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Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling Stone

Volume Three – Chapter Twenty Four.
Old Acquaintances

One day, while riding inside a “bus” along the Strand, and gazing out through the slides, I amused myself by looking at the “fares” seated upon the “knife-board,” or rather their images, reflected in the plate-glass windows of the shops in front of which we were passing.

While thus engaged, my attention became more especially fixed upon one of my fellow passengers so reflected; and, on continuing my second-hand scrutiny, I became convinced that an old acquaintance was directly over my head. I requested the conductor to stop the “bus,” and, upon his doing so, I got out, and climbed to the top of it. On raising my eyes to a level with the roof, I saw that I had not been mistaken. Cannon, whom I had last seen in Melbourne, was one of the row of individuals that occupied the knife-board.

We got off the “bus” at Charing Cross, stepped into Morley’s Hotel, and ordered “dinner for two.”

“Cannon,” said I, “how came you to be here? I left you in Melbourne, without any money. How did you get a passage home?”

“Well,” replied Cannon, with a peculiar grin, “it’s easily explained. My well-wishing friends here sent me a little money, which came to hand, shortly after I saw you. I knew why they did it. They were afraid, that I might get hard up out there, and, someway or other find my way home. They weren’t so cunning as they thought themselves. On receiving their cheque, I did with it, just what they didn’t intend I should do. I paid my passage home with the money, for fear I mightn’t have the chance again; and I’ll take precious good care, they don’t send me out of England a second time – not if I can help it.”

“What has become of Vane?” I asked.

“Vane! the damned insidious viper! I don’t like to say anything about him. He had some money left him here; and got back to England, before I did. He’s here now.”

“And how are our friends up the Yarra Yarra. Have you heard anything of them, since we were there together?”

“Yes; and seen them, too – several times. They were well the last time I saw them. I mean well in bodily health; but I think a little wrong in the mind. They became great friends with that fellow Vane.”

I noticed that Cannon, although he had said that he did not like to say anything about Vane, kept continually alluding to him during the two or three hours that we were together; and always spoke of him with some show of animosity.

I could see that the two men were friends no longer. I was not inquisitive as to the cause of their misunderstanding – probably for the reason, that I took very little interest in the affairs of either.

“Are you in any business here?” asked Cannon, when we were about to separate.

“No,” I replied, “I don’t desire to go into business in London; and, as I can find but little to amuse me, I am thinking of returning to Australia.”

“Ah! that’s strange,” rejoined Cannon. “Perhaps the reason why you are not amused, is because you are a stranger here, and have but little society. Come along with me, and I will introduce you to some of my friends, who can show you some London life. Will you promise to meet me here to-morrow, at half-past ten o’clock?”

I did not like giving the promise; but Cannon would take no denial; and, having nothing else to do, I agreed to meet him, at the time and place he had mentioned. After that we shook hands, and parted.

Though not particularly caring about either of them, I liked Vane less than I did Cannon. I was not at all surprised to find that a disagreement had sprung up between them. In fact, I would rather have felt surprised, to hear that they had remained so long in each other’s society without having had a quarrel. Cannon, with all his faults, had some good qualities about him, enough to have rendered him unsuitable as a “chum” for the other; and I had anticipated a speedy termination of their friendship. I knew that Vane must have done something very displeasing to Cannon, else the other would scarce have made use of such strong expressions, while speaking of his old associate. Cannon, when not excited by passion, was rather guarded in his language; and rarely expressed his opinions in a rash or inconsiderate manner.

Next morning, I met him according to appointment; and we drove to a cottage in Saint John’s Wood – where he proposed introducing me to some of his English acquaintances. We were conducted into a parlour; and the servant was requested to announce, “Mr Cannon and friend.”

The door was soon after opened; and Jessie H – stood before me!

On seeing me, she did not speak; but dropped down into a sofa; and for some time seemed unconscious, that there was anyone in the room.

It was cruel of Cannon thus to bring us again together; and yet he did not appear to be the least punished, although present at a scene that was painful to both of us. On the contrary, he seemed rather pleased at the emotion called forth upon the occasion.

Jessie soon recovered command of herself, but I could easily perceive, that her tranquil demeanour was artificial and assumed – altogether unlike her natural bearing, when I knew her on the banks of the Yarra Yarra.

Cannon strove hard to keep alive a conversation; but the task of doing so was left altogether to himself. I could give him but little help; and from Jessie he received no assistance whatever. The painful interview was interrupted by the entrance of Mr H – , whose deportment towards us, seemed even more altered than that of his daughter.

I could easily perceive, that he did not regard either Cannon, or myself, with any feeling of cordiality.

We were soon after joined by Mrs H – , who met us in a more friendly manner than her husband; and yet she, too, seemed acting under some restraint.

