University of Virginia Library

6. VI.

At last our hero was able once more to go about,
and Jim drove him down slowly to the Mewkery.
Such a noise as Bose made when he saw the carriage
approaching! But there was no present
from the hand of his friend this time; so Bose contented
himself with growling and snapping angrily
at his own tail, which was not longer than half a
cucumber. What a blush spread over the face of
the Captain when he saw the widow, all dimples
and dimity, advancing to meet him in the familiar
back-parlor! How the sweet roses breathed
through the shaded blinds as he breathed out his
thanks to the widow for many precious favors

during his confinement. They were alone; the
Captain sat beside her on the sofa; one of her
round, plump, white, dimpled hands was not far
from him, resting upon the black hair-cloth of the
sofa bottom. He looked right and left; there was
no one near; so he took the hand respectfully, and
raised it to his lips, intending to replace it of
course. To his dismay, she uttered a tender “O!'
and leaned her head upon his shoulder. What to
do, he did not know; but he put his arm around
her bewitching waist, to support her. Her eyes
were closed, and the long, radiant lashes heightened,
by contrast, the delicious color that bloomed
in her cheeks. The Captain looked right and left
again; no one was near; if he could venture to
kiss her? He had never kissed a pretty woman in
all his life! The desire to do so increased; it
seemed to grow upon him; in fact, drawn toward
her by an influence he could not resist, he leaned
over and touched those beautiful lips, and then—in
walked Mr. Mewker.

Had Mewker not been a genius, he might have
compromised everything by still playing the humble,
deferential, conscientious part; but hypocrisy
on a low key was not his cue now; he knew his

man too well for that, and besides, familiar as this
branch of art had been, there was another still
more natural to him; he was wonderful in the sycophant,
but matchless in the bully! Those little,
weak, bladdery eyes seemed almost to distil venom,
as, wrapping his knobby arms in a knot, he strode
up to the astonished Belgrave, and asked him
“how he dared invade the privacy of his house,
the home of his wife and children, and the sanctuary
of his sister? How he dared trespass upon the
hospitality that had been extended toward, nay,
that had been lavished upon him? Was not the
respectability of the Mewker family, a family
related to the wealthy Balgangles of Little-Crampton,
and connected by marriage with the Shellbarques
of Boston, a sufficient protection against
his nefarious designs? And did he undertake,
under the mask of friendship,” and Mewker drew
up his forehead into a complication of lines like an
indignant web, “to come, as a hypocrite, a member
of the church (O Mewker!) with the covert intention
of destroying the peace and happiness of his
only sister?”

Belgrave was a man who never swore; but on
this occasion he uttered an exclamation: “My
grief!” said he, “I never had no such idee.”

“What, then, are your intentions?” said Mewker,
fiercely.

“T' make it all straight,” replied the Captain.

“How?”

Belgrave paused, and Mewker shuffled rapidly
to and fro, muttering to himself. At last he broke
out again:

“How, I say?”

“On that p'int I'm codjitatin'.”

“Do—you—mean—” said Mewker, with a
remarkable smile, placing his hand calmly on the
Captain's shoulder, “to—trifle—with—me?”

“No,” replied poor Belgrave, surrendering up,
as it were, what was left of him; “I'm ready to be
married, if that will make it all straight, provided,”
he added, with natural courtesy, turning to the
lovely widow, “provided this lady does not think
me unworthy of her.”

Mewker drew forth a tolerably clean handkerchief,
and applied it to his eyes: a white handkerchief
held to the eyes of a figure in threadbare
black is very effective. The lovely Lasciver
remained entirely passive; such is discipline.

Here, at last, was an opportunity to beat a
retreat. The Captain rose, and shaking Mewker's

unemployed hand, which, he said afterwards, “felt
like a bunch of radishes,” left the room without so
much as a word to the future Mrs. Belgrave. So
soon as the door closed upon him, Mr. Mewker
raised his eyes from the handkerchief, and smiled
sweetly upon his sister. The thing is accomplished.

As some old bear, who had enjoyed freedom
from cubhood, feels, at the bottom of a pit dug by
the skillful hunter, so feels Captain Belgrave, as he
rides home sorrowfully. His citadel, after all, is
not a protection. Into its penetralia a subtle spirit
has at last found entrance. The air grows closer
and heavier around him, the shadows broader, the
bridges less secure, the trout-brooks blacker and
deeper. How shall he break the matter to Augusta?
“No hurry, though; the day hasn't been
app'inted yit;” and at this suggestion the clouds
begin to break and lighten. Then he sees Mewker,
threadbare and vindictive; his sky again is overcast,
but filaments of light stream through as he
conjures up the image of the lovely widow, the
dimpled hand, the closed eyes, the long radiate
lashes, cheeks, lips, and the temptation which had
so unexpected a conclusion. Home at last; and,
with some complaint of fatigue, the Captain retires,

to his high tower to ruminate over the past and the
future.

The future! yes, the future! A long perspective
stretched before his eyes; and, at the end of
the vista, was a bride in white, and a wedding. It
would take some months to gradually break the
subject to his sister. Then temperately and moderately,
the courtship would go on, year by year,
waxing by degrees to the end.