Newspaper Page Text
254
the countryman.
brilliant jewelry, none whatever ;, but
the remarkable countenance I have
t>een.'
‘I dare say you have, Waters,’ be
replied, reassuming bis insolent, swag
gering air. I practise at the Old
Bailey, and I have several times seen
you there, not, as now, in the masque
rade of a gentleman* but with a num
ber on your collar.’
1 was silly enough to feel annoyed,
for a moment, at the fellow’s stupid
sarcasm', and turned angrily away.
‘■Theie, don’t fly into a passion,’
continued be, with an exulting chuck le.
<1 have no wish to be ill friends with
so smart a band as you are. What
do you say to a glass or two of wine,
if only to keep this confounded wind
'out of our stomachs 1 It’s cheap
'enough, here.’
I hesitated a few seconds, and then
said : ‘I have no great objection ; but
first, whom have I the honor of ad
dressing V
• ‘Mr. Gates. William Gates, Inquire,
attorney at law.’
‘Gates ! Not the Gates, I hope, in #
the late Bryant affair ?’
‘Well—yes ; but allow me to say,
Waters, that the observations of the
judge on that matter, and the conse
quent proceedings, were quite unjusti
fiable ; and I was strongly advised to
petition the House on the subject, but
I forbore, perhaps unwisely.’
‘From consideration, chiefly, I dare
say, for the age an l infirmities of his
lordship, and his numerous family ?’
‘Come, come,’ rejoined Gates with
a laugh ; ‘don’t poke fun iu that way.
The truth is, I get on quite as well
without as with the certificate. I
transact business now for Mr. Ever-
ard Preston: you understand ?’
‘Perfectly. I now.remember where
1 have seen you. But how is it your
dress has become so suddenly chang
ed ? A few weeks ago, it was nothing
like so magnificent !’
‘True, my dear hoy, true—quite
right. I saw you observed that. First
rate, isn’t it 1 Every article genuine.
Bond and Regent street, 1 assure you,’
he added, scanning himself compla
cently over. I nodded approval, and
he went on—‘You see 1 have had a
windfall ; a piece of remarkable luck ;
and so I thought I would escape out
of the dingy, smoky village, and air
myself for a tew days in the Chan
nel.’
‘A delightful time of the year for
such a purpose, truly. Rather say
you came to improve your acquaint
ance with the lady, yonder, who, I
dare say, will not prove ultimately in
flexible ?’
‘Perhaps you are right—a littlej at
least, you may be, about the edges.
But here we are; what do you take
— port V
‘That as soon as anything else.’
Mr. Gates was, as he said, constitu
tionally thirsty, and, although it. was
still early in the day, drank with great
relish and industry. As lie grew flush
ed and rosy, arid I, therefore, imagin
ed communicative, I said : ‘Well, now,
tell me who and what is that lady.’
The reply was a significant, com
pound gesture, comprising a wink of
his left eye, and the tap of a fore
finger upon the right side of his nose.
1 waited, but the pantomimic action
remained uninterrupted- by words.
‘Not rich, apparently V
‘Poor as Job.’
‘An imprudent marriage, probably V
‘Guess again, and I'll take odds
you’ll guess wrong: but suppose, as
variety is charming, we change the
subject. What is your opinion, now,
of the prospects of the ministry?’
I saw it was useless in attempting to
extract any information from so cun
ning a rascal, and, hastily excusing
myself, I arose, and abruptly to^k my
leave, more and more puzzled to ac
count for the evident connection, in
some way or other, of so fair and ele
gant a woman, with a low attorney,
struck .off the rolls for fradulent mis
conduct, and now acting in the name
of a person scarcely' less disreputable
than himself. On emerging from the
tavern, I found that the wind'had not
only sensibly abated, but had become
more favorable to the packet’s leaving
Jersey, and that, early' the next morn
ing, we might reasonably hope to em
bark for Weymouth. It turned out
as we anticipated. The same boat
which took me off to the roads, con
veyed also the widow—Mrs. Grey, I
saw by the cards on her modest lug
gage—and her son. Gates followed
a few minutes afterwards, and we
were soon on our stormy voyage home
wards.
The passage was a very rough, un
pleasant one, and I saw little of the
passengers in whom, in spite of my
self, as it were, I continued to feel 60
6trong an interest, till the steamer was
moored aJongsidethe Weymouth quay,
and we stood together for a brief space,
awaiting the scrutiny and questionings
of the officers of the customs. I bowed
adieu, as I stepped from the paddJe-
box to the 6hore, and thought, with
something of a feeling of regret, that
in all probability I should never see
any 7 of them again. I was mistaken,
for, on arriving eaily 7 the next morn
ing, to take possession of the outside
place booked for me by the coach to
London, through Southampton, I
found Mrs. Grey, and her son, already
seated or, the roof. Gates came, hur
riedly, a few minutes afterwards, and
enseonsed himself-snugly inside. The
day was bitterly cold, and the widow
and her somewhat delicate-looking
boy wire but poorly clad for such in
clement weather. The coachman and
myself, however, contrived to force
some rough, stout cloaks upon their
acceptance, winch sufficed, pretty well,
during tlie clay, but as night came on
rainy and tempestuous, as well as dark
and bleak, I £elt that they must be,
in some way or other, got inside, where
Gates was the only passenger. Yet
so distant, so frigidly courteous was
Mrs. Grey 7 , that I was at a loss how to
manage it. Gates, I saw, was enjoy-
ing himself hugely to his own satis
faction. At every stage, ho swallow
ed a large glass of brandy and water,
and I observed that he cast more and
tnoie audaciously-triumphant glances
towards Mrs. Grey. Once her eye,
though studiously, I thought, averted
from him, caught bis, and a deep blush,
in which fear, timidity, and aversion
seemed strangly mingled, swept over
her face. What could it mean 1 It
was, however, useless to worry myself
further with profitless conjectures, and
I- descended from the roof to hold a
private parley with the coachman. A
reasonable bargain was soon struck :
he went to Mrs. Grey, and proposed
to her, as there was plenty of room to
spare, that she and her son should ride
iuside.
‘It will make no difference in the
faff;,’ be added, ‘ and it’s bitter cold
out here for a lady.’
‘Thank you,’ replied the widow, af
ter a few moments’ hesitation, ‘ we
bhall do very well here.’
I guessed the cause of her refusal,
and hastened to add, ‘You had better,
I think, accept the coachman’s propo
sal '. the night weather will be dread
ful, and even I, a man, must take re
fuge insice.’ She looked at me with
a sort of grateful curiosity, and then
accepted, with many thanks,the cuach-
man’s offer.
When we alighted at the Regent
Circus, London, I looked auxiously
but vainly round tor some one in at
tendance to receive and greet the wid
ow and her son. She did not seem to
expect any one, but stood gazing va
cantly, yet sadly, at the noisy, glar-
ing, hurrying scene around her, her
child’s hand clasped in hers with an
unconsciously tightening grasp, whilst
her luggage was removed from the
roof ct the coach. Gates stood near.