While Cannon engaged the attention of Mr and Mrs H – , I had a few words with Jessie.

She requested me to call, and see them again; but, not liking the manner in which her father had received me, I declined making a promise. To my surprise – and a little to my regret – she insisted upon it; and appointed the next morning, at eleven o’clock – when she and her mother would be alone.

“I am very unhappy, Rowland,” muttered she, in an undertone. “I seldom see anyone whom I care for. Do come, and see us to-morrow. Will you promise?”

I could not be so rude – might I say cruel – as to refuse.

Our stay was not prolonged. Before we came away, Mrs H – also invited us to call again; but I noticed that this invitation, when given, was not intended to be heard by her husband.

“Little Rose is at school,” said she, “and you must come to see her. She is always talking of you. When she hears that you are in London, she will be wild to see you.”

After our departure, my companion, who already knew my address, gave me his; and we separated, under a mutual agreement to meet soon again.

There was much, in what had just transpired, that I could not comprehend.

Why had Cannon not told me that Mr H – and his family were in London, before taking me to see them? Why had he pretended that he was going to introduce me to some of his London friends? I could answer these questions only by supposing, that he believed I would not have accompanied him, had I known on whom we were about to call.

He might well have believed this – remembering the unceremonious manner in which I had parted from his friends, at the time we visited them on the Yarra Yarra. But why should he wish me to visit them again – if he thought that I had no desire to do so?

This was a question for which I could find no reasonable answer. I felt certain he must have acted from some motive, but what it was, I could not surmise. Perhaps I should learn something about it next day, during the visit I had promised to make to Jessie. She was artless and confiding; so much so, that I felt certain she would tell me all that had taken place, since that painful parting on the banks of the Yarra Yarra.

Long after leaving the house in Saint John’s Wood, I found occupation for my thoughts. I was the victim of reflections, both varied and vexatious.

By causing us to come together again, Fate seemed to intend the infliction of a curse, and not the bestowal of a blessing!

I asked myself many questions. Would a further acquaintance with Jessie subdue within my soul the memories of Lenore? Did I wish that such should be the case?

Over these questions I pondered long, and painfully – only to find them unanswered.

Jessie H – was beautiful beyond a doubt. There was a charm in her beauty that might have won many a heart; and mine had not been in different to it. There was music in her voice – as it gave utterance to the thoughts of her pure, artless mind to which I liked to listen. And yet there was something in my remembrance of Lenore – who had never loved me, and who could never be mine – sweeter and more enchanting than the music of Jessie’s voice, or the beauty of her person!

Volume Three – Chapter Twenty Five.
Jessie’s Suitor

Next morning I repeated my visit to Saint John’s Wood. I again saw Jessie. She expressed herself much pleased to see me; but upon her features was an expression that pained me to behold. That face, once bright and joyous, and still beautiful, gave evidence that some secret sorrow was weighing upon her heart.

“I know not whether I ought to be glad, or grieved, Rowland,” said she. “I am certainly pleased to see you. Nothing could give me greater joy; and yet I know that our meeting again must bring me much sorrow.”

“How can this be?” I asked, pretending not to understand her.

“Ever since you left us on the Yarra Yarra, I have been trying to forget you. I had resolved not to see you again. And now, alas! my resolves have all been in vain. I know it is a misfortune for me to have met you; and yet I seem to welcome it. It was wrong of you to come here yesterday; and yet I could bless you for coming.”

“My calling here yesterday,” said I, “may have been an unfortunate circumstance, though not any fault of mine. I knew not, until I entered this house, but that you were still in Australia. Mr Cannon deceived me; he proposed introducing me to some of his London friends who lived here. Had I known on whom we were going to call, for my own happiness, I should not have accompanied him.”

“Rowland, you are cruel!”

“How can you say so, when you’ve told me it was wrong for me to come? Jessie! there is something in this I do not understand. Tell me, why it is wrong for me to have seen you, while, at the same time, you say you are pleased at it?”

“Rowland, spare me! Speak no more of this. Let us talk of other things.”

I did my best to obey her; and we conversed nearly an hour, upon such topics as suggested themselves, until our tête-à-tête was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs H – .

I could not well bid adieu to them, without promising to call again: for I had not yet seen little Rosa.

After my return home, I sate down to reflect upon the conversation I had had with Jessie – as also to seek some explanation of what had appeared mysterious in the conduct, not only of Cannon, but of Jessie’s father and mother.

I had learnt that Mr H – , like many of the Australian wool growers, after having made his fortune in the colonies, had returned to his native land – intending to end his days in London.

I had also learnt that Vane – after that occasion on which he accompanied Cannon and myself, had often revisited the family on the Yarra Yarra; and had become a professed candidate for the hand of Jessie.

