Henrietta Temple: A Love Story
Armine was ushered up a noble staircase, and into a saloon that once
was splendid. The ceiling was richly carved, and there still might be
detected the remains of its once gorgeous embellishment in the faint
forms of faded deities and the traces of murky gilding. The walls of
this apartment were crowded with pictures, arranged, however, with
little regard to taste, effect, or style. A sprawling copy of Titian’s
Venus flanked a somewhat prim peeress by Hoppner; a landscape that
smacked of Gainsborough was the companion of a dauby moonlight, that
must have figured in the last exhibition; and insipid Roman matrons by
Hamilton, and stiff English heroes by Northcote, contrasted with a vast
quantity of second-rate delineations of the orgies of Dutch boors and
portraits of favourite racers and fancy dogs. The room was crowded with
ugly furniture of all kinds, very solid, and chiefly of mahogany; among
which were not less than three escritoires, to say nothing of the huge
horsehair sofas. A sideboard of Babylonian proportions was crowned
by three massive and enormous silver salvers, and immense branch
candlesticks of the same precious metal, and a china punch-bowl which
might have suited the dwarf in Brobdignag. The floor was covered with
a faded Turkey carpet. But amid all this solid splendour there were
certain intimations of feminine elegance in the veil of finely-cut
pink paper which covered the nakedness of the empty but highly-polished
fire-place, and in the hand-screens, which were profusely ornamented
with ribbon of the same hue, and one of which afforded a most accurate
if not picturesque view of Margate, while the other glowed with a huge
wreath of cabbage-roses and jonquils.
Ferdinand was not long alone, and Mr. Levison, the proprietor of all
this splendour, entered. He was a short, stout man, with a grave
but handsome countenance, a little bald, but nevertheless with an
elaborateness of raiment which might better have become a younger man.
He wore a plum-colored frock coat of the finest cloth; his green velvet
waistcoat was guarded by a gold chain, which would have been the envy
of a new town council; an immense opal gleamed on the breast of his
embroidered shirt; and his fingers were covered with very fine rings.
‘Your sarvant, Captin,’ said Mr. Levison, and he placed a chair for his
guest.
‘How are you, Levison?’ responded our hero in an easy voice. ‘Any news?’
Mr. Levison shrugged his shoulders, as he murmured, ‘Times is very bad,
Captin.’
‘Oh! I dare say,’ said Ferdinand; ‘I wish they were as well with me as
with you. By Jove, Levison, you must be making an immense fortune.’
Mr. Levison shook his head, as he groaned out, ‘I work hard, Captin; but
times is terrible.’
‘Fiddlededee! Come! I want you to assist me a little, old fellow. No
humbug between us.’
‘Oh!’ groaned Mr. Levison, ‘you could not come at a worse time; I don’t
know what money is.’
‘Of course. However, the fact is, money I must have; and so, old fellow,
we are old friends, and you must get it.’
‘What do you want, Captin?’ slowly spoke Mr. Levison, with an expression
of misery.
‘Oh! I want rather a tolerable sum, and that is the truth; but I only
want it for a moment.’
‘It is not the time, ‘tis the money,’ said Mr. Levison. ‘You know me and
my pardner, Captin, are always anxious to do what we can to sarve you.’
‘Well, now you can do me a real service, and, by Jove, you shall never
repent it. To the point; I must have 1,500L.’
‘One thousand five hundred pounds!’ exclaimed Mr. Levison. ‘’Tayn’t in
the country.’
‘Humbug! It must be found. What is the use of all this stuff with me? I
want 1,500L., and you must give it me.’
‘I tell you what it is, Captin,’ said Mr. Levison, leaning over the back
of a chair, and speaking with callous composure; ‘I tell you what it is,
me and my pardner are very willing always to assist you; but we want to
know when the marriage is to come off, and that’s the truth.’
‘Damn the marriage,’ said Captain Armine, rather staggered.
‘There it is, though,’ said Mr. Levison, very quietly. ‘You know,
Captin, there is the arrears on that ‘ere annuity, three years next
Michaelmas. I think it’s Michaelmas; let me see.’ So saying, Mr. Levison
opened an escritoire, and brought forward an awful-looking volume, and,
consulting the terrible index, turned to the fatal name of Armine. ‘Yes!
three years next Michaelmas, Captin.’
‘Well, you will be paid,’ said Ferdinand.
‘We hope so,’ said Mr. Levison; ‘but it is a long figure.’
‘Well, but you get capital interest?’
‘Pish!’ said Mr. Levison; ‘ten per cent.! Why! it is giving away the
money. Why! that’s the raw, Captin. With this here new bill annuities is
nothink. Me and my pardner don’t do no annuities now. It’s giving money
away; and all this here money locked up; and all to sarve you.’
‘Well; you will not help me,’ said Ferdinand, rising.
‘Do you raly want fifteen hundred?’ asked Mr. Levison.
‘By Jove, I do.’
‘Well now, Captin, when is this marriage to come off?’
‘Have I not told you a thousand times, and Morris too, that my cousin is
not to marry until one year has passed since my grandfather’s death? It
is barely a year. But of course, at this moment, of all others, I cannot
afford to be short.’
‘Very true, Captin; and we are the men to sarve you, if we could. But we
cannot. Never was such times for money; there is no seeing it. However,
we will do what we can. Things is going very bad at Malta, and that’s
the truth. There’s that young Catchimwhocan, we are in with him wery
deep; and now he has left the Fusiliers and got into Parliament, he
don’t care this for us. If he would only pay us, you should have the
money; so help me, you should.’
‘But he won’t pay you,’ said Ferdinand. ‘What can you do?’
‘Why, I have a friend,’ said Mr. Levison, ‘who I know has got three
hundred pound at his bankers, and he might lend it us; but we shall have
to pay for it.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Ferdinand. ‘Well, three hundred.’
