two days after the events recorded in the last chapter, mr. simnel left the tin-tax office a couple of hours earlier than his usual time of departure, and taking a cab, hurried off to his apartments in piccadilly. overlooking the green park, sufficiently lofty to be removed from the immediate noise of the traffic, and situate in that part of the street which was macadamised, there were, perhaps, no more delightful chambers in town than those occupied by the tin-tax secretary. they consisted but of three rooms--sitting-room, bed-chamber, and bath-room; but all were lofty and well-proportioned, and were furnished in a thoroughly luxurious manner. a big bookcase, with its contents admirably selected, covered one side of the sitting-room, on the walls of which hung raphael morghen prints, and before-letter proofs after landseer, leslie, and stanfield; a round table, over which were suspended three swinging moderator-lamps, with white-china shades and crimson-silk fringe; a sofa and numerous easy-chairs, all in crimson velvet and walnut-wood; rich spoils of bohemian glass, standing in odd corners on quaint oak cabinets; two sèvres china dogs, in begging attitude, mounting guard on either end of the mantelshelf; and a flying female figure suspended across the looking-glass;--such were among the incongruous contents of the room. on the table, two yellow-paper covered french novels, a horace, and m'culloch's commercial directory lay side by side; in the looking-glass, cards for evening-parties and dinners were jostled by tickets soliciting vote and interest in approaching elections of charitable societies, remindings of gatherings of learned bodies, and small bills for books or boots. it was mr. simnel's pleasure to keep up this mélange; his time was generally fully occupied; he chose people to consider that he had not a moment to himself; he wished those who called on him on business to see the invitations, in order that they might judge therefrom of his position in society; and he took care that the attention of those idle droppers-in, who came on a sunday morning, for instance, or late at night, to have a chat, should be directed to the business-cards, to give them a notion of his standing in the money-making, business world. since mr. simnel assumed the reins at the tin-tax office, two or three hundred men had sat with their legs under that round table, discussing an excellent dinner, and meeting pleasant people; but not one of them had ever left the room without mr. simnel's feeling that his coming had been productive of benefit to his host, and that the invitation had fully answered its intent. baron oppenhardt, the great financier, never could tell what made him accept simnel's invitation, save that he knew his host was connected with government and had a long head of his own; yet he never refused. and little blurt, whose "connexion with the press" was of a limited nature, never could understand why, biennially, he sat under those shaded moderator-lamps in piccadilly, and consumed pommery greno out of bell-shaped glasses. but simnel knew why he had them to dinner, and took their value out of both oppenhardt and blurt.
a long-headed man, mr. simnel, and, to judge from the strange smile on his face on that particular day, full of some special scheme, as he emerged from his bedroom and looked out into piccadilly. any thing but a vain man, and long past the age when the decoration of one's person enters largely into account, mr. simnel had yet paid special attention to his toilette during the short interval which had elapsed since his arrival at home from the tin-tax office. he was got up with elaborate care and yet perfect simplicity; indeed, there was a touch of the old school in his drab riding-trousers, white waistcoat, blue cut-away coat, and blue bird's-eye neckerchief, with small stand-up collars. a glance into the street showed him that his horses were ready, and he descended at once. at the door he found his groom mounted on a knowing-looking gray cob, short, stiff, and sturdy, and leading a splendid thoroughbred bright bay with black points. this mr. simnel mounted and rode easily away.
through decimus burton's archway he turned into hyde park and made at once for the row. there were but few men lounging about there at that time of the year, but simnel was known to some of them; and after nods had been exchanged, they fell to comparing notes about him and his horse and his style of living, wondering how it was done, admiring his cleverness, detracting from his position--talking, in fact, as men will do of another who has beat them in this grand struggle for place which we call life. the row was very empty, and simnel paid but little attention to its occupants: now and then he occasionally raised his whip mechanically in acknowledgment of some passing salute, but it is to be doubted whether he knew to whom he was telegraphing, as his thoughts were entirely fixed on his mission. however, he wore a pleasant smile on his face, and that was quite enough: grinning, like charity, covers a multitude of sins; and if you only smile and hold your tongue, you can pass through life with an éclat which excellent eloquence, combined with a serious face, would fail to give. so mr. simnel went smiling along at the easiest amble until he got clear of the row and the town, and then he gave the bay his head, and never drew rein until he turned up a country lane immediately on passing ealing common.
