CHAPTER VI.
PARADISE ROW.
About a fortnight after George Roden's return to Holloway,--afortnight passed by the mother in meditation as to her son's gloriousbut dangerous love,--Lord Hampstead called at No. 11, Paradise Row.Mrs. Roden lived at No. 11, and Mrs. Demijohn lived at No. 10, thehouse opposite. There had already been some discussion in Hollowayabout Lord Hampstead, but nothing had as yet been discovered. Hemight have been at the house on various previous occasions, but hadcome in so unpretending a manner as hardly to have done more than tocause himself to be regarded as a stranger in Holloway. He was knownto be George's friend, because he had been first seen coming withGeorge on a Saturday afternoon. He had also called on a Sunday andwalked away, down the Row, with George. Mrs. Demijohn concludedthat he was a brother clerk in the Post Office, and had expressedan opinion that "it did not signify," meaning thereby to implythat Holloway need not interest itself about the stranger. A youngGovernment clerk would naturally have another young Government clerkfor his friend. Twice Lord Hampstead had come down in an omnibus fromIslington; on which occasion it was remarked that as he did not comeon Saturday there must be something wrong. A clerk, with Saturdayhalf-holidays, ought not to be away from his work on Mondays andTuesdays. Mrs. Duffer, who was regarded in Paradise Row as beingvery inferior to Mrs. Demijohn, suggested that the young man might,perhaps, not be a Post Office clerk. This, however, was ridiculed.Where should a Post Office clerk find his friends except among PostOffice clerks? "Perhaps he is coming after the widow," suggestedMrs. Duffer. But this also was received with dissent. Mrs. Demijohndeclared that Post Office clerks knew better than to marry widowswith no more than two or three hundred a year, and old enough tobe their mothers. "But why does he come on a Tuesday?" asked Mrs.Duffer; "and why does he come alone?" "Oh you dear old Mrs. Duffer!"said Clara Demijohn, the old lady's niece, naturally thinking thatit might not be unnatural that handsome young men should come toParadise Row.
All this, however, had been as nothing to what occurred in the Row onthe occasion which is now about to be described.
"Aunt Jemima," exclaimed Clara Demijohn, looking out of the window,"there's that young man come again to Number Eleven, riding onhorseback, with a groom behind to hold him!"
"Groom to hold him!" exclaimed Mrs. Demijohn, jumping, with all herrheumatism, quickly from her seat, and trotting to the window.
"You look if there aint,--with boots and breeches."
"It must be another," said Mrs. Demijohn, after a pause, during whichshe had been looking intently at the empty saddle of the horse whichthe groom was leading slowly up and down the Row.
"It's the same that came with young Roden that Saturday," said Clara;"only he hadn't been walking, and he looked nicer than ever."
"You can hire them all, horses and groom," said Mrs. Demijohn; "buthe'd never make his money last till the end of the month if he wenton in that way."
"They aint hired. They're his own," said Clara.
"How do you know, Miss?"
"By the colour of his boots, and the way he touched his hat, andbecause his gloves are clean. He aint a Post Office clerk at all,Aunt Jemima."
"I wonder whether he can be coming after the widow," said Mrs.Demijohn. After this Clara escaped out of the room, leaving her auntfixed at the window. Such a sight as that groom and those two horsesmoving up and down together had never been seen in the Row before.Clara put on her hat and ran across hurriedly to Mrs. Duffer, wholived at No. 15, next door but one to Mrs. Roden. But she wasaltogether too late to communicate the news as news.
"I knew he wasn't a Post Office clerk," said Mrs. Duffer, who hadseen Lord Hampstead ride up the street; "but who he is, or why, orwherefore, it is beyond me to conjecture. But I never will give up myopinion again, talking to your aunt. I suppose she holds out stillthat he's a Post Office clerk."
"She thinks he might have hired them."
"Oh my! Hired them!"
"But did you ever see anything so noble as the way he got off hishorse? As for hire, that's nonsense. He's been getting off thathorse every day of his life." Thus it was that Paradise Row wasawe-stricken by this last coming of George Roden's friend.
