No.
And we should be quite alone, you and I?
Hum! there would be a third.
Oh, Grandy, Grandy! cried Sophy, in a scream of shrill alarm. I know, I know; you are thinking of joining us with the Pig-faced Lady!
MR. WAIFE (not a muscle relaxed).A well-spoken and pleasing gentlewoman. But no such luck: three pounds would not buy her.
SOPHIE.I am glad of that: I dont care so much for the Mermaid; shes dead and stuffed. But, oh! (another scream) perhaps t is the Spotted Boy?
MR. WAIFE.Calm your sanguine imagination; you aspire too high! But this I will tell you, that our companion, whatsoever or whosoever that companion may be, will be one you will like.
I dont believe it, said Sophy, shaking her head. I only like you. But who is it?
Alas! said Mr. Waife, it is no use pampering ourselves with vain hopes: the three pounds are not forthcoming. You heard what that brute Rugge said, that the gentleman who wanted to take your portrait had called on him this morning, and offered 10s. for a sitting,that is, 5s. for you, 5s. for Rugge; and Rugge thought the terms reasonable.
But I said I would not sit.
And when you did say it, you heard Rugges language to meto you. And now you must think of packing up, and be off at dawn with the rest. And, added the comedian, colouring high, I must again parade, to boors and clowns, this mangled form; again set myself out as a spectacle of bodily infirmity,mans last degradation. And this I have come toI!
No, no, Grandy, it will not last long! we will get the three pounds. We have always hoped on!hope still! And, besides, I am sure those gentlemen will come here tonight. Mr. Merle said they would, at ten oclock. It is near ten now, and your tea cold as a stone.
She hung on his neck caressingly, kissing his furrowed brow, and leaving a tear there, and thus coaxed him till he set-to quietly at his meal; and Sophy shared itthough she had no appetite in sorrowing for himbut to keep him company; that done, she lighted his pipe with the best canaster,his sole luxury and expense; but she always contrived that he should afford it.
Mr. Waife drew a long whiff, and took a more serene view of affairs. He who doth not smoke hath either known no great griefs, or refuseth himself the softest consolation, next to that which comes from Heaven. What, softer than woman? whispers the young reader. Young reader, woman teases as well as consoles. Woman makes half the sorrows which she boasts the privilege to soothe. Woman consoles us, it is true, while we are young and handsome! when we are old and ugly, woman snubs and scolds us. On the whole, then, woman in this scale, the weed in that, Jupiter, hang out thy balance, and weigh them both; and if thou give the preference to woman, all I can say is, the next time Juno ruffles thee,O Jupiter, try the weed.
CHAPTER VII
The historian, in pursuance of his stern duties, reveals to the scorn of future ages some of the occult practices which discredit the march of light in the nineteenth century.
May I come in? asked the Cobbler, outside the door. Certainly come in, said Gentleman Waife. Sophy looked wistfully at the aperture, and sighed to see that Merle was alone. She crept up to him.
Will they not come? she whispered. I hope so, pretty one; it be nt ten yet.
Take a pipe, Merle, said Gentleman Waife, with a Grand Comedian air.
No, thank you kindly; I just looked in to ask if I could do anything for ye, in casein case ye must go tomorrow.
Nothing: our luggage is small, and soon packed. Sophy has the money to discharge the meaner part of our debt to you.
I dont value that, said the Cobbler, colouring.
But we value your esteem, said Mr. Waife, with a smile that would have become a field-marshal. And so, Merle, you think, if I am a broken-down vagrant, it must be put to the long account of the celestial bodies!
Not a doubt of it, returned the Cobbler, solemnly. I wish you would give me date and place of Sophys birth thats what I want; Id take her horryscope. Im sure shed be lucky.
Id rather not, please, said Sophy, timidly.
Rather not?very odd. Why?
I dont want to know the future.
That is odder and odder, quoth the Cobbler, staring; I never heard a girl say that afore.
Wait till shes older, Mr. Merle, said Waife: girls dont want to know the future till they want to be married.
Summat in that, said the Cobbler. He took up the crystal. Have you looked into this ball, pretty one, as I bade ye?
Yes, two or three times.
Ha! and what did you see?
My own face made very long, said Sophy,as long as that, stretching out her hands.
