The History of Pendennis, Volume 2

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER X.

  IN SHEPHERD'S INN.

  Our friend Pen said "How d'ye do, Mr. Bows," in a loud, cheery voice,on perceiving that gentleman, and saluted him in a dashing, off-handmanner; yet you could have seen a blush upon Arthur's face (answeredby Fanny, whose cheek straightway threw out a similar fluttering redsignal), and after Bows and Arthur had shaken hands, and the formerhad ironically accepted the other's assertion that he was about to payMr. Costigan's chambers a visit, there was a gloomy and rather guiltysilence in the company, which Pen presently tried to dispel by makinga great rattling and noise. The silence of course departed at Mr.Arthur's noise, but the gloom remained and deepened, as the darknessdoes in a vault if you light up a single taper in it. Pendennis triedto describe, in a jocular manner, the transactions of the nightprevious, and attempted to give an imitation of Costigan vainlyexpostulating with the check-taker at Vauxhall. It was not a goodimitation. What stranger can imitate that perfection? Nobody laughed.Mrs. Bolton did not in the least understand what part Mr. Pendenniswas performing, and whether it was the check-taker or the captain hewas taking off. Fanny wore an alarmed face, and tried a timid giggle;old Mr. Bows looked as glum as when he fiddled in the orchestra, orplayed a difficult piece upon the old piano at the Back-Kitchen.Pen felt that his story was a failure; his voice sank anddwindled away dismally at the end of it--flickered, and went out;and it was all dark again. You could hear the ticket-porter, who lollsabout Shepherd's Inn, as he passed on the flags under the archway: theclink of his boot-heels was noted by every body.

  "You were coming to see me, sir," Mr. Bows said. "Won't you have thekindness to walk up to my chambers with me? You do them a great honor,I am sure. They are rather high up; but--"

  "O! I live in a garret myself, and Shepherd's Inn is twice as cheerfulas Lamb Court," Mr. Pendennis broke in.

  "I knew that you had third floor apartments," Mr. Bows said; "and wasgoing to say--you will please not take my remark as discourteous--thatthe air up three pair of stairs is wholesomer for gentlemen, than theair of a porter's lodge."

  "Sir!" said Pen, whose candle flamed up again in his wrath, and whowas disposed to be as quarrelsome as men are when they are in thewrong. "Will you permit me to choose my society without--"

  "You were so polite as to say that you were about to honor my umbledomicile with a visit," Mr. Bows said, with a sad voice. "Shall I showyou the way? Mr. Pendennis and I are old friends, Mrs. Bolton--veryold acquaintances; and at the earliest dawn of his life we crossedeach other."

  The old man pointed toward the door with a trembling finger, and a hatin the other hand, and in an attitude slightly theatrical; so were hiswords, when he spoke, somewhat artificial, and chosen from thevocabulary which he had heard all his life from the painted lips ofthe orators before the stage-lamps. But he was not acting ormasquerading, as Pen knew very well, though he was disposed topooh-pooh the old fellow's melodramatic airs. "Come along, sir," hesaid, "as you are so very pressing. Mrs. Bolton, I wish you a goodday. Good-by, Miss Fanny; I shall always think of our night atVauxhall with pleasure; and be sure I will remember thetheatre-tickets." And he took her hand, pressed it, was pressed by it,and was gone.

  "What a nice young man, to be sure!" cried Mrs. Bolton.

  "D'you think so, ma?" said Fanny.

  "I was a-thinkin who he was like. When I was at the Wells with Mrs.Serle," Mrs. Bolton continued, looking through the window curtainafter Pen, as he went up the court with Bows; "there was a younggentleman from the city, that used to come in a tilbry, in a white at,the very image of him, ony his whiskers was black, and Mr. P's.is red.

  "Law, ma! they are a most beautiful hawburn," Fanny said.

  "He used to come for Emly Budd, who danced Columbine in 'ArleykinOrnpipe, or the Battle of Navarino,' when Miss De la Bosky was tookill--a pretty dancer, and a fine stage figure of a woman--and he was agreat sugar-baker in the city, with a country ouse at Omerton; and heused to drive her in the tilbry down Goswell-street-road; and oneday they drove and was married at St. Bartholomew's Church Smithfield,where they had their bands read quite private; and she now keeps hercarriage; and I sor her name in the paper as patroness of theManshing-House Ball for the Washywomen's Asylum. And look at LadyMirabel--Capting Costigan's daughter--she was profeshnl, as all verywell know." Thus, and more to this purpose, Mrs. Bolton spoke, nowpeeping through the window-curtain, now cleaning the mugs and plates,and consigning them to their place in the corner cupboard; andfinishing her speech as she and Fanny shook out and folded up thedinner-cloth between them, and restored it to its drawer in the table.