half way up this lane stood the den, and evidences of kate mellon's calling began to abound so soon as you turned out of the high-road. in the fields on either side through the bare hedges one could see a string of horses in cloths and head-pieces, each ridden by a groom, skirting the hedges along which a proper riding-path had been made; occasionally a yellow break, driven by a veteran coachman, with a younger and more active coadjutor perched up behind, and standing with his eyes on a level with the coach-box observing every motion of the horses, would rumble by, while the clay-coloured gig containing mr. sandcrack the veterinary surgeon, who, in his long white cravat, beard, and tight trousers, looked a pleasant compound of a dissenting-minister, a horse-jockey, and an analytical chemist, was flying in and out of the lane at all times and seasons. mr. simnel seemed accustomed to these scenes and thoroughly well known amongst them, the grooms and breaksmen touched their hats to him, and he exchanged salutations with mr. sandcrack, and told him that the bay had got rid of all his wind-galls and never went better in his life. so straight up the lane until he arrived at the lodge, and then, before his groom could ride up, his cheery cry of "gate!" brought out the buxom lodge-keeper, and she also greeted mr. simnel with a curtsey of recognition, and received his largesse as he rode through; so down the little carriage-drive, past the pigeon-house elevated on a pole, and the pointers' kennels, and the strip of garden cultivated by the lodge-keeper, and in which one of the lodge-keeper's dirty chubby children was always sprawling; past the inner gates, through which could be caught glimpses of the circular straw-ride, and the stable and loose boxes, and the neatly gravelled courtyard, up the sweep and so to the house-door. freeman, the staid stud-groom from yorkshire, had seen the visitor's entry from the stable, where he was superintending, and hurried up to meet him. before mr. simnel's own groom had come alongside, freeman was at his horse's head.
"mornin', sir," said he, touching his hat. "missis is oop at u, close by, givin' lesson to a young leddy, just by t' water soide: joompin' brook, oi think. howsever she'll be in d'rackly, oi know."
"all right, freeman," said mr. simnel, leisurely dismounting. "horses all well? fine weather for horseflesh, this!"
"ay, ay, it be, sir!" said the old man. "stood be pratty well, oi'm thinkin': coughs and colds, and that loike, as is allays case this toime o' year."
"don't hurry miss mellon on my account, freeman," said mr. simnel; "i can wait. i'll go into the house, and you can let her know that i'm here, when she comes in. by the way, freeman, i haven't seen you since christmas: here's for old acquaintance' sake."
freeman touched his hat gratefully, but not submissively, as he pocketed the half-sovereign which mr. simnel slipped into his capacious palm, and moved off towards the stables with the groom and the horses.
"good man, that," said simnel to himself, as he went into the house. "straightforward, conscientious sort of fellow, and thoroughly devoted to her. proper style of man to have in an establishment: thoroughly respectable--do one credit by his looks. if it ever comes off, i certainly should keep mr. freeman on."
mr. simnel passed on into the long low dining-room, where he found the table spread for luncheon, with a very substantial display of cold roast beef, fowls, and tongue, sherry, and a tall bottle of german wine. he smiled as he noticed these preparations, and then leisurely walked round the room. he paused at an oil-painting of kate with a favourite horse by her side. the artist evidently knew much more about the equine than the human race. the horse's portrait was admirable, but poor kitty, with vermilion cheeks and glaring red hair, and a blue habit with long daubs of light in it, like rain-streaks on a window, was a lamentable object to look on. only one other picture decorated the walls, a portrait of the right hon. the earl of quorn, aged 61, founder of the society for the relief of incapacitated jobmasters and horse-dealers, dedicated to him by his faithful servants the publishers; representing a hale old gentleman, remarkable principally for his extraordinary length of check-neckcloth, seated on a weight-carrying cob, and staring intently at nothing. on a side-table lay a thick book, youatt on the horse, and a thin pamphlet, navicular not incurable, a little warbler (poor kitty!), and a kind of album, into which a heterogeneous mixture of recipes for horse-medicines, scraps of hunting news, lists of prices fetched at the sales of celebrated studs, and other sporting memoranda had been pasted. simnel was looking through this, and had just come upon a slip of printed matter, evidently cut from a newspaper, announcing the appointment of mr. charles beresford to be a commissioner of the tin-tax office, in place of cockle pensioned--a slip against which there were three huge deep pencil-scorings--when the door opened and his hostess entered.
although her habit was draggled and splashed, and her hair disarranged and blown about her face, kate mellon never had looked, to simnel's eyes at least, more thoroughly charming than she did at that instant. the exercise she had just gone through had given her a splendid colour, her eyes were bright and sparkling, her whole frame showed to perfection in the tight-fitting jacket; and as she came into the room and removed her hat, the knot of hair behind, loosened from the comb, fell over her shoulders in golden profusion. she wound it up at once with one hand, advancing with the other outstretched to her guest.
"sorry i'm late, simnel," said she; "but i had a pupil here, and business is business, as you know well enough. can't afford to throw away any chance, so i gave her her hour, and now she's off, and i am all the better by a guinea. i didn't stop to change my habit because i heard you were waiting, and i knew you wouldn't mind."
"you couldn't look more enchanting than you do now, kate," said simnel.
