The Child Wife

If he could only coax Julia Girdwood into his cabriolet – of course also her mother to permit it – what an advantage it would give, him! An exhibition of his skill; the opportunity of a tête-à-tête unrestrained – a chance he had not yet had; these, with other contingencies, might tend to advance him in her estimation.

It was a delicate proposal to make. It would have been a daring one, but for the speech he had heard suggesting it. On the strength of this he could introduce the subject, without fear of offending.

She might go. He knew she was a young lady fond of peculiar experiences, and not afraid of social criticism. She had never submitted to its tyranny. In this she was truly American.

He believed she would go, or consent to it; and it would be simply a question of permission from the mother.

And after their last friendly interview, he believed that Mrs Girdwood would give it.

Backed by such belief there could be no harm in trying; and for this the cabriolet had been chartered.

Buoyant of hope, Mr Swinton sprang out of the vehicle, tossed the reins to his tiger, and stepped over the threshold of the Clarendon.

Chapter Seventy.

A Skilful Driver

“Mrs Girdwood at home?” he asked, addressing himself to the janitor of the hotel.

“I’ll see, sir,” answered the man, making him an obsequious bow, and hurrying away to the office.

The hall-keeper remembered the gent, who carried such good cigars, and was so liberal with them. He had been pleased with his appearance then. He liked it better now in a new coat, unquestionably a Poole, with pants, boots, and tile to correspond. Besides, he had glanced through the glass-door, and seen the cabriolet with its top-booted tiger. To the owners of such he was instinctively polite; but more so to Mr Swinton, remembering his choice cigars.

The ex-guardsman waited for his return with some anxiety. The cabriolet, tiger included, had cost him a “sov.” It would be awkward, if the twenty shillings had been laid out in vain.

He was relieved at the return of the Clarendon Cerberus.

“Mrs Girdwood and fambly are in, sir. Shall I send up your card?”

“Please do.”

And Swinton, drawing out the bit of pasteboard, handed it over to the official.

A servant more active upon his limbs carried it upstairs.

“Nice lady, sir, Mrs Girdwood?” remarked the hall-keeper, by way of “laying pipe” for a perquisite. “Nice fambly all on ’em; ’specially that young lady.”

“Which of them?” asked Swinton, thinking it no harm to strengthen his friendship with the official. “There are two.”

“Well, both on ’em for that matter, sir. They be both wonderful nice creeturs.”

“Ah! true. But you’ve expressed a preference. Now which may I ask, is the one you refer to as specially nice?”

The janitor was puzzled. He did not know which it would be most agreeable to the gentleman to hear praised.

A compromise suggested itself.

“Well, sir; the fair un’s a remarkable nice young lady. She’s got sich a sweet temper, an’s dreadfully good-lookin’, too. But, sir, if it come to a question of beauty, I shed say – in course I ain’t much of a judge – but I shed say the dark ’un’s a splendiferous creetur!”

The janitor’s verdict left his judgment still somewhat obscure. But Mr Swinton had no time to reflect upon it Mrs Girdwood not caring for expense, occupied a suite of apartments on the first floor; and the messenger soon returned.

He brought the pleasing intelligence, that the gentleman was to be “shown up.”

There was an empressement in the servant’s manner, that told the visitor he would be made welcome.

And he was; Mrs Girdwood springing up from her seat, and rushing to the door to receive him.

“My lord! Mr Swinton, I beg your pardon. A whole week, and you’ve not been near us! We were all wondering what had become of you. The girls here, had begun to think – shall I say it, girls?”

Both Julia and Cornelia looked a little perplexed. Neither was aware of what she had “begun to think” about the absence of Mr Swinton.

“Aw – do tell me, by all means!” urged he, appealing to Mrs Girdwood. “I’m vewy much intewested to know. It’s so kind of the young ladies to think of me at all – a paw fawlorn bachelor!”

“I shall tell you then, Mr Swinton, if you promise not to be offended!”

“Offended! Impawsible?”

“Well, then,” continued the widow, without thinking more of the permission asked of “her girls,” “we thought that some terrible affair had happened. Excuse me for calling it terrible. It would only be so to your numerous lady friends.”

“What, pway?”

“That you’d been getting married!”

“Mawied! To whom?”

“Oh, sir; you need scarcely ask. Of course to the Honourable and very beautiful Miss Courtney.”

Swinton smiled. It was a smile somewhat resembling a grin. A terrible affair had happened to him; but not quite so bad as being married to the Honourable Geraldine Courtney – otherwise Kate the coper!

“Aw, ladies!” he replied in a self-deprecating tone, “you do me too much honaw. I am far from being a favowite with the lady in question. We are no gweat fwiends, I ashaw you.”

The assurance seemed gratifying to Mrs Girdwood and a little to Julia. Cornelia did not appear to care for it, one way or the other.

“Fact is,” continued Swinton, following up the advantage gained by the incidental allusion to the Honourable Geraldine, “I’ve just this moment come from qua’lling with her. She wished me to take her out faw a dwive. I wefused.”

“Refused!” exclaimed Mrs Girdwood, in surprise. “Oh! Mr Swinton! Refused such a beautiful lady. So accomplished too! How could you?”

“Well, madam, as I’ve told you, Miss Courtney and I are not bwother and sister. Besides, I dwove her out yesterday, and that should pwead my excuse. To-day I ordered my horse – my best one – just faw a special purpose. I hope I shall not be disappointed?”

“What purpose?” inquired Mrs Girdwood, her visitor’s remark having suggested the question. “Excuse me, sir, for asking.”

“I hope, madam, yaw will excuse me for telling yaw. In a conversation that occurred some days ago, yaw daughter expressed a wish to take a wide in one of our English cabwiolets. Am I wight, Miss Girdwood?”

“True,” assented Julia, “I did. I have a curiosity to be driven behind one of those high-stepping steeds!”

“If yaw will do me the fayvaw to look out of this window, I think yaw will see one that answers the descwiption.”

Julia glided up to the window; her mother going along with her. Miss Inskip did not stir from her seat.