Christmas gold, p.797
Christmas Gold, page 797
They were together, and almost alone. They were together—horror!—in the Chair of Truth, Fanny on the cushioned seat; Florence on the stuffed arm. Florence was still employed in pinning up the tatters of the torn dress of Fanny.
"What a beautiful picture; what a lovely contrast!" thought Dick, as he approached.
"There, Dear!" said Florence, with a remarkably emphatic stress upon the last word; "I have pinned you up, and done the best I could for you, Dear. But I am glad to see, notwithstanding, that you are a monstrous figure, and not fit to look at, Dear."
"Thank you, Florence, Dear!"
"Ah, you false thing! I see through your meekness and your affectation, as if you did not care about your dress. It's a pity Mr. Blorage can't see you at home."
"It's a pity Mr. Blorage can't see you at home. Aunt longs for the day when she can rid herself of you: indolent, selfish, and useless creature that you are."
"But Aunt comforts herself with the reflection that she has not such a firebrand in her house as you are. Aunt can well afford to put up with a little indolence where there is so much good temper."
"It is better to be a little passionate than sulky, Love."
"Is it, Love? Mr. Blorage is the best judge of that. We have all our tempers, and you don't expect a perfect wife, do you, Mr. Blorage?"
"I am very imperfect myself," murmured the unfortunate Dick.
"Oh no, Mr. Blorage," cried Fanny and Florence together; "You are everything that is nice and good tempered. And this is such a love of a house, that no one could be unhappy here."
Here the duet ceased, and solos began.
"You would always be cross and fractious, Fanny," said Florence.
"And you would always be rude and boisterous, Florence," said Fanny.
"For you are a virago, and you know you are," said Florence.
"For you are a hoyden, and you know you are," said Fanny.
"I am ashamed of you, my darling," said Florence.
"I am disgusted with you, my precious," said Fanny.
"Ladies, ladies! " expostulated Dick.
"She has the vilest temper, Mr. Blorage! " cries Florence.
"She can't speak a word of truth, Mr. Blorage," cries Fanny.
As Mr. Blorage turned hurriedly and appealingly from the one to the other, each now exclaiming, "Throw your handkerchief to me, Mr. Blorage!" he lost his balance, rolled over, and rolled the chair over. Picking himself up with all possible despatch, and turning to apologise, he found that Florence, Fanny, music, lights, flowers, dancers, Lady Fitzcluck, and dowager, had all disappeared. There was nothing near him but the chair—overturned— and an empty wine-bottle.
V
"Thank Heaven! " were the first spoken words of Mr. Blorage. His first act was to look for his handkerchief, which he hoped he had not thrown to either of the ladies. It was safe in his pocket. "It must have been a dream," he next remarked, eyeing the chair dubiously. "Yes, of course a dream," as he gathered courage from its motionless state. "But a very bad dream," as he felt encouraged to touch it, raise it, and examine it. As harmless a chair as ever upholsterer stuffed, or gentleman bought! Gently he restored it to its proper place.
A knock at the door. Immediately followed by the appearance of the model Penge. It seemed an agreeable and satisfactory circumstance to the respectful Penge that his master was on his legs and awake.
"Shall I remove the things, sir? It's close upon nine."
"Do so, Penge. And I think I will have a cup of coffee—rather strong, Penge."
"Yes, sir."
What a relief it was, not to see Penge sit down in the chair!
"It's a delicious cup of coffee, Penge," said Mr. Blorage, when it was brought, " and it so perfectly agrees with me that I think I'll take a run over to Dr. Evans's and play a game of chess with him."
The sharp night air smote him with a sudden giddiness, and every twinkling star appeared to be closely embracing a twin star that twinkled with still greater vigour; but he soon got over these delusions, and before he reached Dr. Evans's door was quite himself. On the way, however, he took himself seriously to task:
"How good of the night to be so fresh and fine, how kind of the pure stars to beam down on me so brightly, when I am a man full of evil and weak thoughts. I harboured a design against my fellow-creatures of the basest sort; and, to add to my crime, it was directed against one whom I meant for a wife! True, I know nothing of Miss Fanny or Miss Florence, but the beauty of those two cousins, and a general sort of amiability that seems to belong to all girls. I'll make it my business to see more of both, and I'll try to be guided to a right choice at last."
Mr. Blorage was warmly welcomed by Dr. Evans, who opened the door to him.
"Now this is friendly. I have had a very anxious case, which has caused me much worry these three days. It is happily past the crisis now, and I was just saying to my wife, how I should enjoy your stepping in."
"I am heartily glad I came."
"Of course you are. You are always kind and seasonable. When were you ever otherwise?"
