wiped his sword, haply bound up his wrist, and stalked off the ground, the vindicator of man’s natural dignity. And then he turned upon himself with laughter, discovering a most wholesome power, barely to be suspected in him yet; but of all the children of glittering Mel and his solid mate, Evan was the best mixed compound of his parents.
He put the stick back in its corner and eyed his wrist, as if he had really just gone through the pretty scene he had just laughed at. It was nigh upon reality, for it suggested the employment of a handkerchief, and he went to a place and drew forth one that had the stain of his blood on it, and the name of Rose at one end. The beloved name was half-blotted by the dull red mark, and at that sight a strange tenderness took hold of Evan. His passions became dead and of old date. This, then, would be his for-ever! Love, for whom earth had been too small, crept exultingly into a nut-shell. He clasped the treasure on his breast, and saw a life beyond his parting with her.
Strengthened thus, he wrote by the morning light to Laxley. The letter was brief, and said simply that the act of which Laxley had been accused, Evan Harrington was responsible for. The latter expressed regret that Laxley should have fallen under a false charge, and, at the same time, indicated that if Laxley considered himself personally aggrieved, the writer was at his disposal.
A messenger had now to be found to convey it to the village-inn. Footmen were stirring about the house, and one meeting Evan close by his door, observed with demure grin, that he could not find the gentleman’s nether-garments. The gentleman, it appeared, was Mr. John Raikes, who, according to report, had been furnished with a bed at the house, because of a discovery, made at a late period over-night, that farther the gentleman could not go. Evan found him sleeping soundly. How much the poor youth wanted a friend! Fortune had given him instead a born buffoon; and it is perhaps the greatest evil of a position like Evan’s, that with cultured feelings you are likely to meet with none to know you. Society does not mix well in money-pecking spheres. Here, however, was John Raikes, and Evan had to make the best of him.
“Eh?” yawned Jack, awakened; “I was dreaming I was Napoleon Bonaparte’s right-hand man.”
“I want you to be mine for half-an-hour,” said Evan.
Without replying, the distinguished officer jumped out of bed at a bound, mounted a chair, and peered on tip-toe over the top, from which, with a glance of self-congratulation, he pulled the missing piece of apparel, sighed dejectedly as he descended, while he exclaimed:
“Safe! but no distinction can compensate a man for this state of intolerable suspicion of everybody. I assure you, Harrington, I wouldn’t be Napoleon himself—and I have always been his peculiar admirer—to live and be afraid of my valet! I believe it will develop cancer sooner or later in me. I feel singular pains already. Last night, after crowning champagne with ale, which produced a sort of French Revolution in my interior—by the way, that must have made me dream of Napoleon!—last night, with my lower members in revolt against my head, I had to sit and cogitate for hours on a hiding-place for these—call them what you will. Depend upon it, Harrington, this world is no such funny affair as we fancy.”
“Then it is true that you could let a man play pranks on you,” said Evan. “I took it for one of your jokes.”
“Just as I can’t believe that you’re a tailor,” returned Jack. “It’s not a bit more extraordinary.”
“But, Jack, if you cause yourself to be contemptible”
“Contemptible!” cried Jack. “This is not the tone I like. Contemptible! why, it’s my eccentricity among my equals. If I dread the profane vulgar, that only proves that I’m above them. Odi, &c. Besides, Achilles had his weak point, and egad, it was when he faced about! By Jingo! I wish I’d had that idea yesterday. I should have behaved better.”
Evan could see that Jack was beginning to rely desperately on his humour.
“Come,” he said, “be a man to-day. Throw off your motley. When I met you that night so oddly, you had been acting like a worthy fellow,—trying to earn your bread in the best way you could”
“And precisely because I met you, of all men, I’ve been going round and round ever since,” said Jack. “A clown or pantaloon would have given me balance. Say no more. You couldn’t help it. We met because we were the two extremes.”
Sighing, “What a jolly old inn!” Mr. Raikes rolled himself over in the sheets and gave two or three snug jolts indicative of his determination to be comfortable while he could.
“Do you intend to carry on this folly, Jack?”
“Say, sacrifice,” was the answer. “I feel it as much as you possibly could, Mr. Harrington. Hear the facts.” Jack turned round again. “Why did I consent to this absurdity? Because of my ambition. That old fellow, whom I took to be a clerk of Messrs. Grist, said: ‘You want to cut a figure in the world—you’re armed now.’ A sort of Fortunatus’s joke. It was his way of launching me. But did he think I intended this for more than a lift? I his puppet? He, sir, was my tool! Well, I came. All my efforts were strained to shorten the period of penance. I had the best linen, and put on captivating manners. I should undoubtedly have won some girl of station, and cast off my engagement like an old suit, but just mark!—now mark how Fortune tricks us! After the pic-nic yesterday, the domestics of the house came to clear away, and the band being there, I stopped them and bade them tune up, and at the same time seizing the maid Wheedle, away we flew. We danced, we whirled, we twirled. Ale upon this! My head was lost. ‘Why don’t it last for ever?’ says I. ‘I wish it did,’ says she. The naïveté enraptured me. ‘Oooo!” I cried, hugging her; and then,