p^ _ " ~ M-ir CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THE ANNA S. GURLEY MEMORIAL BOOK FUND FOR THE PURCHASE OF BOOKS IN THE FIELD OF THE DRAMA THE GUT OF William F E. Gurley CLASS OF 1877 1935 itertMk ^p 1 2 '8b D^TE out Cornell University Library PR 4489.C25S6 The siren of Warmington 3 1924 013 466 028 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013466028 (To fopc ]y.\^- SCENE I. No. 1, Sunbury Crescent, Warmington. Season— About April 21st, 18 6-. Time— 3.30 p.m. Heaetley Sweetinbukgh is discovered in a very hrovm study in his study. A ring is Iieard. The door is suddenly opened by Betty, and Andeew Knivett rapidly enters in travelling costiime. He has just arrived fro^n the Bailiuay. Heaetley. Delighted to see you ! It is very kind of you to come so soon. And. Kniv. {to Betty). My portmanteau and portfolio will arrive by 'bus. Heart, {to Betty). Put them in the spare room next mine. Betty. Yes, Sir. [Exit. And. Yes, here I am, old fellow ; just come by the express train which is put on for those who are pressed for time. I have left unfinished my celebrated picture that is to be — " Charlemagne weeping over the ruins of Egyptian Thebes," part of a series I am doing for the " Comic History of Europe " which Grinrod Brothers and myself are hard at work upon, in order to entice the indolent youth of the period to that study of the past which they decline to bestow on Macaulay, Hume, Alison and Co. A friend of mine told me, when he was reading for the law, that he got a good deal more legal knowledge from the " Comic Blackstone " than the original ; and I thought the same principle could be applied to the " History of Europe," and Grinrod Brothers agreed with me. I am glad to notice how much better you look than I expected, after the attack B A THE SIKEN. on your chest. I fear the hmrt has become involved in the malady, or rather "my lady." You received my telenvani of course? — "Do nothing till I come," and I hope at least you have not compromised yourself any mure, if that is possible. Heart. No, I abstained from sending licr some rather fond verses I had just written. AxD. {aliucriwj). "What are they? Heakt. They begin : " Come with me, come with me. Sweetest and Best, To the realms of the South or the sunny West ; Where hand clasped in hand " AxD. That is quite enougli ! You call these verses only ratlicr fond ! What on earth would you consider very fond ? Thank heaven I am in time to stop that which can only refer to a honeymoon in Italy or Spain, I suppose. Heaut. {scntimciitaUi/}. You see I have fallen in love ; or, to speak more correctly, love has fallen into me, and a man does not see himself aright under these circumstances. AxD. I am very glad you own so much ; it gives me a ray of hope. Now to the point, which is an important matter in other things besides cricket ; and I think I have a good cover-point behind to stop the hits I may miss, though I hope to catch this Miss out, paradoxical as it may sound. Heaet. This Miss ! what a harsh epithet ! I don't understand sporting phrases. They seem unsuitable to this sweet subject. I am caught, if you mean that, and very glad to be so. And. I hope she is a sweet subject, though I am thankful she is not Mrs. yet, for then she would be your wife. But either the love-making, or this good climate, or both, have made you look flourishing for an invalid ; and they have the good effect of taking you into the fresh air, as I have heard, in all weatliers. So you liave been drawn from the close atmosphere of your study, and the close moral atmosphere of weak sentimental tales and weaker verse (poetry is hardly the name), which you are so constantly poring over, and have been enticed into healthy exertion. Heart. Very stern language for a friend. And. The using it proves me to be your friend, and it is necessary. You might as well live on pastry and sweets, and expect to have a strong and well- nourished body, as to gain a healthy mind from your mode of life and literary THE SIREN. :; tastes. I should be your enemy if I shrank from speaking the truth. But to our subject ! {takes up a few hooJcs). Look here ! " Lyrics of the Heart," by the Hon. Algernon St. Softus, which means that the head has little or nothing to do with their composition ; " Deeper and Deeper still, a Tale of the Heart's Chords," by Miss Prettiboy (a Love Discord would be a more appropriate title), and " A Love Harmony," by Signer Sim Phoni. These are typical of your own condition, I suppose. "Entwining Spirits: Short Pi,omances for Twilight Hours," by Mrs. Hebe Loviboud. These no doubt typify your own happy experience. HeaViT. How you do ridicule my tastes and dearest feelings. Eemember, I am not made of leather and steel like you, nor cased round with the armour of worldly callousness ; a pin's prick to me would be as much as a sword's thrust to you. And. Then the sooner the toughening process is begun the better. We must apply salt and vinegar to your mental skin, so that you shall not feel every scratch ; and if that won't do, we m\ist case you in strong armour, so that these aiTows of Cupid, which some girl seems always shooting at you, may prove harmless. Heaet. It must be very painful to live as you do. So little sympathy with those around. And. It is much less painful to be case-hardened than to be thin-skinned in this world, where we must put up with many stinging if not heavy blows. I have had a few lines from an old chum here, in answer to a letter in which I questioned him about this Siren, and his reply was not very satisfactory ; besides which, sympathy with such people as he describes is like casting pearls before — Heart. You middle-aged men are so prejudiced against these bright young beings. And. Not the least prejudiced, you will find, if this be one of these bright beings ; doubtless bright enough, but not in the way you wish. But you are like a man at cricket, bowling extremely easy balls to a knowing batsman, who of course hits him all over the field. Heart. These very unsuitable topics jar on my feelings so. I think cricket a barbarous game, in which the chief occupation of the combatants seems to be to knock one another about with bats and balls. And. Strange that such a stupid and brutal sport as you describe should attract thousands of educated men, and numbers of clergymen amongst them. You should show a little knowledge of a subject before you condemn it. I am glad you did not make that remark before other men. B 2 4 THE SIEEN. Heaet. I own it. I do not either properly understand or care for cricket. AxD. The latter is of course the result of the former. No one cares for what he is ignorant of ; but the exercise would be as beneficial for your mind as for your body. It would be a good thing for you if you did care for it, and were taking healthy exercise that would take off these meagrims, instead of maundering after a Heart. Pray do not use any harsh epithet. My feelings are not prepared for it. AxD. I fear you will have to brace them a little then. The odes, the looks, the longings, the compliments and the rest of the nonsense, have been to her what sixes are to a school-boy at his show match, and she has scored heavily off you already. I want to see how she would play really good Ijowling ; Ijy that I mean intelligent remarks and intellectual conversation, and what form she shows in fitting behaviour and manners. Heaet. "Well, you will see her this evening and be able to judge. AxD. This is the first good ball you have bowled, for it will enable you and me also to see her style of play, or in your words, " whether the ideal and the real meet at any point." Heai;t. But I do not wish to bowl her out — to borrow your detestable phraseology. And. But we wish to see if your paragon can play with a straight bat, as she ought to do from your description of her. By the way, why do you not take to Kingsley or some manly writer, and eschew, instead of cliewing, the unwholesome food of local libraries, slight enough in quality if not in c[uantity ? Heaet. Are not all bats straight ? (Axd. sniiks). But Kingsley is too much of the knock-me-down style for me. And. True, he knocks down all that is petty and paltry, and sets up what is good and noble. Hi;ai;t. Doubtless Aery good; but not my taste at present. And. The sooner you make it your taste the better. I have shown you some of the risks you run in tlie pursuit of this phantom ; and hope I may be able to obviate the evils of the chase, \\hich are serious. It is the strangest delusion I have ever met with in my expc.aiencc. Heaet. The delusion I think lies with you. And. I will give you £50. if you can honestly repeat that speech this day month. You are always too much wrapped up in thouglits about j'ourself, the worst \viaps }'ou can put on. But you sent for me, and I have come more than THE SIEEN, 5 a hundred miles, and laid aside my engagements and work (and, remember, en- gagements and work are my daily bread, for I have not your safe and comfortable investments to fall back on in case of ill-health or need), to give you the benefit of the advice of a man who has led a much more practical life than you have done, and seen much more of human nature. So for the next week or so I expect you will not only listen to what I say, but also will be guided in your actions by my advice, or else my presence here is mere loss of time, and perhaps of temper. Heart. I am aware that I may not see myself quite correctly, but pray do not think of returning, for I am both thankful and grateful for your coining to help me. And. I am glad to find you still have some common sense left. Your present position is like looking at your own face in a warming pan, while you look at that of your fair one (or rather " dark one " it seems in this instance) through a beautifully coloured lens. Heaet. Do you really think so ? And. Be quite sure that, if you cannot see yourself distorted and caricatured, she does. Heakt. How so ? And. To speak plainly, I believe that this girl is laughing at you in her sleeve, glove or boot, whichever epithet you prefer or is most correct, and is making you a schoolroom butt, a sort of butt that is very painful when filled with the arrows of ridicule. Here is a fine simile for you. I expect a fee for every good one. Above all don't forget the warming pan, for all your best feelings, your devotion, faithfulness and all the rest, are as much caricatured as your face is in the copper, concave or convex. On the concave side some of your qualities will be expanded and distorted so as hardly to be recognised ; in the convex they will be contracted to almost nothing. But tell me more about the "Siren," for I have only these two letters to go by. [Takes Hcartlcy's tetter from his pocket and reads). " She possesses a face that has only to be seen to be loved and admired, a figure so perfectly proportioned that the celebrated Grecian painter could have taken his model from her alone, instead of being obliged to select the best points of many. She has very pretty and nice ways of showing that my regard for her is neither unnoticed nor unreturned. Two days ago she pointed me out to her companions by a graceful gesture of the hand, and they seemed to be regarding me with smiles and pleasant looks. Her father, I hear, is a retired merchant." She must be the ne plus ultra of perfection if this 6 THE sij;kn. description even approaches the truth. Now let me compare this with my friend's account. [He reads Mountjoys Icttn-). "About the last girl in the school I should have selected. What beauty she has is not of a high, refined, or intellectual type, and extremely ill-suited, I should think, to the class of mind your friend seems to possess. My daugliter is staying away for a day or two during the Easter holidays, or she could tell you far more about this Miss Vane than I can, for she goes to the same school ; but then what I know is certainly not in Miss A^ane's favour." Now you see I must draw the line somewhere between the two letters. Heakt. Your friend's letter astonishes me. I cannot imagine that there could be another opinion. Axi>. A lo\-er ne\-er can imagine that an outsider's opinion can differ from his own, which is usually expressed in the same series of superlatives as yours. As to her pointing you out, I give drawing lessons in a girls' school, and I know they are as full of mischief as buys, and I fancy this one was only making game of you to her companions. I sliall find out something more certain about her before you meet in earnest, for you must either carry out your intention of proposing to her or retire from your position ; and if the latter is to be done, the sooner the better. Your own sense must tell you this, or in a little while you may not be able to retire at all. Heart. She seems likely to take my attentions in good part; at least, I judge so from past experience. AxD. In too good part, I fancy, from other things you have told me in the letters, but that very much depends upon the character of the girl and the class to which she belongs. But, if there is anything overdone or sentimental in your verses (by sentimental I mean affected or exaggerated feeling), the temptation to amuse herself will be irresistible, foi-, although the love uf fun may be less outspoken and practical in girls than in bojs, you may he sure it exists. Do you possess a copy of the verses that you say you have sent her ? Heaet. I was looking for the rough copy this morning, but could not find it. Axu. The mamma will doubtless soon produce it if the girl is at all flattered. But let me see that letter. It will give me some clue as to the sort of person we have to deal ^^'it]l. (Fakes Mrs. 1-llod'jcr's Idler and reads): — " Goldie Villa, April 16th. Honorable and dearest Sir, — Your very respectable invitation to hand, which me and my daughter most heartily excepts, but Mr. Blodger much regrets a pervious engagement. You have shown the gratest cuteness in picking her out of this biggish place for your attentions and THE SIREN. 