“Bai Jove, Mrs Marter, it does a man good to see you,” said Max Bray1, sauntering one afternoon into the Marter drawing-room, carefully dressed, as a matter of course, and with a choice Covent-garden exotic in his button-hole. “I declare it makes one quite disgusted with the flowers one buys, it does, bai Jove!” and then showing his white teeth, he raised her hand, touched the extreme tips of her nails with his lips, and then resigned the hand, which fell gracefully2 upon the side of the couch. “Bai Jove, Marter, I envy you—I do, bai Jove! You’re one of the lucky ones of this earth, only you don’t know it: feast of reason, flow of soul, and all that sort of thing’s blooming, if I may say so, upon your own premises4.”
“I’m sure,” simpered Mrs Marter, “there ought to be a new official made at the palace—Court flatterer—and Mr Bray given the post.”
“Wouldn’t be amiss, if there was a good salary,” said Mr Marter, looking up from his newspaper.
“Bai Jove, now, that’s too bad—’tis indeed, bai Jove! There are some of you people get so hardened by contact with the world, that, bai Jove! you’ve no more faith in a fler’s sincerity5 than if there wasn’t such a thing to be found anywhere.”
“O! but,” simpered Mrs Marter, “do you think we can’t tell when you are sincere?”
“Bai Jove, no!” said Max earnestly, and with a wonderful deal of truth. “But look here: I’ve got tickets for Her Majesty’s to-night—three, you know—for La Figlia. You’ll go, of course, Marter?”
“Go to an opera!” said Mr Marter, with a shake of the head. “I never go to operas—I only go to sleep.”
“O, bai Jove! that’s too bad!” cried Max. “You’ve never been with us anywhere yet; and I do think you ought to go for once in a way.”
“No, I sha’n’t go!” said Mr Marter; “and besides, I have promised to dine out. Take Miss Bedford.”
“Bother Miss Bedford! Bai Jove, one can’t stir without your governess. I say, Marter, do go!”
“Can’t, I tell you; and, besides, I shouldn’t go, if I had no engagement,” said Mr Marter testily6. “You three can go if you like.”
Max Bray seemed rather put out by the refusal, and for a time it almost appeared as if he were about to throw the stall tickets behind the fire; but by degrees he cooled down, and after it had been decided7 that he was to call for the ladies about half-past seven, he rose to leave.
“But why not have an early dinner here?” said Mr Marter.
“No, bai Jove, no!” said Max. “I’m always here; and besides, I’ve some business to attend to. Till half-past seven, then—au revoir.”
Max kissed the tips of his gloves to Mrs Marter as he left the room; and soon after he was being driven to his chambers8, where he wrote a long letter to Laura, sent it by special messenger, and then sat impatiently waiting for an answer, gnawing9 his nails the while.
The reply came at last, very short and enigmatical, but it was sufficient to make him draw a long breath, as if of satisfaction, though the words were only—
“Yes! No more; for we are going out.”
Then Max Bray lit a cigar, and sat thinking over the events of the past few days, and of what he had done. He had been several times to the Marters’; he had run down, on the previous day, to Lexville; and a couple of days before that he had posted a letter, the reply to which he now anxiously awaited.
What time would it come? He kept referring to his watch, and then he went over and over again the arrangements for some project he evidently had in view, before sauntering off to his club and dining; when, to his great delight, upon his returning to dress for the evening’s engagement, he found a couple of letters awaiting him, one of which he tore open, and then threw into the fire with an impatient “Pish!” the other he took up and examined carefully, reading the several postmarks, and then, smiling as he glanced at the round legal writing, placed it unopened in his breast-pocket.
There was a strange exultant10 look in Max Bray’s eye as he drew on his white-kid gloves that evening, and started for the residence of Mrs Saint Clair Marter, where he found the ladies ready, and did not scruple11 to behave almost rudely to Ella as he prepared to take them down, hardly condescending12 to speak to her; but as the evening wore on, and they were seated in front of the orchestra, he condescended13 to make to her a few remarks, more than one of which drew forth14 a smile, from their satirical nature, as, evidently in a bitter spirit, he drew attention to the various eccentricities15 of dress in their neighbourhood.
Max Bray did not know, though, that within a few yards sat the man whom he had again and again maligned16; neither did Ella Bedford divine that a pair of blood-shot eyes were gazing upon her almost fiercely, as she turned from time to time to respond to the remarks of Max, who talked on, till, towards the end of the opera, he stood up to direct his opera-glass here and there, for indulgence in that graceful3, truly refined, nineteenth-century act, so much in vogue18 at the higher-class places of entertainment.
He had tried in three or four different directions; but, perhaps from being in a satirical mood, he did not see a single face to attract his attention, till, concluding with a grand sweep of the best tier, he suddenly stopped short, kept the glass tightly to his eyes, whisked round swiftly, and sat down; for the field of the glass had for the moment been filled by the figures of Mrs Bray and Sir Philip Vining.
“Bai Jove!” muttered Max to himself; and had Charley Vining and Laura been there all the evening, close behind him? They must have been, and be sitting now at the back of the private box. Bai Jove! what should he do? It was horrible to have gone so far—so near—and then to have all spoiled! What an ass17 he must have been! Laura had said that they were going out; but who would have thought that they were coming here?
Max sat rigidly19 still for the rest of the evening, encouraging Mrs Marter to stay through the ballet; and at last, cautiously peering round, he found, to his great satisfaction, that the private box occupied by the Brays20 was empty.
Ella had not seen who was so near, for she was calm and unmoved.
“Bai Jove, what an escape!” thought Max; and a cold chill ran through him—one that would have been more icy, had he known how close they had been to a rencontre. But there was still another peril—Charley Vining might be waiting yet, and she would see him!
They reached the fly, however, uninterrupted, and Max Bray’s spirits rose; but, though he stayed to a late meal—half-tea, half-supper—at Crescent Villas21, he was more distant than ever in his behaviour to Ella—so distant, indeed, that Mrs Marter was half-disposed to ask him if Miss Bedford had given him any offence.
It was past one when Max departed; and, hardly knowing why, Ella went to her bed that night tearful and sad, little thinking that it was a pillow she would never again press.
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1
bray
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| n.驴叫声, 喇叭声；v.驴叫 | |
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2
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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3
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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4
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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5
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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6
testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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7
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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8
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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9
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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10
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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11
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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12
condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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13
condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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14
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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15
eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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16
maligned
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| vt.污蔑，诽谤（malign的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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17
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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18
Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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19
rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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20
brays
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| n.驴叫声，似驴叫的声音( bray的名词复数 )；（喇叭的）嘟嘟声v.发出驴叫似的声音( bray的第三人称单数 )；发嘟嘟声；粗声粗气地讲话（或大笑）；猛击 | |
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21
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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