The good Dick followed the doctor (who was a voluble and hearty doctor) up the stairs into the presence of Mrs. Doctor. But Dick was unable to acknowledge Mrs. Doctor's cordial greeting by so much as a single word; for there, before his eyes, seated on a little chair by Mrs. Evans's side, was Miss Gatty Bland: her innocent little face peeping out of a handkerchief tied over her head and under her chin.
"You know dear little Gatty, of course?" remarked the Doctor. "She is waiting for her mother's medicine.—I hope you have given Gatty a cup of tea, my dear?"
Mrs. Doctor's face expressed a profound contempt for Mr. Doctor's unnecessary reminder.
Meantime, Dick sat down. He awaited with the calm composure of a victim of Fate, for Miss Bland to offer him the use of her mother's beautiful china bowl.
She did nothing of the sort. In the ensuing half-hour she made no allusion whatever either to china or to bowls, though the conversation turned upon no other subject than his approaching house-warming.
Dick was half sorry. He felt as if it would be so agreeable to thank such a charming little girl. If her mother had lent him her china bowl (he felt sure she possessed a china bowl), he must have called to thank her; and he felt a desire to become intimate with the family. He might, perhaps, be of service to them; was there anything—or nothing—in that nomination he so nearly heard about? He invited Gatty to the house-warming, and anticipated her request for Jenny and Albert; he was not at all surprised to find that she had a sister Jenny and a brother Albert. But it did surprise him to see how pretty she became when joy flushed her cheeks and brightened her eyes, while several little dimples in the nicest corners of her face discovered themselves, as she smiled her thanks.
"The very thing! " said Mrs. Evans; "a little gaiety does more good than all my doctor's physic. Mr. Blorage, my dear, very thoughtful. You'll expect all four, I dare say—three girls and a boy."
" Only four! I expect eight at least."
"But, Mrs. Evans," whispered Gatty, "one of us must stay with mamma; that will be I, you know."
"My dear, I will see to that. I will step down in the morning, Gatty, and settle it all with mamma."
"And tell mamma from me," said the doctor, "that I shall spend a couple of hours with her to-morrow evening. I want to study her case, and I shall like a little rest between your dances, Blorage."
"That is," said Gatty, smiling delightedly, "that you two are most kindly going to represent me for that time."
"Just so, my dear. What! Are you off, Gatty?—Stay. We'll send our man, Mike, with you; the railway has brought a lot of ill-looking people about."
"Let me take you home, Miss Bland," said Dick.
"Oh! Thank you very much, Mr. Blorage. I own some of the people frighten me, though I think they mean no harm."
"We will have a game of chess when you come back, Blorage," says the doctor.
What passed between little Gatty and her escort, and whether anything passed on the subject of china bowls, nobody knows. The walk did not last longer than ten minutes. My private opinion is, that Dick treated Gatty all the way with the respect and deference due to a young princess accidentally committed to his care. When he returned to his game of chess, what with the remaining fumes of that bottle of wine, the extraordinary dream, and this odd approach to an interpretation of it, it is certain that he was in a romantic mood. He willingly listened to a long history of the Elands, during which Mr. and Mrs. Doctor maintained a laudatory duet very different indeed from the imaginary duet between Fanny and Florence.
"I only wish," cried the doctor, at last, "that I had a son of thirty, or thirty-five, with a good house, a good income, and a good heart. I would recommend him Gatty Bland for a wife with all my heart and soul, and he would thank me every year of his life ever afterwards, even though he had to marry her whole family along with her!"
"Miss Bland," said Mr. Blorage, "spoke of a nomination—no, by-the-by, she didn't—it was a china bowl—dear me, what do I mean—I think I hardly know what I do mean!"
"You look rather wild, Dick; of course I can't help you out. I don't know what you discoursed upon in your walk; but there appears to me no affinity between a nomination for the Blue-coat School and a china bowl."
"Oh! that's what she wants, is it? Blue-coat School! God bless my soul! Really a nomination, eh? Blue coat! Ah!—Check to your queen!"
Notwithstanding that check, Dick lost the game. But he went home in a felicitous state of mind, that made him feel as if he had won the game. He continued to repeat the word "Blue" to himself, as if he were under an obligation never to forget it; he went up to his bedroom, chuckling, "Blue!" he undressed, chuckling "Blue;" he sat up in bed, after lying down, with a vehement "Blue;" and his last recollection was a struggle to say " Bluenomicoatation."
VI
Mr. Blorage arose in a contented and happy frame of mind. The great day was the greatest of successes; nothing marred the triumph of the dinner, nothing marred the beauty of the ball. The hard-faced dowager sat in the chair, but she was just as forcible and disagreeable as usual: no more and no less. Mr. Blorage danced with Lady Fitzcluck, and bespoke Fanny, and Florence, and Gatty. For Gatty was there, demurely happy. Trust Mr. and Mrs. Doctor for Gatty's being there!