7 valentineses and intensions. She has told me how yon follered her up thongh at a disrespectable distance. Modesty and delicacy of feelin has prevented her returning your oglings and sighings." {Andrew's face worts with efforts to heep grave!) And. {breaking in). I trust you have indulged in nothing of this kind. I mean nods, winks, fond glances, etc. You arc compromised enough already. No lady would abide for a moment such a manner of showing your regard. Heart. I have done nothing hut regard her long and earnestly. And. I suppose your lips mutually broke into sweet smiles of love and sympathy. But, seriously, I advise you not to regard any lady you may happen to admire " long and earnestly," or you may see some irate husband or brother coming up with a whip and asking you what you mean. On my way here through the gardens, I saw a girl endowed with one of those rare perfectly proportioned figures that delight and fascinate the eye of an artist. I would have given £5. to have been able to draw her, as such a shape was one I especially wanted for my painting of " Undine gathering flowers," but I did not like to incur her displeasure by doing so, or to desire her big brother's presence. You will have to practise a little self-denial in your admiring gazes. {Takes up letter again anel reads). " But I am sure she feels them in her heart of hearts. She is of an ardent and harnmerus, though impetuous and ingenious natur, and shines in humerus and happy observations. You must not mind if occasionally she makes you the liobject of some clever and pinted sayings." If these are " pinted " the crystal herself would be (puirtz. {Smothers laugh in handkerehief ; resumes letter). " For she herself says ' I allers chaffers those whom I likes best.' ' The piano,' as she most wittily remarks, ' is my forte, and I plays everything except the fool' I could fill pages with her wise and witty sores (saws). Hair Kramme, the master of languages at her coledge, says she is the acknie of cooltivisation. I inntertains most sanguinary expectations of mewtual happiness ; itinerate (at any rate) I ope so. With kindest regardings, I am, your most ginteelly, Sarah A. Blodger, formerly Vane, neigh Fattington. P.S. — As her master. Hair Kramme, loves to say, she is Fattily princess {facile princeps) in every branch of laming. And to think it was my only darling that excited in you those loveable verses and exquisite presence. I calls it the most proudest experience of my holey life ; more especially the life of a mother and a widder as gained the love of Blodger who offered his 'ome and 'eart to Sarah Vane. Ah, dear Sir, a mother's love beats all 'ceptin praps only the young man she keeps company with, which I name no names and remains again 8 THE SIEEN. Sarah A. Blodgee, formerly Vane, neigh Fattington." (Andreiv, striving to look serioics). Did not you feel startled, and pause on receiving that letter? Heakt. No, I cannot say I did, though I was annoyed the mother was so inferior to her daughter in education. And. That letter would give the death blow to any ardent attachment except yours ; it is the most illiterate and ridiculous composition I have ever read, and it was only by the strongest efforts of self-control that I have been able to keep from laughing. Heart. I thought that, though the mother was not well-educated, the daughter was probably very different. AxD. Probably very nruch alike in all essential points, from all I have heard, though I grant that the daughter has had the advantages of a good school, mixing with her superiors. But I much question if even those advantages will materially alter her real nature. Heakt. I also sent her Moore's "Belic\'e me if all those endearing young charms " set to music, which is very pretty. And. These lines suppose an intimate knowledge of the person they are addressed to; you literally have none. I fear you are in what the Yankees would call a " 'tarnal fix," which I must do my best to get you out of. Heart. But I do not want to be unfixed. I also sent her a Valentine, anonymously, not in my writing. And. I hope the parties had no idea who sent it. Can you remember what it was? Heart. It was very short and ran thus : — " If thou dost not respond Unto a love so fond, what is there beyond! For nothing here, Can ever cheer. The Broken Heart." And. Good Heavens! what stuff! The Broken Head would be more likely if an irascible Father discovered the author. Had you lost a devoted wife you could not have said more. Heart. I felt it. And. (testily). You had no reason to feel it, and let me tell you the sylph- like figure and bewitching glances, that you so eloquently describe in your letter, are rather a slight foundation on which to build up a structure of wedded THE SIREN. 9 happiness — at least most men would think so. Even in one of your own tales the hero has a long and intimate acquaintance before he proposes. Hi':akt, {ohstinatdy). I have always thought, from extensive reading and also from some experience, that there was a subtle and unerring instinct that mutually attracted suitable persons. And. An erring fancy that attracts men and women most unsuital:)le to each other; this is my experience. If the daughter talks as the mother writes, we shall have a farce that requires a larger audience, for it will beat anything at the Gaiety. Heart. She has had greater advantages than her mother, and many great and good persons have possessed heavy drawbacks in their parents. And. May I ask what that little box is you have just taken so quietly out of your pocket. Heart, {sheepishly). That is the — the — ^little trifle I had intended giving her on the first opportunity. And. [severely). Do you call that a trifle ? I believe it is an engagement ring. I may as well throw up my cards at once. Heart. ISTo, no. At least not since your decided telegram reached me. And. Then please give it me at once. I will take care of it till you find a more suitable object. Of course you must know how much your mother dislikes and disapproves of this affair. Heart. I am grieved she does, but I have the higliest authority for acting as I do. \_Ex.it Heartley giving up the ring. Enter Mrs. Sweetinburgh. {Greets him cordially). Mrs. Sweet. I am indeed glad you have come. I hope you will open the eyes of my bewitched son. And. I'll do my best. But I must frankly tell you that my most strenuous endeavours as yet have done nothing to move him. Mamma's letter gives one a preface to the sort of entertainment, in the form of burlesque, we shall have to-night. How has this strange state of affairs come about ? For it is extra- ordinary that a gentleman, over nice and fastidious in taste and feeling, should seek out and, apparently without any introduction, make overtures to a family much beneath him in social position. Mrs. Sweet. It is so monstrous that it almost confounded me. But I will explain it presently, though I cannot do it in a single sentence. And. Have you seen this girl ? 10 THE SIKEX. Mrs. Sweet. Yes, two or three times. I thought it necessary to see her near. Here is her pliotogrnpli. (Shous j^jJioior/raph). Heartley obtained it from the shop-artist, wlio considered it attractive enough to place in his wiirdow ; and when he discovered how keen Heartley was to possess it, he made him pay a good price for the fascinating image. And. a tall, well grown, nicely sliaped girl, looks about sixteen, but not so well proportioned or graceful as the young lady that charmed me, though I could not see her face because she determinedly ki'pt it turned from me ; great staring black eyes, as the Spanish say, looking as though they were in mourning for the murders they have committed, a retrousse nose and a wicked pouting mouth ; she looks strong and lithe. This is about the fiiijure is it not ? Mrs. Sweet. Very nearly. She has a ^•igorous step and graceful carriage, walks fleetly and easily, and in that respect contrasts favourably with the ungraceful swing of many. Lut I have seen a very saucy and impertinent, if not actually impudent, expression on her face. And. You do not seem much prepossessed ? ]\frs. S^veet. No indeed. And. I have been prepared to find Heartley had fallen hopelessly in love with some pretty pleasing creature, who might not have possessed very much heart or head, but his fancy for the present subject very much puzzles me. Mrs. Sweet. And so it did me, till I discovered some solution to the problem. And. I have usually found that the turned-up or celestially inclined nose is a type of anything but an elevated or celestial mind. With regard to her good walk, doubtless she has Ijeen well drilled and taught gymnastics, which would account for this. Mrs. Sweet. You see Heartley is, unfortunately, ^'ery tender-hearted, and more susceptible to the influence of girls than any young man I know. It is difficult for a shrewd seu.sible man like you are to comprehend it; since he lost sight of Miss Blessington, he constantly takes fancies tn one and another with seemingly little reason, and, as circumstances have unhappily favoured this time, the present dilemma is the result. "When he was only about fourteen he fell passionately in love with a little hazel-eyed girl a year younger. I checked the attachment, thinking it silly in such children, but have much regretted it since, for little Miss Blessington was of good family, well brought up, and a nice loveable giii She went out to India and there married, but Heartley has never forgotten her as being his first and best love, and has often reproached me since with harshness and severity. Though he is sensible enough in many matters, he THE SIKEN. 11 writes the most surpassing twaddle wliea once his imagination runs off with his reason. And. And he will always be so, till some severe check has dis-illusioned him. I mean scattered his illusions. Love fancies have made fools of many men, counted strong and wise in their time. Mrs Sweet. Yes, what you say is strangely true ; even now, till quite lately, he has always carried the miniature of his darling little Lucy about with him ; and I really think that, if it had not been for his late illness, and the order of the doctor forbidding all composition, and the utter hopelessness of his love for Lucy, this miserable fancy would never have become a serious intention. And. I believe that a mind constituted like his can look with fond affection on a lost love, while his temperament leads him into indulging fancies. Mrs. Sweet. I once saw a schooner in Eamsgate harbour, which looked beautiful in the distance, most gracefully proportioned and well built ; I was so delighted with her appearance as she sailed into port, that I went down to inspect her. A nearer survey soon dispelled the illusion ; her sails were dirty, and the decks disorderly, A-ery badly kept, and I should not like to repeat the language of the crew. Apply this to the present case. And. I have often been deceived in this way myself. One day I went into a print shop eager to purchase an engraving of what seemed to be a beautiful face, when seen across the intervening space of a long shop ; but a close inspection proved the features to be anything but charming, though regular enough to look well in the distance ; the mouth especially was coarse. Mrs. Sweet. Very much the style of the young lady in question ; the gradual loss of charm on approaching was remarkable. I happened to be in the same shop with a girl of this type Ibr a few minutes, and the parallel at once struck me, that a person or object acquires beauty up to the vanishing