"What! Oh, come!--that is too good a joke!""It is sober earnest. Ask Zoe--ask your friend, Mr. Severne--ask the chambermaids--ask any creature with an eye in its head. Oh, the blindness of you men!"The Misogyn was struck dumb. When he recovered, it was to repine at the lot of man.
"Even my own familiar cousin--once removed--in whom I trusted! I depute you to inform her that I think her _adorable,_ and that matrimony is no longer a habit of mine. Set her on to poor Severne; he is a ladies' man, and 'the more the merrier' is his creed.""Such a girl as Fanny is not to be diverted from a purpose of that sort.
Besides, she has too much sense to plunge into the Severne and--pauperism! She is bent on a rich husband, not a needy adventurer.""Madam, in my friend's name, I thank you.""You are very welcome, sir--it is only the truth." Then, with a swift return to her original topic: "No; I know perfectly well what Fanny Dover will do this afternoon. She sketches.""It is too true," said Vizard dolefully: "showed me a ship in full sail, and I praised it _in my way._ I said, 'That rock is rather well done.' ""Well, she will be seized with a desire to sketch. She will sit down apart, and say, 'Please don't watch me--it makes me nervous.' The other two will take the hint and make love a good way off; and Zoe will go greater lengths, with another woman in sight--but only just in sight, and slyly encouraging her--than if she were quite alone with her _mauvais sujet."_Vizard was pleased with the old lady. "This is sagacious," said he, "and shows an eye for detail. I recognize in your picture the foxy ***. But, at this moment, who can foretell which way the wind will blow? You are not aware, perhaps, that Zoe and Fanny have had a quarrel. They don't speak. Now, in women, you know, vices are controlled by vices-- see Pope.
The conspiracy you dread will be averted by the other faults of their character, their jealousy and their petulant tempers. Take my word for it, they are sparring at this moment; and that poor, silly Severne meditating and moderating, and getting scratched on both sides for trying to be just."At this moment the door opened, and Fanny Dover glittered on the threshold in Cambridge blue.
"There," said Vizard; "did not I tell you? They are come home.""Only me," said Fanny gayly.
"Where are the others?" inquired Miss Maitland sharply.
"Not far off--only by the riverside."
"And you left those two alone!"
"Now, don't be cross, aunt," cried Fanny, and limped up to her. "These new boots are so tight that I really couldn't bear them any longer. Ibelieve I shall be lame, as it is."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself. What will the people say?""La! aunt, it is abroad. One does what one likes--out of England.""Here's a code of morals!" said Vizard, who must have his slap.
"Nonsense," said Miss Maitland: "she will be sure to meet somebody. All England is on the Rhine at this time of the year; and, whether or no, is it for you to expose that child to familiarity with a person nobody knows, nor his family either? You are twenty-five years old; you know the world; you have as poor an opinion of the man as I have, or you would have set your own cap at him--you know you would--and you have let out things to me when you were off your guard. Fanny Dover, you are behaving wickedly; you are a false friend to that poor girl."Upon this, lo! the pert Fanny, hitherto so ready with her answers, began to cry bitterly. The words really pricked her conscience, and to be scolded is one thing, to be severely and solemnly reproached is another;and before a man!
The official woman-hater was melted in a moment by the saucy girl's tears. "There--there," said he, kindly, "have a little mercy. Hang it all! Don't make a mountain of a mole-hill."The official man-hater never moved a muscle. "It is no use her crying to _me:_ she must give me a _proof_ she is sorry. Fanny, if you are a respectable girl, and have any idea of being my heir, go you this moment and bring them home.""Yes, aunt," said Fanny, eagerly; and went off with wonderful alacrity.
It was a very long apartment, full forty feet; and while Fanny bustled down it, Miss Maitland extended a skinny finger, like one of Macbeth's witches, and directed Vizard's eye to the receding figure so pointedly that he put up his spyglass the better to see the phenomenon.
As Fanny skipped out and closed the door, Miss Maitland turned to Vizard, with lean finger still pointing after Fanny, and uttered a monosyllable:
"LAME!"
Vizard burst out laughing. "La fourbe!" said he. "Miss Maitland, accept my compliments; you possess the key to a *** no fellow can unlock. And, now I have found an interpreter, I begin to be interested in this little comedy. The first act is just over. There will be half an hour's wait till the simulatrix of infirmity comes running back with the pilgrims of the Rhine. Are they 'the pilgrims of the Rhine' or 'the pilgrims of Love?' Time will show. Play to recommence with a verbal encounter; you will be one against three; for all that, I don't envy the greater number.""Three to one? No. Surely you will be on the right side for once.
"Well, you see, I am the audience. We can't be all _dramatis personae,_and no spectator. During the wait, I wonder whether the audience, having nothing better to do, may be permitted to smoke a cigar.""So long a lucid interval is irksome, of course. Well, the balcony is your smoking-room. You will see them coming; please tap at my door the moment you do."Half an hour elapsed, an hour, and the personages required to continue the comedy did not return.
