The Monctons Volume I Part 18

The words were scarcely out his mouth, when I sprang from my chair, and with a well-directed blow levelled him at my feet.

"Thank you, Geoffrey!" exclaimed Mr. Moncton, raising the crest-fallen hero from the ground: "You have answered both for yourself and me."

"I have been too rash," said I, seeing the blood stream copiously from my cousin's nose; "but he exasperated me beyond endurance."

"He provoked it himself," returned Mr. Moncton. "I never blame any person when insulted, for taking his own part. You need be under no apprehension of a hostile encounter: Theophilus is a cowardly dog--he can bark and snarl, but dares not fight. Go to your room, Geoffrey, you will be better friends after this."

He said this in a tone of such bitter irony, that I hardly knew whether he was pleased with what I had done, or offended, for who could fathom the mind of such a man? I instantly complied with his request, and felt, however mortifying to my pride, that Theophilus Moncton had uttered the truth.

"In another week," I exclaimed, as I strode through the apartment--"yes, in less than a week, I shall obtain my majority: I shall be free, and then farewell to this accursed house of bondage for ever!"

Theophilus had not been home many days, before I perceived a decided alteration in the once friendly greetings I had been accustomed to receive from Mr. Moncton's guests. I was no longer invited to their parties, or treated with those flattering marks of attention which had been so gratifying to my vanity, and given me such an exalted idea of my own consequence.

At first I was at a loss to imagine what had produced this sudden change. One simple sentence at length solved all these unpleasant doubts, and pressed the unwelcome truth home to my heart. Robert Moncton had been reconciled to his son, and I was once more regarded as only a _poor relation_.

The day I made this important discovery, I had been detained at the office long after our usual dinner-hour, and meeting with a friend on my way home, I sauntered with him several times up and down Regent Street, before I returned to my uncle's house.

I was not aware that my uncle expected company that day, until informed by Saunders in the hall, that a large party were a.s.sembled in the dining-room.

I was a little provoked at not receiving any intimation of the event, and in being too late for appearing at dinner, the third course having been placed on the table; but I hurried away to my own apartment to change my dress, and join the ladies in the drawing-room.

This important duty was scarcely effected, before Saunders entered with a tray covered with dainties, which he had catered for my benefit.

"I was determined, Mr. Geoffrey, that they should not have all the good things to themselves. Here is an excellent cut of salmon and lobster-sauce; the plump breast of a partridge, and a slice of delicious ham--besides, the sunkets. If you cannot make a good dinner off these, why, I says, that you deserves to be hungry."

And throwing a snowy napkin over a small table near the fire, he deposited the tray and its tempting contents thereon, placed my chair, and stood behind it with beaming eyes, his jolly, rosy face radiant with good-nature and benevolence.

I thanked him heartily for his attention to my comfort, and being tired and hungry, did ample justice to the meal he had provided.

"This party has been got up in a hurry, Saunders?"

"Not at all, sir. I carried out the invitations four days ago."

"You surprise me!" said I, dropping my knife and fork. "Four days ago--and I know nothing about it. That is something new."

"It is young Mr. Moncton's doings, sir. The party is given in honour of his return. Says Mr. Theophilus to the Guv'nor, says he, 'I shall say nothing to Geoffrey, about it. What a capital joke it will be, to see him bolt into the room without studying the Graces for an hour.' I think it was the Graces, he said, sir; but whether it's a law book, or a book of fashions, sir, hang me if I can tell."

"But why did not you give me a hint of this, my good fellow?"

"Why, sir," said Saunders, hesitating and looking down, "everybody in this world has his troubles, and I, sir, have mine. Trouble, sir, makes a man forget every one's affairs but his own; and so, sir, the thing slipped quite out of my 'ead."

"And what has happened to trouble such a light heart as yours, Saunders?"

"Ah, sir!" sighing and shaking his head, "you remember Jemima, the pretty chamber maid, who lives at Judge Falcon's, across the street; I am sure you must, sir, for no one that saw Jemima once could forget her; and it was your first praising her that made me cast an eye upon her. Well, sir, I looked and loved, and became desperate about her, and offered her my 'onest 'and and 'eart, sir, and she promised to become my wife. Yes, indeed, she did; and we exchanged rings, and lucky sixpences and all that; and I gave master warning for next week; and took lodgings in a genteel country-looking cottage on the Deptford road. But I was never destined to find love there with Jemima."