poiat; a host of minor defects are either quite concealed or greatly modified. And. Very true, but 1 do not always agree with Campbell's celebrated line " 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view," etc. Many mountaius gain in grandeur and majesty as you approach them ; and so will the beautiful being if she be really beautiful and not an imitation, where distance is the enchanter that merely conceals the defects. But to our subject, or rather object. Do you know how this girl has been brought up ? Mrs. Sweet. Our doctor says she has been petted and worshipped by a weak foolish mother, and neglected by a step-father, who only cares for his trade. And. And what is that :' 12 THE SIREN. Mrs. Sweet. A pawnbroker on a large scale at Biggborough, and a man that does not bear the best of characters, even in that fjuestionable callmg. AxD. And you might apply a severer term to a man who thrives on the ruin of others. And this is our retired "West-end merchant ! The same fancy that has con^-erted the pawnbroker into a retired merchant, has of course transformed the girl in the same happy manner. Love is not only blind, but a conjuror, whose power exceeds that of any wizard. Blindness to defects is easier to deal with than the creation of unlimited virtues, that have not the slightest foundation in truth or even probability. This is not quite the connection you wish for Heartley ? Mrs. Sweet, {in Jiorror). No indeed ! I had hoped it had been Miss Diana Light, the daughter of the local publisher, a man who is a thoiough gentleman in manners as well as by birth, and wdio has bravely taken to this business when he did not see his way to more aristocratic means of making a livelihood. She has often been here to give my daughter Alice (who has just left on a visit) lessons in German, for she is modest and ladylike, and has a demeanour that would grace a Princess, quite royal in comparison with this atrocity. Her eldest sister, Miss Light, is mistress of a first-class school at BiQ'Q'borouoh. DO O AxD. What can the attraction be then ? You have not accounted for it yet. Mrs. Sweet. There is a likeness in the general contour of this girl, the walk especially, to Lucy Blessington, and this has been the origin of the mischief. AxD. This very much increases the difficulty, and makes the matter more serious. Mrs. Sweet (continues). And also the fact that my son followed no settled occupation, because the doctor forbade mental work during his illness and convalescence. Cupid, to slightly alter the proverb, as well as Satan, finds mischief, in the shape of girls, for idle eyes to gaze on. Besides, if a girl has any beauty, it is likely to Ijc at its best at the transition age between 14 and 18; the dress of the period peculiarly sets off a good figure and well-turned limbs, and this girl has both. Fashion has not yet been allowed to destroy the shape with its hideous appliances and manacles, or to bind up the beautiful hair, which is given to many children, into bell-ropes. This young thing can run Like a roe, and her strength makes her graceful. Axu. I have often heard my parents speak of the extreme grace and beauty of limb possessed by Taglioni and Cerito, the celebrated dancers, and tliis girl must own some of their peculiar fascination in a slight degree. THE SIREN. 13 Mrs. Sweet. I have heard the same, though I never saw either. And. I have often wondered what became of so many pretty children. Now I understand how they disappear — some become hour-glassus on a large scale, others spread out into extinguishers. I really think the mammas and doctors ought to make a stand against this Juggernaut of fashion, that kills by squeezing instead of crushing. What is your plan ? It is best it should fit in with mine, which I will tell you directly. Mrs. Sweet. To ask Miss Light to dinner this evening, in order that Heartley may see the difference between the two girls, if he can or will see anything. And. This will work very well with my scheme ; my tactics will be aggressive and your's defensive, which is the right plan in all warfare. Heartley has a singularly romantic heart, which makes his head foolish through the tender- ness of his feelings : look at the titles he chooses for his books ! He can talk quite sensibly when away from the engrossing subject. You see he has clothed in his own colouring this very opaque, dull and common-place object, and the worst of this singularity is, that it is so apt to become dual. Mrs. Sweet. What form will your aggressive tactics take ? And. To chaff her unmercifully whenever she gives me an opening; the probability is that a spoilt and self-sufficient nature will not take this good- naturedly, and that she will lose her temper and reveal her true disposition so undisguisedly, that even Heartley will not be able to shut his eyes to her real character ; and if this won't do, I have a trump card left. Mrs. Sweet. Just the thing — argument and reason are utterly useless. I have quoted many proverbs to him, such as " Marry in haste, repent at leisure," and " The more haste, the less speed," etc. ; but he seems bent on the random leap. And. Which will land him in a very prickly gorse bush, as certainly as a man who takes a jump among those pleasant shrubs on the hills overhanging Hastings. I hope he may only be scratched^ without anything more serious. A whole life is rather a long period to remain among prickles, for a bad wife cannot be discarded like a false friend. Persons are attracted by the brilliant yellow flower of this shrub, and it is only when they try to pluck a twig that its real characteristics show themselves. So with marriage, I believe three parts of the miserable marriages one hears and reads of arise from the belief in a silly fancy against sense and reason. Mrs. Sweet. No doubt of it. I think your plan a capital one. The more I pull in one direction he tugs in another, and your vigorous assistance has only 14 THE SIREN. saved us from disaster or positive calamity. You were only just in time, when you sent the telegram, to stop his posting some absurdly tender and compromis- ing verses. And. I know he has surreptitiously bought an engagement ring, and it will be no easy matter to avert the catastrophe as it is. How would you like to see this in the " Warmington AVasp," or " Biggborough Blue Bottle " (for breach of promise is better, whatever it costs, than union with this girl)? "Interesting case of heartless desertion." (This will probably be shouted out by the lively and imaginative boys, who add something sensational to their papers if they cannot sell them, and I think a breach of promise ranks next to a " frightful murder," or " appalling suicide," in the estimation of readers of the evening papers.) " "We are most happy to announce that Miss Elizabeth Vane, a young lady of great personal attractions and accomplishments, has just obtained a verdict with £1000 damages from a certain, or rather uncertain, Mr. Heartley Sweetinburgh (never was a man more misnamed), a heartless adventurer from the source of wickedness, London, who basely broke off his promise of marriage on finding her dower not equal to his mercenary expectations." Or this in the " County Comet." " The public will hear with great pleasure that a young lady, who is an ornament, not only to the school where she has been educated, but to the town in which she was born, has received very substantial compensation from a heartless and unprincipled person whom we might characterise by a very severe name. This would-be lady-killer will remember, in his diminished capital, that he cannot trifle with beauty and innocence, without having to pay for it afterwards." If Blodger has the ear of the editor you might expect something in this style or stronger (depending upon whether it was a before or after dinner lucubration ; mild remonstrances characterise the latter, stinging superlatives the former ; hunger, which adds irritation and gloom to our before-dinner conversation, has the same effect upon one's writing, of whatever kind it may be). Even this is preferable to an objectionable alliance. Mrs. Sweet. Oh don't, Mr. Knivett! You surely do not think such a thing possible ! And. Possible ? Yes ! he is on the verge of it. If she plays her cards well and we play ours badly, it is not only possible, but probable ; nay, I should say certain. But he must be frightened or bullied out of proposing, whatever the difficulties or consequences may be. Mrs. Sweet. Heartley will keep on saying that we do not understand heart- instincts and real affections. THE SIREN. 15 And. The instinct that an epicure may have for a toadstool, which he thinks is a mushroom. We, doubtless, shall soon taste the flavour slie possesses after a little biting. How would you like him to go, as Mrs. Blodger would say, to the " halter " with her own darling ? A very appropriate name, for Heartley's life happiness would be hanged there. There would not be much doubt whether it Avould be for better or worse. {Takes up hds hat and walks towards the door.) I am now going to look up a friend of mine here who is in the yeomanry — a big broad-shouldered clever fellow, called Hugh ]\Iountjoy, who is a capital actor as well as a very good friend. I shall ask him to dress up as a police sergeant, and be in readiness outside, in case the girl gets obstreperous. From the photograph she looks of the lobster nature, and will not easily let go what is once between her claws ; but perhaps a little boiling will aid the loosening process. Could not you and Miss D. Light throw in a remark now and then ? The more simmering we can give her the better. Seven o'clock I think for dinner ? Mrs. Sweet. Will you kindly call on Mr. Sirloin, 20, Lamb's Conduit Street, and order some sweetbread to be sent at once, for we want something more for dinner, and get a fowl at Chicksy's, in Poultry Eoad ? And. With pleasure. [Uxit. 16 THE SIREN. SCENE II. Mrs. SwEETixr.UEiiii and Andeew aittiwj in eonfidcntinl converse, u-aiting the ar rival of her guests. And. I have seen Mountjoy, and he is both able and willing to come, and will instruct your maid how to help him in playing his part. You know his daughter Cherry goes to the same school as j\liss Vane ? It is called a college, and girls of every shade of social position seem to go there, because it possesses by far the best masters of any school in the place. Moreover, he has told me c[uite enough about this girl to confirm our impression, and to show that it will require many knocks, and those hard ones, to floor her. Cherry says she is the most selfish, coarse and unladylike girl in the school, and that though she (Cherry) often walks home through the High Street with Miss Sirloin, the butcher's daughter (by the way, she is the most ladylike and handsome girl I have seen amid these associations), because she is modest and unassuming, she will never accompany this Miss Vane, although her parents are very well off, if not rich, and li\'e in one of the most showy villas in the town, for she is always dressed in costly or eye-catching costume. The disposition of the girl may be judged of from this incident. She and Cherry happened to meet in the street, and the girl said : " I am going to spend from Saturday till ]\Ionday with my rich uncle at Coventry." Cherry replied good-uatureiUy : " Well, I was just going to send you to Coventry myself for being rude to me yesterday." " "Well," she said, " the cheek of you, a new girl, daring to chaffer me, who have been here four years. I'll just be your henemy now, and pay you out M'henever I can." Piqued by the malicious vindictiveness of the girl, who could thus resent a bit of fun. Cherry remarked before her school-fellows a little after: "Miss Vane has got another ' my uncle ' at Coventry, richer tlian the liiggborough one." Miss Vane's face assumed a look of fury, suppressed l>y a strong will, tliat required a Core's pencil to delineate. It seems to be the delight of the girls to pit these two one against the other ; for while ]\Iiss Vane can sometimes make very sharp and cutting remarks, Cherry seems wonderfully ready and apt at repartee, and nearly always has the best of it. She is as much liked and esteemed as the other is disliked and despised; but Cherry has two powerful allies in the Misses Biggington and Longley, the Amazons of the school, besides being an especial favourite of the (Serman master, who is Miss Thurnpingstock's right hand. THE SIEEN. 