University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

It was what is called by people on the continent a “London
day.” A thin, grey 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 clamor 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 gamboge
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 mistress's 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 of the
nearest clerk if the junior partner were in, was shown 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
of a very scornful lip owned by the junior partner; but the lady was
only forty-five, highborn, 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 invitatlon to the “Duchess 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
honor 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 ill-dissembled 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 the 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 féte champétre 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 honor 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 stayed 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 horror 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 half a moment from the subject of those busy
dreams.