Florence looked most beautiful. She was charmingly dressed, in white tarlatan—three skirts—pinked—each skirt looped up with a mixture of white roses and pomegranate blossoms. A wreath of the same for her hair. Fanny was dressed in floating robes of blue—less blue than her eyes. Her fair curls were twined with silver leaves: she looked like a nymph; Florence like a queen. Not the greatest gossip in the room could say which was the favourite. Neither could the greatest, or the least, gossip in the room decide at what particular moment the star of both descended below Mr. Blorage's horizon.
But he has confided to somebody, who confided it to me, who now confide it to you, that Miss Florence ceased to be beautiful in his eyes when she sneered at the plainness of the Miss Blands' muslin dresses. "And it is real ivy in their hair, Mr. Blorage, so they can't have gone to any great expense to do honour to your ball." And Miss Florence glanced down at her own dress.
"I like them all the better for it," stoutly answered Dick.
As to Miss Fanny, she was so astonished at the impertinence of such people as the Blands thrusting themselves into society so much above them! And her star descended, at the instant when she was thus overcome.
Mr. Blorage accomplished his dances with Fanny and with Florence, but did not accomplish his dance with Gatty Bland. For on the instant that he claimed her hand, Dr. Evans (sent off by his wife presently after dinner) returned from taking care of Mrs. Bland.
"Oh! Mr. Blorage, I must go—thank you so much for the happiest evening I ever spent, and the prettiest sight I ever saw!"
"No no no, you must not go; a quadrille takes only twenty minutes to dance."
"But mamma is alone now, and I should be quite unhappy all that twenty minutes, even though dancing with you. But there is Jenny, she dances so well, and she loves it so much, and—don't think me conceited, Mr. Blorage—she is so pretty."
"She is the prettiest girl in the room—but one," says Mr. Blorage in a whisper. And as he assists Gatty to put on her cloak, he sees her, with unspeakable admiration, tie her little laced handkerchief over her head and under her chin, and look so indescribably like the dear darling little creature of his vision, that he longs—infamous as is (of course) the thought—to clasp her, then and there, to his heart! But instead of doing so, he flies back to the ball-room, and engages Jenny out of hand. Thus Gatty, when she went home, was able to tell her mother that she took a last peep at the beautiful scene, and saw kind Mr. Blorage asking Jenny to dance, and Jenny looking as pretty as even those two lovely cousins Florence and Fanny. "They say Mr. Blorage is to marry one of them, mamma, but I hope not."
"Oh, my Gatty!"
"Well, mamma, you know I see a good deal of them, here and there, and I am sure they are only pretty girls. They do not appreciate his great noble generous heart. But now, mamma, to bed you must go. No more excitement for you tonight."
Happily, the excitement in the little family lasted a good many days, and afforded food for conversation, morning, noon, and night. Indeed, it was yet as fresh as ever, when, one morning, the post brought a piece of news that fairly surpassed the house-warming—a nomination to the Blue-coat School, in favour of no less a personage than Master Albert Bland. The commotion in that cottage——Well! It's a blessed thing to want something, for then you can duly appreciate the favour of having it. And it is a blessed thing to be rich, and liberal withal, for then you can bestow the favour so appreciated. Meantime, Mr. Blorage divided his time pretty equally between his little office at the Bank, Dr. Evans's, the house belonging to the father of Florence, and the abode within which dwelt the lovely Fanny's aunt. And all these visits, combined with the still existing effects of his dream, ended in consequences.
The first consequence occurred to the self-satisfied William. His slow brother Dick acquired the ridiculous habit of demanding what Bill did with those sums of money he was for ever borrowing? And—unkindest thing of all—Mr. Richard insinuated, nay, he more than insinuated, he plainly told—Mr. William Blorage that he expected such sums to be repaid in future. And to show that this was no idle threat, he produced a ledger, wherein a debtor and creditor account was drawn up between Mr. Richard Blorage and Mr. William Blorage: which account displayed a state of things so alarming to Mr. William, that he reformed rather. Imagine Mr. Dick's pleasure when William, Billy, or Bill, applied in sober seriousness for that post of junior of all the junior clerks, whilom so despised by him!
Second important consequence. Mr. Richard Blorage committed a piece of extravagance. He caused to be executed for himself, a statuette in white marble. Any orderers of statues, or other things to be made after a fashion of their own, may calculate what an enormous sum Mr. Blorage paid for his statue. It must be ethereal-looking (he said), it must have extended wings, it must be lightly poised on one foot; but above all, it must have a slightly turned-up nose, and a little lace handkerchief tied under the chin!
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