Frank Fairlegh Part 39

"Really, Miss Saville," exclaimed Coleman, who had entered the room in time to overhear her speech, "I am shocked to find you comparing your respectable and -257-- revered guardian to a heathen Turk, and Frank Fairlegh, instead of reproving you for it, aiding, abetting, encouraging, and, to speak figuratively, patting you on the back."

"I'm sure, Freddy," interrupted Mrs. Coleman, who had been aroused from one of her customary fits of absence by the last few words, "Mr.

Fairlegh was doing nothing of the sort; he knows better than to think of such a thing. And if he didn't, do you suppose I should sit here and allow him to take such liberties? But I believe it's all your nonsense--and where you got such strange ideas I'm sure I can't tell; not out of Mrs. Trimmer's _Sacred History_, I'm certain, though you used to read it with me every Sunday afternoon when you were a good little boy, trying to look out of the window all the time, instead of paying proper attention to your books."

During the burst of laughter which followed this speech, and in which Miss Saville, after an ineffectual struggle to repress the inclination, out of respect to Mrs. Coleman, was fain to join, dinner was announced, and Coleman pairing off with the young lady, whilst I gave my arm to the old one, we proceeded to the dining-room.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII -- WOMAN'S A RIDDLE

"Let mirth and music sound the dirge of care, But ask thou not if happiness be there."

_The Lord of the Isles_.

"And here she came...

And sang to me the whole Of those three stanzas."

_The Talking Oak._

"Yet this is also true, that, long before, My heart was like a prophet to my heart, And told me I should love."

_Tennyson_.

"DON'T you consider Fairlegh to be looking very thin and pale, Miss Saville?" inquired Coleman, when we joined the ladies after dinner, speaking with an air of such genuine solicitude, that any one not intimately acquainted with him must have imagined him in earnest. Miss Saville, who was completely taken in, answered innocently, "Indeed I have thought Mr. Fairlegh much altered since I had the pleasure of meeting him before"; -258-- then, glancing at my face with a look of unfeigned interest, which sent the blood bounding rapidly through my veins, she continued: "You have not been ill, I hope?" I was hastening to reply in the negative, and to enlighten her as to the real cause of my pale looks, when Coleman interrupted me by exclaiming:--

"Ah! poor fellow, it is a melancholy affair. In those pale cheeks, that wasted though still graceful form, and the weak, languid, and unhappy, but deeply interesting _tout ensemble_, you perceive the sad results of--am I at liberty to mention it?--of an unfortunate attachment."

"Upon my word, Freddy, you are too bad," exclaimed I half angrily, though I could scarcely refrain from laughing, for the pathetic expression of his countenance was perfectly irresistible. "Miss Saville, I can a.s.sure you--let me beg of you to believe, that there is not a word of truth in what he has stated."

"Wait a moment, you're so dreadfully fast, my dear fellow, you won't allow a man time to finish what he is saying," remonstrated my tormentor--"attachment to his studies I was going to add, only you interrupted me."

"I see I shall have to chastise you before you learn to behave yourself properly," replied I, shaking my fist at him playfully; "remember you taught me how to use the gloves at Dr. Mildman's, and I have not quite forgotten the science even yet."

"Hit a man your own size, you great big monster you," rejoined Coleman, affecting extreme alarm. "Miss Saville, I look to you to protect me from his tyranny; ladies always take the part of the weak and oppressed."

"But they do not interfere to s.h.i.+eld evil-doers from the punishment due to their misdemeanours," replied Miss Saville archly.

"There now," grumbled Freddy, "that's always the way; every one turns against me. I'm a victim, though I have not formed an unfortunate attachment for--anything or anybody."

"I should like to see you thoroughly in love for once in your life, Freddy," said I; "it would be as good as a comedy."

"Thank ye," was the rejoinder, "you'd be a pleasant sort of fellow to make a confidant of, I don't think. Here's a man now, who calls himself one's friend, and fancies it would be 'as good as a comedy' to witness the display of our n.o.blest affections, and would have all the tenderest emotions of our nature laid bare, for him to poke fun at--the barbarian!" -259-- "I did not understand Mr. Fairlegh's remark to apply to _affaires du cour_ in general, but simply to the effects likely to be produced in your case by such an attack," observed Miss Saville, with a quiet smile.

"A very proper distinction," returned I; "I see that I cannot do better than leave my defence in your hands."

"It is quite clear that you have both entered into a plot against me,"

rejoined Freddy; "well, never mind, _mea virtute me involvo_: I wrap myself in a proud consciousness of my own immeasurable superiority, and despise your attacks."

"I have read, that to begin by despising your enemy, is one of the surest methods of losing the battle," replied Miss Saville.

"Oh! if you are going to quote history against me, I yield at once--there is nothing alarms me so much as the sight of a blue-stocking," answered Freddy.

