Page:What Will He Do With It? - Routledge - Volume 1.djvu/199

 was the grace, in his step the elasticity which come from just proportions and muscular strength. In his hand he carried a supple switch-stick, slight and innocuous to appearance, but weighted at the handle after the fashion of a life-preserver. The tone of his voice was not displeasing to the ear, though there might be something artificial in the swell of it,—the sort of tone men assume when they desire to seem more frank and off-hand than belongs to their nature,—a sort of rollicking tone which is to the voice what swagger is to, the gait. Still that look! it produced on you the effect which might be created by some strange animal, not without beauty, but deadly to man. Wayfarer the Second was big and burly, middle-aged, large-whiskered, his complexion dirty. He wore a wig,—a wig evident, unmistakable,—a wig curled and rusty,—over the wig a dingy white hat. His black stock fitted tight round his throat, and across his breast he had thrown the folds of a Scotch plaid.

WAYFARER THE FIRST.—"YOU call here, too,—on Mrs. Crane?"

WAYFARER THE SECOND.—"Mrs. Crane? you too? Strange!"

WAYFARER THE FIRST (with constrained civility).—"Sir, I call on business,—private business."

WAYFARER THE SECOND (with candid surliness).—"So do I."

WAYFARER THE FIRST.—"Oh!"

WAYFARER THE SECOND.—"Ha! the locks unbar!"

The door opened, and an old meagre woman-servant presented herself.

WAYFARER THE FIRST (gliding before the big man with a serpent's undulating celerity of movement).—"Mrs. Crane lives here?"—"Yes!" "She's at home I suppose?"—"Yes!"—"Take up my card; say I come alone, not with this gentleman."

Wayfarer the Second seems to have been rather put out by the manner of his rival. He recedes a step.

"You know the lady of this mansion well, sir?" "Extremely well."

"Ha! then I yield you the precedence; I yield it, sir, but conditionally. You will not be long?"

"Not a moment longer than I can help; the land will be clear for you in an hour or less."

"Or less, so please you, let it be or less. Servant, sir."

"Sir, yours: come, my Hebe, track the dancers; that is, go up the stairs, and let me renew the dreams of youth in the eyes of Bella!"