17 " Cherry told me," Mouutjoy continued, " a few evenings ago that she chanced to see one of those graceful movements of the hand, expressive of her regard for Heartley. Waggie (which, by the way, is the nickname given to Miss Vane by her school-fellows, because her tongue is always going) and her two companions came close to the spot where Cherry was watching the artificial waterfall on the river. Heartley was sitting reading a book at some distance, when Waggie pointed him out, with many jeers and laughs to her friends, putting out her tongue in a way only indulged in by the vulgar-minded and ill-bred. Cherry could not hear what she said, but the love-greeting bestowed upon him ^vas what school-boys call a long-nose. School-girls have possibly a more refined epithet. Mrs. Sweet. Is it possible ? I never heard of young ladies being so vulgar. Your friend might either have mistaken Miss Vane or my son; the latter probably. And. I wish I could think so, but remember you have not a young lady to deal with, and I fear such is not the case. It is a pity your son's wonderful faith is not exercised on a worthier object. I have now put our position before you as concisely as I can ; but, comic as it is, I think we have our work cut out. Although the girl must have possessed some attraction greater than you are aware of, besides her likeness to iliss Blessington, the greater part of your account of her is very repelling. Mrs. Sweet. She has a smile that is decidedly pleasing, and one day when I passed her sitting on a bench, apparently lost in some pleasant thoughts, her face was attractive and its effect increased by her long black hair. Her attitude was graceful. I gave yon the reason why she has fascinated him more than others who are more endowed. I think constantly meeting her has had most to do with it. I expect she has contrived the bench fascination more than once for Heartley's benefit. I suppose there must be some good in her, but I have not heard of it yet. Few are without some redeeming qualities ; it is a great mistake to think persons wholly bad or entirely good. And. I quite agree with you, but the good in her seems somewhat hidden. [A gentle knock is heard, and Miss D. Light is shoivn in and introduced to Andrew. Directly after Heartley enters the room. He is romantically dressed m a well cut light suit, with a turned down collar, and loose tie, after the 2Jortrait of young Byron roaming hy the sea. And. You are arrayed for conquest, I see. "Well, you will soon receive the one that you have picked out of this biggish place (to quote your unapproachable mother-in-law) for your hadoration, and I hope you will do it in a style be- c 18 THE SIREN. coming the cliuracter you assume (Byronic I observe). The usual progression of events is a Httle altered in your case: " reni, vidi, rici," becomes ''I saw, am conquered, and she is coming." I linpe you are ready with your " hattentions," which I suppose means wearing a suitable hat for love-making, but that you must keep for out-of-door courtship, and " hintentions," the hints you were giving of future realities. If old Cobbett were alive, I would send that wonderful letter up to him to dissect and criticize. Heart, {ylcadhiglij). You can never have known the tender passion your- self, Andrew ; or you could not speak so unsympathisingly and scornfully. You are as indifferent to woman's loveliness as a {pauses). And. You can't find a simile. Let me suggest one — as a spider is to a dog — (ft loud doulilc knock and a rimj to ntafch is here heard). A^ulgarity asserts itself by first coming late to show its importance, and then making an unwarrantable noise to announce the fact. The emphatic rim/, perhaps, is a delicate hint to you, Heartley ; we know how serious matters are conveyed in the guise of trivialities in love affairs. Heaet. How very prejudiced you are against these people, even before you have seen them, Andrew ! It reminds me of the cruel judges in the Middle Ages. And. I can see them thoroughly in my mind's eye, and know their manners and characters as clearly as if they stood before me, at auy rate (or " itinerate " to quote your future mother-in-law) in all the essential points, though, uo doubt, there are many captivating details which they alone can fill up. [The lioness of the evening enters, little dreaming of the iron-elad rJtinoeeros vjith most formidable horn in his head, if not on it, standing direethj in her iKith of pleasure and conqiiest. S/ie gives a look of distant disdain to Miss Light, and a eonseiovs glanee of etppropriation fon/ards Hem'tley. Both Mrs. Bloelger and herself boio to Mrs. Sircetiiduirgh, and sJiake hands with Heartleg. She is shov:ilg dressed, in a gunui of viany nnsnitedile colours, and both motile r and da ughier weevr two glittering chains. The latter has several vtany-jeirdled rings on her fingers, but her mother's hands arc so covered with these ornavtents that very small portions of Iter fingers are left visible ; indeed, both wear a/t, offensive overjAus of ornamentation, 'presenting a earaji'S contrast to Andreiv Knivett's ringless hands and chainless waist- coat. Her voice is Itarsh and ynfeinininc, and she speaks through her nose, a hctbit that heavily detracts from the charm of the prettiest face. And. (aside). Cherry told me she wears her dress rather abbreviated to show what her " Ma calls a foot and hancle fit for a AYenus," and the rings — she only THE SIREN. 19 lacks the engaged one— as a substantial forerunner of the slenderer, but far more enchaining, wedding circle. [Her air is ivomlcrfulhj confident and conceited. She stares long and boldly at Knivdt and Miss Ligld. Mrs. Blod. (m a loud ivhispcr). Don't mind them,Waggie, they are only two sweathearts who are a billing and a cooing to theirselves. {A flash from Miss Light's eyes shows that this description docs not extend to herself). WA.GGIB. How dye do, dee-ar Sar ? I've read your pretty poems — " Splut- terings," and I've learnt by 'art {placing he.r hand on her heart), your charming piece — " Busts of Beauty," which I expect you must have meant for me, as Ma says I look so nice in evening dress. I put the brooch in the shape of a heart you sent me right against mine, which you'll find is gold to gold. [Mrs. Sweetinhirgh and Miss Light regard the pair in silent amazement, and even Andrew seems so surprised as to look puzzled {and dunibfoundered) for the moment. And. [aside). I thought I knew the type of people that were coming, but I was utterly mistaken. [ Waggie, imaginirig that she has made a profound impression and is carrying everything before her, assumes more confidence and audacity, throws trium- phant glances around and displays her new and well-fitting hoots. Waggie. Yes, gold to gold, is that not just nice ? A gentleman called Sheergold said that ought to have been my name. And. (aside). Sheerbrass, he must have meant. Miss D. Light (aside). I know something of her school manners, but this utterly outdoes them. She must have been extremely flattered and raised in her own estimation to make this possible. Mrs. Blod. Very pretty thought, Waggie. Waggie. You was very hill, I 'eard, this winter, dear sir, and likely to be undertaken by ■ Mrs. Blod. {aside). Waggie, mind your haiches ; remember it is as low bred to put 'em hin where they are not wanted, has to leave 'em hout where they har. It is your only fault, darling. You caught it from them vulgar common Lowes. (To the company). I have not been sufficiently careful in the hassociates I have allowed her to mix in. Waggie {contimies). By Gravelly and Mould, the upholdei's and hunder- takers, but now you look so fust-rate that, if I may be so bold, you look quite bride-groom like. 20 THE SIKEN. Mrs. Blod. AVaggie, restrain your wit— but it is too splendiferous. (To Andrcu:) You've no liigli-deer, Sir, liow she liilluminates tire minds of the dullest people ; her fancy and wit shines like .summer lightnings. And. I accept the compliment, as we are all dull persons and require a deal of illumination (ijlaiicing at Waijfjics ih:cotioii to the uJucJtOi and haul). Her liumour at present seems to partake more of the forked li/jhtiiiinj-lilcc style, as she is certainly ^V 1 at it. [Lauijhfrr from all tlic coiupani/. Wafjfjic ajjpears somewhat ruffled, then loohs hard at Audreio and soft at Hrartlei/. j\Irs. Blod. (not seeliuj the Joke). Ain't these love fuasts just very nice, Sir? No doubt you can tell me \'ery hinteresting stories of your hearly hendearings and love passages with your sweeties. AxD. Eeally, IMadanii', I am not a Lothario, and I am not accustomed to make sucli confidences, if I had any to impart, especially to an utter stranger. ]\Irs. Blod. AVell Sir, you has the gay Lutherian look and hexpres.sion about you, and jircaps after you have well partaken of the good things haround you will warm oop a bit and tell me. And now please 'elp these two toortle duves to heach other's 'arts. Axd. {aside). One has quite enough art for both. Most assuredly I will to the best i.if my power help to separate the turtle from the octopus, which is the most suitable description for the pair. Yes, indeed, never were prompt and vigorous measures so much needed. Poor Heartley is not only sat on but will be literally smashed. Wahgie {in aiuUblc ichisj^ier to her luolher). I noticed him in his broomie a looking kisses at me through the window. I did'nt mind it from him, though I would not stand it from hauyone else. And, (aside). Is it possible ? I have had some little experience, but I should not have believed this character, if I had seen it in a play, or read it in a novel, to have been taken from reality, or even suggested by it — 'tis not a whip, but a scorpion she requires to be chastised with. Mrs. Sweet, (aside). The idea of my quiet modest boy looking kisses at a strange girl. WALKiiE (evntiiiuiiuj to her motlier). He looks so pretty when he does that. Axi>. (JtaIf-asii/(). This is beyond all bearing. Slie is not the positive but the superlative of impudence. The first opening she gives — the girl thinks to make a door-mat of us, to tread and to trample on, and to wipe her muddy feet on as she pleases, but THE SIREN. 21 Mrs. Blod. {noticing the look on Andrew's face, seeks to make a diversion). Allow me to read to the company the beautiful lines dressed by Mr. Sweetinburgh to my darter. And. (lialf-eisidc). They must be dressed up indeed to make anything of her. (Waggie hears, hut is determined not to he ruffled). Heart, {aside to Andrew). Pray don't say anything more to provoke her ; she is young, inexperienced and impetuous, and talks as if she were thinking aloud. And. [to Hcartley). Yovi should stop on the first syllable of the last adjective, which leaves a proper impression on the mind. ( Waggie eatches enough of these asides to take the hloom out of her self-satisfaction). Heart, {to Andrew). You are in one of your bitter biting moods to-night, Andrew. I suppose you have some poor fresh author to cut up or knock down in the " Saturnine Eeview " — that merciless periodical that has destroyed the young life in many a tender spirit. And. {to Eeartley). Well, I never felt so much inclined to bite. Mrs. Blod. If the company does not know Mr. Sweetinburgh 's hexquisite vusses to my child, they would be delighted with 'em, they beat Moreses and equals Byronses. And. {aside to Miss Light) . I hope he has not sent her those verses he wrote for a Valentine last year — " With thee to breathe my every sigh. With thee to live, with thee to die " — for these, if I remember rightly, amount to a proposal. Mrs. Sweet. We shall be most happy to listen to the piece. Mrs. Blod. {takes the letter containing the piece out of her pocket, a little inci- dent she had evidently prepared for the occasion). Waggie also received some anomniverous verses in a beautiful Valentine, which we thought were in Mr. Sweetinburgh's style, tho' she has so many hadmirers that we were not sure, but I fear they are left at home. And. {not noticing the allusion). I should like to hear the piece you have brought. [Mrs. Blodger reads. " Beauteous rosebud sweet reclining At the sun's delicious set ; Diamond dew-drops form while shining Eound thy brow a coronet. Then the moonbeams softly stealing As they shimmer, clust'ring, break, 'l^ THE SIREN. Shed around that tender feeling That thy beauties so awake. Would I were a beam to cheer thee, "Warm thee with my radiant ray, A moon to ever hover near thee. Guard thee on life's treacherous way." AXD. (to Mrs. Blodijcr leith mock gravity). Did not your daughter make a fitting response to this complimentary address 1 Mrs. Blod. ISTo, Sir, my darter is of rather too modest and retired a nature to make any res]3onsions to a gent as to whom she wasn't regularitil}' hintrodoosed. AxD. Most praiseworthy self-control ! ^Yhat a treasure she must be to you, and how her good breeding and refinement of manners must delight your friends' There are few more beautiful objects on earth, than a thorough bred lady. \_Mfs. Bhxhjcr hoiv.i, drinldng in the uvrds like new milk, hutWaggic isshaiji enough to sec the covert, or ret/her plain satire, and flushes crimson unth anger ; she stares hard at Andretu, as if to penetrate his character, and judge if she has any chance of mastering him. And. {aside to Miss Light). By Jove, this is strong enough, but not so clinching as the other. I wish my enemy instead of my friend had written that. I never saw the Sun divided from his " set " yet, or from his " beam." The appearance of two planets in two verses must be rather hard work for those luminaries. " To awake," no doubt she is wide-awake — rather put out for a suitable adjective in last line of third verse — but I fear this nearly amounts to a promise of marriage. Here is something more suitable to the young beauty — " Would I were a knife whose blade Was to rasorial shaipness made. Then I would in twinkling settle. That offensive stinging nettle." \_Sevcr(d suppressed " phi'^^cs " issue from Miss Light. Miss Light. I feel c[uite sore with eff{jrts to keep from exploding, and shall make an excuse to go out of the room and liave my laugh out. ( Waggic catches scraps of the verses ccnd these remarks). Akd. Waggie looks like the appearance of Vesuvius before an eruption, which I expect will take place ere long. Miss Light. There have been several premonitory symptoms. I hope she will not be dangerous. THE SIEEN. 