  Although Costigan had once before been made pretty accurately tounderstand what Pen's pecuniary means and expectations were, I supposeCos had forgotten the information acquired at Chatteris years ago, orhad been induced by his natural enthusiasm to exaggerate his friend'sincome. He had described Fairoaks Park in the most glowing terms toMrs. Bolton, on the preceding evening, as he was walking about withher during Pen's little escapade with Fanny, had dilated upon theenormous wealth of Pen's famous uncle, the major, and shown anintimate acquaintance with Arthur's funded and landed property. Verylikely Mrs. Bolton, in her wisdom, had speculated upon these mattersduring the night; and had had visions of Fanny driving in hercarriage, like Mrs. Bolton's old comrade, the dancer ofSadler's Wells.

  In the last operation of table-cloth folding, these two foolish women,of necessity, came close together; and as Fanny took the cloth andgave it the last fold, her mother put her finger under the younggirl's chin, and kissed her. Again the red signal flew out, andfluttered on Fanny's cheek. What did it mean? It was not alarm thistime. It was pleasure which caused the poor little Fanny to blush so.Poor little Fanny! What? is love sin; that it is so pleasant at thebeginning, and so bitter at the end?

  After the embrace, Mrs. Bolton thought proper to say that she wasa-goin out upon business, and that Fanny must keep the lodge; whichFanny, after a very faint objection indeed, consented to do. So Mrs.Bolton took her bonnet and market-basket, and departed; and theinstant she was gone, Fanny went and sate by the window whichcommanded Bows's door, and never once took her eyes away from thatquarter of Shepherd's Inn.

  Betsy-Jane and Ameliar-Ann were buzzing in one corner of the place,and making believe to read out of a picture-book, which one of themheld topsy-turvy. It was a grave and dreadful tract, of Mr. Bolton'scollection. Fanny did not hear her sisters prattling over it. Shenoticed nothing but Bows's door.

  At last she gave a little shake, and her eyes lighted up. He had comeout. He would pass the door again. But her poor little countenancefell in an instant more. Pendennis, indeed, came out; but Bowsfollowed after him. They passed under the archway together. He onlytook off his hat, and bowed as he looked in. He did not stop to speak. In three or four minutes--Fanny did not know how long, but shelooked furiously at him when he came into the lodge--Bows returnedalone, and entered into the porter's room.

  "Where's your ma, dear?" he said to Fanny.

  "I don't know," Fanny said, with an angry toss. "I don't follow ma'ssteps wherever she goes, I suppose, Mr. Bows."

  "Am I my mother's keeper?" Bows said, with his usual melancholybitterness. "Come here, Betsy-Jane and Amelia-Ann; I've brought a cakefor the one who can read her letters best, and a cake for the otherwho can read them the next best."

  When the young ladies had undergone the examination through which Bowsput them, they were rewarded with their gingerbread medals, and wentoff to discuss them in the court. Meanwhile Fanny took out some work,and pretended to busy herself with it, her mind being in greatexcitement and anger, as she plied her needle, Bows sate so that hecould command the entrance from the lodge to the street. But theperson whom, perhaps, he expected to see, never made his appearanceagain. And Mrs. Bolton came in from market, and found Mr. Bows inplace of the person whom _she_ had expected to see. The reader perhapscan guess what was his name?

  The interview between Bows and his guest, when those two mounted tothe apartment occupied by the
former in common with the descendant ofthe Milesian kings, was not particularly satisfactory to either party.Pen was sulky. If Bows had any thing on his mind, he did not care todeliver himself of his thoughts in the presence of Captain Costigan,who remained in the apartment during the whole of Pen's visit; havingquitted his bed-chamber, indeed, but a very few minutes before thearrival of that gentleman. We have witnessed the deshabille of MajorPendennis: will any man wish to be valet-de-chambre to our other hero,Costigan? It would seem that the captain, before issuing from hisbedroom, scented himself with otto of whisky. A rich odor of thatdelicious perfume breathed from out him, as he held out the grasp ofcordiality to his visitor. The hand which performed that grasp shookwoefully: it was a wonder how it could hold the razor with which thepoor gentleman daily operated on his chin.

