it was not likely that a man of geoffrey ludlow's temperament would for long keep himself from falling into what was to be the ordinary tenor of his life, even had his newly-espoused wife been the most exacting of brides, and delighted in showing her power by keeping him in perpetual attendance upon her. it is almost needless to say that margaret was guilty of no weakness of this kind. if the dread truth must be told, she took far too little interest in the life to which she had devoted herself to busy herself about it in detail. she had a general notion that her whole future was to be intensely respectable; and in the minds of all those persons with whom she had hitherto been associated, respectability meant duless of the most appalling kind; meant two-o'clock-shoulder-of-mutton-and-weak-romford-ale dinner, five o'clock tea, knitting, prayers and a glass of cold water before going to bed; meant district-visiting and tract-distributing, poke bonnets and limp skirts, a class on sunday afternoons, and a visit to the crystal palace with the school-children on a summer's day. she did not think it would be quite as bad as this in her case; indeed, she had several times been amused--so far as it lay in her now to be amused--by hearing geoffrey speak of himself, with a kind of elephantine liveliness, as a roisterer and a bohemian. but she was perfectly prepared to accept whatever happened; and when geoff told her, the day after his mother's visit, that he must begin work again and go on as usual, she took it as a matter of course.
so geoff arranged his new studio, and found out his best light, and got his easel into position; and flexor arrived with the lay-figure which had been passing its vacation in little flotsam street; and the great model recognised mrs. geoffrey ludlow, who happened to look in, with a deferential bow, and, with what seemed best under the circumstances, a look of extreme astonishment, as though he had never seen her before, and expected to find quite a different person.
gradually and one by one all the old accessories of geoff's daily life seemed closing round him. a feeble ring, heard while he and his wife were at breakfast, would be followed by the servant's announcement of "the young person, sir, a-waitin' in the stujo;" and the young person--a model--would be found objurgating the distance from town, and yet appreciative of the beauty of the spot when arrived at.
and mr. stompff had come; of course he had. no sooner did he get geoff's letter announcing his return than he put himself into a hansom cab, and went up to elm lodge. for mr. stompff was a man of business. his weak point was, that he judged other men by his own standard; and knowing perfectly well that if any other man had had the success which geoffrey ludlow had achieved that year, he (stompff) would have worked heaven and earth to get him into his clutches, he fancied that caniche, and all the other dealers, would be equally voracious, and that the best thing he could do would be to strike the iron while it was hot, and secure ludlow for himself. he thought too that this was rather a good opportunity for such a proceeding, as ludlow's exchequer was likely to be low, and he could the more easily be won over. so the hansom made its way to elm lodge; and its fare, under the title of "a strange gentleman, sir!" was ushered into geoff's studio.
"well, and how are you, ludlow! what did she say, 'a strange gentleman'? yes, mary, my love! i am a strange gentleman, as you'll find out before i've done with you." mr. stompff laid his finger to his nose, and winked with exquisite facetiousness. "well, and how are you? safe and sound, and all the rest of it! and how's mrs. l.? must introduce me before i go. and what are you about now, eh? what's this?"
he stopped before the canvas on the easel, and began examining it attentively.
"that's nothing!" said geoffrey; "merely an outline of a notion i had of the esplanade at brighton. i don't think it would make a bad subject. you see, here i get the invalids in bath-chairs, the regular london swells promenading it, the boatmen; the indian-mutiny man, with his bandaged foot and his arm in a sling and his big beard; some excursionists with their baskets and bottles; some jews, and--"
"capital! nothing could be better! hits the taste of the day, my boy; shoots folly, and no flies, as the man said. that's your ticket! any body else seen that!"
"well, literally not a soul. it's only just begun, and no one has been here since i returned."
"that's all right! now what's the figure? you're going to open your mouth, i know; you fellows always do when you've made a little success."
"well, you see," began old geoff, in his usual hesitating diffident manner, "it's a larger canvas than i've worked on hitherto, and there are a good many more figures, and--"
"will five hundred suit you?"