23 Waggie {turning to Hearthy). Don't you like going to the play ? I does hawfuUy, if it is a nice piece. Heakt. Yes, provided it has a good tendency, and is like " Caste," or " The Porter's Knot." What do you consider a nice piece though ? I much object to some plays I have seen and heard. And. Quite true. There are many that ought to be hissed off the stage instead of applauded, for they are full of douUe entendre, and covert low jokes, v?hich innocent girls might laugh at without perceiving their vileness and vulgarity. Waggie {ignoring Ms remark). I likes anything spicy and funny. Shaikes- peare is too dull and dry, but wasn't Jack Sheppard just nice. And. There is a play I very much recommend you to study, it is called '' Love's Labour Lost." ( Waggle's eliirpy hole instantly fades aiuay). And. {to Miss Light). She has more than once used the word " dry," I think her father must have been in the public-house business. {Mrs. Blodger looks hard and frowns at Waggie^. Heart. Your tastes will alter, I trust, and develop in a higher direction. {aside). I wonder her mother takes her, or allows her to be taken to such plays. Waggie. I likes specially jolly big words, and to hea.r a hofficer swear. Plenty of oaths, I think, sets a piece off so. Mrs. Blod. {aside, frovming deeply). That girl will spile her game. {Aloiid). She's a talking like that to tease you a bit, Sir. She's a hawful tease to them as she likes best. Heart, {shoeked). Dear me, how untrained and spoilt she is. And. (aside). Her mother's explanation does not gloss over the girl's outrageous speeches. The expressions came from her heart, and indicate her real and not affected tastes, though they have been put forward prominently to vex and shock Heartley : I thought the desire to amuse herself at Heartley's expense would overcome all prudential considerations. Mrs. Blod. {aside). I'm much afeared she's gone too far. How shocked Mr. Sweetinburgh looks. Waggie {catching her mother's expression). As our minister told us, I knows we naturally loikes what's not good for us ; I used to be so sweet on sour happles, from which I were very hill ; but I wants some wiser mind to guide me. {Looks to Heartley). Mrs. Blod. Quite right, my dear. {To Heartley). She only wants a gentle and firm hand to lead her, and she'll be most fust-rate. And. {half aside). A strong hand and a thick whip would do far better. 24 THE SIEEN. Waggie {returning to the charge, to Heartley). Is not love, dear Sir, a sweet and 'oly thing ? Heaet. Tlie faithful love of one good and pure spirit for another may certainly be called by that name. "Waggie. That's just it ; when two parties quite hit it off like. {More stifled explosions from Miss L'vjht and Andrew). Just quite hit it off like we two does. And, {etside to Miss Light). As nicely as a spider and a fly do. I have often caught scraps of low-bred love-making, but these endearments out-Herod Herod {taJics out his note-look), and some of this is too rich to be lost. Mrs. Blod. I see, Sir, notwithstanding your sarcastics, you think my darter's remarks worth putting do\vn. It's not the fust time she has been paid that compliment. {Andre iv hoirs solemnly). Waggie. I read some very pretty poetry on this subject some time ago, but I forgets it. Heaet. Let me recommend you to read the " Angel in the House " ; a nice model for you to imitate. ]\Irs. Blod. I think a public 'ouse at Hislington is called by that name. AxD, Your memory does you credit, madam. A very old Angel, and a very nicely conducted one it is ; and that, I suppose, is why you mention it to your daughter. Mrs. Blod. Is not the bracelet on Waggie's arm a love ? First prize for German, not German silver though ; pity she lost its fellow iu running home quick in order not to keep dinner waiting ; so good and thouglitful of her, and shows her real kindness of 'art. And. {aside). More eirt, I think, and some disign too at present. Mrs. Blod. Now, Sir, isn't that a mark of distinction ? But it is only one of many. She has also several prizes for tennis, crowkay and jimnastics, at our wilier at home. And. I regTct that I do not appraise a girl's domestic value by the number of prizes she wins. (/;; a luiud vddsjier). The cliief mark of distinction I can see is the very red appearance of her left ear, which looks as if it liad felt the strong application of the master's right hand. \_Waggie starts, Icing iilterlg tahen off her guard hj this uncx'peeted hit, holes very di,seomjii).sed. but not having ctny sailuhlc loords ready, takes no notice, hut (gathers herself up again and collects her features like a pugilist ahout to receive bloivs. THE SIREN. 25 Heart, (aside). Andrew, Andrew, she heard your last sarcasm. And. I hope she felt one wave of truth and reality in the calm sea of adulation and flattery by which she is surrounded. (Aside to Miss Light). My random shot seems to have been a bull's-eye. Miss Light. Yery probably, from what I know of the young lady's school- room life. I should think such an occurrence might have happened more than once, as she is most aggravating and insolent to the G-erman master, whom she calls " a 'orrid 'airy furriner." And. [in audible aside). She ought to be sent to a boys' school. (A start and increased fiush shows Waggie has heard). Heart, {svjeetly). If I can replace the lost ornament, I shall be most — Waggie. Oh ! how very generously kind ! My birthday is next week. I shall be seventeen. Yes, sweet seventeen, as the poets beautifully say. And. (m a loud whisper). Why should it be sweet seventeen any more than sour seventeen. The alliteration is equally good, and I have seen one as often as the other. Her mental cheek is greater than her physical cheek, which is not inconsiderable. [ Waggie darts a furious glance at Andrew Knivett, hut eollects her features into a pleasant smile as quiekly as possible, for she seems to sniff a 7nore formidable foe than she had hitherto eneountered. She seems very uneasy, and looks as stiicJc-v,p as a batsman who has very diffieult hoivling to play ; much of Andrew's asides and whispers have reached her sharp ears, and for the first time in her life she quails before his penetrating and searching glances ; a great contrast to her former confident manner. She determines on silence till attacked personally. And. One might go through the whole series of the teens and find suitable or unsuitable alliterations — talkative, teasing or tender thirteen ; fat, fragile or fickle fourteen ; fair, fond or fanciful fifteen ; sensible, soft or silly sixteen ; but why seventeen should be more sweet than seven I don't know. A child of seven is, to my mind, when she is a really nice child, one of the sweetest things on earth. Mrs. Blod. You talks like a big book. Sir, but are too severe. Heart, (aside). There is much truth in what you say, but spare her, Andrew; a quick temper may be her greatest fault. And. (aside). Eather say her least. Eemember you are to follow my lead. Stray cards of your own will spoil the game, and it is cheating me. 2(5 THE SIEEN. Dinner is noiv ready. They sit at table in this order: — WAGGIE. JIRS. BLODGER. HEAETLEY. MRS. SWEETINBUEGH. A. KNIYETT. MISS P. LIGHT. Waggie {trying to ignore Andreivs presence and gaining cotcrage with a glass of wine). May I pass you the tomartars sarce? You remember what this means in Pickwicl-c. The langwidge of flowers is very pretty, hut the langwidge of heatalik^s is more sootahle now. Isn't tliis wine just nice ? Mrs. Blod. Very haptly put, "W'nggie. "\^'aggie's toast at birthdays, when we allers has champagne, is " ^lay all our pains be sham." When the wine is liin you know the wit is out, as Shakespeare says. Now (to And.) even you, though you are so horstile to her, must own that to be fust-rate. Anu. a good pun ?/ original. (In a whisper to Ilenrtley toho is leaning over). As she is warming to yuu now, remember the warming pan. She may make it too hot for you. (Aside to Miss Light). As I have remarked before, if I had met with this character in fiction, I should have said it was impossible, but iu real life we occasionally come across persons more extravagant and farcical than the most vivid imagination could invent. I shall try and turn this into a farce for the Gaiety — it ought to run five hundred nights. Miss Light. I quite agree with you, and we have before us an example of what can be produced by the unlimited worship of vulgarity and impudence. And. This must meet a check sooner or later, and the longer her fall is postponed the heavier it will be. It is puzzling it has not been put a stop to before. It would he difficult to conceive what this creature would be by the time she was five-and-twenty or thirty. Waggie. May I help you to some sweet-bread, Mrs. Sweetinburgh ? a most sootahle dish, tho' 'tis hodd that sv.'ijet-lnmd should be meat. Mrs. Blod. You see she finds somethink in everythink to make a clever remark on. And. Yes, madam, I expect to learn a great deal this evening. (Aside). It is a pity some parents cannot allow others to praise their children. ( Waggie deteets the satire and flvslies). Waggie (imrming emd looJdng tender). Let us drink out of the same cup, the first I 'opes of many a loving one. You know Moore's, or some of them THE SIREN. 27 hammerous chaps' sweet words " Drink to me only with thine eyes/' I should say also with thine eye ? And. {Mis eyes involautarlly 02x11 ividc, aside to Miss Liglct). The first time she meets him she dares to make such a proposal ; it is not often I am at a loss for words to express my feelings, but am so now. Heart. Ben Jonson, I believe, wrote that charming ode. Mrs. Blod. How very smart and clever ; go on, darling. And. {suddenly). You seem to have had plenty of practice in the art of love- making. Your health, Mr. Vane, though I cannot wish you success in your present love affair. Mrs. Blod. Sir! Sir! And. Pardon, Madame, a slip of the tongue very easily accounted for. The voice, the hair parted on one side, the whole style made me think I had the pleasure of addressing your son. Waggie. {wratlifully). Isn't he just spiteful, mother, but I'll not forget or forgive such a hawful hinsult ? Its a good job for you, sir, I'm not Mr. Vane, I can tell you. Mrs. Blod. You had him there neatly, Waggie. 28 THE SIREN. And. As you are not Mr. Vane, your valour is not needed. Waggie. He has been cantankering and grinning at me with his glittering eyes ever since I came. I wants to be jolly, but ^\■ ait till by and by, and won't I just — Heart, (aside). Be as gentle as you can, Andrew. Eenieniber she is a favourite child. And. (aside). Gentleness would be about as much use with her as with a young wolf. Mrs. Blod. (meitirnedly to Andrcvj). Why can't you let ray gal alone, and make up to that Sweetie next you, and be jolly and comfortable-like. It quite takes the taste out of this nice wine, all your hunfriendly and hunfeelin' hattacks on poor "Waggie. We dosen't allers take to persons at fust starting, but often one we likes least at fust, we likes best in the hend. And. I fear I may prove an exception to your rule. Mrs. Blod. Itinerate give oop hinsultin' her. And. Let her conduct herself then as a lady, and she will meet with nothing but courtesy from me and all here. Mrs. Blod. "We did not come here to be taught 'ow to be'ave, Sir. My daughter's manners pleases every one but you. \_At this point Andrew sceimj the exjjression on Miss Light's fccce at being ccdlcd a "Sweetie'' causes him, to say he has left his handkerchief wfistairs, When outside his stifled laughter explodes. Waggie's pent-up lurath finels vent. Waggie. Well, I do think that chap is the nastiest man I ever see. A slip of the tongue indeed ! I shall let my hand slip presently. He'd been making that up for the last ten minutes. How did he get in here? Heart, (quietly). He is my friend. Mrs. Sweet, (sternly). And mine too, and a very old and valued one. Waggie. 