"And what has happened to prevent your marriage?" said I, growing impatient and wishing to cut his long story down to the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"Many a slip, sir, between the cup and the lip. There's truth in those old saws howsomever. Mr. Theophilus's French valet, poured such a heap of flummery into the dear girl's ears, that it turned her 'ead altogether, and she run off with the haffected puppy last night; but let him look well after himself, for I swear the first time I catch him, I'll make cat's meat of him. Ah! sir, the song says, that it's the men who is so cruelly deceitful, but I have found it the reverse. Never trust in vimen, sir! I swear I'll hate 'em all from this day, for Jemima's sake."

"Consider yourself a fortunate fellow," said I. "You have made a very narrow escape."

"Ah, sir, it's all very well talking, when you don't feel the smart yourself. I loved that false creter with my 'ole 'art. But there's one thing," brightening up, "which consoles me under this great haffliction, the annoyance that it has given to Mr. Theophilus. This morning, there was no one to dress him--to flatter his vanity and tell him what a fine gentleman he is: I had to carry up his boots and shaving-water. It was rare fun to see him stamping and raving about the room, and vishing all the vimen in the vorld at the devil. But hark!

there's the dining-room bell. More wine. The ladies have just left for the drawing-room."

The blaze of lights, the gay a.s.semblage of youth and beauty which arrested my eyes as Saunders threw back the folding-doors, sent a sudden thrill of joy to my heart. But these feelings were quickly damped by the cold and distant salutations I received from the larger portion of the company there a.s.sembled. Persons who a few weeks before had courted my acquaintance and flattered my vanity, by saying and doing a thousand agreeable things, had not a friendly word to offer.

The meaning glance which pa.s.sed round the circle when I appeared among them, chilled the warm glow of pleasure, which the sight of so many fair and familiar faces had called up.

What could be the meaning of all this? A vague suspicion dashed into my mind, that my cousin was the direct cause of this change in the aspect of affairs, and, sick and disgusted with the world, I sat down at a distant table and began mechanically to turn over a large portfolio of splendid prints that I had not noticed before, and which I afterwards discovered, had been brought by Theophilus from Paris.

A half suppressed t.i.tter from two young ladies near me, and which I felt was meant for me, stung my proud heart to the quick. A dark mist floated between me and the lights; and the next moment I determined to leave the room in which I felt that my presence was not required, and where I was evidently regarded as an intruder.

I had just risen from my seat to effect a quiet retreat, when the folding-doors were again thrown open, and Mrs. Hepburn and Miss Lee were announced.

What were these strangers to me? The new arrival appeared to make no small sensation. A general bustle ensued, and my eyes unconsciously followed the rest.

The blood receded from my cheeks, to flush them again to a feverish glow, when I instantly recognized the lovely girl and her aunt, whom I had for so many months sought for, and sought in vain.

Yes, it was she--my adored Catherine--no longer pale and agitated from recent danger, but radiant in youth and beauty, her lovely person adorned with costly jewels, and the rich garments that fashion has rendered indispensable to her wealthy votaries.

"Miss Lee," was whispered among the ladies near me.

"Mr. Moncton's ward?"

"The rich heiress."

"Do you think her handsome?"

"Yes--pa.s.sable."

"Too short."

"Her figure pretty--but insignificant."

"She is just out."

"So I hear. She will not make any great sensation. Too sentimental and countrified. As Lord Byron says,--'Smells of bread and b.u.t.ter.'"

This last sneering remark, I considered a compliment. My charming Kate, looked as fresh and natural as a new-blown rose with the morning dew still fresh upon its petals. There was nothing studied or affected about her--no appearance of display--no effort to attract admiration; she was an unsophisticated child of nature, and the delightful frankness, with which she received the homage of the male portion of the company, was quite a contrast to the supercilious airs of the fashionable belles.

The opinion of the gentlemen with regard to the fair _debutante_, was quite the reverse of those given by her own s.e.x.

"What a lovely girl!"

"What an easy graceful carriage!"

"Did you ever see a more charming expression--a more bewitching smile?

A perfect lady from head to foot."