The Cobbler shook his head dolefully, and screwing up one eye, applied the other to the mystic ball.
MR. WAIFE.Perhaps you will see if those two gentlemen are coming.
SOPHY.Do, do! and if they will give us three pounds!
COBBLER (triumphantly).Then you do care to know the future, after all?
SOPHY.Yes, so far as that goes; but dont look any further, pray.
COBBLER (intent upon the ball, and speaking slowly, and in jerks).A mist now. Ha! an arm with a besomsweeps all before it.
SOPHY (frightened).Send it away, please.
COBBLERIt is gone. Ha! theres Rugge,looks very angry,savage, indeed.
WAIFE.Good sign that! proceed.
COBBLER.Shakes his fist; gone. Ha! a young man, boyish, dark hair.
SOPHY (clapping her hands).That is the young gentlemanthe very young one, I meanwith the kind eyes; is he coming?is he, is he?
WAIFEExamine his pockets! do you see there three pounds?
COBBLER (testily).Dont be a-interrupting. Ha! he is talking with another gentleman, bearded.
SOPHY (whispering to her grandfather).The old young gentleman.
COBBLER (putting down the crystal, and with great decision).They are coming here; I see d them at the corner of the lane, by the public-house, two minutes walk to this door. He took out a great silver watch: Look, Sophy, when the minute-hand gets there (or before, if they walk briskly), you will hear them knock.
Sophy clasped her hands in mute suspense, half-credulous, half-doubting; then she went and opened the room-door, and stood on the landing-place to listen. Merle approached the Comedian, and said in a low voice, I wish for your sake she had the gift.
WAIFE.The gift!the three pounds!so do I!
COBBLER.Pooh! worth a hundred times three pounds; the gift,the spirituous gift.
WAIFE.Spirituous! dont like the epithet,smells of gin!
COBBLER.Spirituous gift to see in the crystal: if she had that, she might make your fortune.
WAIFE (with a sudden change of countenance).Ah! I never thought of that. But if she has not the gift, I could teach it her,eh?
COBBLER (indignantly).I did not think to hear this from you, Mr. Waife. Teach her,you! make her an impostor, and of the wickedest kind, inventing lies between earth and them as dwell in the seven spheres! Fie! No, if she hasnt the gift natural, let her alone: what here is not heaven-sent is devil-taught.
WAIFE (awed, but dubious).Then you really think you saw all that you described, in that glass egg?
COBBLER.Think!am I a liar? I spoke truth, and the proof isthere! Rat-tat went the knocker at the door.
The two minutes are just up, said the Cobbler; and Cornelius Agrippa could not have said it with more wizardly effect.
They are come, indeed, said Sophy, re-entering the room softly: I hear their voices at the threshold.
The Cobbler passed by in silence, descended the stairs, and conducted Vance and Lionel into the Comedians chamber; there he left them, his brow overcast. Gentleman Waife had displeased him sorely.
CHAPTER VIII
Showing the arts by which a man, however high in the air Nature may have formed his nose, may be led by that nose, and in directions perversely opposite to those which, in following his nose, he might be supposed to take; and, therefore, that nations the most liberally endowed with practical good sense, and in conceit thereof, carrying their noses the most horizontally aloof, when they come into conference with nations more skilled in diplomacy and more practised in stage-play, end by the surrender of the precise object which it was intended they should surrender before they laid their noses together.
We all know that Demosthenes said, Everything in oratory was acting,stage-play. Is it in oratory alone that the saying holds good? Apply it to all circumstances of fife, stage-play, stage-play, stage-play!only ars est celare artem, conceal the art. Gleesome in soul to behold his visitors, calculating already on the three pounds to be extracted from them, seeing in that hope the crisis in his own checkered existence, Mr. Waife rose from his seat in superb upocrisia or stage-play, and asked, with mild dignity,To what am I indebted, gentlemen, for the honour of your visit?
In spite of his, nose, even Vance was taken aback. Pope says that Lord Bolingbroke had the nobleman air. A great comedian Lord Bolingbroke surely was. But, ah, had Pope seen Gentleman Waife! Taking advantage of the impression he had created, the actor added, with the finest imaginable breeding,But pray be seated; and, once seeing them seated, resumed his easy-chair, and felt himself master of the situation.