'Ow I 'ates your friend, just. Mrs. Sweet. This is not the language for a young lady to use in the house of her hostess. I do not like to say wdiat I think of it. Heart, (aside to Miss Liglit, irJio had risen and. is heljmig herself to a glass of water). I fear her early training lias been much in fault, but her parents are most to blame. Temper is the most pardonable of faults in a young person, especially in one who has been so little restrained. A little judicious training would make a fine character of her. Miss Light. I much question that. At any rate, I should not like to be the trainer. THE SIKEN. 29 And. {entering unnoticed, aside to Miss LirjM). The young lady's grammar seems to decrease as her anger increases. [ Waggie pctrthj hears and looks savage. She seems eoioed and says nothing. Andrciu de:derously cdloius enough of his asides to he overheard hy Waggie, to constantly upset and irritate her, and so to bring about the rcsidt. Mrs. Swcetinhurgh rises and rings for dinner to be cleared. All rise from table. Hcartlcy caid Miss Light try to get up a little miosic, but Waggie looks wrathful and sullen and will not play. And. {to Mrs. Blodger). I thought your daughter and Miss Light were old acquaintances. Could they not sing a duet ? Mrs. Blod. They knows none Sir. Many of her school friendships I am obligated to let drop. You see we must keep up castors (caste), as they call it. And. {trying to look grave and be as courteous as possible). Well, Miss Light is everything that is desirable. Mrs. Blod. Well, yes, she is a rather modest and proper like sort of girl. But we live in a Willa and she over a shop, and so Waggie does not notice her. Besides, she teaches as a governes. And. {sarcasticalhj). Oh ! I forgot. Mr. Blodger is a great merchant ? I presume highly connected. I wonder he permitted you to visit us, and to teach us the manners of that fust-rate Society, which we were so ignorant of before {even the dense mental organs of Mrs. Blodger perceive the irony of this remark, while Waggie s face assumes cm expression of concentrated hate, that Hcartley, luckily for her, did not notice.) I too am obliged to teach. The head-masters of Eton, Harrow, Rugby, and our other great schools, are also obliged to teach ; but this is tire first time I have heard it characterized as a social degradation. Many persons would consider it a privilege and pleasure to communicate their knowledge to others. The presence of wealth does not make a gentleman or lady, nor does the absence of it deprive them of those titles, if otherwise merited, {aside.) A pawnbroker's wife and daughter despise the daughter of a publisher because he is poor ! I must apply the mental birch to these people until the proper effect is produced. Mrs. Blod. All that would sound mighty fine if you was a lecturer and we could not answer nothing. But it ain't my experience of life; parties obligated to teach are usually insignificant nobodies. And. Quite so. Madam, like Ai'chbishop Tait, Dr. Arnold and Dr. Butler ; or, in another department, Signer Mario and Madame Sainton Dolby. Of course you would decline to meet such paltry persons. 30 THE SIREX. HEA.ET. (Juivhig fichrlcil some miisic, hri/iujs it to Wrifigic, saying Idndhj). "Won't you play us sonietliing '. Here are Chopin's "Waltzes. Do you know these beautiful compositions ? Waggie, Whose did you say? [lool'ing at riivsic Ilairthnj has in Ms hand) Choppings ! {i>ronoii)ircd like chop). Xever 'eard tell of 'ini. Don't you like the "Pop-Bang Galop," or the "Indian Mutiny Quadrilles," the "Massacre" and the " Fiz-gig Waltzes?" Those are very bright pieces. So is the " Tantivy Galop." And. (unable to restrain laugliicr). Very bright indeed for those concerned in them. Can you play the " Pliissington Polka," or the " Warmingpan Waltzes," by Herr Popinjay ? {Waggie scornfully tosses her licad). Surely you know the last composition, called after the name of your own town. Heart, (mildly). I should think, from the expression of your face, that you played Haudel and Haydn well. And. (rts/(?t). Piather played a Jew's harp well, or bagpipes; and a hurdy- gurdy would be quite in keeping with her general tone. Waggie (contempt uously). Xo, I don't care for those chaps — their's are such slow dragging toons ; they're so precious dry. There's a stoopid droning old thing they plays on serious hoccasions called " The Dead lien's March." I 'ate to 'ear it, for it keeps one such a filthy time in church when there's a nice dinner waiting. Mrs. Blod. Waggie, dear, you don't choose quite the right hadjective for the hoccasion. And. {aside). Kot ij-nife ; but in perfect keeping with her other remarks. Miss Light (aside). She must InixQ bo^■o^\•cd that expression from a gutter child. And. (sarcastically). Though Handel's "Dead ]\Ieu's March" maybe some- what slow (you see " grave " is marked before it), you will find Haydn's "Dead Women's Galop " very cheerful, and anything but dry or dead-alive. It is quite the alive-dead style, and plenty of drinking goes on. Waggie. I believe you're a stuffing me. Heaet. (looking annoyed^ at Waggle's igiujranre and. njarseness). Surely you appreciate the " Moonlight Sonata " and the " Pathctique " ? Waggie. Patty's Tick ? Don't know it. What sort of tick is that >. There's so many kinds of ticks. Mrs. Blod. (softly but audibly). He means tick or tick dolerew. The com- poser was no doubt trying to express in his notes and quavers pains he was a suffering in his 'ead. THE S 31 And. (aside). The woi-d "tick" has a magical sound to tlie mind of a pawn- broker's child. (Aloud). Your powers, Madam, of solving a difficulty are very remarkable. Miss Light (in a luhisper. which Waggie's sharp ears catch). Poor thing ; she doesn't know any better. Waggie (lier feelings becoming irrcpressihlc, she rises and ajproaches her). Don't know any better. Miss ! Don't I just ? But this man has been cramming me with sham pieces of music. Not quite so green. Sir, as you think. The blue stocking, Sir, is more in my line. Mrs. Blod. Well done, Waggie ! Doesn't she look like the " budding rose " that ]\Ir. Sweetinburgh so aptly compared her to in his lovely poem ? That poem. Sir, will live for ever ; it is a master's piece. And. The irrimrose, I should think. (To Miss Light). Is not the " Sonata Path(3tique " by Beethoven a real composition ? Miss Light. I thought everyone who knew anything of music was acquainted with those compositions. Waggie. Everyone, Miss, does not know the pieces you happen to be acquainted with. I daresay I could tell yer of a lot of good pieces as you were jolly ignorant of. There are so many of yer a pitching into me that I can't answer half of you at once. Mrs. Blod. It is very cruel and cowardly, I think. Miss Light. I am not pitching into Miss Vane, as you call it, but I thought all musicians played Beethoven's Sonatas. Mrs. Sweet. I reproach myself for silence, not for speaking. Waggie. I have it ! " Patty " was Beethoven's chief dearie, and " tick " is for ticker, her watch ; and he wrote that there bit of music when he made her a present of it. (Loolis at Eeartley). And. Very clever and original interpretation. I Jiope you will give your schoolmistress the benefit of this brilliant idea. (Discovers Waggie's music cctse and opens it). Surely you will play us some of these pieces, I heard you could play accurately and well. Mrs. Blod. The very first true remark you have made about her. I 'opes you at last happreciate some of 'er merits. And. (reading titles). " The Heavens are telling," " High Cockalorum, Jig, jig, jig," " Hailstones and Coals of Pire," " Three Jolly Post Boys," " Waft her Angels," " Jim Crow,'' " The Prayer of Moses," " Old Dan Tucker." (hardly able to stand -for laughing) There seems to be a considerable variety here, which oL5 THE SIKEN. shows a mind capable of wide, almost universal, range and sympathies ; but I never saw High Cockalorum set to music before. Is it a vocal or instrumental piece ? Waggie. How dare you look into my case ? AxD. From interest, as I heard you were musical. Waggie. Well then, I won't play any of them. Mrs. Elod. Do, my darling, for you can just play a bit. ( Warjgie does not more, thinkinij she is injlldinj a great disairpointiiicat on the company). AxD. What a capital music case. {Beads from a sileer pleite thai eaJehes his eye) " Bessie Vane, the gift of her affectionate parents, April 13th, 186-." Oh, April 13th, I thought you said your birthday was next week, a pleasure to come, not past. I am glad you have received such a handsome testimonial on your birthday. {Waggie flushes eery red, Jfrs. Siceetiniburgh loejls severe). Waggie {eonfasedly hut pbielily). I am a very bad hand at remembering dates, especially birthdays. AxD. Most persons remember the dates of their own, however forgetful they may be of their friends. Waggie. I sees no difference. {Hearth-y looks much annoyed). AxD. {aside). I credited her with more gumption, than to bring that tell-tale case here, but vanity frec^uently extinguishes all other considerations. {Aloud) You have put your foot into a gin you did not notice, iliss Yane. ilrs. Blod. Gin ! ! he does not dare insinuate she takes gin. AxD. {nearly exploding). Oh no, Madam, had you attended to the sense of my remark instead of fastening on one word, you would have seen such an imputation was not even hinted at. "\7aggie. He means, Ma, a sort of trap to catch 'ares or rabbits. AxD. Quite so. Waggie. You are a haggrivator, the most 'orrible I ever see. If I could only- Mrs. Blod. Good name, Waggie. Is'ut that the name of that nasty looking crittur at the Zoological Gardins, that smiles just as he is agoin' to heat someone hup ! Halligavator or Hagrevator, I forgets which, but it's much the same, {general laughter). And. Whatever may be your opinion of the animal you mention, there can be but one as regards a girl who strives to obtain an additional present on her birthday by falsifying dates. Waggie {to Mrs. Blodgcr). I'll just see if I can't trip up that feller once. THE SIREN. 33 (in a louder lohisper) He is so difficult to deal with, because he is a de'il of a fellow. Mrs. Blod. Fust-rate, Waggie, your replies and sorecasms are much more cutting than their's. Waggie (wishing to make a diversion from the sulject of the music case). Will not you, dear Mr. Sweetinburgh, favour us with a song ? You looks as if you could sing beautifully, and 'as what they calls a singing face. [Scartley thus stimulated with much reluctance consents to sing, Miss Light playing his accompaniment ; sings Balfe's " Poiver of Love!' Waggie places herself so that she shall escape Andrew's scrutiny, hut does not perceive that he can see her face in one of the mirrors. She indulges in various signs of ridicule ctnd contempit, making grimaces, putting out her tongue, &e. Mrs. Blod. Most sweetly sung. How hexquisite ! Waggie. Very much so. I must learn that, for I knows the power of Love. And. (to Heartley in whisper as he returns from piano). Most appropriate, Heartley. Mrs. Blod. Who is the compositor, may I ask ? Heakt. Balfe, from the opera of " Satanella." And. (aside). Still more appropriate, the name of the heroine so aptly coincides with the character of your present Love. Heart. How can you, Andrew ? Waggie (impudently to Andrew). I supposes you have spent a great many hours in painting that there side face of yourself from the looking-glass. \_Points to a powerfully draivn head of King Lear, which Andrew has hrought with him and pilaecd on an easel in the corner of the room; having received an order from the Art Magazine to finish it as soon as possible, and has therefore hrought the drawing ivith him. And. By an arrangement of glasses a man might draw his own profile, but will you be kind enough to show me the one looking-glass in which you can do that, as it would be a new conjuring trick for me to learn, and also be good enough to place yourself in the attitude in which you stand while sketching your own side face ? Waggie (aside). Oh, if some stinging words would but come. (Looks very glum and discomposed). Mrs. Blod. (to Andrevj). You see, Sir, you have quite decomposed my darling. d 34 THE SIEEN. And. It would be a very good thing if the greater part of her nature were decomposed. Mrs. Blod. Your remarks, Sir, are like a rasir. And. Because, Ma'am, there are some very stiff bristles