The Child Wife. Reid Mayne

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СКАЧАТЬ now stirred by conflicting emotions, there would be little chance of sleep; and he resolved, before retiring to his couch, to make one more sacrifice at the shrine of Bacchus.

      With this intent, he again descended the stairway leading to the cellar saloon.

      On reaching the basement, he saw that he had been preceded by a score of gentlemen, who, like himself, had come down from the ball-room.

      They were standing in knots – drinking, smoking, conversing.

      Scarce giving any of them a glance, he stepped up to the bar, and pronounced the name of his drink – this time plain brandy and water.

      While waiting to be served a voice arrested his attention. It came from one of three individuals, who, like himself, had taken stand before the counter, on which were their glasses.

      The speaker’s back was toward him, though sufficient of his whisker could be seen for Maynard to identify Dick Swinton.

      His companions were also recognisable as the excursionists of the row-boat, whose dog he had peppered with duck-shot.

      To Mr Swinton they were evidently recent acquaintances, picked up perhaps during the course of the evening; and they appeared to have taken as kindly to him as if they, too, had learnt, or suspected him to be a lord!

      He was holding forth to them in that grand style of intonation, supposed to be peculiar to the English nobleman; though in reality but the conceit of the stage caricaturist and Bohemian scribbler, who only know “my lord” through the medium of their imaginations.

      Maynard thought it a little strange. But it was many years since he had last seen the man now near him; and as time produces some queer changes, Mr Swinton’s style of talking need not be an exception.

      From the manner in which he and his two listeners were fraternising, it was evident they had been some time before the bar. At all events they were sufficiently obfuscated not to notice new-comers, and thus he had escaped their attention.

      He would have left them equally unnoticed, but for some words striking on his ear that evidently bore reference to himself.

      “By-the-way, sir,” said one of the strangers, addressing Swinton, “if it’s not making too free, may I ask you for an explanation of that little affair that happened in the ball-room?”

      “Aw – aw; of what affair do yaw speak, Mr Lucas?”

      “Something queer – just before the first waltz. There was a dark-haired girl with a diamond head-dress – the same you danced a good deal with – Miss Girdwood I believe her name is – and a fellow with moustache and imperial. The old lady, too, seemed to have a hand in it. My friend and I chanced to be standing close by, and saw there was some sort of a scene among you. Wasn’t it so?”

      “Scene – naw – naw. Only the fellaw wanted to have a spin with the divine queetyaw, and the lady preferred dancing with yaw humble servant. That was all, gentlemen, I ashaw yaw.”

      “We thought there had been a difficulty between him and you. It looked devilish like it.”

      “Not with me. I believe there was a misunderstanding between him and the young lady. The twuth is, she pweaded a pwevious engagement, which she didn’t seem to have upon her cawd. For my part I had nothing to do with the fellaw – absolutely nothing – did not even speak to him.”

      “You looked at him, though, and he at you. I thought you were going to have it out between you, there and then!”

      “Aw – aw; he understands me bettaw – that same individual.”

      “You knew him before, then?”

      “Slightly, vewy slightly – a long time agaw.”

      “In your own country, perhaps? He appears to be an Englishman.”

      “Naw – not a bit of it. He’s a demmed Iwishman.”

      Maynard’s ears were becoming rapidly hot.

      “What was he on your side?” inquired the junior of Swinton’s new acquaintances, who appeared quite as curious as the older one.

      “What was he! Aw – aw, faw that matter nothing – nothing.”

      “No calling, or profession?”

      “Wah, yas; when I knew the fellaw he was an ensign in an infantry wegiment. Not one of the cwack corps, yaw knaw. We should not have weceived him in ours.”

      Maynard’s fingers began to twitch.

      “Of course not,” continued the “swell.”

      “I have the honaw, gentlemen, to bewong to the Gawds – Her Majesty’s Dwagoon Gawds.”

      “He has been in our service – in one of the regiments raised for the Mexican war. Do you know why he left yours?”

      “Well, gentlemen, it’s not for me to speak too fweely of a fellaw’s antecedents. I am usually cautious about such matters – vewy cautious, indeed.”

      “Oh, certainly; right enough,” rejoined the rebuked inquirer; “I only asked because it seems a little odd that an officer of your army should have left it to take service in ours.”

      “If I knew anything to the fellaw’s qwedit,” continued the Guardsman, “I should be most happy to communicate it. Unfawtunately, I don’t. Quite the contwawy!”

      Maynard’s muscles – especially those of his dexter arm – were becoming fearfully contracted. It wanted but little to draw him into the conversation. One more such remark would be sufficient; and unfortunately for himself, Mr Swinton made it.

      “The twuth is, gentlemen,” said he, the drink perhaps having deprived him of his customary caution – “the twuth is, that Mr Ensign Maynard – or Captain Maynard, as I believe he now styles himself – was kicked out of the Bwitish service. Such was the report, though I won’t be wesponsible for its twuth.”

      “It’s a lie!” cried Maynard, suddenly pulling off his kid glove, and drawing it sharply across his traducer’s cheek. “A lie, Dick Swinton! And if not responsible for originating it, as you say you shall be for giving it circulation. There never was such a report, and you know it, scoundrel!”

      Swinton’s cheek turned white as the glove that had smitten it; but it was the pallor of fear rather than anger.

      “Aw – indeed! you there, Mr Maynard! Well – well; I’m sure – you say it’s not twue. And you’ve called me a scoundwell! And yaw stwuck me with yaw glove?”

      “I shall repeat the word and the blow. I shall spit in your face, if you don’t retract!”

      “Wetwact!”

      “Bah! there’s been enough pass between us. I leave you time to reflect. My room is 209, on the fourth storey. I hope you’ll find a friend who won’t be above climbing to it. My card, sir!”

      Swinton took the card, and with fingers that showed trembling gave his own in exchange. While with a scornful glance, that comprehended both him and his acolytes, the other faced back to the bar, coolly completed his potation, and, without saying another word, reascended the stairway.

      “You’ll СКАЧАТЬ