In the colony he had received but little encouragement to continue his advances, either from her father or mother. Since their arrival in London, however, Vane had come into possession of some property; and Mr H – had not only listened with favour to his proposals, but was strongly urging his daughter to do the same.

A matrimonial alliance with Vane would have been considered advantageous by most people in the social position of the H – family; and Jessie, like many other young ladies, was likely to be married to a man, who held but a second place in her affections.

Thousands do this, without surrendering themselves to a life of misery; and Jessie H – could scarce be expected to differ from others of her age and sex. In fact, as I soon afterwards learnt, she had yielded to her father’s solicitations, rather than to the suit of the wooer; and had given a reluctant consent to the marriage. It was to take place in about ten days from that time.

I also learnt that Vane and Cannon had quarrelled, before leaving Melbourne. I did not ascertain the exact cause. It was no business of mine; and I did not care to be made acquainted with it. With the conduct of the latter I had some reason to be dissatisfied. He had endeavoured to make use of me, as a means of obtaining revenge against his enemy – Vane.

I could not think of any other object he might have, in bringing me once more into the presence of Jessie.

To a certain extent he had succeeded in his design. Without vanity I could not shut my eyes to the fact of Jessie’s aversion to her marriage with Vane; and I was convinced that, after seeing me, it became stronger.

I was by no means pleased at the idea of being made a cat’s paw for the gratification of Cannon’s revenge; and, next day, when his name was announced at my lodgings, I resolved that that meeting should be our last.

“Mr Cannon,” said I, before he had even seated himself, “will you tell me why you took me to see Jessie H – , when you had reason to believe that neither of us desired to meet the other again?”

“I had no reason for thinking anything of the kind,” replied he. “On the contrary, there was much to make me believe differently. I have a great respect for Mr H – and his family; and I don’t mean to flatter, when I tell you, I have the same for yourself. What harm was there in bringing together those whom I respect? and desire to see friends? But you want some explanation. You shall have it. It is this: – you have seen Vane, and know something about him. I know more of him, than you. He is a conceited, trifling fellow, without the slightest truth or principle in him. True, his society was amusing. I overlooked his faults; and bore with him for a long time. When I saw that he was trying to take advantage of the introduction I had given him to the daughter of my friend – a young lady of whom he is in no sense worthy – I then became his enemy. I acknowledge having taken you to see her in a somewhat surreptitious fashion; and, moreover, that I did it with a design: that of thwarting the intentions of Vane. But I deny having done it as you suppose, because he is my enemy. It was not that; but my friendship to Mr H – , and his family, that induced me to act as I did. While we were on the Yarra Yarra, I could not fail to notice that you were not wholly indifferent to the beauty of Miss H – ; and also, that she had the discernment to see, that you were worthy of her esteem. Where was the harm, then, in my bringing you once more together? You are mistaken in thinking, that I was using you to give annoyance to an enemy. On the contrary, I claim to have been only guilty of studying the happiness of my friends.”

To Cannon’s explanation I could make no answer. He was better in an argument than I; and what he had said, left me without any reason to believe, that he knew either of Jessie’s being engaged to Vane, or that their marriage was shortly to take place. From his point of view, I could not much blame him for what he had done.

I had received Cannon with the resolve to have nothing more to do with him, after our interview should end; but he had given me a fair explanation of his conduct, and we parted without any ill-will.

I had promised to call again upon Jessie. It was after my last visit to her, that I had learnt of her approaching marriage with Vane; and, on receiving this intelligence, I regretted having made the promise. I had two reasons for regretting it. To see her again could only add to her unhappiness; and perhaps to me might be a cause of self-reproach.

Nothing but sorrow could spring from our again seeing one another – a sorrow that might be mutual – and, in spite of the promise I had given, I determined we should meet no more.

Volume Three – Chapter Twenty Six.
Mrs Nagger

My brother William had rented a house in Brompton, engaged two female servants, and commenced house-keeping after the manner of most Londoners.

In his house I was permitted to occupy two apartments – a parlour, and bed-room.

The servant, who attended to these rooms, possessed a character, marked by some peculiarities that were rather amusing. She was over fifty years of age; and carried about the house a face that most people would have considered unpleasant.

I did not. I only believed that Mrs Nagger – such was her name – might have experienced several disappointments in her life; and that the expression, caused by the latest and last of them, had become so indelibly stamped upon her features, as not to be removed by any hope of future happiness.

Like a good many of her sex, Mrs Nagger’s tongue was seldom at rest, though the words she uttered were but few, and generally limited to the exclamatory phrase, “More’s the pity!” followed by the confession, “That’s all I can say.”

I had, sometimes, cause to complain of the coffee, which the old housekeeper used to set before me – fancying it inferior to any, I had met elsewhere.

“Mrs Nagger,” I would say – laying an emphasis on the Mrs, of which she seemed no little vain – “I do not think this is coffee at all. What do you suppose it to be?”