Miss Saville proceeded to defend herself with much vivacity against this charge, and they continued to converse in the same light strain for some time longer; Coleman, as usual, being exceedingly droll and amusing, and the young lady displaying a decided talent for delicate and playful _badinage_. In order to enter _con spirito_ into this style of conversation, we must either be in the enjoyment of high health and spirits, when our light-heartedness finds a natural vent in gay raillery and sparkling repartee, or we must be suffering a sufficient degree of positive unhappiness to make us feel that a strong effort is necessary to screen our sorrow from the careless gaze of those around us. Now, though Coleman had not been far wrong in describing me as "weak, languid, and unhappy," mine was not a positive, but a negative unhappiness, a gentle sadness, which was rather agreeable than otherwise, and towards which I was by no means disposed to use the slightest violence. I was in the mood to have shed tears with the love-sick Ophelia, or to moralise with the melancholy Jaques, but should have considered Mercutio a man of no feeling, and the clown a "very poor fool" indeed. In this frame of mind, the conversation appeared to me to have a.s.sumed such an essentially frivolous turn, that I soon ceased to take any share in it, and, turning over the leaves of a book of prints as an excuse for my silence, endeavoured to abstract my thoughts altogether from the scene around me, and employ them on some subject less dissonant to my present tone of feeling. As is usually the result in such cases, the attempt proved a dead failure, and I soon found -260-- myself speculating on the lightness and frivolity of women in general, and of Clara Saville in particular.

"How thoroughly absurd and misplaced," thought I, as her silvery laugh rang harshly on my distempered ear, "were all my conjectures that she was unhappy, and that, in the trustful and earnest expression of those deep blue eyes, I could read the evidence of a secret grief, and a tacit appeal for sympathy to those whom her instinct taught her were worthy of her trust and confidence! Ah! well, I was young and foolish then (it was not quite a year and a half ago), and imagination found an easy dupe in me; one learns to see things in their true light as one grows older, but it is sad how the doing so robs life of all its brightest illusions."

It did not occur to me at that moment that there was a slight injustice in accusing Truth of petty larceny in regard to a _bright_ illusion in the present instance, as the fact (if fact it were) of proving that Miss Saville was happy instead of miserable could scarcely be reckoned among that cla.s.s of offences.

"Come, Freddy," exclaimed Mrs. Coleman, suddenly waking up to a sense of duty, out of a dangerous little nap in which she had been indulging, and which occasioned me great uneasiness, by reason of the opportunity it afforded her for the display of an alarming suicidal propensity, which threatened to leave Mr. Coleman a disconsolate widower, and Freddy motherless.

As a warning to all somnolent old ladies, it may not be amiss to enter a little more fully into detail. The attack commenced by her sitting bolt upright in her chair, with her eyes so very particularly open, that it seemed as if, in her case, Macbeth or some other wonder-worker had effectually "murdered sleep". By slow degrees, however, her eyelids began to close; she grew less and less "wide awake," and ere long was fast as a church; her next move was to nod complacently to the company in general, as if to demand their attention; she then oscillated gently to and fro for a few seconds to get up the steam, and concluded the performance by suddenly flinging her head back, with an insane jerk, over the rail of the chair, at the imminent risk of breaking her neck, uttering a loud snort of triumph as she did so.

Trusting the reader will pardon, and the humane society award me a medal for this long digression, I resume the thread of my narrative.

"Freddy, my dear, can't you sing us that droll Italian song your cousin Lucy taught you? I'm sure poor Miss Saville must feel quite dull and melancholy."

-261-- "Would to Heaven she did!" murmured I to myself. "Who is to play it for me?" asked Coleman. "Well, my love, I'll do my best," replied his mother; "and, if I should make a few mistakes, it will only sound all the funnier, you know."

This being quite unanswerable, the piano was opened, and, after Mrs.

Coleman's spectacles had been hunted for in all probable places, and discovered at last in the coal-scuttle, a phenomenon which that good lady accounted for on the score of "John's having flurried her so when he brought in tea"; and when, moreover, she had been with difficulty prevailed on to allow the music-book to remain the right way upwards, the song was commenced.

As Freddy had a good tenor voice, and sang the Italian _buffa_ song with much humour, the performance proved highly successful, although Mrs.

Coleman was as good as her word in introducing some original and decidedly "funny" chords into the accompaniment, which would have greatly discomposed the composer, if he had by any chance overheard them.

"I did not know that you were such an accomplished performer, Freddy,"

observed I; "you are quite an universal genius."

"Oh, the song was capital!" said Miss Saville, "and Mr. Coleman sang it with so much spirit."

"Really," returned Freddy, with a low bow, "you do me proud, as brother Jonathan says; I am actually-- that is, positively--"

"My dear Freddy," interrupted Mrs. Coleman, "I wish you would go and fetch Lucy's music; I'm sure Miss Saville can sing some of her songs; it's--let me see--yes, it's either downstairs in the study, or in the boudoir, or in the little room at the top of the house, or, if it isn't, you had better ask Susan about it."

"Perhaps the shortest way will be to consult Susan at once," replied Coleman, as he turned to leave the room.

"I presume you prefer _buffa_ songs to music of a more pathetic character?" inquired I, addressing Miss Saville.

"You judge from my having praised the one we have just heard, I suppose?"

"Yes, and from the lively style of your conversation; I have been envying your high spirits all the evening."

"Indeed!" was the reply; "and why should you envy them?"

"Are they not an indication of happiness, and is not that an enviable possession?" returned I.

"Yes, indeed!" she replied in a low voice, but with such pa.s.sionate earnestness as quite to startle me. "Is 262-- laughing, then, such an infallible indication of happiness?" she continued.

"One usually supposes so," replied I.

To this she made no answer, unless a sigh can be called one, and, turning away, began looking over the pages of a music-book.