It was an odd thing to do,--this riding down to Holloway. No one elsewould have done it, either lord or Post Office clerk;--with a hiredhorse or with private property. There was a hot July sunshine, andthe roads across from Hendon Hall consisted chiefly of paved streets.But Lord Hampstead always did things as others would not do them. Itwas too far to walk in the midday sun, and therefore he rode. Therewould be no servant at Mrs. Roden's house to hold his horse, andtherefore he brought one of his own. He did not see why a man onhorseback should attract more attention at Holloway than at Hyde ParkCorner. Had he guessed the effect which he and his horse would havehad in Paradise Row he would have come by some other means.
Mrs. Roden at first received him with considerableembarrassment,--which he probably observed, but in speaking to herseemed not to observe. "Very hot, indeed," he said;--"too hot forriding, as I found soon after I started. I suppose George has givenup walking for the present."
"He still walks home, I think."
"If he had declared his purpose of doing so, he'd go on though he hadsunstroke every afternoon."
"I hope he is not so obstinate as that, my lord."
"The most obstinate fellow I ever knew in my life! Though the worldwere to come to an end, he'd let it come rather than change hispurpose. It's all very well for a man to keep his purpose, but he mayoverdo it."
"Has he been very determined lately in anything?"
"No;--nothing particular. I haven't seen him for the last week. Iwant him to come over and dine with me at Hendon one of these days.I'm all alone there." From this Mrs. Roden learnt that Lord Hampsteadat any rate did not intend to quarrel with her son, and she learntalso that Lady Frances was no longer staying at the Hall. "I can sendhim home," continued the lord, "if he can manage to come down by therailway or the omnibus."
"I will give him your message, my lord."
"Tell him I start on the 21st. My yacht is at Cowes, and I shallgo down there on that morning. I shall be away Heaven knows howlong;--probably for a month. Vivian will be with me, and we mean tobask away our time in the Norway and Iceland seas, till he goes, likean idiot that he is, to his grouse-shooting. I should like to seeGeorge before I start. I said that I was all alone; but Vivian willbe with me. George has met him before, and as they didn't cut eachother's throats then I suppose they won't now."
"I will tell him all that," said Mrs. Roden.
Then there was a pause for a moment, after which Lord Hampstead wenton in an altered voice. "Has he said anything to you since he was atHendon;--as to my family, I mean?"
"He has told me something."
"I was sure he had. I should not have asked unless I had been quitesure. I know that he would tell you anything of that kind. Well?"
"What am I to say, Lord Hampstead?"
"What has he told you, Mrs. Roden?"
"He has spoken to me of your sister."
"But what has he said?"
"That he loves her."
"And that she loves him?"
"That he hopes so."
"He has said more than that, I take it. They have engaged themselvesto each other."
"So I understand."
"What do you think of it, Mrs. Roden?"
"What can I think of it, Lord Hampstead? I hardly dare to think of itat all."
"Was it wise?"
"I suppose where love is concerned wisdom is not much considered."
"But people have to consider it. I hardly know how to think of it. Tomy idea it was not wise. And yet there is no one living whom I esteemso much as your son."
"You are very good, my lord."
"There is no goodness in it,--any more than in his liking for me. ButI can indulge my fancy without doing harm to others. Lady Kingsburythinks that I am an idiot because I do not live exclusively withcounts and countesses; but in declini
ng to take her advice I do notinjure her much. She can talk about me and my infatuations among herfriends with a smile. She will not be tortured by any feeling ofdisgrace. So with my father. He has an idea that I am out-HerodingHerod, he having been Herod;--but there is nothing bitter in it tohim. Those fine young gentlemen, my brothers, who are the dearestlittle chicks in the world, five and six and seven years old, will beable to laugh pleasantly at their elder brother when they grow up, asthey will do, among the other idle young swells of the nation. Thattheir brother and George Roden should be always together will noteven vex them. They may probably receive some benefit themselves, mayachieve some diminution of the folly natural to their position, bytheir advantage in knowing him. In looking at it all round, as faras that goes, there is not only satisfaction to me, but a certainpride. I am doing no more than I have a right to do. Whatevercounter-influence I may introduce among my own people, will be goodand wholesome. Do you understand me, Mrs. Roden?"