"ye-es! five hundred would be a good price, for--"
"all right! shake hands on it! i'll give you five hundred for the copyright--right and away, mind!--sketch, picture, and right of engraving. we'll get it to some winter-gallery, and you'll have another ready for the academy. nothing like that, my boy! i know the world, and you don't. what the public likes, you give them as much of as you can. don't you believe in over-stocking the market with ludlows; that's all stuff! let 'em have the ludlows while they want 'em. in a year or two they'll fight like devils to get a jones or a robinson, and wonder how the deuce any body could have spent their money on such a dauber as ludlow. don't you be offended, my boy; i'm only speakin' the truth. i buy you because the public wants you; and i turn an honest penny in sellin' you again; not that i'm any peculiar nuts on you myself, either one way or t'other. come, let's wet this bargain, ludlow, my boy; some of that dry sherry you pulled out when i saw you last at brompton, eh?"
geoffrey rang the bell; the sherry was produced, and mr. stompff enjoyed it with great gusto.
"very neat glass of sherry as ever i drank. well, ludlow, success to our bargain! give it a good name, mind; that's half the battle; and, i say, i wouldn't do too much about the jews, eh? you know what i mean; none of that d--d nose-trick, you know. there's first-rate customers among the jews, though they know more about pictures than most people, and won't be palmed off like your manchester coves but when they do like a thing, they will have it; and tough they always insist upon discount, yet even then, with the price one asks for a picture, it pays. well, you'll be able to finish that and two others--o, how do you do, mam?"
this last to margaret, who, not knowing that her husband had any one with him was entering the studio. she bowed, and was about to withdraw; but geoff called her back, and presented mr. stompff to her.
"very glad to make your acquaintance, mam," said that worthy, seizing her hand; "heard of you often, and recognise the picture of scyllum and something in an instant. enjoyed yourself in the country, i 'ope. that's all right. but nothing like london; that's the place to pick up the dibs. i've been telling our friend here he must stick to it, now he's a wife to provide for; for we know what's what, don't we, mrs. ludlow? three pictures a year, my boy, and good-sized 'uns too; no small canvases: that's what we must have out of you."
geoffrey laughed as he said, "well, no; not quite so much as that. recollect, i intend to take my wife out occasionally; and besides, i've promised to give some drawing lessons."
"what!" shrieked mr. stompff; "drawing-lessons! a man in your position give drawing-lessons! i never heard such madness! you musn't do that, ludlow."
the words were spoken so decidedly that margaret bit her lips, and turned to look at her husband, whose face flushed a deep red, and whose voice stuttered tremendously as he gasped out, "b-but i shall! d-don't you say 'must,' please, to me, mr. stompff; because i don't like it; and i don't know what the d-deuce you mean by using such a word!"
mr. stompff glanced at margaret, whose face expressed the deepest disgust; so clearly perceiving the mistake he had made, he said, "well, of course i only spoke as a friend; and when one does that he needn't be in much doubt as to his reward. when i said 'must,' which seems to have riled you so, ludlow, i said it for your own sake. however, you and i sha'n't fall out about that. don't you give your pictures to any one else, and we shall keep square enough. where are you going to give drawing-lessons, if one may be bold enough to ask?"
"in st. barnabas square, to a young lady, a very old friend of mine, and a _protégée_ of lord caterham's," said geoffrey, whose momentary ire had died out.
"o, lord caterham's! that queer little deformed chap. good little fellow, too, they say he is; sharp, and all that kind of thing. well, there's no harm in that. i thought you were going on the philanthropic dodge--to schools and working-men, and that lay. there's one rule in life,--you never lose any thing by being civil to a bigwig; and this little chap, i daresay, has influence in his way. by the way, you might ask him to give a look in at my gallery, if he's passing by. never does any harm, that kind of thing. well, i can't stay here all day. men of business must always be pushing on, mrs. ludlow. good day to you; and, i say, when--hem! there's any thing to renounce the world, the flesh, and the--hey, you understand? any body wanted to promise and vow, you know,--i'm ready; send for me. i've got my eye on a silver thug already. goodbye, ludlow; see you next week. three before next may, recollect, and all for me. ta-ta!" and mr. stompff stepped into his cab, and drove off, kissing his fat pudgy little hands, with a great belief in geoffrey ludlow and a holy horror of his wife.
in the course of the next few days geoffrey wrote to lord caterham, telling him that he was quite ready to commence miss maurice's instruction; and shortly afterwards received an answer naming a day for the lessons to commence. on arriving at the house geoff was shown into lord caterham's room, and there found annie waiting to receive him. geoff advanced, and shook hands warmly; but he thought miss maurice's manner was a little more reserved than on the last occasion of their meeting.
