Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/390

28, 1860.] interpreter, might construe a promise of some sort. Evan soon had high hopes. What though his name blazed on a shop-front? The sun might yet illumine him to honour!

Where a young man is getting into delicate relations with a young woman, the more of his sex the better—they serve as a blind; and the Countess hailed fresh arrivals warmly. There was Sir John Loring, Dorothy’s father, who had married the eldest of the daughters of Lord Elburne. A widower, handsome, and a flirt, he capitulated to the Countess instantly, and was played off against the provincial Don Juan, who had reached that point with her when youths of his description make bashful confidences of their successes, and receive delicious chidings for their naughtiness—rebukes which give immeasurable rebounds. Then came Mr. Gordon Graine, with his daughter, Miss Jenny Graine, an early friend of Rose’s, and numerous others. For the present, Miss Isabella Current need only be chronicled among the visitors: further—a sprightly maid fifty years old, without a wrinkle to show for it—the Aunt Bel of fifty houses where there were young women and little boys. Aunt Bel had quick wit and capital anecdotes, and tripped them out aptly on a sparkling tongue with exquisite instinct for climax and when to strike for a laugh. No sooner had she entered the hall than she announced the proximate arrival of the Duke of Belfield at her heels, and it was known that his Grace was as sure to follow as her little dog, who was far better paid for his devotion.

The dinners at Beckley Court had hitherto been rather languid to those who were not intriguing or mixing young love with the repast. Miss Current was an admirable neutral, sent, as the Countess fervently believed, by Providence. Till now the Countess had drawn upon her own resources to amuse the company, and she had been obliged to restrain herself from doing it with that unctuous feeling for rank which warmed her Portuguese sketches in low society and among her sisters. She retired before Miss Current and formed audience, glad of a relief to her inventive labour. While Miss Current and her ephemeræ lightly skimmed the surface of human life, the Countess worked in the depths. Vanities, passions, prejudices, beneath the surface gave her full employment. How naturally poor Juliana Bonner was moved to mistake Evan’s compassion for a stronger sentiment! The Countess eagerly assisted Providence to shuffle the company into their proper places. Harry Jocelyn was moodily happy, but good; greatly improved in the eyes of his grandmama Bonner, who attributed the change to the Countess, and partly forgave her the sinful consent to the conditions of her love-match with the foreign Count which his penitent wife had privately confessed to that strict Churchwoman.

“Thank Heaven that you have no children,” Mrs. Bonner had said; and the Countess humbly replied: “It is indeed my remorseful consolation!”

“Who knows that it is not your punishment?” added Mrs. Bonner; the Countess weeping.

She went and attended morning prayers in Mrs. Bonner’s apartments, alone with the old lady. “To make up for lost time in Catholic Portugal!” she explained it to the household.

On the morning after Miss Current had come to shape the party, most of the inmates of Beckley Court being at breakfast, Rose gave a lead to the conversation.

“Aunt Bel! I want to ask you something. We’ve been making bets about you. Now, answer honestly, we’re all friends. Why did you refuse all your offers?”

“Quite simple, child,” replied the unabashed ex-beauty. “A matter of taste. I liked twenty shillings better than a sovereign.”

Rose looked puzzled, but the men laughed, and Rose exclaimed:

“Now I see! How stupid I am! You mean, you may have friends when you are not married. Well, I think that’s the wisest, after all. You don’t lose them, do you? Pray, Mr. Evan, are you thinking Aunt Bel might still alter her mind for somebody, if she knew his value?”

“I was presuming to hope there might be a place vacant among the twenty,” said Evan, slightly bowing to both. “Am I pardoned?”

“I like you!” returned Aunt Bel, nodding at him. “Where do you come from? A young man who’ll let himself go for small coin’s a jewel worth knowing.”

“Where do I come from?” drawled Laxley, who had been tapping an egg with a dreary expression.

“You, Ferdinand Laxley!” said Aunt Bel. “How terribly you despise our curiosity!”

“Aunt Bel spoke to Mr. Harrington,” said Rose, pettishly.

“Asked him where he came from,” Laxley continued his drawl. “He didn’t answer, so I thought it polite for somebody to.”

“Your solitary exhibition of politeness tempts me to thank you expressly,” said Evan, with a two-edged smile.

Rose gave Evan one of her bright looks, and then called the attention of Ferdinand Laxley to the fact that he had lost a particular bet made among them.

“What bet?” asked Laxley. “About the profession?”

“AA [sic] stream of colour shot over Rose’s face. Her eyes flew nervously from Laxley to Evan, and then to Drummond. Laxley appeared pleased as a man who has made a witty sally: Evan was outwardly calm, while Drummond replied to the mute appeal of Rose, by saying:

“Yes; we’ve all lost. But who could hit it? The lady admits no sovereign in our sex.”

“So you’ve been betting about me?” said Aunt Bel. “I’ll settle the dispute. Let him who guessed ‘Latin’ pocket the stakes, and, if I guess him, let him hand them over to me.”

“Excellent!” cried Rose. “One did guess ‘Latin,’ Aunt Bel. Now, tell us which one it was.”

“Not you, my dear. You guessed ‘temper. ”

“Oh! you dreadful Aunt Bel!”

“Let me see,” said Aunt Bel, seriously. “A young man would not marry a woman with Latin, but would not guess it the impediment. Gentlemen moderately aged are mad enough to slip