Romance of travel :: :: University of Virginia Library

It was what is called by people on the continent
a “London day.” A thin, gray mist drizzled
down through the smoke which darkened the long
cavern of Fleet-street; the sidewalks were slippery

and clammy; the drays slid from side to side on the
greasy pavement, creating a perpetual clamour
among the lighter carriages with which they came
in contact; the porters wondered that “gemmen”
would carry their umbrellas up when there was no
rain, and the gentlemen wondered that porters
should be permitted on the sidewalks; there were
passengers in box-coats though it was the first of
May, and beggars with bare breasts though it was
chilly as November; the boys were looking wistfully
into the hosier's windows who were generally
at the pastry-cook's, and there were persons who
wished to know the time, trying in vain to see the
dial of St. Paul's through the gambage atmosphere.

It was twelve o'clock, and a plain chariot with a
simple crest on the panels, slowly picked its way
through the choked and disputed thoroughfare east
of Temple Bar. The smart glazed hat of the
coachman, the well-fitted drab greatcoat and gaiters
of the footman, and the sort of half-submissive, half-contemptuous
look on both their faces, (implying
that they were bound to drive to the devil if it were
miladi's orders, but that the rabble of Fleet-street
was a leetle too vulgar for their contact,) expressed
very plainly that the lady within was a denizen of a
more privileged quarter, but had chosen a rainy
day for some compulsory visit to “the city.”

At the rate of perhaps a mile an hour, the well-groomed
night horses—(a pair of smart, hardy,
twelve-mile cabs, all bottom but little style, kept for
night-work and forced journeys)—had threaded the
tortuous entrails of London, and had arrived at the
arch of a dark court in Throgmorton-street. The
coachman put his wheels snug against the edge of
the sidewalk, to avoid being crushed by the passing
drays, and settled his many-caped benjamin about
him; while the footman spread his umbrella, and
making a balustrade of his arm for his mistresses
assistance, a closely-veiled lady descended and disappeared
up the wet and ill-paved avenue.

The green-baize door of Firkins and Co. opened
on its silent hinges and admitted the mysterious visiter,
who, inquiring if the nearest clerk of the junior
partner were in, was showed to a small inner room
containing a desk, two chairs, a coal fire, and a young
gentleman. The last article of furniture rose on the
lady's entrance, and as she threw off her veil he made
a low bow, with the air of a gentleman, who is neither
surprised nor embarrassed, and pushing aside the
door-check, they were left alone.

There was that forced complaisance in the lady's
manner on her first entrance, which produced the
slightest possible elevation in a very scornful lip
owned by the junior partner, but the lady was only
forty-five, high-born, and very handsome, and as she

looked at the fine specimen of nature's nobility, who
met her with a look as proud and yet as gentle as
her own, the smoke of Fleet-street passed away
from her memory, and she became natural and even
gracious. The effect upon the junior partner was
simply that of removing from his breast the shade
of her first impression.

“I have brought you,” said his visiter, drawing a
card from her reticule, “an invitation to the dutchess
of Hautaigle's ball. She sent me half a dozen to
fill up for what she calls `ornamentals'—and I am
sure I shall scarce find another who comes so decidedly
under her grace's category.”

The fair speaker had delivered this pretty speech
in the sweetest and best-bred tone of St. James's,
looking the while at the toe of the small brodequin
which she held up to the fire—perhaps thinking only
of drying it. As she concluded her sentence, she
turned to her companion for an answer, and was
surprised at the impassive politeness of his bow of
acknowledgment.

“I regret that I shall not be able to avail myself
of your ladyship's kindness,” said the junior partner,
in the same well-enunciated tone of courtesy.

“Then,” replied the lady with a smile, “Lord
Augustus Fitz-Moi, who looks at himself all dinner-time
in a spoon, will be the Apollo of the hour.—
What a pity such a handsome creature should be

so vain! By the way, Mr. Firkins, you live without
a looking-glass, I see.”

“Your ladyship reminds me that this is merely a
place of business. May I ask at once what errand
has procured me the honour of a visit on so unpleasant
a day?”

A slight flush brightened the cheek and forehead
of the beautiful woman, as she compressed her lips,
and forced herself to say with affected ease, “the
want of five hundred pounds.”

The junior partner paused an instant while the
lady tapped with her boot upon the fender in illdissembled
anxiety, and then, turning to his desk, he
filled up the check without remark, presented it, and
took his hat to wait on her to her carriage. A gleam
of relief and pleasure shot over her countenance as
she closed her small jewelled hand over it, followed
immediately by a look of embarrassed inquiry into
the face of the unquestioning banker.

“I am in your debt already.”

“Thirty thousand pounds, madam!”

“And for this you think the securities on the estate
of Rockland—”

“Are worth nothing, madam! But it rains. I
regret that your ladyship's carriage cannot come to
the door. In the old-fashioned days of sedan-chairs,
now, the dark courts of Lothbury must have been

more attractive. By the way, talking of Lothbury,
there is Lady Roseberry's fête champêtre next week.
If you should chance to have a spare card—”

“Twenty, if you like—I am too happy—really,
Mr. Firkins—”

“It's on the fifteenth; I shall have the honour of
seeing your ladyship there! Good morning! Home,
coachman!”

“Does this man love me?” was Lady Ravelgold's
first thought, as she sank back in her returning chariot.
Yet no! he was even rude in his haste to be
rid of me. And I would willingly have staid, too,
for there is something about him of a mark that I
like. Ay, and he must have seen it—a lighter
encouragement has been interpreted more readily.
Five hundred pounds! Really five hundred pounds!
And thirty thousand at the back of it! What does
he mean? Heavens, if he should be deeper than I
thought! If he should wish to involve me first!”

And spite of the horrour with which the thought
was met in the mind of Lady Ravelgold, the blush
over her forehead died away into a half smile and a
brighter tint in her lips; and as the carriage wound
slowly on through the confused press of Fleet-street
and the Strand, the image of the handsome and
haughty young banker shut her eyes from all sounds
without, and she was at her own door in Grosvenor square

before she had changed position or wandered
for half a moment from the subject of those busy
dreams.