"lord caterham bade me make his excuses to you, mr. ludlow," said she. "he hopes to see you before you go; but he is not very well just now, and does not leave his room till later in the day."
geoff was a little hurt at the "mr. ludlow." like all shy men, he was absurdly sensitive; and at once thought that he saw in this mode of address a desire on annie's part to show him his position as drawing-master. so he merely said he was "sorry for the cause of lord caterham's absence;" and they proceeded at once to work.
but the ice on either side very soon melted away. geoff had brought with him an old sketch-book, filled with scraps of landscape and figures, quaint _bizarre_ caricatures, and little bits of every-day life, all drawn at willesden priory or in its neighbourhood, all having some little history of their own appealing to annie's love of those old days and that happy home. and as she looked over them, she began to talk about the old times; and very speedily it was, "o, geoff, don't you remember?" and "o, geoff, will you ever forget?" and so on; and they went on sketching and talking until, to annie at least, the present and the intervening time faded away, and she was again the petted little romp, and he was dear old geoff, her best playmate, her earliest friend, whom she used to drive round the gravel-paths in her skipping-rope harness, and whose great shock head of hair used to cause her such infinite wonder and amusement.
as she sat watching him bending over the drawing, she remembered with what anxiety she used to await his coming at the priory, and with what perfect good-humour he bore all her childish whims and vagaries. she remembered how he had always been her champion when her papa had been _brusque_ or angry with her, saying, "fairy was too small to be scolded;" how when just before that horrible bankruptcy took place and all the household were busy with their own cares she, suffering under some little childish illness, was nursed by geoff, then staying in the house with a vague idea of being able to help mr. maurice in his trouble; how he carried her in his arms to and fro, to and fro, during the whole of one long night, and hushed her to sleep with the soft tenderness of a woman. she had thought of him often and often during her life at ricksborough vicarage, always with the same feelings of clinging regard and perfect trust; and now she had found him. well, no, not him exactly; she doubted very much whether mr. ludlow the rising artist was the same as the "dear old geoff" of the willesden-priory days. there was--and then, as she was thinking all this, geoff raised his eyes from the drawing, and smiled his dear old happy smile, and put his pencil between his teeth, and slowly rubbed his hands while he looked over his sketch, so exactly as he used to do fifteen years before that she felt more than ever annoyed at that news which arthur had told tier a few days ago about mr. ludlow being married.
yes, it was annoyance she felt! there was no other word for it. in the old days he had belonged entirely to her, and why should he not now? her papa had always said that it was impossible geoff could ever be any thing but an old bachelor, and an old bachelor he should have remained. what a ridiculous thing for a man at his time of life to import a new element into it by marriage! it would have been so pleasant to have had him then, just in the old way; to have talked to him and teased him, and looked up to him just as she used to do, and now--o, no! it could not be the same! no married man is ever the same with the friends of his bachelorhood, especially female friends, as he was before. and mrs. ludlow, what was she like? what could have induced geoff to marry her? while geoff's head was bent over the drawing, annie revolved all this rapidly in her mind, and came to the conclusion that it must have been for money that geoff plunged into matrimony, and that mrs. ludlow was either a widow with a comfortable jointure, in which case annie pictured her to herself as short, stout, and red-faced, with black hair in bands and a perpetual black-silk dress; or a small heiress of uncertain age, thin, with hollow cheeks and a pointed nose, ringlets of dust-coloured hair, a pinched waist, and a soured temper. and to think of geoff's going and throwing away the rest of his life on a person of this sort, when he might have been so happy in his old bachelor way!
the more she thought of this the more she hated it. why had he not announced to them that he was going to be married, when she first met him after that long lapse of years? to be sure, the rooms at the royal academy were scarcely the place in which to enter on such a matter; but then--who could she be? what was she like? it was so long since geoff had been intimate with any one; she knew that of course his range of acquaintance might have been changed a hundred times and she not know one of them. how very strange that he did not say any thing about it now! he had been here an hour sketching and pottering about, and yet had not breathed a word about it. o, she would soon settle that!
so the next time geoff looked up from his sketch, she said to him: "are you longing to be gone, geoffrey? getting fearfully bored? is a horrible _heimweh_ settling down upon your soul? i suppose under the circumstances it ought to be, if it isn't."
"under what circumstances, annie? i'm not bored a bit, nor longing to be gone. what makes you think so?"