"I think so;--very clearly. I should be dull, if I did not."
"But it becomes different when one's sister is concerned. I amthinking of the happiness of other people."
"She, I suppose, will think of her own."
"Not exclusively, I hope."
"No; not that I am sure. But a girl, when she loves--"
"Yes; that is all true. But a girl situated like Frances is bound notto,--not to sacrifice those with whom Fame and Fortune have connectedher. I can speak plainly to you, Mrs. Roden, because you know whatare my own opinions about many things."
"George has no sister, no girl belonging to him; but if he had, andyou loved her, would you abstain from marrying her lest you shouldsacrifice your--connections?"
"The word has offended you?"
"Not in the least. It is a word true to the purpose in hand. Iunderstand the sacrifice you mean. Lady Kingsbury's feelings wouldbe--sacrificed were her daughter,--even her stepdaughter,--to becomemy boy's husband. She supposes that her girl's birth is superior tomy boy's."
"There are so many meanings to that word 'birth.'"
"I will take it all as you mean, Lord Hampstead, and will not beoffended. My boy, as he is, is no match for your sister. Both Lordand Lady Kingsbury would think that there had been--a sacrifice. Itmight be that those little lords would not in future years be wont totalk at their club of their brother-in-law, the Post Office clerk, asthey would of some earl or some duke with whom they might have becomeconnected. Let us pass it by, and acknowledge that there would be--asacrifice. So there will be should you marry below your degree. Thesacrifice would be greater because it would be carried on to somefuture Marquis of Kingsbury. Would you practise such self-denial asthat you demand from your sister?"
Lord Hampstead considered the matter a while, and then answeredthe question. "I do not think that the two cases would be quiteanalogous."
"Where is the difference?"
"There is something more delicate, more nice, requiring greatercaution in the conduct of a girl than of a man."
"Quite so, Lord Hampstead. Where conduct is in question, the girlis bound to submit to stricter laws. I may explain that by sayingthat the girl is lost for ever who gives herself up to unlawfullove,--whereas, for the man, the way back to the world's respect isonly too easy, even should he, on that score, have lost aught of theworld's respect. The same law runs through every act of a girl'slife, as contrasted with the acts of men. But in this act,--the actnow supposed of marrying a gentleman whom she loves,--your sisterwould do nothing which should exclude her from the respect of goodmen or the society of well-ordered ladies. I do not say that themarriage would be well-assorted. I do not recommend it. Though myboy's heart is dearer to me than anything else can be in the world,I can see that it may be fit that his heart should be made to suffer.But when you talk of the sacrifice which he and your sister arecalled on to make, so that others should be delivered from lessersacrifices, I think you should ask what duty would require fromyourself. I do not think she would sacrifice the noble blood of theTraffords more effectually than you would by a similar marriage." Asshe thus spoke she leant forward from her chair on the table, andlooked him full in the face. And he felt, as she did so, that she wassingularly handsome, greatly gifted, a woman noble to the eye and tothe ear. She was pleading for her son,--and he knew that. But she hadcondescended to use no mean argument.
"If you will say that such a law is dominant among your class,and that it is one to which you would submit yourself, I will notrepudiate it. But you shall not induce me to consent to it, by evena false idea as to the softer delicacy of the sex. That softerdelicacy, with its privileges and duties, shall be made to stand forwhat it is worth, and to occupy its real ground. If you use it forother mock purposes, then I will quarrel with you." It was thus thatshe had spoken, and he understood it all.
"I am not brought in question," he said slowly.
"Cannot you put it to yourself as though you were brought inquestion? You will at any rate admit that my argument is just."
"I hardly know. I must think of it. Such a marriage on my part wouldnot outrage my stepmother, as would that of my sister."
"Outrage! You speak, Lord Hampstead, as though your mother wouldthink that your sister would have disgraced herself as a woman!"
