The Disowned — Complete. Эдвард Бульвер-Литтон

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СКАЧАТЬ strangely enough contrasting with the closeness and sagacity which Nature had indelibly stamped upon features pointed, aquiline, and impressed with a strong mixture of the Judaical physiognomy. The manner and bearing of this gentleman partook of the same undecided character as his countenance: they seemed to be struggling between civility and importance; a real eagerness to make the acquaintance of the person he addressed, and an assumed recklessness of the advantages which that acquaintance could bestow;—it was like the behaviour of a man who is desirous of having the best possible motives imputed to him, but is fearful lest that desire should not be utterly fulfilled. At the first glance you would have pledged yourself for his respectability; at the second, you would have half suspected him to be a rogue; and, after you had been half an hour in his company, you would confess yourself in the obscurest doubt which was the better guess, the first or the last.

      “Waiter!” said Mr. Brown, looking enviously at the viands upon which Linden, having satisfied his curiosity, was now with all the appetite of youth regaling himself. “Waiter!”

      “Yes, sir!”

      “Bring me a sandwich—and—and, waiter, see that I have plenty of—plenty of—”

      “What, sir?”

      “Plenty of mustard, waiter.”

      “Mustard” (and here Mr. Brown addressed himself to Clarence) “is a very wonderful assistance to the digestion. By the by, sir, if you want any curiously fine mustard, I can procure you some pots quite capital,—a great favour, though,—they were smuggled from France, especially for the use of the late Lady Waddilove.”

      “Thank you,” said Linden, dryly; “I shall be very happy to accept anything you may wish to offer me.”

      Mr. Brown took a pocket-book from his pouch. “Six pots of mustard, sir,—shall I say six?”

      “As many as you please,” replied Clarence; and Mr. Brown wrote down “Six pots of French mustard.”

      “You are a very young gentleman, sir,” said Mr. Brown, “probably intended for some profession: I don’t mean to be impertinent, but if I can be of any assistance—”

      “You can, sir,” replied Linden, “and immediately—have the kindness to ring the bell.”

      Mr. Brown, with a grave smile, did as he was desired; the waiter re-entered, and, receiving a whispered order from Clarence, again disappeared.

      “What profession did you say, sir?” renewed Mr. Brown, artfully.

      “None!” replied Linden.

      “Oh, very well,—very well indeed. Then as an idle, independent gentleman, you will of course be a bit of a beau; want some shirts, possibly; fine cravats, too; gentlemen wear a particular pattern now; gloves, gold, or shall I say gilt chain, watch and seals, a ring or two, and a snuff-box?”

      “Sir, you are vastly obliging,” said Clarence, in undisguised surprise.

      “Not at all, I would do anything for a relation of Mrs. Minden.”

      The waiter re-entered; “Sir,” said he to Linden, “your room is quite ready.”

      “I am glad to hear it,” said Clarence, rising. “Mr. Brown, I have the honour of wishing you a good evening.”

      “Stay, sir—stay; you have not looked into these things belonging to the late Lady Waddilove.”

      “Another time,” said Clarence, hastily.

      “To-morrow, at ten o’clock,” muttered Mr. Brown.

      “I am exceedingly glad I have got rid of that fellow,” said Linden to himself, as he stretched his limbs in his easy-chair, and drank off the last glass of his pint of port. “If I have not already seen, I have already guessed, enough of the world, to know that you are to look to your pockets when a man offers you a present; they who ‘give,’ also ‘take away.’ So here I am in London, with an order for 1000 pounds in my purse, the wisdom of Dr. Latinas in my head, and the health of eighteen in my veins; will it not be my own fault if I do not both enjoy and make myself—”

      And then, yielding to meditations of future success, partaking strongly of the inexperienced and sanguine temperament of the soliloquist, Clarence passed the hours till his pillow summoned him to dreams no less ardent and perhaps no less unreal.

      CHAPTER VIII

           “Oh, how I long to be employed!”

      —Every Man in his Humour.

      Clarence was sitting the next morning over the very unsatisfactory breakfast which tea made out of broomsticks, and cream out of chalk (adulteration thrived even in 17—) afforded, when the waiter threw open the door and announced Mr. Brown.

      “Just in time, sir, you perceive,” said Mr. Brown; “I am punctuality itself: exactly a quarter of a minute to ten. I have brought you the pots of French mustard, and I have some very valuable articles which you must want, besides.”

      “Thank you, sir,” said Linden, not well knowing what to say; and Mr. Brown, untying a silk handkerchief, produced three shirts, two pots of pomatum, a tobacco canister with a German pipe, four pair of silk stockings, two gold seals, three rings, and a stuffed parrot!

      “Beautiful articles these, sir,” said Mr. Brown, with a snuffle “of inward sweetness long drawn out,” and expressive of great admiration of his offered treasures; “beautiful articles, sir, ar’n’t they?”

      “Very, the parrot in particular,” said Clarence.

      “Yes, sir,” returned Mr. Brown, “the parrot is indeed quite a jewel; it belonged to the late Lady Waddilove; I offer it to you with considerable regret, for—”

      “Oh!” interrupted Clarence, “pray do not rob yourself of such a jewel; it really is of no use to me.”

      “I know that, sir,—I know that,” replied Mr. Brown; “but it will be of use to your friends; it will be inestimable to any old aunt, sir, any maiden lady living at Hackney, any curious elderly gentleman fond of a knack-knack. I knew you would know some one to send it to as a present, even though you should not want it yourself.”

      “Bless me!” thought Linden, “was there ever such generosity? Not content with providing for my wants, he extends his liberality even to any possible relations I may possess!”

      Mr. Brown now re-tied “the beautiful articles” in his handkerchief. “Shall I leave them, sir?” said he.

      “Why, really,” said Clarence, “I thought yesterday that you were in jest; but you must be aware that I cannot accept presents from any gentleman so much,—so much a stranger to me as you are.”

      “No, sir, I am aware of that,” replied Mr. Brown; “and in order to remove the unpleasantness of such a feeling, sir, on your part,—merely in order to do that, I assure you with no other view, sir, in the world,—I have just noted down the articles on this piece of paper; but as you will perceive, at a price so low as still to make them actually presents in everything СКАЧАТЬ