‘I have not got a shilling myself,’ said Mr. Levison. ‘Young Touchemup
left us in the lurch yesterday for 750L., so help me, and never gave
us no notice. Now, you are a gentleman, Captin; you never pay, but you
always give us notice.’
Ferdinand could not help smiling at Mr. Levison’s idea of a gentleman.
‘Well, what else can you do?’
‘Why, there is two hundred coming in to-morrow,’ said Mr. Levison; ‘I
can depend on that.’
‘Well, that is five.’
‘And you want fifteen hundred,’ said Mr. Levison. ‘Well, me and my
pardner always like to sarve you, and it is very awkward certainly for
you to want money at this moment. But if you want to buy jewels, I can
get you any credit you like, you know.’
‘We will talk of that by and by,’ said Ferdinand.
‘Fifteen hundred pound!’ ejaculated Mr. Levison. ‘Well, I suppose we
must make it 700L. somehow or other, and you must take the rest in
coals.’
‘Oh, by Jove, Levison, that is too bad.’
‘I don’t see no other way,’ said Mr. Levison, rather doggedly.
‘But, damn it, my good fellow, my dear Levison, what the deuce am I to
do with 800L. worth of coals?’
‘Lord! My dear Captin, 800L. worth of coals is a mere nothink. With your
connection, you will get rid of them in a morning. All you have got to
do, you know, is to give your friends an order on us, and we will let
you have cash at a little discount.’
‘Then you can let me have the cash now at a little discount, or even a
great; I cannot get rid of 800L. worth of coals.’
‘Why, ‘tayn’t four hundred chaldron, Captin,’ rejoined Mr. Levison.
‘Three or four friends would do the thing. Why, Baron Squash takes ten
thousand chaldron of us every year; but he has such a knack, he gits the
Clubs to take them.’
‘Baron Squash, indeed! Do you know whom you are talking to, Mr. Levison?
Do you think that I am going to turn into a coal merchant? your
working partner, by Jove! No, sir; give me the 700L., without the coals,
and charge what interest you please.’ ‘We could not do it, Captin.
‘Tayn’t our way.’ ‘I ask you once more, Mr. Levison, will you let me
have the money, or will you not?’
‘Now, Captin, don’t be so high and mighty! ‘Tayn’t the way to do
business. Me and my pardner wish to sarve you; we does indeed. And if
a hundred pound will be of any use to you, you shall have it on your
acceptance; and we won’t be curious about any name that draws; we won’t
indeed.’
‘Well, Mr. Levison,’ said Ferdinand, rising, ‘I see we can do nothing
to-day. The hundred pounds would be of no use to me. I will think over
your proposition. Good morning to you.’
‘Ah, do!’ said Mr. Levison, bowing and opening the door, ‘do, Captin; we
wish to sarve you, we does indeed. See how we behave about that arrears.
Think of the coals; now do. Now for a bargin; come! Come, Captin, I dare
say now you could get us the business of the Junior Sarvice Club; and
then you shall have the seven hundred on your acceptance for three
months, at two shillings in the pound; come!’
CHAPTER XI.
_In Which Captain Armine Unexpectedly Resumes His
Acquaintance with Lord Catchimwhocan, Who Introduces Him
to Mr. Bond Sharpe_.
FERDINAND quitted his kind friend Mr. Levison in no very amiable mood;
but just as he was leaving the house, a cabriolet, beautifully painted,
of a brilliant green colour picked out with a somewhat cream-coloured
white, and drawn by a showy Holstein horse of tawny tint, with a flowing
and milk-white tail and mane, and caparisoned in harness almost as
precious as Mr. Levison’s sideboard, dashed up to the door.
‘Armine, by Jove!’ exclaimed the driver, with great cordiality.
‘Ah! Catch, is it you?’ said Ferdinand. ‘What! have you been here?’
said Lord Catchimwhocan. ‘At the old work, eh? Is “me and my pardner”
troublesome? for your countenance is not very radiant.’
‘By Jove, old fellow!’ said Ferdinand, in a depressed tone, ‘I am in a
scrape, and also in a rage. Nothing is to be done here.’
‘Never mind,’ said his lordship; ‘keep up your spirits, jump into my
cab, and we will see how we can carry on the war. I am only going to
speak one word to “me and my pardner.”’
So saying, his lordship skipped into the house as gay as a lark,
although he had a bill for a good round sum about to be dishonoured in
the course of a few hours.
‘Well, my dear Armine,’ he resumed, when he reappeared and took the
reins; ‘now as I drive along, tell me all about it; for if there be a
man in the world whom I should like to “sarve,” it is thyself, my noble
Ferdinand.’
With this encouragement, Captain Armine was not long in pouring his
cares into a congenial bosom.
‘I know the man to “sarve” you,’ said Catchimwhocan.
‘The fact is, these fellows here are regular old-fashioned humbugs. The
only idea they have is money, money. They have no enlightened notions.
I will introduce you to a regular trump; and if he does not do our
business, I am much mistaken. Courage, old fellow! How do you like this
start?’
‘Deuced neat. By-the-bye, Catch, my boy, you are going it rather, I
see.’
‘To be sure. I have always told you there is a certain system in affairs
which ever prevents men being floored. No fellow is ever dished who has
any connection. What man that ever had his run was really ever fairly
put _hors de combat_, unless he was some one who ought never to have
entered the arena, blazing away without any set, making himself a damned
fool and everybody his enemy. So long as a man bustles about and is in a
good set, something always turns up. I got into Parliament, you see; and
you, you are going to be married.’
All this time the cabriolet was dashing down Regent-street, twisting
through the Quadrant, whirling along Pall Mall, until it finally entered