"yes, yes; i know," said kitty; "all right! but i thought you knew better than that. this is the wrong shop for flummery of that sort, as you ought to have learnt by this time. have some lunch?"
they sat down to the table, and during the meal talked on ordinary subjects; for the most part discussing their common acquaintance, but always carefully avoiding bringing beresford's name forward. when they had finished, kate said, "you want to smoke, of course. i think i shall have a puff myself. no, thank you; your weeds are too big for me; i've got some queens here that old sir john elle sent me after i broke that roan mare for his daughter. by george, what a brute that was! nearly killed me at first, she did; and now you might ride her with a pack-thread."
simnel did not reply. kate mellon curled herself up on an ottoman in the window with her habit tucked round her; lit a small cigar; and slowly expelling the smoke said, as the blue vapour curled round her head, "and now to business! you wanted to talk to me, you said; and i told you to come up to-day. what's it all about?"
"about yourself, kate. you know thoroughly well my feelings to you; you know how often i have--"
"hold on a minute!" said kate; "i know that you've been philandering and hanging on about me,--or would have been, if i'd have let you,--for this year past. i know that well enough; but i thought there was to be none of this. i thought i'd told you to drop that subject, and that you'd consented to drop it. i told you i wouldn't listen to you, and--"
"why would not you listen to me, kate?" said simnel earnestly.
"why? because--"
"don't trouble yourself to find an excuse; i'll tell you why," said simnel. "because you were desperately bent on a fruitless errand; because you were beating the wind and trying to check the storm; because you were in love,--i must speak plainly, kitty, in a matter like this,--in love with a man who did not return your feeling, and who even now is boasting of your passion, and laughing at you as its dupe!"
"what!" cried the girl, throwing away the cigar and starting to her feet.
"sit down, child," said simnel, gently laying his hand on her arm; "sit down, and hear me out. i know your pluck and spirit; and nothing grieves me more, or goes more against the grain with me, than to have to tell you this. but when i tell you that the man to whom you so attached yourself has spoken lightly and sneeringly of your infatuation; that amongst his friends he has laughingly talked of a scene which occurred on the last occasion of his visit to this house, when you suggested that he should marry you--"
"did he say that?" asked the girl, pushing her hair back from her face,--"did he say that?"
"that and more; laughed at the notion, and--"
"o my god!" shrieked kate mellon, throwing up her arms. "spare me! stop, for heaven's sake, and don't let me hear any more. did he say that of me? then they'll all know it, and when i meet them will grin and whisper as i know they do. haven't i heard them do it of others a thousand times? and now to think they'll have the pull of me. o good lord, good lord!" and she burst into tears and buried her face in her handkerchief. then suddenly rousing, she exclaimed: "what do you come and tell me this for, simnel? what business is it of yours? what's your motive in coming and smashing me up like this?"
"one, and one only," said simnel in a low voice. "i wanted to prevent your demeaning yourself by ever showing favour to a man who has treated you so basely. i wanted you to show your own pride and spirit by blotting this beresford from your thoughts. i wanted you to do this--whatever may be the result--because--i love you, kate!"
"that's it!" she cried suddenly--"that's it! you're telling me lies and long stories, and breaking my heart, and making me make a fool of myself, only that you may stand well with me and get me to like you! how do i know what you say is true? why should charley do this? why did charley refuse what i offered him? i meant it honestly enough, god knows. oh, why did he refuse it?" and again she burst into tears.
"oh, he did refuse it?" said simnel, quietly. "so far, then you see i am right; and you will find i am right throughout. i'll tell you why he acted as he did to you. because he's full of family pride, and because he never cared for you one rush. at this very moment he is desperately in love with a married woman, and is only awaiting her husband's death to make her his wife!"
"can you prove that?" asked kate eagerly.
"i can! you shall have ample opportunity of satisfying yourself--"
"does the husband suspect?"
"not in the least."
"that's right!" said the girl with sudden energy--"that'll do! only let me prove that, and i'll give him up for ever."
"if i do this for you, kitty, surely my love will be sufficiently proved. you will then--"
"yes, we'll talk of that afterwards. i'll see you next week, and you'll tell me more of this new love-affair of--of his! don't stop now. i'm all out of sorts. you've upset me. i wasn't in condition. i've been doing a little too much work lately. go now, there's a good fellow! good-by." then stopping suddenly--"you're sure you're not selling me, simnel?"
"i swear it!" said simnel.
"i wish to heaven you had been," said the poor girl; "but we'll see about the new business next week. i think we'll spoil that pretty game between us, eh? there, good-by." and she set her teeth tight, and rushed from the room.
"so fax so good," said mr. simnel, as he rode quietly home. "she's taken it almost a little too strongly. my plan now is to soften her and turn her to me. i think i have a card in my hand that will win that trick, and then--the game's my own!"
