Lost Lenore Part 67

"Mr Cannon," said I, before he had even seated himself, "will you tell me why you took me to see Jessie H--, when you had reason to believe that neither of us desired to meet the other again?"

"I had no reason for thinking anything of the kind," replied he. "On the contrary, there was much to make me believe differently. I have a great respect for Mr H--and his family; and I don't mean to flatter, when I tell you, I have the same for yourself. What harm was there in bringing together those whom I respect? and desire to see friends? But you want some explanation. You shall have it. It is this:--you have seen Vane, and know something about him. I know more of him, than you.

He is a conceited, trifling fellow, without the slightest truth or principle in him. True, his society was amusing. I overlooked his faults; and bore with him for a long time. When I saw that he was trying to take advantage of the introduction I had given him to the daughter of my friend--a young lady of whom he is in no sense worthy--I then became his enemy. I acknowledge having taken you to see her in a somewhat surrept.i.tious fashion; and, moreover, that I did it with a design: that of thwarting the intentions of Vane. But I deny having done it as you suppose, because he is my enemy. It was not that; but my friendship to Mr H--, and his family, that induced me to act as I did.

While we were on the Yarra Yarra, I could not fail to notice that you were not wholly indifferent to the beauty of Miss H--; and also, that she had the discernment to see, that you were worthy of her esteem.

Where was the harm, then, in my bringing you once more together? You are mistaken in thinking, that I was using you to give annoyance to an enemy. On the contrary, I claim to have been only guilty of studying the happiness of my friends."

To Cannon's explanation I could make no answer. He was better in an argument than I; and what he had said, left me without any reason to believe, that he knew either of Jessie's being engaged to Vane, or that their marriage was shortly to take place. From his point of view, I could not much blame him for what he had done.

I had received Cannon with the resolve to have nothing more to do with him, after our interview should end; but he had given me a fair explanation of his conduct, and we parted without any ill-will.

I had promised to call again upon Jessie. It was after my last visit to her, that I had learnt of her approaching marriage with Vane; and, on receiving this intelligence, I regretted having made the promise. I had two reasons for regretting it. To see her again could only add to her unhappiness; and perhaps to me might be a cause of self-reproach.

Nothing but sorrow could spring from our again seeing one another--a sorrow that might be mutual--and, in spite of the promise I had given, I determined we should meet no more.

Volume Three, Chapter XXVI.

MRS NAGGER.

My brother William had rented a house in Brompton, engaged two female servants, and commenced house-keeping after the manner of most Londoners.

In his house I was permitted to occupy two apartments--a parlour, and bed-room.

The servant, who attended to these rooms, possessed a character, marked by some peculiarities that were rather amusing. She was over fifty years of age; and carried about the house a face that most people would have considered unpleasant.

I did not. I only believed that Mrs Nagger--such was her name--might have experienced several disappointments in her life; and that the expression, caused by the latest and last of them, had become so indelibly stamped upon her features, as not to be removed by any hope of future happiness.

Like a good many of her s.e.x, Mrs Nagger's tongue was seldom at rest, though the words she uttered were but few, and generally limited to the exclamatory phrase, "More's the pity!" followed by the confession, "That's all I can say."

I had, sometimes, cause to complain of the coffee, which the old housekeeper used to set before me--fancying it inferior to any, I had met elsewhere.

"Mrs Nagger," I would say--laying an emphasis on the Mrs, of which she seemed no little vain--"I do not think this is coffee at all. What do you suppose it to be?"

"Indeed I don't know, sir; and more's the pity!"

"And this milk," I would continue, "I fancy it must have been taken from an iron-tailed cow."

"Yes, sir; and more's the pity! That's all I can say."

I soon learnt that the old creature was quite right in her simple confession. "More's the pity" was about all she could say; and I was not sorry that it was so.

One day I was honoured by a visit from Cannon, who, being some years older than myself, and having rather an elevated opinion of his own wisdom, volunteered to offer me a little advice.

"Stone," said he, "why don't you settle down, and live happily like your brother? If I had your opportunity of doing so, I wouldn't put up with the miserable life I am leading, a week longer."

"What opportunity do you speak of?"

"Why that of marrying Jessie H--. Do not think me meddlesome, or impertinent. I take it for granted that you and I are sufficiently acquainted for me to take the liberty I am doing. The girl likes you; I know it, and it is a deuced shame to see a fine girl like her thrown away on such a puppy as Vane. Why don't you save her? She is everything a man could wish for--although she is a little different from most of the young ladies of London. In my opinion, she's all the better for that."

In thus addressing me, Cannon acted in a more ungentlemanly manner than I had ever known him to do, for he was not a man to intrude advice upon his friends--especially on matters of so serious a nature, as the one he had introduced.

Believing him to have some friendship for myself, more for the H-- family, and a great antipathy to Vane, I listened to him without feeling offended.

