CHAPTER XXV.
Falstaff. What money is in my purse? Page. Seven groats and two-pence.--Second Part of Henry IV.
En iterum Crispinus.
The next day a note was brought me, which had been sent to my formerlodgings in the Hotel de Paris: it was from Thornton.
"My dear Sir," (it began)
"I am very sorry that particular business will prevent me the pleasureof seeing you at my rooms on Sunday. I hope to be more fortunate someother day. I should like much to introduce you, the first opportunity,to my friends in the Rue Gretry, for I like obliging my countrymen. Iam sure, if you were to go there, you would cut and come again--oneshoulder of mutton drives down another.
"I beg you to accept my repeated excuses, and remain,
"Dear Sir,
"Your very obedient servant,
"Thomas Thornton.
"Rue St. Dominique,
"Friday Morning."
This letter produced in me many and manifold cogitations. What couldpossibly have induced Mr. Tom Thornton, rogue as he was, to postponethus of his own accord, the plucking of a pigeon, which he had such goodreason to believe he had entrapped? There was evidently no longer thesame avidity to cultivate my acquaintance as before; in putting offour appointment with so little ceremony, he did not even fix a dayfor another. What had altered his original designs towards me? for ifVincent's account was true, it was natural to suppose that he wished toprofit by any acquaintance he might form with me, and therefore such anacquaintance his own interests would induce him to continue and confirm.
Either, then, he no longer had the same necessity for a dupe, or he nolonger imagined I should become one. Yet neither of these suppositionswas probable. It was not likely that he should grow suddenly honest,or suddenly rich: nor had I, on the other hand, given him any reason tosuppose I was a jot more wary than any other individual he might haveimposed upon. On the contrary, I had appeared to seek his acquaintancewith an eagerness which said but little for my knowledge of the world.The more I reflected, the more I should have been puzzled, had I notconnected his present backwardness with his acquaintance with thestranger, whom he termed Warburton. It is true, that I had no reason tosuppose so: it was a conjecture wholly unsupported, and, indeed, againstmy better sense; yet, from some unanalysed associations, I could notdivest myself of the supposition.
"I will soon see," thought I; and wrapping myself in my cloak, for theday was bitterly cold, I bent my way to Thornton's lodgings. I couldnot explain to myself the deep interest I took in whatever was connectedwith (the so-called) Warburton, or whatever promised to discover moreclearly any particulars respecting him. His behaviour in the gamblinghouse; his conversation with the woman in the Jardin des Plantes;and the singular circumstance, that a man of so very aristocratic anappearance, should be connected with Thornton, and only seen in suchlow scenes, and with such low society, would not have been sufficientso strongly to occupy my mind, had it not been for certain dimrecollections, and undefinable associations, that his appearance whenpresent, and my thoughts of him when absent, perpetually recalled.
As, engrossed with meditations of this nature, I was passing over thePont Neuf, I perceived the man Warburton had so earnestly watched in thegambling house, and whom I identified with the "Tyrrell," who had formedthe subject of conversation in the Jardin des Plantes, pass slowlybefore me. There was an appearance of great exhaustion in his swarthyand strongly marked countenance. He walked carelessly on, neitherlooking to the right nor the left, with that air of thought andabstraction which I have remarked as common to all men in the habit ofindulging any engrossing and exciting passion.
We were just on the other side of the Seine, when I perceived the womanof the Jardin des Plantes approach. Tyrrell (for that, I afterwardsdiscovered, was really his name) started as she came near, and askedher, in a tone of some asperity, where she had been? As I was but a fewpaces behind, I had a clear, full view of the woman's countenance.She was about twenty-eight or thirty years of age. Her features weredecidedly handsome, though somewhat too sharp and aquiline for myindividual taste. Her eyes were light and rather sunken; and hercomplexion bespoke somewhat of the paleness and languor of ill-health.On the whole, the expression of her face, though decided, was notunpleasing, and when she returned Tyrrell's rather rude salutation, itwas with a smile, which made her, for the moment, absolutely beautiful.
"Where have I been to?" she said, in answer to his interrogatory. "Why,I went to look at the New Church, which they told me was so superbe."
"Methinks," replied the man, "that ours are not precisely thecircumstances in which such spectacles are amusing."
"Nay, Tyrrell," said the woman, as taking his arm they walked ontogether a few paces before me, "nay, we are quite rich now to what wehave been; and, if you do play again, our two hundred pounds may swellinto a fortune. Your losses have brought you skill, and you may now turnthem into actual advantages."
Tyrrell did not reply exactly to these remarks, but appeared as ifdebating with himself. "Two hundred pounds--twenty already gone!--in afew months all will have melted away. What is it then now but a respitefrom starvation?--but with luck it may become a competence."
"And why not have luck? many a fortune has been made with a worsebeginning," said the woman.
"True, Margaret," pursued the gambler, "and even without luck, our fatecan only commence a month or two sooner--better a short doom than alingering torture."
"What think you of trying some new game where you have more experience,or where the chances are greater than in that of rouge et noir?" askedthe woman. "Could you not make something out of that tall, handsome man,who Thornton says is so rich?"