"only my knowledge of a fact which i've learned, though not from you--your marriage, geoffrey."
"not from me! pardon me, annie; i begged lord caterham, to whom i announced it, specially to name it to you. and, if you must know, little child, i wondered you had said nothing to me about it."
he looked at her earnestly as he said this; and there was a dash of disappointment in his honest eyes.
"i'm so sorry, geoff--so sorry! but i didn't understand it so; really i didn't," said annie, already half-penitent. "lord caterham told me of the fact, but as from himself; not from you; and--and i thought it odd that, considering all our old intimacy, you hadn't--"
"odd! why, god bless my soul! annie, you don't think that i shouldn't; but, you see, it was all so--at all events, i'm certain i told lord caterham to tell you."
geoff was in a fix here. his best chance of repudiating the idea that he had willfully neglected informing annie of his intended marriage was the true reason, that the marriage itself was, up to within the shortest time of its fulfilment, so unlooked for; but this would throw a kind of slur on his wife; at all events, would prompt inquiries; so he got through it as best he could with the stuttering excuses above recorded.
they seemed to avail with annie maurice; for she only said, "o, yes; i daresay it was some bungle of yours. you always used to make the most horrible mistakes, geoff, i've heard poor papa say a thousand times, and get out of it in the lamest manner." then, after a moment, she said, "you must introduce me to your wife, geoffrey;" and, almost against her inclination, added, "what is she like?"
"introduce you, little child? why, of course i will, and tell her how long i have known you, and how you used to sit on my knee, and be my little pet," said old geoff, in a transport of delight. "o, i think you'll like her, annie. she is--yes, i may say so--she is very beautiful, and--and very quiet and good."
geoff's ignorance of the world is painfully manifested in this speech. no woman could possibly be pleased to hear of her husband having been in the habit of having any little pet on his knee; and in advancing her being "very beautiful" as a reason for liking his wife, geoff showed innocence which was absolutely refreshing.
very beautiful! was that mere conjugal blindness or real fact? taken in conjunction with "very quiet and good," it looked like the former; but then where beauty was concerned geoff had always been a stern judge; and it was scarcely likely that he would suffer his judgment, founded on the strictest abstract principles to be warped by any whim or fancy. very beautiful!--the quietude and goodness came into account,--very beautiful!
"o, yes; i must come and see mrs. ludlow, please. you will name a day before you go?"
"name a day! what for, annie?"
lord caterham was the speaker, sitting in his chair, and being wheeled in from his bedroom by stephens. ins tone was a little harsh; his temper a little sharp. he had all along determined that annie and geoff should not be left alone together on the occasion of her first lesson. but _l'homme propose et dieu dispose_; and caterham had been unable to raise his head from his pillow, with one of those fearful neuralgic headaches which occasionally affected him.
"what for! why, to be introduced to mrs. ludlow! by the way, you seem to have left your eyes in the other room, arthur. you have not seen mr. ludlow before, have you?"
"i beg mr. ludlow a thousand pardons!" said caterham, who had forgotten the announcement of geoffrey's marriage, and who hailed the recalling of the past with intense gratification. "i'm delighted to see you, mr. ludlow; and very grateful to you for coming to fill up so agreeably some of our young lady's blank time. if i thought you were a conventional man, i should make you a pretty conventional speech of gratulation on your marriage; but as i'm sure you're something much better, i leave that to be inferred."
"you are very good," said geoff. "annie was just saying that i should introduce my wife to her, and--"
"of course, of course!" said caterham, a little dashed by the familiarity of the "annie." "i hope, to see mrs. ludlow here; not merely as a visitor to a wretched bachelor like myself; but i'm sure my mother would be very pleased to welcome her, and will, if you please, do herself the honour of calling on mrs. ludlow.
"thank you, arthur; you are very kind, and i appreciate it," said annie, in a low voice, crossing to his chair; "but my going will be a different thing; i mean, as an old friend of geoff's, _i_ may go and see his wife."
an old friend of geoff's! still the same bond between them, in which he had no part--an intimacy with which he had nothing to do.
"of course," said he; "nothing could be more natural."
"little annie coming to be introduced to margaret!" thought geoff, as he walked homeward, the lesson over. this, then, was to be margaret's first introduction to his old friend. not much fear of their not getting on together. and yet, on reflection, geoff was not so sure of that, after all.