  Bows's room was as neat, on the other hand, as his comrade's wasdisorderly. His humble wardrobe hung behind a curtain. His books andmanuscript music were trimly arranged upon shelves. A lithographedportrait of Miss Fotheringay, as Mrs. Haller, with the actress'ssprawling signature at the corner, hung faithfully over the oldgentleman's bed. Lady Mirabel wrote much better than Miss Fotheringayhad been able to do. Her ladyship had labored assiduously to acquirethe art of penmanship since her marriage; and, in a common note ofinvitation or acceptance, acquitted herself very genteelly. Bows lovedthe old handwriting best, though; the fair artist's earlier manner. Hehad but one specimen of the new style, a note in reply to a songcomposed and dedicated to Lady Mirabel, by her most humble servantRobert Bows; and which document was treasured in his desk among hisother state papers. He was teaching Fanny Bolton now to sing and towrite, as he had taught Emily in former days. It was the nature of theman to attach himself to something. When Emily was torn from him hetook a substitute: as a man looks out for a crutch when he loses aleg, or lashes himself to a raft when he has suffered shipwreck.Latude had given his heart to a woman, no doubt, before he grew to beso fond of a mouse in the Bastille. There are people who in theiryouth have felt and inspired an heroic passion, and end by being happyin the caresses, or agitated by the illness of a poodle. But it washard upon Bows, and grating to his feelings as a man and asentimentalist, that he should find Pen again upon his track, and inpursuit of this little Fanny.

  Meanwhile, Costigan had not the least idea but that his company wasperfectly welcome to Messrs. Pendennis and Bows, and that the visit ofthe former was intended for himself. He expressed himself greatlypleased with that mark of poloightness, and promised, in his own mind,that he would repay that obligation at least--which was not the onlydebt which the captain owed in life--by several visits to his youngfriend. He entertained him affably with news of the day, or rather often days previous; for Pen, in his quality of journalist, rememberedto have seen some of the captain's opinions in the Sporting andTheatrical Newspaper, which was Costigan's oracle. He stated that SirCharles and Lady Mirabel were gone to Baden-Baden, and were mostpressing in their invitations that he should join them there. Penreplied with great gravity, that he had heard that Baden was verypleasant, and the Grand Duke exceedingly hospitable to English.Costigan answered, that the laws of hospitalitee bekeam a Grand Juke;that he sariously would think about visiting him; and made someremarks upon the splendid festivities at Dublin Castle, when hisExcellency the Earl of Portansherry held the Viceraygal Coort there,and of which he Costigan had been an humble but pleased spectator. AndPen--as he heard these oft-told, well-remembered legends--recollectedthe time when he had given a sort of credence to them, and had acertain respect for the captain. Emily and first love, and the littleroom at Chatteris; and the kind talk with Bows on the bridge came backto him. He felt quite kindly disposed toward his two old friends; andcordially shook the hands of both of them when he rose to go away.

  He had quite forgotten about little Fanny Bolton while the captain wastalking, and Pen himself was absorbed in other selfish meditations, Heonly remembered her again as Bows came hobbling down the stairs afterhim, bent evidently upon following him out of Shepherd's Inn.

  Mr. Bows's precaution was not a lucky one. The wrath of Mr. ArthurPendennis rose at the poor old fellow's feeble persecution. Confoundhim, what does he mean by dogging me? thought Pen. And he burst outlaughing when he was in the Strand and by himself, as he thought ofthe elder's stratagem. It was not an honest laugh, Arthur Pendennis.Perhaps the thought struck Arthur himself, and he blushed at his ownsense of humor. He went off to endeavor to banish the thoughts whichoccupied him, whatever those thoughts might be, and tried variousplaces of amusement with but indifferent success. He struggled up thehighest stairs of the Panorama; but when he had arrived, panting, atthe height of the eminence, Care had come up with him, and was bearinghim company. He went to the Club, and wrote a long letter home,exceedingly witty and sarcastic, and in which, if he did not say asingle word about Vauxhall and Fanny Bolton, it was because he thoughtthat subject, however interesting to himself, would not be veryinteresting to his mother and Laura. Nor could the novels on thelibrary table fix his attention, nor the grave and respectable Jawkins(the only man in town), who wished to engage him in conversation; norany of the amusements which he tried, after flying from Jawkins. Hepassed a Comic Theater on his way home, and saw "Stunning Farce,""Roars of Laughter," "Good Old English Fun and Frolic," placarded invermilion letters on the gate. He went into the pit, and saw thelovely Mrs. Leary, as usual, in a man's attire; and that eminent buffoactor, Tom Horseman, dressed as a woman. Horseman's travestie seemedto him a horrid and hideous degradation; Mrs. Leary's glances andankles had not the least effect. He laughed again, and bitterly, tohimself, as he thought of the effect which she had produced upon him,on the first night of his arrival in London, a short time--what along, long time ago.