“Indeed I don’t know, sir; and more’s the pity!”

“And this milk,” I would continue, “I fancy it must have been taken from an iron-tailed cow.”

“Yes, sir; and more’s the pity! That’s all I can say.”

I soon learnt that the old creature was quite right in her simple confession. “More’s the pity” was about all she could say; and I was not sorry that it was so.

One day I was honoured by a visit from Cannon, who, being some years older than myself, and having rather an elevated opinion of his own wisdom, volunteered to offer me a little advice.

“Stone,” said he, “why don’t you settle down, and live happily like your brother? If I had your opportunity of doing so, I wouldn’t put up with the miserable life I am leading, a week longer.”

“What opportunity do you speak of?”

“Why that of marrying Jessie H – . Do not think me meddlesome, or impertinent. I take it for granted that you and I are sufficiently acquainted for me to take the liberty I am doing. The girl likes you; I know it, and it is a deuced shame to see a fine girl like her thrown away on such a puppy as Vane. Why don’t you save her? She is everything a man could wish for – although she is a little different from most of the young ladies of London. In my opinion, she’s all the better for that.”

In thus addressing me, Cannon acted in a more ungentlemanly manner than I had ever known him to do, for he was not a man to intrude advice upon his friends – especially on matters of so serious a nature, as the one he had introduced.

Believing him to have some friendship for myself, more for the H – family, and a great antipathy to Vane, I listened to him without feeling offended.

“I am not insensible to the attractions of Miss H – ,” said I, “but the happiness, you speak of, can never be mine.”

“Oh! I understand you,” rejoined he. “You have been disappointed in love by some one else? So was I, once on a time – madly in love with a girl who married another, whom I suppose she liked better than me. At first I thought of committing suicide; but was prevented – I suppose, by fear. I was afflicted with very unpleasant thoughts, springing from this disappointment. They stuck to me for nearly three years. I got over them last, and I’ll tell you how. I accidentally met the object of my affections. She was the mother of two rosy, apple-cheeked children; and presented a personal appearance that immediately disenchanted me. She was nearly as broad as she was long. I wondered how the deuce I could ever have been such a fool as to love the woman – more especially to have made myself so miserable about her. If you have been disappointed in the same manner, take my advice, and seek the remedy that restored me.”

Absurd as Cannon’s proposition might appear, I could not help thinking that there was some philosophy in it; and, without telling him of my intention, I determined on giving it further consideration.

To change the conversation, I rang the bell. I knew that Cannon was fond of a glass of Scotch whiskey; and, when Mrs Nagger made her appearance, I requested her to bring a bottle of Glenlivet into the room – along with some hot water and sugar. The “materials” were produced; and we proceeded to mixing the “toddy.”

“This is the right brand,” said Cannon, taking up the bottle, and scrutinising its label, “the very sort to my taste.”

I could see the lips of Mrs Nagger slightly moving; and I knew that she was muttering the words, “more’s the pity!” I have no doubt that she suffered a little at being deprived of the opportunity of giving her one idea a more audible manifestation.

Cannon did not suffer from any disappointment as to the quality of the liquor. At all events, he appeared to find it to his liking: for he became so exhilarated over it, that he did not leave until sunset; and not then, till he had prevailed upon me to accompany him – with the understanding, that we should spend the evening together.

“What’s the use of your living in London,” he asked, “if you stay all the time within doors? You appear even less inclined to see a little life, than when I met you in Melbourne. Why is it, Stone?”

“Because I came here to rest myself. A life spent in labour, has given me but few opportunities of acquiring that knowledge, that may be obtained from books; and now that I have a little leisure given me, I wish to make a good use of it.”

“That’s a very sensible design, no doubt,” said Cannon, “but you must not follow it to-night. Come along with me; and I’ll show you something of London.”

I consented to accompany Cannon – on the condition of his taking me to some place where I could be amused in a quiet, simple manner – any spectacle suitable to a sailor, or gold-digger, and at which there might be no disgrace in being present.

“Take me to some place,” said I, “that is neither too high nor too low. Let me see, or hear something I can understand – something that is popular with the majority of Londoners; so that I may be able to form an idea of their tastes and habits.”

“All right,” answered Cannon, “I’ll take you to several places of the sort; and you can judge for yourself. You wish to witness the amusements most popular among, what might be called, the middle classes? Well, we shall first visit a concert hall, or music room. The Londoners profess to be a musical people; and it must be admitted that much, both of their time and money, is expended in listening to vocal and instrumental performances. It is in the theatres and music halls, that one may best meet the people of London – not the very lowest class of them; but those who profess, and fancy themselves up to a high standard of civilisation. Come on!”

Yielding myself to the guidance of my sage companion, I followed him into the street.