"I am not insensible to the attractions of Miss H--," said I, "but the happiness, you speak of, can never be mine."

"Oh! I understand you," rejoined he. "You have been disappointed in love by some one else? So was I, once on a time--madly in love with a girl who married another, whom I suppose she liked better than me. At first I thought of committing suicide; but was prevented--I suppose, by fear. I was afflicted with very unpleasant thoughts, springing from this disappointment. They stuck to me for nearly three years. I got over them last, and I'll tell you how. I accidentally met the object of my affections. She was the mother of two rosy, apple-cheeked children; and presented a personal appearance that immediately disenchanted me.

She was nearly as broad as she was long. I wondered how the deuce I could ever have been such a fool as to love the woman--more especially to have made myself so miserable about her. If you have been disappointed in the same manner, take my advice, and seek the remedy that restored me."

Absurd as Cannon's proposition might appear, I could not help thinking that there was some philosophy in it; and, without telling him of my intention, I determined on giving it further consideration.

To change the conversation, I rang the bell. I knew that Cannon was fond of a gla.s.s of Scotch whiskey; and, when Mrs Nagger made her appearance, I requested her to bring a bottle of Glenlivet into the room--along with some hot water and sugar. The "materials" were produced; and we proceeded to mixing the "toddy."

"This is the right brand," said Cannon, taking up the bottle, and scrutinising its label, "the very sort to my taste."

I could see the lips of Mrs Nagger slightly moving; and I knew that she was muttering the words, "more's the pity!" I have no doubt that she suffered a little at being deprived of the opportunity of giving her one idea a more audible manifestation.

Cannon did not suffer from any disappointment as to the quality of the liquor. At all events, he appeared to find it to his liking: for he became so exhilarated over it, that he did not leave until sunset; and not then, till he had prevailed upon me to accompany him--with the understanding, that we should spend the evening together.

"What's the use of your living in London," he asked, "if you stay all the time within doors? You appear even less inclined to see a little life, than when I met you in Melbourne. Why is it, Stone?"

"Because I came here to rest myself. A life spent in labour, has given me but few opportunities of acquiring that knowledge, that may be obtained from books; and now that I have a little leisure given me, I wish to make a good use of it."

"That's a very sensible design, no doubt," said Cannon, "but you must not follow it to-night. Come along with me; and I'll show you something of London."

I consented to accompany Cannon--on the condition of his taking me to some place where I could be amused in a quiet, simple manner--any spectacle suitable to a sailor, or gold-digger, and at which there might be no disgrace in being present.

"Take me to some place," said I, "that is neither too high nor too low.

Let me see, or hear something I can understand--something that is popular with the majority of Londoners; so that I may be able to form an idea of their tastes and habits."

"All right," answered Cannon, "I'll take you to several places of the sort; and you can judge for yourself. You wish to witness the amus.e.m.e.nts most popular among, what might be called, the middle cla.s.ses?

Well, we shall first visit a concert hall, or music room. The Londoners profess to be a musical people; and it must be admitted that much, both of their time and money, is expended in listening to vocal and instrumental performances. It is in the theatres and music halls, that one may best meet the people of London--not the very lowest cla.s.s of them; but those who profess, and fancy themselves up to a high standard of civilisation. Come on!"

Yielding myself to the guidance of my sage companion, I followed him into the street.

Volume Three, Chapter XXVII.

LONDON CONCERT SINGERS.

It was about nine o'clock in the evening, when we entered, what Cannon called, one of the most "respectable music halls" in London.

I discovered the "entertainment" to consist of one or more persons standing upon a stage, before a large a.s.semblage of people, and screaming in such a manner, that not a word could be understood of the subject, about which they were supposed to be singing!

To make secure, against any chance of a sensible sound reaching the ears of the audience, several instruments of music were being played at the same time; and the combined effect of the screams, yells, moans, groans, and other agonising noises proceeding from both singers and musicians, nearly drove me distracted.

When an act of this "entertainment," was over; and the creatures producing it were on the point of retiring, the entire audience commenced clapping their hands, stamping their feet on the floor, and making other ridiculous demonstrations. In my simplicity, I fancied that this fracas arose from their satisfaction at getting rid of the hideous screaching that had come from the stage. I was told, however, that I was mistaken in this; and I afterwards learnt, that the clapping of hands and stamping of feet were intended to express the pleasure of the audience at what had been causing me positive pain!

I could see that these people had really been amused, or pretended that such had been the case; and I fervently prayed, that I should never be afflicted with the "refinement" that could cause me to take an interest in the exhibition which appeared to have amused them.

While the storm of applause was raging, a man would spring up, and announce the name of the next performer, or performers--though not a word of what he said could be heard. During this "intellectual"

entertainment, the audience were urged to give orders for refreshments, which were served to them by men moving about in "hammer-claw coats" and white "chokers."