Yes and no, Volume 2 (of 2)

“See the conquering hero comes!” said Fitzalbert to Lady Latimer, as from the terrace where they were strolling, they observed Germain arriving at Latimer a few days after the election.

“Very well indeed—nothing could be better, I hear from every body,” said Lord Latimer, receiving the new member; “quite perfect from top to toe: it was hard to tell where your exertions were most successful—haranguing on the hustings, or dancing down the dowdies of the ball-room.”

“Nay, don’t make a merit of that,” said Fitzalbert; “‘the labour we delight in physics pain;’ and our modern Alexander was not without his rival queens. I have not forgotten the soft Statira we met at ——; I hope her foot was lighter on the boards than on the beach; for I remember it left an impression on the soft sand, that would have frightened Robinson Crusoe.”

“Perhaps, now she’s married, she’s on another footing with Germain,” added a Mr. Starling, who was one of the party.

Now all this was, on many accounts, very disagreeable to Germain; in the first place, it confirmed what he had before suspected, that no part of the ridicule of the meeting on the sands had been lost upon Fitzalbert; but it touched him more nearly, as from thence it was evident that Lady Latimer had, upon her return from the ball, made ludicrous mention of his first partner. And if there could otherwise have been any doubt as to his having been previously talked over on this head before his arrival, the attempt at a joke on the subject by Mr. Starling would have been evidence enough that it was not new to him; for he was one who literally laboured at easy conversation, and it is incredible the midnight toil with which he used to prepare himself to ‘hold his own’ in the probable topic of the coming day. His great object in life had been to be always favourably received in a certain round of first-rate country-houses; and to prevent the possibility of his being forgotten in his absence, he used to book himself for another visit, in the lady’s album, before his departure. Neatness was the leading characteristic both of his person and mind, and this to such a degree, as to give a studied appearance to both. As Fitzalbert, with whom he was no favourite, used to say, “Neither the flow of his curls nor of his conversation seemed natural—both had the appearance of having been previously committed to paper.” However this might be, neither papillote nor common-place book, was ever positively detected by the most prying of housemaids. He never opened his mouth but with an attempt at point at least in the tone of his voice; and when he did not say a good thing, he looked as if he had, which often did just as well.

Having a fair fortune, and being of a good family, he had latterly entertained serious thoughts of endeavouring to establish himself by some more permanent tenure in his favorite haunts, and a union with Lady Jane Sydenham had occurred to him as a very agreeable mode of carrying that point.

It happened that at the juncture of this his periodical visit here, Lady Latimer, missing the resource of Miss Mordaunt’s society, had felt a wish to have one of her sisters with her; and whether it was from a dislike so far to forward her mother’s plans as to ask Caroline to meet Sir Gregory Greenford, who was then staying there, or whether it was merely that she preferred Jane herself, it happened she accidentally so far forwarded Mr. Starling’s views as to have Jane to meet him. Lady Flamborough had readily acceded to her daughter Louisa’s request to send her youngest sister, from recollecting that Germain would probably be there after the election.

There were few people whom Germain’s easy nature could bring him to dislike, but he certainly had rather an aversion to Mr. Starling. This might have arisen merely from the difference of their characters, for nothing could be more perfectly natural and unaffected than Germain; or perhaps he only felt the re-action always caused by hearing a man cried up beyond his merits. But from whatever this arose, it made him view with a distaste for which he could not account, Mr. Starling’s attentions to Lady Jane. It could be of no consequence to him, and yet the indifference with which she received the studied advances of her methodical admirer, gave him a very high opinion of her discrimination. “She is not so brilliant as Lady Latimer,” thought he, “and yet perhaps her taste is more correct”—recollecting a little dispute he had had with her ladyship as to the merits of some namby-pamby verses of Mr. Starling’s in her album, to which she might have been supposed to lend rather a favourable ear from its subject-matter, which was a high-flown compliment to herself. Even the theme, Germain declared, had not been able to inspire the writer with an easy flow, and that his verse merited the name of a strain, rather from its apparent effort, than its poetry. But he had by no means undivided leisure for these observations, for there was in what Fitzalbert called “a quiet way,” a good deal of play in the evenings at Latimer; and Germain entered into it with an eagerness and avidity, which had only wanted an occasion to call it forth ever since his luck at Peatburn Lodge. This, however, did not now continue the same: the game was chiefly écarté, at which both Fitzalbert and Lord Latimer played much better than he did; and though the stakes were not always very high, he found that night after night the difference of play told; and what Fitzalbert called a “quiet way,” meant that it was amongst so few, that he had no means of recovering from others what he had lost to him. So that very soon, the balance of what had been called, ever since the play at Peatburn Lodge, “the running account between them,” shifted very considerably to the other side. True, he sometimes won a little from Sir Gregory Greenford, but not so much as he might have done, for Fortune seemed at present to have taken the baronet under her most especial protection; so much so indeed, that Fitzalbert said, “there must be witchcraft in it,” and that the weird sisters had prophesied of him as of Banquo, “Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:” for hardly a deal passed, without Sir Gregory’s marking his majesty, so that Germain was the chief and constant loser. Whilst this was going on, another new and alluring enticement to expense was opened to him.