to cut through. Mrs. Blod. So you dare to hint. Sir, that either I or my darling have any- thing like a moustache : most insolent insinivations. And. {choking Icnnjldcr). No, no, Madam, no trace of it. I was talking figuratively. Mrs. Blod. Nothing to find fault with in her figure, eli Sir ? And. (aside). The most hopeless obtuseness I ever encountered ; it is like thumping one's head against a brick wall, and with tlie same result. Waggie {inaldiuj one viure deseent on Ilerailei/). De-ear Sir, I have brought you a few flowers which the tormenting of j\Ir. Snivet had put out of my head. ]\Irs. Blod. He's wusser than an Inquisitor. And. {aside) How can sJie care for flowers ? There is some object in this move. "Waggie. Here are some lovealile wild flowers gathered in my last walk (■preiduces some — « feu: jirtmroses, violets, cie.) Is it not a pity that the beautiful mistletoes does not flourish at I'^astm- ? It is so pretty to hang up {holts fondly at Mm). And. I thought young ladies preferred being kissed under the rose to the mistletoe. Heaet. (aside) Andrew, spare the rod you know so well how to handle. And. And spoil the child ; but that I think is done already. A boyish nature is naturally buoyant, and I fear a good many lashes are still re- quired. Waggie (aside to her Mo/Jier). I nmst liave one more go at him and 'is picture's the honly hopening I sees (fi-eiiuj her features and draveing herself up agedii). Howsomedever, whusoever dre^^' that ill-looking old man, and very badly drawn it is, I know it was intended for you (lays strong stress on the adjeetires). Miss Light. Strange that the " Art ]\Iagazine " should accept a badly drawn head, as I know it receives none but the best. And. I beg yimr pardon, but I thought you were alile to read, but if not I must inform ymi that the words writleu underneath are " King Lear," a monarch whose looks you, at any rate, seem to have studied. Mr. Blod. Sir, Sir, Waggie shall i)ersecute you for labelling 'er. THE SIRBN. 35 And. "Where to? To be left at Biggborough till called for ? ConsidcTing that his hair is white and mine brown, his nose Roman and mine composite, tliat he is blind and I can see, putting aside these very slight dilfereiices, there is doubtless a strong resemblance. Waggie (aside). I do just feel wild and savage. Won't I just pay him out somehow for making of me look silly afore my sweet one, and all the fine company. If I waits a year, I'll do it. 'Ow I 'ates 'im, doesn't I just. Mrs. Sweet, (to Miss Light). This is the second time that creature has repeated these vile words. Her nature must be detestably mean and revengeful. She shall never enter this room again. Mrs. Blod. (to Waggie aside). Dout you try and sting 'im any more dear, 'es a cleverer man nor those you usually pitches into, and has a right hand blow for all your left, as dear Blodger says ; but he won't stay here for ever. He is one of those prize fighters in words, as my 'usband says ; tliey are called lawyers, and are paid to uphold the cause of the wicked. \^Mrs. Blodger then composes herself to vutkc her last effort, eind brings out her ace of trumps, considering that even if they hare lost cdl flu: 2Jrcvious tricks this at least must he theirs. She thinks also that success in this will atone for everything ; her device consisted, not in throv-ivg aivay a super- fluous trump as in Dcschapicllc's ivondcrfid finesse, hut in disclosing one no person siospected her of possessing. She snpiposes it must overpcrwcr any possible card or comhination of cards that her opponents might lead. So she smiles benignly and looks round with a ecdm assured air that rather surprises Andreiu, who wonders tohat the next more will be. Mrs. Blod. I have brought Waggie'.s prize essay on Sliakespearo, which gained her the great, I may say the greatest, prize in the scliool, that there real gold watch. I thought the company might like to see it, for it is considered most fust rate. And. "Which do you mean Madam, the essay or the watch ? Waggie. You needn't look so cute, it is not alumimis or pinchbeck, it's real solid gold. And. I don't doubt the quality of the prize, it's the work that gained it I suspect to be pinchbeck. Mrs. Blod. Isn't he hawful ? He'd strip the beautiful 'airs hoff 'er if 'e could. He'd take everythink from 'er. And. And she would be all the better for the loss of some of her airs. I should much like to hear the essay. D 2 36 THE SIREN. Waggie (w/io thinks she shall show her superiorifAj to Miss Light and astound the company in ifcneral loith her literary powers, cafehes at the offer). Got my innings at last (aside). Heart, {interest «l). Tray read, I shonld like to hear it very much indeed. AXD. {to Miss Light). This somewhat puzzles me. I can quite understand a shrewd, quick girl like that gaining a prize in French, (xerman or arithmetic, but not how original or fine ideas could ever arise in that low caste mind. Eoses and lilies do not spring from brambles, nor do I comprehend how any thoughts could be clothed in language sufficiently good to carry off the first prize in a large school, — for I find Girling College has many day boarders. There must be several girls who can beat her in composition, thougli none could surpass her in vulgarity. Miss Light {in a u-hisper). I expect she has taken it from some great writer, for I hear her father possesses a good library of both old and modern books, and it has not been found out. .She has the audacity to do so, and lacks the principle to restrain her. AxD. By Jove ! I think you are right. Yes, it must be so. Miss Light. She is always cribbing and pilfering from other girls' brains and taking e\'ery unfair mean advantage she can by appropriating their work. [IVaggie meamrhilc has been turning over the lea res of her essay, deliberating what to omit and what to read. AxD. (aside). There has been so much written on Shakespeare that I fear we shall not catch her. Mrs. Blod. (in the fulness of her heart pitches over the juelges letter to Andrew). Don't leave out any think, Waggie, it is all splendrous. A'iiD. (reads). "Girling College, December -!2. Dear Madam, — We have assigned the first prize for this essay to your daughter, ]\Iiss Yane ; for though the commencement is common-place and e(jlloquial, this defect is amply redeemed by the latter portion, whicli is singularly original and powerful ; an extraordinary production for a girl under twenty. We venture to predict high literary eminence for this writer in the immediate future." Mrs. Blod. Byrons or Macaulays could hardly have had more incourage- ment than that. I feels justly proud ; she 'as already carried hoff more prizes than any of 'em. Fattily princess in every think, as her master once remarked. \_Andreiv and Miss Light laugh rpoietly. Waggie holes rery triumphant, her mother very important. THE SIliEN. 37 Mrs. Blod. Now, darling, show them parties what you are made of. [ Waggie throws a disdainful glance at Miss Light, a defiant one at Andrew, and fond ones at her prize watch and Heartlcij Swcctinhurgh. Mrs. Blod. Be sure you reads hall. And. (aside). A pretty haul of weeds it will be, I expect ; at least all that is hers. [ Waggie clears her voice for the "grand eowp!' And. {putting on a look of fixed attention). I never saw different expressions follow each other more rapidly. She has a spice of the actress in her. Mrs. Blod. She just can hact. Sir. One gent said to me : " She will be a future Siddongs if she sticks to hacting." Miss Light {aside). Mr. Knivett, you really look exactly like a kingfisher I was once fortunate enough to see, watching the unwary and audacious fishes that were rising rather too close to him for their own safety. Waggie {giving her head an important toss, and tvith the air of a bantam coek). " Shakespeare in his youth must have had plenty of practice in courting, as is shown by his making up such nice girls and such delightful tender situations." And. (aside). This sentiment seems to me to merit the cane more than the watch. Waggie. " What other men cannot read walking, he saw running. If he did not come across a character, why he made it up ; and they are so lifelike that the reader can't tell the invention from the real character, or the fictitious event from the actual one." And. (aside). Good, but I am sure it is not her thought, and it might be much better expressed. Miss Light. ISTo, it is mine. She must have looked over my shoulder when I was correcting the essay after school. I put "invented" instead of "made it up." Waggie. " He was the man who, of all modern and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them not laboriously but happily. When he describes anything you more than see it — you feel it too. Those who assert him to have wanted learning, give him the greatest commendation. He was naturally learned ; he needed not the spectacles of books to read nature ; he looked inwards and found her there. I cannot say he is everywhere alike ; were he so, I should do him injury to compare him with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat, insipid ; his comic wit degenerating into clinches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he is always great when some great occasion is 38 THE SIREN. presented to him ; no man can say lie had a fit subject for his wit and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of the poets ' Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.' " [Aiuh'cw sJiijics si/m/jtuiits of great restlessness and inipaticnce as she reads, and e.eehanf/es glanees vith Miss Light. Waggle tliroms doirn the cssag and tool's grandly round. ilrs. Blod. There, Sir, isn't that fine ? You couldn't match that yourself. Sir. AxD. As the only good remark in the first part is copied from Miss Light, and the last twenty lines are copied verbatim from Dryden's masterly but little- known essay on Shakespeare, I quite agree with you. I could not match it. Mrs. Blod. {n:rathfidlij). What do you mean by such a charge? A^'D. Exactly what I say, Madam. The whole passage shows the uumis- takeable signs of insight and genius, and it is preposterous to suppose it could have been written by a girl who cannot even express herself grammatically, or without her local lingo. The junction is as clear and distinct as that between a salt maish and the sea itself; and it is marvellous how any competent judges were so deceived as not to see where iliss Vane's composition ends and where, at " He was tliu man," Dryden's essay begins. I marvel that the judges did not see that from the use of the obsolete word " cliuch," or that she must have borrowed the idea froui some old writer. It is strange she had not the sense to use the word " pun," or " double meaning," instead of " cliuch." It requires more real shrewdness and experience than she possesses to carry such a deceit as this through successfully. Mrs. Blod. But I tell you, Sir, she did ^rite it. Yes, Sir, the judges, Sir, knows better than you. A^'D. As you doubt my word, I will telegraph for the book containing the essay. The post will soon Ijring it, and the judges will decide for themselves. Waggie. Stop. I think I did crib a bit of it somewhere, I don't know where, but I read so much that I can't tell whether things come out of my head, or whether they are put into it by others. AxD. (sarcasiicaJlg). Strange you should have copied so many lines word for word, without being aware of your doing so. I should strongly recommend you in your next essay to take out a line or two from one author at a time. You might then crili from twenty, and mix them up together with a mash of your own lingo, and be much less likely to be found out thau copying Dr^yden's masterly expressions word li}' word, and especially I advise you to avoid Latin quotatious. [TVaggic writhes in far g, and looks as if about to spring. THE SIKEN. 