"Ah, if one could!" sighed Tyrrell, wistfully. "Thornton tells me,that he has won thousands from him, and that they are mere drops in hisincome. Thornton is a good, easy, careless fellow, and might let me intoa share of the booty: but then, in what games can I engage him?"
Here I passed this well-suited pair, and lost the remainder of theirconversation. "Well," thought I, "if this precious personage does starveat last, he will most richly deserve it, partly for his designs on thestranger, principally for his opinion of Thornton. If he was a knaveonly, one might pity him; but a knave and fool both, are acombination of evil, for which there is no intermediate purgatory ofopinion--nothing short of utter damnation."
I soon arrived at Mr. Thornton's abode. The same old woman, poringover the same novel of Crebillon, made me the same reply as before; andaccordingly again I ascended the obscure and rugged stairs, which seemedto indicate, that the road to vice is not so easy as one generallysupposes. I knocked at the door, and receiving no answeringacknowledgment, opened it at once. The first thing I saw was the dark,rough coat of Warburton--that person's back was turned to me, and hewas talking with some energy to Thornton (who lounged idly in his chair,with one ungartered leg thrown over the elbow.)
"Ah, Mr. Pelham," exclaimed the latter, starting from his not verygraceful position, "it gives me great pleasure to see you--Mr.Warburton, Mr. Pelham--Mr. Pelham, Mr. Warburton." My new-made andmysterious acquaintance drew himself up to his full height, and bowedvery slightly to my own acknowledgment of the introduction. A low personwould have thought him rude. I only supposed him ignorant of theworld. No real gentleman is uncivil. He turned round after this stiffcondescension de sa part, and sunk down on the sofa, with his backtowards me.
"I was mistaken," thought I, "when I believed him to be above suchassociates as Thornton--they are well matched."
"My dear Sir," said Thornton, "I am very sorry I could not see you tobreakfast--a particular engagement prevented me--verbum sap. Mr. Pelham,you take me, I suppose--black eyes white skin, and such an ancle;" andthe fellow rubbed his great hands and chuckled.
"Well," said I, "I cannot blame you, whatever may be my loss--a dark eyeand a straight ancle are powerful excuses. What says Mr. Warburton tothem?" and I turned to the object of my interrogatory.
"Really," he answered drily, and witho
ut moving from his uncourteousposition, "Mr. Thornton only can judge of the niceties of his peculiartastes, or the justice of his general excuses."
Mr. Warburton said this in a sarcastic, bitter tone. Thornton bit hislip, more, I should think, at the manner than the words, and his smallgrey eyes sparkled with a malignant and stern expression, which suitedthe character of his face far better than the careless levity andenjouement which his glances usually denoted.
"They are no such great friends after all," thought I; "and now let mechange my attack. Pray," I asked, "among all your numerous acquaintancesat Paris, did you ever meet with a Mr. Tyrrell?"
Warburton started from his chair, and as instantly re-seated himself.Thornton eyed me with one of those peculiar looks which so stronglyreminded me of a dog, in deliberation whether to bite or run away.
"I do know a Mr. Tyrrell!" he said, after a short pause.
"What sort of a person is he?" I asked with an indifferent air--"a greatgamester, is he not?"
"He does slap it down on the colours now and then," replied Thornton. "Ihope you don't know him, Mr. Pelham!"
"Why?" said I, evading the question. "His character is not affected bya propensity so common, unless, indeed, you suppose him to be more agambler than a gamester, viz. more acute than unlucky."
"God forbid that I should say any such thing," replied Thornton; "youwon't catch an old lawyer in such imprudence."
"The greater the truth, the greater the libel," said Warburton, with asneer.
"No," resumed Thornton, "I know nothing against Mr. Tyrrell--nothing!He may be a very good man, and I believe he is; but as a friend, Mr.Pelham, (and Mr. Thornton grew quite affectionate), I advise you to haveas little as possible to do with that sort of people."
"Truly," said I, "you have now excited my curiosity. Nothing, you know,is half so inviting as mystery."
Thornton looked as if he had expected a very different reply; andWarburton said, in an abrupt tone--"Whoever enters an unknown road in afog may easily lose himself."
"True," said I; "but that very chance is more agreeable than a roadwhere one knows every tree! Danger and novelty are more to my tastethan safety and sameness. Besides, as I never gamble myself, I can losenothing by an acquaintance with those who do."
Another pause ensued--and, finding I had got all from Mr. Thornton andhis uncourteous guest that I was likely to do, I took my hat and mydeparture.
"I do not know," thought I, "whether I have profited much by this visit.Let me consider. In the first place, I have not ascertained why Iwas put off by Mr. Thornton--for as to his excuse, it could only haveavailed one day, and had he been anxious for my acquaintance, he wouldhave named another. I have, however, discovered, first, that he does notwish me to form any connection with Tyrrell; secondly, from Warburton'ssarcasm, and his glance of reply, that there is but little friendshipbetween those two, whatever be the intimacy; and, thirdly, thatWarburton, from his dorsal positions, so studiously preserved, eitherwished to be uncivil or unnoticed." The latter, after all, was the mostprobable; and, upon the whole, I felt more than ever convinced that hewas the person I suspected him to be.
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