“Suppose we go and look at my young things,” said Lord Latimer one morning.

“I did not know,” said the Count St. Julien, a foreigner on a visit, “dat milord was de papa of any little people.”

“Adopted children,” answered Fitzalbert; and they wound their way through a sheltered part of the park, to the paddocks where Lord Latimer’s fine stud was to be seen, and examining the foals, they stood for some time learnedly discussing the various merits of little creatures with crooked legs, large knees, no bodies, and bushy tails. From thence they went to the yearlings, and as these galloped gaily round the paddock, Sir Gregory Greenford, who was resting his chin upon the gate, said; “Look at that chestnut, with a white hind leg; I’ll bet a hundred to one against him the first time he starts.”

“Ten thousand to a hundred, if you please,” said Lord Latimer; “his is in a large produce-stake with many others, and we’ll make it for that if you like; as I don’t wish to tie you down to your offer whenever he starts.”

“So be it,” said Sir Gregory; “for I’m sure he’ll never win a saddle.”

“Got a slight strain the other day,” whispered Lord Latimer to Fitzalbert, as he was booking the bet; “and still goes short and stiff, but has the best action of the whole set, and seems as if he would beat them all. Take it again.”

“Again, a thousand to ten, Sir Gregory?” enquired Fitzalbert; “No, that’s enough, I think,” answered the baronet; “for I should never forget the thousand, even if it was in no danger; and I doubt whether you would remember the ten pounds, even if you lost it;” and this was supposed to be the sharpest thing Sir Gregory ever said.

“Come Germain, you shall have half my bet,” said Lord Latimer; “we must have you upon the turf; I’m sure you will like it.”

And so thought Germain, naturally fond of horses and all that concerns them; he had always enjoyed the exhilarating bustle of a race-course as an uninterested spectator; and as a mere means of excitement, it struck him that a fine animal was a happier medium than packs of painted paper.

“And you must come with me next time I go to see my Derby horse,” added Lord Latimer; and an incident which occurred shortly afterwards induced him readily to accept this proposal.

For Germain, in spite of the occasional distraction of play, and the amusement sometimes afforded him by disconcerting some of Mr. Starling’s regularly laid approaches to a bon-mot, (an amusement that was not a little increased by his believing that it was equally enjoyed by Lady Jane,) yet in spite of all this, he still was, or fancied himself to be, desperately in love with Lady Latimer, an illusion, if it was one, likely to be very much assisted by the listless, lounging sort of life that he was then leading. His attentions had not been generally remarked by any of the party. Lord Latimer had been so long in the habit of seeing his wife the object of admiration to every one but himself, that he very coolly, and in this instance very wisely, determined to have neither fears nor cares on the subject.

But the apparent earnestness of Germain’s devotion to her had more than once been the source of uneasiness to Lady Latimer; for she had really a regard for him, as an agreeable, unaffected, good-humoured addition to her society, and had therefore not the least wish to be obliged to break with him, still less had she the least idea of participating in the warmth of his feelings.

She therefore at last took her resolution, and one morning that they had strolled out together in the park, when he had been unusually sentimental in his adoration, she turned to him with an expression half serious, half playful—

“Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Germain,” said she, “that a person might habituate himself to the soothing effects of small doses of laudanum without the slightest intention of taking it as a poison?”

“A very common case, I believe,” replied Germain, not knowing what was coming next.

“And would it surprise you that such a person should make a distinction between the careful hand that distilled it drop by drop, and the heedless creature that seemed determined to pour down a deadly quantity?”

“What can you mean?” said Germain.

“I dare say you think I’m talking nonsense,” replied she, “but it is only very good sense in a thin disguise. You are young in the ways of the world, and must take a little good advice from one who is older. Nay, don’t look so shocked at that; I’m not wrinkled yet, I know, but forgive me if I say the fault is on your side for being so very, very young. Must I explain myself further? Most people would think me over candid in saying what I have done. If admiration has been the cordial draught in the delirium of which I have sought forgetfulness of the aching void within, ’tis a voice, I own, like that of the opium-eater; and like his, habit has made it second nature; but be assured of this, I never mean to poison myself—you understand me—and I have said enough when I have added that you are intended for better things than to administer drop by drop my daily dose of flattery; so help me in this crossing.” And as she lightly touched the hand he offered, said: “We shall always be friends, I’m certain; and now don’t look so doleful, for here comes Fitzalbert, if he suspects any thing, he will quiz perhaps both, but certainly you.”

This was the strongest inducement she could have held out for discretion, and it was not without its effect; and perhaps upon the whole the interruption caused by Fitzalbert was not entirely unwelcome, for however much annoyed Germain might have been at the tone taken by Lady Latimer, there was in her manner, with much kindness, an air of superiority, a coolness, and an entire absence of all embarrassment, which convinced him that remonstrance would have been entirely in vain, and thus his only hope of continuing her friend, was never to attempt to be more.

It was in the state of things produced by this interview that he thought a little absence would not be amiss, and therefore readily accepted Lord Latimer’s proposal to accompany him to see his Derby horse.