After an interchange of courtesies in the purring manner usual among fair ladies when they are not quite sincere in their demonstrations of affection, Mrs. Moppen proceeded to inform Flora of her trials. The Queen’s Ball was to take place in the middle of next week, and she, Mrs. Moppen, was here today for the purpose of trying on the dress which she was to wear upon that occasion. It was to be of white crape, over a satin slip—bouillonnés of same—looped up with white lilacs. But here was the rub. It seemed that within a very few days there was a strong probability that the illustrious House of Reuss-Preussichesblau might be thrown into mourning in consequence of the anticipated decease of the Reigning Duke. What would be the effect upon the costume to be worn at the ball? Mrs. Moppen withdrew Flora behind a table covered with bonnets, and, with a voice quivering with emotion, communicated her apprehensions with reference to the dear Duke. Could that august personage be induced to break through a long-confirmed habit of imbibing four bottles of Steinberger in the course of the afternoon, the physicians were not without hope that his glorious life might yet be prolonged. But upon this point argument seemed thrown away. What could Mrs. Moppen really care about the safety of this German potentate? Why was it that I saw traces of sympathetic emotion in Flora’s eyes? One human being passes away every seven minutes within the jurisdiction of the London undertakers, and we do not give the matter a thought. Why this exaggerated sorrow for an august person of whose existence the two ladies were scarcely cognisant?
Mrs. Moppen asked if Flora would like to come over to Juniper Hall for a little friendly dinner on the night of the royal festivities, and to see her dressed for the ball. Flora declined her offer, and I, who am well aware of the meaning to be attached to the play of her sweet features, felt quite sure that Mrs. Moppen had not added to the harmony of the relations between herself and my admirable consort by this proposition. At length the ladies took leave of each other with great demonstrations of reciprocal good-will. The pink bonnet à l’Impératrice trompée was safely deposited in the back of the phaeton, and we drove away.
Flora was absorbed in thought; but, as she muttered, or rather murmured (men mutter, ladies murmur), “That odious Jane Moppen!” I knew which way her thoughts were tending. At length, when we reached the hill by the third mile-stone, and I was letting the horse take it quietly up the ascent, Flora observed to me in a quiet, but at the same time in an emphatic, manner:
“John—why are you not in Parliament?”
CHAPTER II.
I confess I had not been without some senatorial aspirations, even at a former period of my career; indeed, during the earlier portion of my residence at the University, had any one informed me that within four or five years I should not be leading the House of Commons, I should have supposed the speaker to have been under the influence of petty malice and envy. So many fellows, of whose abilities I had entertained the meanest opinion, both at school and at the University, had made for themselves something like a name in public life, that I could not but suppose that with equal opportunities I should have been further on the road to fame—and, what was of far more importance, to the well-earned respect of a grateful country. These dreams or aspirations had, however, faded away, in the midst of the domestic comfort which I had enjoyed for so many years.
Flora observed that she, in common with all my friends and well-wishers, had always entertained the highest opinion of my abilities—but that I was wanting in energy and decision of character. I could be whatever I liked—it was only necessary for me to will it, and the thing was done. With what a wonderful flow of language I had been gifted! F. was quite sure I should make a great speaker, for what was the difference between speaking in an upright or in a sitting position! It was only a chair which divided one situation from the other. After all, what was a chair? Surely a man could get over that. Then I was so richly endowed with a sense of the humorous! In what a roar I could keep my own dinner-table, especially when I amused my audience with my celebrated anecdote of the two boiled chickens and the stuttering Bagman. How masterly was my control over arithmetical quantities! Uncle Spillsby had always said that I was thrown away upon the West End, and if I had gone into the City I could have held my own against the best of them. Indeed, to come closer to the point, it was but three months back that I had addressed the company assembled at our friend Mrs. Prickett’s, on the occasion of the Christening of the last babe, in a manner which had brought tears into the eyes of every lady present, and not, as I humbly hope, at all lowered me in the opinion of my fellow-men. Women, as dear Flora told me, were not bad judges of these things, and her opinion was made up on the point. She would have said just the same thing if she had not been connected with me in the remotest way.
All the way down by the Reservoir, and up by the Two Welsh Harps, this sweet poison was distilled into my not very reluctant ear. Of course I pooh-poohed the suggestions of my excellent wife, and informed her that upon more than one occasion I had endeavoured to address an assemblage of my fellow-creatures, but I appeared to suffer under this peculiarity, that, no matter how carefully I had prepared my speech beforehand—how thickly I had stuffed it with jokes—how dexterously I had infused the pathos—or how carefully I had fortified it with statistics—when I was once upon my legs, speech, jokes, pathos, and statistics seemed to have vanished from my mind like a morning cloud from the hillside, and I was left simply with the consciousness of being perfectly ridiculous. My success—since F. was good enough to say it was a success—at Mrs. Prickett’s was entirely due to the fact that I had not prepared my speech beforehand, but had uttered a few sentences fresh from my heart, suggested by the spectacle of the domestic happiness then present before our very eyes. Anybody