black kerseymere trousers, which did not, however, conceal the fact that he was the least thing knock-kneed, and a hat with tolerably broad brims. His feet and hands were small to a fault. His long light chestnut hair flowed in luxuriant undulations over the collar of his coat, even upon his shoulders, and gave him a peculiarly feminine appearance. His delicate complexion, upon the pure red and white of which the dark dyes of no beard had yet infringed, wore a deep blush as he entered the room.
"Mr. Sydney, you are welcome," said Mrs. Arlington, in a manner calculated to reassure the bashful youth. "It was but an hour ago that we were talking of you, and wondering why we had not received the pleasure of a visit."
"Madam, you are too kind," replied Mr. Sydney, in a tone which sounded upon the ear like a silver bell—so soft and beautiful was its cadence. "I am afraid that I am intruding: I had hoped to find you alone—I mean yourself and Sir Rupert Harborough—and I perceive that you have company——"
He stammered—became confounded with excuses—and