A Woman-Hater Part 12

Severne got impatient. "Why, what is it to a rich fellow like you? If I had twelve thousand acres in a ring fence, no friend would ask me twice for such a trifling sum."

Vizard, for the first time, wore a supercilious smile at being so misunderstood, and did not deign a reply.

Severne went on mistaking his man: "I can give you bills for the money, and for the three hundred you did lend me."

Vizard did not receive this as expected. "Bills?" said he, gravely.

"What, do you do that sort of thing as well?"

"Why not, pray? So long as I'm the holder, not the drawer, nor the acceptor. Besides, they are not accommodation bills, but good commercial paper."

"You are a merchant, then; are you?"

"Yes; in a small way. If you will allow me, I will explain."

He did so; and, to save comments, yet enable the reader to appreciate his explanation, the true part of it is printed in italics, the mendacious portion in ordinary type.

_"My estate in Huntingdons.h.i.+re is not very large; and there are mortgages on it,_ for the benefit of other members of my family. I was always desirous to pay off these mortgages; and took the best advice I could. _I have got an uncle:_ he lives in the city. He put me on to a good thing. I bought a share in a trading vessel; she makes short trips, and turns her cargo often. She will take out paper to America, and bring back raw cotton: she will land that at Liverpool, and s.h.i.+p English hardware and cotton fabrics for the Mediterranean and Greece, and bring back currants from Zante and lemons from Portugal. She goes for the nimble s.h.i.+lling.

Well, you know s.h.i.+ps wear out: _and if you varnish them rotten, and insure them high, and they go to glory, Mr. Plimsoll is down on you like a hammer._ So, when she had paid my purchase-money three times over, some fellows in the city made an offer for _The Rover_--that was her name. My share came to twelve hundred, and my uncle said I was to take it. _Now I always feel bound by what he decides._ They gave me four bills, for four hundred, three hundred, three hundred, and two hundred. The four hundred was paid at maturity. _The others are not due yet._ I have only to send them to London, and I can get the money back by Thursday: but you want me to start on Tuesday."

"That is enough," said Vizard, wearily, "I will be your banker, and--"

"You are a good fellow!" said Severne warmly.

"No, no; I am a weak fellow, and an injudicious one. But it is the old story: when a friend asks you what he thinks a favor, the right thing is to grant it at once. He doesn't want your advice; he wants the one thing he asks for. There, get me the bills, and I'll draw a check on Muller: Herries advised him by Sat.u.r.day's post; so we can draw on Monday."

"All right, old man," said Severne, and went away briskly for the bills.

When he got from the balcony into the room, his steps flagged a little; it struck him that ink takes time to dry, and more time to darken.

As _The Rover,_ with her nimble cargoes, was first cousin to _The Flying Dutchman,_ with his crew of ghosts, so the bills received by Severne, as purchase-money for his s.h.i.+p, necessarily partook of that s.h.i.+p's aerial character. Indeed they existed, as the schoolmen used to say, in _posse,_ but not in _esse._ To be less pedantic and more exact, they existed as slips of blank paper, with a Government stamp. To give them a mercantile character for a time--viz., until presented for payment--they must be drawn by an imaginary s.h.i.+p-owner or a visionary merchant, and indorsed by at least one shadow, and a man of straw.

The man of straw sat down to inscribe self and shadows, and became a dishonest writer of fiction; for the art he now commenced appears to fall short of forgery proper, but to be still more distinct from justifiable fiction. The ingenious Mr. De Foe's certificate by an aeial justice of the peace to the truth of his ghostly narrative comes nearest to it, in my poor reading.

Qualms he had, but not deep. If the bills were drawn by Imagination, accepted by Fancy, and indorsed by Impudence, what did it matter to Ned Straw, since his system would enable him to redeem them at maturity? His only real concern was to conceal their recent origin. So he wrote them with a broad-nibbed pen, that they might be the blacker, and set them to dry in the sun.

He then proceeded to a change of toilet.

While thus employed, there was a sharp tap at his door and Vizard's voice outside. Severne started with terror, snapped up the three bills with the dexterity of a conjurer--the handle turned--he shoved them into a drawer--Vizard came in--he shut the drawer, and panted.

Vizard had followed the custom of Oxonians among themselves, which is to knock, and then come in, unless forbidden.

"Come," said he, cheerfully, "those bills. I'm in a hurry to cash them now, and end the only difference we have ever had, old fellow."

The blood left Severne's cheek and lips for a moment, and he thought swiftly and hard. The blood returned, along with his ready wit. "How good you are!" said he; "but no. It is Sunday."

"Sunday!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Vizard. "What is that to you, a fellow who has been years abroad?"

"I can't help it," said Severne, apologetically. "I am superst.i.tious--don't like to do business on a Sunday. I would not even shunt at the tables on a Sunday--I don't think."

"Ah, you are not quite sure of that. There _is_ a limit to your superst.i.tion! Well, will you listen to a story on a Sunday?"

"Rather!"

"Then, once on a time there was a Scotch farmer who had a bonny cow; and another farmer coveted her honestly. One Sunday they went home together from kirk and there was the cow grazing. Farmer Two stopped, eyed her, and said to Farmer One, 'Gien it were Monday, as it is the Sabba' day, what would ye tak' for your coow?' The other said the price would be nine pounds, _if it were Monday._ And so they kept the Sabbath; and the cow changed hands, though, to the naked eye, she grazed on _in situ._ Our negotiation is just as complete. So what does it matter whether the actual exchange of bills and cash takes place to-day or to-morrow?"

"Do you really mean to say it does not matter to you?" asked Severne.

"Not one straw."

"Then, as it does not matter to you, and does to me, give me my foolish way, like a dear good fellow."

"Now, that is smart," said Vizard--"very smart;" then, with a look of parental admiration, "he gets his own way in everything. He _will_ have your money--he _won't_ have your money. I wonder whether he _will_ consent to walk those girls out, and disburden me of their too profitable discourse."

"That I will, with pleasure."

"Well, they are at luncheon--with their bonnets on."

"I will join them in five minutes."

After luncheon, Miss Vizard, Miss Dover, and Mr. Severne started for a stroll.

Miss Maitland suggested that Vizard should accompany them.

"Couldn't think of deserting you," said he dryly.

The young ladies giggled, because these two rarely opened their mouths to agree, one being a professed woman-hater, and the other a man-hater, in words.

Says Misander, in a sourish way, "Since you value my conversation so, perhaps you will be good enough not to smoke for the next ten minutes."

Misogyn consented, but sighed. That sigh went unpitied, and the lady wasted no time.

"Do you see what is going on between your sister and that young man?"

"Yes; a little flirtation."

"A great deal more than that. I caught them, in this very room, making love."

"You alarm me," said Vizard, with marked tranquillity.

"I saw him--kiss--her--hand."

"You relieve me," said Vizard, as calmly as he had been alarmed. "There's no harm in that. I've kissed the queen's hand, and the nation did not rise upon me. However, I object to it. The superior s.e.x should not play the spaniel. I will tell him to drop that. But, permit me to say, all this is in your department, not mine.

"But what can I do against three of them, unless you support me? There you have let them go out together."

"Together with f.a.n.n.y Dover, you mean?"

"Yes; and if f.a.n.n.y had any designs on him, Zoe would be safe--"