Cashel Byron's Profession Part 18

"Because I would make it closer and more permanent. I do not wish to alter it otherwise."

"You would run some risk of simply destroying it by the method you propose," said Lydia, with composure. "We could not co-operate. There are differences of opinion between us amounting to differences of principle."

"Surely you are not serious. Your political opinions, or notions, are not represented by any party in England; and therefore they are practically ineffective, and could not clash with mine. And such differences are not personal matters."

"Such a party might be formed a week after our marriage--will, I think, be formed a long time before our deaths. In that case I fear that our difference of opinion would become a very personal matter."

He began to walk more quickly as he replied, "It is too absurd to set up what you call your opinions as a serious barrier between us. You have no opinions, Lydia. The impracticable crotchets you are fond of airing are not recognized in England as sane political convictions."

Lydia did not retort. She waited a minute in pensive silence, and then said,

"Why do you not marry Alice Goff?"

"Oh, hang Alice Goff!"

"It is so easy to come at the man beneath the veneer by expertly chipping at his feelings," said Lydia, laughing. "But I was serious, Lucian. Alice is energetic, ambitious, and stubbornly upright in questions of principle. I believe she would a.s.sist you steadily at every step of your career. Besides, she has physical robustness. Our student-stock needs an infusion of that."

"Many thanks for the suggestion; but I do not happen to want to marry Miss Goff."

"I invite you to consider it. You have not had time yet to form any new plans."

"New plans! Then you absolutely refuse me--without a moment's consideration?"

"Absolutely, Lucian. Does not your instinct warn you that it would be a mistake for you to marry me?"

"No; I cannot say that it does."

"Then trust to mine, which gives forth no uncertain note on this question, as your favorite newspapers are fond of saying."

"It is a question of feeling," he said, in a constrained voice.

"Is it?" she replied, with interest. "You have surprised me somewhat, Lucian. I have never observed any of the extravagances of a lover in your conduct."

"And you have surprised me very unpleasantly, Lydia. I do not think now that I ever had much hope of success; but I thought, at least, that my disillusion would be gently accomplished."

"What! Have I been harsh?"

"I do not complain."

"I was unlucky, Lucian; not malicious. Besides, the artifices by which friends endeavor to spare one another's feelings are pretty disloyalties. I am frank with you. Would you have me otherwise?"

"Of course not. I have no right to be offended."

"Not the least. Now add to that formal admission a sincere a.s.surance that you ARE not offended."

"I a.s.sure you I am not," said Lucian, with melancholy resignation.

They had by this time reached Charlotte Street, and Lydia tacitly concluded the conference by turning towards the museum, and beginning to talk upon indifferent subjects. At the corner of Russell Street he got into a cab and drove away, dejectedly acknowledging a smile and wave of the hand with which Lydia tried to console him. She then went to the national library, where she forgot Lucian. The effect of the shock of his proposal was in store for her, but as yet she did not feel it; and she worked steadily until the library was closed and she had to leave.

As she had been sitting for some hours, and it was still light, she did not take a cab, and did not even walk straight home. She had heard of a bookseller in Soho who had for sale a certain scarce volume which she wanted; and it occurred to her that the present was a good opportunity to go in search of him. Now, there was hardly a capital in western Europe that she did not know better than London. She had an impression that Soho was a region of quiet streets and squares, like Bloomsbury.

Her mistake soon became apparent; but she felt no uneasiness in the narrow thoroughfares, for she was free from the common prejudice of her cla.s.s that poor people are necessarily ferocious, though she often wondered why they were not so. She got as far as Great Pulteney Street in safety; but in leaving it she took a wrong turning and lost herself in a labyrinth of courts where a few workmen, a great many workmen's wives and mothers, and innumerable workmen's children were pa.s.sing the summer evening at gossip and play. She explained her predicament to one of the women, who sent a little boy wilh her to guide her. Business being over for the day, the street to which the boy led her was almost deserted. The only shop that seemed to be thriving was a public-house, outside which a few roughs were tossing for pence.

Lydia's guide, having pointed out her way to her, prepared to return to his playmates. She thanked him, and gave him the smallest coin in her purse, which happened to be a s.h.i.+lling. He, in a transport at possessing what was to him a fortune, uttered a piercing yell, and darted off to show the coin to a covey of small ragam.u.f.fins who had just raced into view round the corner at which the public-house stood. In his haste he dashed against one of the group outside, a powerfully built young man, who turned and cursed him. The boy retorted pa.s.sionately, and then, overcome by pain, began to cry. When Lydia came up the child stood whimpering directly in her path; and she, pitying him, patted him on the head and reminded him of all the money he had to spend. He seemed comforted, and sc.r.a.ped his eyes with his knuckles in silence; but the man, who, having received a sharp kick on the ankle, was stung by Lydia's injustice in according to the aggressor the sympathy due to himself, walked threateningly up to her and demanded, with a startling oath, whether HE had offered to do anything to the boy. And, as he refrained from applying any epithet to her, he honestly believed that in deference to Lydia's s.e.x and personal charms, he had expressed himself with studied moderation. She, not appreciating his forbearance, recoiled, and stepped into the roadway in order to pa.s.s him. Indignant at this attempt to ignore him, he again placed himself in her path, and was repeating his question with increased sternness, when a jerk in the pit of his stomach caused him a severe internal qualm, besides disturbing his equilibrium so rudely that he narrowly escaped a fall against the curb-stone. When he recovered himself he saw before him a showily dressed young man, who accosted him thus:

"Is that the way to talk to a lady, eh? Isn't the street wide enough for two? Where's your manners?"