Hum! said Vance, recovering his self-possession, after a pausehum!
Hem! re-echoed Gentleman Waife; and the two men eyed each other much in the same way as Admiral Napier might have eyed the fort of Cronstadt, and the fort of Cronstadt have eyed Admiral Napier.
Lionel struck in with that youthful boldness which plays the deuce with all dignified strategical science.
You must be aware why we come, sir; Mr. Merle will have explained. My friend, a distinguished artist, wished to make a sketch, if you do not object, of this young ladys very
Pretty little face, quoth Vance, taking up the dis course. Mr. Rugge, this morning, was willing,I understand that your grandchild refused. We are come here to see if she will be more complaisant under your own roof, or Under Mr. Merles, which, I take it, is the same thing for the present.Sophy had sidled up to Lionel. He might not have been flattered if he knew why she preferred him to Vance. She looked on him as a boy, a fellow-child; and an instinct, moreover, told her, that more easily through him than his shrewd-looking bearded guest could she attain the object of her cupidity,three pounds!
Three pounds! whispered Sophy, with the tones of an angel, into Lionels thrilling ear.
MR. WAIFE.Sir, I will be frank with you. At that ominous commencement, Mr. Vance recoiled, and mechanically buttoned his trousers pocket. Mr. Waife noted the gesture with his one eye, and proceeded cautiously, feeling his way, as it were, towards the interior of the recess thus protected. My grandchild declined your flattering proposal with my full approbation. She did not considerneither did Ithat the managerial rights of Mr. Rugge entitled him to the moiety of her faceoff the stage. The Comedian paused, and with a voice, the mimic drollery of which no hoarseness could altogether mar, chanted the old line,
My face is my fortune, sir, she said.
Vance smiled; Lionel laughed; Sophy nestled still nearer to the boy.
GENTLEMAN WAIFE (with pathos and dignity).You see before you an old man: one way of life is the same to me as another. But she,do you think Mr. Rugges stage the right place for her?
VANCE.Certainly not. Why did you not introduce her to the London Manager who would have engaged yourself?
Waife could not conceal a slight change of countenance. How do I know she would have succeeded? She had never then trod the boards. Besides, what strikes you as so good in a village show may be poor enough in a metropolitan theatre. Gentlemen, I do my best for her; you cannot think otherwise, since she maintains me! I am no OEdipus, yet she is my Antigone.
VANCE.You know the classics, sir. Mr. Merle said you were a scholar!read Sophocles in his native Greek, I presume, sir?
MR. WAIFE.You jeer at the unfortunate: I am used to it.
VANCE (confused).I did not mean to wound you: I beg pardon. But your language and manner are not whatwhat one might expect to find in ain aBandit persecuted by a remorseless Baron.
MR. WAIFE.Sir, you say you are an artist. Have you heard no tales of your professional brethren,men of genius the highest, who won fame, which I never did, and failed of fortunes, as I have done? Their own fault, perhaps,improvidence, wild habits, ignorance of the way how to treat life and deal with their fellow-men; such fault may have been mine too. I suffer for it: no matter; I ask none to save me. You are a painter: you would place her features on your canvas; you would have her rank amongst your own creations. She may become a part of your immortality. Princes may gaze on the effigies of the innocent happy childhood, to which your colours lend imperishable glow. They may ask who and what was this fair creature? Will you answer, One whom I found in tinsel, and so left, sure that she would die in rags!Save her!
Lionel drew forth his purse, and poured its contents on the table. Vance covered them with his broad hand, and swept them into his own pocket! At that sinister action Waife felt his heart sink into his shoes; but his face was as calm as a Romans, only he resumed his pipe with a prolonged and testy whiff.
It is I who am to take the portrait, and it is I who will pay for it, said Vance. I understand that you have a pressing occasion for
Three pounds! muttered Sophy, sturdily, through the tears which her grandfathers pathos had drawn forth from her downcast eyes, Three poundsthreethree.
You shall have them. But listen: I meant only to take a sketch; I must now have a finished portrait. I cannot take this by candlelight. You must let me come here to-morrow; and yet to-morrow, I understand, you meant to leave?