"I am speaking of her feelings,--not of mine. It would be differentwere I to marry in the same degree."
"Would it? Then I think that perhaps I had better counsel George notto go to Hendon Hall."
"My sister is not there. They are all in Germany."
"He had better not go where your sister will be thought of."
"I would not quarrel with your son for all the world."
"It will be better that you should. Do not suppose that I am pleadingfor him." That, however, was what he did suppose, and that waswhat she was doing. "I have told him already that I think that theprejudices will be too hard for him, and that he had better give itup before he adds to his own misery, and perhaps to hers. What I havesaid has not been in the way of pleading,--but only as showing theground on which I think that such a marriage would be inexpedient.It is not that we, or our sister, are too bad or too low for suchcontact; but that you, on your side, are not as yet good enough orhigh enough."
"I will not dispute that with you, Mrs. Roden. But you will give himmy message?"
"Yes; I will give him your message."
Then Lord Hampstead, having spent a full hour in the house, took hisdeparture and rode away.
"Just an hour," said Clara Demijohn, who was still looking out ofMrs. Duffer's window. "What can they have been talking about?"
"I think he must be making up to the widow," said Mrs. Duffer, whowas so lost in surprise as to be unable to suggest any new idea.
"He'd never have come with saddle horses to do that. She wouldn't betaken by a young man spending his money in that fashion. She'd likesaving ways better. But they're his own horses, and his own man,and he's no more after the widow than he's after me," said Clara,laughing.
"I wish he were, my dear."
"There may be as good as him come yet, Mrs. Duffer. I don't think somuch of their having horses and grooms. When they have these thingsthey can't afford to have wives too,--and sometimes they can't affordto pay for either." Then, having seen the last of Lord Hampstead ashe rode out of the Row, she went back to her mother's house.
But Mrs. Demijohn had been making use of her time while Clara andMrs. Duffer had been wasting theirs in mere gazing, and making vainsurmises. As soon as she found herself alone the old woman got herbonnet and shawl, and going out slily into the Row, made her way downto the end of the street in the direction opposite to that in whichthe groom was at that moment walking the horses. There she escapedthe eyes of her niece and of the neighbours, and was enabled to waitunseen till the man, in his walking, came down to the spot at whichshe was standing. "My young man," she said in her most winning voice,when the groom came near her.
"What is it, Mum?"
"You'd like a glass of beer, wouldn't you;--aft
er walking up and downso long?"
"No, I wouldn't, not just at present." He knew whom he served, andfrom whom it would become him to take beer.
"I'd be happy to pay for a pint," said Mrs. Demijohn, fingering afourpenny bit so that he might see it.
"Thankye, Mum; no, I takes it reg'lar when I takes it. I'm on dootyjust at present."
"Your master's horses, I suppose?"
"Whose else, Mum? His lordship don't ride generally nobody's 'orsesbut his own."
Here was a success! And the fourpenny bit saved! His lordship! "Ofcourse not," said Mrs. Demijohn. "Why should he?"
"Why, indeed, Mum?"
"Lord--; Lord--;--Lord who, is he?"
The groom poked up his hat, and scratched his head, and bethoughthimself. A servant generally wishes to do what honour he can to hismaster. This man had no desire to gratify an inquisitive old woman,but he thought it derogatory to his master and to himself to seemto deny their joint name. "'Ampstead!" he said, looking down veryserenely on the lady, and then moved on, not wasting another word.
"I knew all along they were something out of the common way," saidMrs. Demijohn as soon as her niece came in.
"You haven't found out who it is, aunt?"
"You've been with Mrs. Duffer, I suppose. You two'd put your headstogether for a week, and then would know nothing." It was not tillquite the last thing at night that she told her secret. "He was apeer! He was Lord 'Ampstead!"
"A peer!"
"He was Lord 'Ampstead, I tell you," said Mrs. Demijohn.
"I don't believe there is such a lord," said Clara, as she tookherself up to bed.
Marion Fay: A Novel Page 6