"And who are you; and where are you shoving your elbow to?" said the man, with a surpa.s.sing imprecation.

"Come, come," said Cashel Byron, admonitorily. "You'd better keep your mouth clean if you wish to keep your teeth inside it. Never you mind who I am."

Lydia, foreseeing an altercation, and alarmed by the threatening aspect of the man, attempted to hurry away and send a policeman to Cashel's a.s.sistance. But, on turning, she discovered that a crowd had already gathered, and that she was in the novel position of a spectator in the inner ring at what promised to be a street fight. Her attention was recalled to the disputants by a violent demonstration on the part of her late a.s.sailant. Cashel seemed alarmed; for he hastily retreated a step without regard to the toes of those behind him, and exclaimed, waving the other off with his open hand,

"Now, you just let me alone. I don't want to have anything to say to you. Go away from me, I tell you."

"You don't want to have nothink to say to me! Oh! And for why? Because you ain't man enough; that's why. Wot do you mean by coming and shoving your elbow into a man's bread-basket for, and then wanting to sneak off?

Did you think I'd 'a' bin frightened of your velvet coat?"

"Very well," said Cashel, pacifically; "we'll say that I'm not man enough for you. So that's settled. Are you satisfied?"

But the other, greatly emboldened, declared with many oaths that he would have Cashel's heart out, and also that of Lydia, to whom he alluded in coa.r.s.e terms. The crowd cheered, and called upon him to "go it." Cashel then said, sullenly,

"Very well. But don't you try to make out afterwards that I forced a quarrel on you. And now," he added, with a grim change of tone that made Lydia shudder, and s.h.i.+fted her fears to the account of his antagonist, "I'll make you wish you'd bit your tongue out before you said what you did a moment ago. So, take care of yourself."

"Oh, I'll take care of myself," said the man, defiantly. "Put up your hands."

Cashel surveyed his antagonist's att.i.tude with unmistakable disparagement. "You will know when my hands are up by the feel of the pavement," he said, at last. "Better keep your coat on. You'll fall softer."

The rough expressed his repudiation of this counsel by beginning to strip energetically. A thrill of delight pa.s.sed through the crowd. Those who had bad places pressed forward, and those who formed the inner ring pressed back to make room for the combatants. Lydia, who occupied a coveted position close to Cashel, hoped to be hustled out of the throng; for she was beginning to feel faint and ill. But a handsome butcher, who had made his way to her side, gallantly swore that she should not be deprived of her place in the front row, and bade her not be frightened, a.s.suring her that he would protect her, and that the fight would be well worth seeing. As he spoke, the ma.s.s of faces before Lydia seemed to give a sudden lurch. To save herself from falling, she slipped her arm through the butcher's; and he, much gratified, tucked her close to him, and held her up effectually. His support was welcome, because it was needed.

Meanwhile, Cashel stood motionless, watching with unrelenting contempt the movements of his adversary, who rolled up his discolored s.h.i.+rt-sleeves amid encouraging cries of "Go it, Teddy," "Give it 'im, Ted," and other more precise suggestions. But Teddy's spirit was chilled; he advanced with a presentiment that he was courting destruction. He dared not rush on his foe, whose eye seemed to discern his impotence. When at last he ventured to strike, the blow fell short, as Cashel evidently knew it would; for he did not stir. There was a laugh and a murmur of impatience in the crowd.

"Are you waiting for the copper to come and separate you?" shouted the butcher. "Come out of your corner and get to work, can't you?"

This reminder that the police might balk him of his prey seemed to move Cashel. He took a step forward. The excitement of the crowd rose to a climax; and a little man near Lydia cut a frenzied caper and screamed, "Go it, Cashel Byron."

At these words Teddy was terror-stricken. He made no attempt to disguise his condition. "It ain't fair," he exclaimed, retreating as far as the crowd would permit him. "I give in. Cut it, master; you're too clever for me." But his comrades, with a pitiless jeer, pushed him towards Cashel, who advanced remorselessly. Teddy dropped on both knees.

"Wot can a man say more than that he's had enough?" he pleaded. "Be a Englishman, master; and don't hit a man when he's down."

"Down!" said Cashel. "How long will you stay down if I choose to have you up?" And, suiting the action to the word, he seized Teddy with his left hand, lifted him to his feet, threw him into a helpless position across his knee, and poised his right fist like a hammer over his upturned face. "Now," he said, "you're not down. What have you to say for yourself before I knock your face down your throat?"

"Don't do it, gov'nor," gasped Teddy. "I didn't mean no harm. How was I to know that the young lady was a pal o' yourn?" Here he struggled a little; and his face a.s.sumed a darker hue. "Let go, master," he cried, almost inarticulately. "You're ch--choking me."

"Pray let him go," said Lydia, disengaging herself from the butcher and catching Cashel's arm.

Cashel, with a start, relaxed his grasp; and Teddy rolled on the ground.

He went away thrusting his hands iuto his sleeves, and out-facing his disgrace by a callous grin. Cashel, without speaking, offered Lydia his arm; and she, seeing that her best course was to get away from that place with as few words as possible, accepted it, and then turned and thanked the butcher, who blushed and became speechless. The little man whose exclamation had interrupted the combat, now waved his hat, and cried,

"The British Lion forever! Three cheers for Cashel Byron."