39 Mrs. Blod. Nothing ever goes into Waggie's head half so good as what comes out of it. And. Quite so; the head of original authors! It is a pity that Dryden is not alive now, for he would have the advantage of l)orrowing from your daughter's essay. Of course you have published it ; such a work of genius should not be lost either to the present generation or to posterity, and there are eminent writers on Shakespeare alive who might profit from your daughter's marvellous powers. Mrs. Blod. Sneer what you will, Sir, but the Piev. Mr. Dew, our minister, called it a wreath of vilets, rosymarys and lilies. And. (aside). Miss Vane's portion of it bears considerable resemblance to vilets. (Aloud) — A writer in the "Family Piushlight," or "Evening Taper," might use such expressions when speaking of a pretty poem, but roses, dahlias and dandelions, would be most suitable when applied to this essay, which is a medley of Dryden, Miss Light and Miss Vane. [ Waggie's anger against Miss Light is increased bg the knoidedge that she has told Andrew about her pilfering from her essay. Waggie. We all cribs if we can, and I see no harm in it, nor anyone but you, who have been trying to pick quarrels all the evening ; you should not wait long, if I was a man, to get something awful sharp back. And. I also exceedingly regret that you are not a man ; such behaviour as you have exhibited is better dealt with by action than by words. Had you been a man I fancy you would have wished yourself a girl long before this. I call it a great harm to steal from another person's brains, and greater to get a prize by it. There are very few girls, or boys either, who would cheat their schoolfellows in that manner. Waggie (thunderously, and scarcely able to control her rage). Do you mean to call me a cheat. Sir ? And. I shall leave the judges to determine whether obtaining a gold watch by the work of another's brains is cheating or not. Waggie. You don't mean to say you are going to show them that there book? And. Most certainly, for the young lady who is rightly entitled to the prize must not be deprived of it in this manner. Mrs. Blod. You hav'nt hany call to hinterfere. Pray, Sir, who made you our judge ? and you are as cruel and merciless as Judge Jeffery. And. I should be very sorry to interfere in any of your domestic affairs, 40 THE SIEEN. Madam, but this is a matter external to your household, and affects others, and I must act accordingl3^ Miss Light. I must now inform you, Mr. Knivett, that I was told my essay was second, and would therefore have taken the prize ; under ordinary circum- stances the judges said it would have been first. I did not think I was contending with Dryden. I have spent most of my spare time in reading up and working for this prize, as it is the mark of distinction of the year, and often leads to future advancement ; and this consideration, more than the gold watch, induced me to exert myself to the utmost, and it is extremely hard for me to be deprived of it by means so unfair, after all the trouble I have taken. And. I will see justice is done. Miss Light. Waggie (quicUy atlranccs in uncontrolled anger). I'll teach you, Missie, to address such language to me. [S/cj)S /yqiidli/ fomxird and ijivcs her cc sharp sleq) on the hand. Axn. Instantly apologise for this behaviour to your betters, or I shall turn you out of the room. Waggie. My betters, indeed ! My worsers I call 'em. Mrs. Blod. How witty. Waggie. This is my apology. \_Ste])s forivard to bring the heel of her hoot down on his foot. Andrew dexterously ivithdraios his foot, and upsets the hot tea in his hccnd on her ancle. Waggie gives a howl, rushes hack, catches up a walking stick on a table behind. Enter Hugh Mouxtjoy, disguised, in jJolicc man's uniform as Sergeant Heavysides. He seizes Waggie by the arm. Heavy. I have heard, tho' not seen, a good lut of this 'ere, for I happened to have come to visit a relative below this evening. I quite twig how the case stands. Betty told me there was fun upstairs, but there seems something more than fun going on. Young woman, you ha\'e committed an assault upon two parties, for I see it myself. Does anyone here wish to prosecute ? Mrs. Blod. Young lady, if you please; and how dare you, pleceman, put your vulgar 'and on my darter's harm ? Waggie. That nasty great man has been a-badgerin' and a-haggravatin' me the whole evening, and I just lost my temper a bit. You'd have done the same if you had been sauced half as much. Mrs. Blod. We knows the fate of them as causes hoffences. The persons 'ere 'ave been stickin' pins and needles into my darter all the heveuin', and I only wonders she did not box someone's hears long afore this. THE SIREN. 41 Waggie. Several against one — most mean, I call it. You ought to take one of them up, Sargant. Mrs. Sweet. Tlie marvel is that instead of replying to her we did not oblige her to leave the house. Heavy. If you had given words for words there would have been no call for my hinterference, but when you comes to blows Mrs. Blod. If Mr. Blodger had been here you would not have wentured to do this, pleceman. Heavy. I wish that wicked old Blodger were here, for I would give him a bit of my mind. He has sold a gentleman I know two worthless clocks at a high figure, and if he takes my advice he will prosecute the fellow. Mrs. Blod. Do you dare to call my respected husband a fellow ? Heavy. Eespected indeed ! Why he's not even respectable. There's been more dirty work done at his shop at Biggborough than all the other pawnbrokers put together. I should like to have some excuse to give him a taste of my staff. Mrs. Blod. Shop ! Pawnbroker ! Dirty work ! (excitedly at the top of her voice). I never were so hinsulted. It's Mr. Blodger as will persecute you ! [Tries to faint, hut cannot. Heavy. I only hope he will prosecute me, if that's what you mean. Mrs. Blod. Yes, with very utterest severities of the lawyers. [Subsides into tears. Heavy, [moclcingly). Oh law ! how dreadful ! It will bring to the front some ugly bits of business old Three Balls would sooner have kept in the back- ground. You have furnished your gew-gaw villa by methods as mean as this young hussy has got her watch by, and I have heard of many a sharp bargain driven with the poor and helpless. He has screwed the last sixpence out of those whom an honest and kind man of business would have liked to help and befriend. Mrs. Blod. My 'usband's wealth 'as been made by rather, I should say, very honest means, and is placed in the reducM annuities. Heavy. Made in a very deucfed manner you mean. [Derisive laughter. Mrs. Blod. I bandies words no more with lows and vulgars. "Waggie, let us be hoff ! [Sergeant Heavy looses his hold slightly, Waggie instantly takes advantage of it and holts, shaking her fist at Andreiu through the doorway. Mrs. Blodger, with a grave cu,rtsy to Mrs. Sweetinhurgh, follows. Sergt. Heavy. I thought it best to give the girl a chance of slipping away. 42 THE SIREN. After what has occurred neither she nor her mother will be likely to come back here in a hurry. I doubt if the mother and daughter have ever been so taken down. AxLi. Well, you did your part lictter than I could have imagined. How could you manage to know so nmcli about ISlodger ? Tor I noticed that every shot was a bull's-eye and told accordingly ; for your home truths upset Mrs. Blodger infinitely more than dozens of my sarcasms ; three-quarters of which failed to reach her I'atty brain. .Suigt. Heavy. The man has got a bad name in this town for sharp practice in business matters ; and the rest I learnt through my man, Tom, who has a relative who keeps a shop near this man's establishment in Pound Street, Biggborouo'h. DO O Axu. I see, — Ijy the way, iliss Light, vdio are the judges who suppose this creature wrote that essay ? They might as reasonably expect to find champagne in a ditch. Miss Light. They have only seen her at her best, which is some excuse for them. They are three gentlemen of the town, chosen more for their wealth and position, than any capability or literary attainments. And. It does not require any literary attainments to perceive that no young girl could Iiave written that essay. However gifted and well-read a young person might be, he or she would lack the necessary wisdom and experience ; besides, the diction is of masculine type and nature, not at all like a young girl's writing, which would be more diffuse and less terse. The very power and ability of the essay would naturally excite suspicion in a judge of any shrewd- ness and common sense, but it seems the fashion to select for responsible positions those who are the most uafitted for their particular duties. Miss Light. Miss Thumpingstock and Herr Kramme were much astonished, but did not suspect the truth ; somehow, the girl has managed to acquire a cliaracter for grt'at cleverness. A good deal of this may be owing to her mothers ceaseless praises ; Herr Kramme, Ijcing a foreigner, would naturally possess less knowledge of our literature than an Englishman. Now I must say good-bye, as I have much work to prepare this evening. [Exeunt Miss Light and Sergt. Heavy. And. {to HcaTlliji). Well ! Is the Siren still the olyect of your worship ? Do a thousand thoughts still flow to her in an hour ? Those pretty lines of Moultrie were never so utterly wasted, as when you sent them to this young vixen, but the cieature is so uncommon that it is hard to find the name that exactly fits. Heaet. Sweet, {slicqnsldy). She possesses faults, and has been much spoilt THE SIKEN. 43 but I think you have been very liard on her ; most girls would have lost their temper under such provocation, even before she did, for you know, Andrew, you can be particularly aggravating. And. Kniv. No young lady would rc(fiire such provocation, but ivliat will convince you ? The day after to-morrow the book will be here, and Miss Thumpingstock shall have an opportunity of comparing Dryden's essays with Miss Vane's production, and we shall hear what she thinks of the singular similarity. Besides, I have almost forgotten in the rush of events, as sensational papers say, that, when you were singing, your darling indulged in artless marks of affection and admiration for you, as she did in the gardens. Heart. Impossible, you must be mistaken. And. It is you who are miss-taken or rather taken veith the miss. But, I never met with such trust and faith in any man before, and very seldom in a woman ; believing against belief, hoping against hope. She used a variety of coarse expressions of contempt I never saw equalled before by one person. Heart. Did not her mere beauty charm you, the depths of her deep dark eyes thrill you, or the beauty of her face and figure attract you ? And. You must reserve that sentence for the description of your next heroine ; it does not suit Waggle. Did her beauty charm me ? Never from a near view. In the Gardens I might think her a striking and pretty girl. There is far more grace and beauty about ]\Iiss Light. Heart. I can't judge of that. The course of true love never did run smooth you know. It cannot : it is a celebrated proverb. And. Yes it can, fairly well. Many of the wise saws will bear a good deal of alteration, without much injury to truth: the course of true love will run tolerably smooth if you take the trouble to divert it from rocks and stones, where it will become very wayward and unmanageable and, perhaps, disappear in a waterfall of mutual anger and misunderstanding; but courtship requires care, tact and trouble, as everything does, if it is to be carried out well and successfully, and if these demand too much exertion, the love affair is not worth undertaking at all. It would be best to train the stream to flow through pleasant woods and meadows : little breaks must occur, but such stops only give variety to the occupation, which would be monotonous without them. Nothing exhausts the brain more than the invention of similes, especially for others, so I shall expect some restorative fluid, in the shape of a bottle of Volnay or My dear Ah (Madeira) — a very suitable wine for you at present — with our cigar bye-and-bye. I say 44 THE SIREN. this because I was too anxious and astounded at dinner-time to take my usual glass of sherry. Heart. I thought, in true love, incidents and love passages became so beauti- fully fitted and adjusted, throu.nh the tender and faithful love of each for the other, that all this machinery could be dispensed with, but I see it is not quite so. And. Bah ! Circumstances, as they are called, have often, by unexpected and repeated blows, knocked to pieces the closest chain that ever human heads have knit together ; in your case I trust the circumstances were as beneficial as often they seem baneful. If this affair were true love, or anything approaching it, I would gladly help you over the various five-barred gates and hedges that must be cleared in }'our progress, and would take care that you did not stick in the slough of Despondency, or drown yourself in the sea of Despair ; now I have quite set you up in the Image line, and you can turn them into verses for another girl, not this one. As you told me in your letter, do you still gaze " fondly on those endearing young charms ? " You may send her the new \'ersion of this poem if you like : — " Believe me if thy unendearing rough ways. Which I gaze on with anger and sorrow, Were to fade and to pass, to my wondrous surprise, Away from thy being to-morrow. Thou ne'er could'st be loved for a moment again. Were I to see thee from morning till eve. Thine own clumsy fingers have broken the chain, Which it took me such long time to weave." Mrs. Sweet. You will licat Heartley himself at verse-making soon. [Ecit Mrs. Sweetinhurgh. And. {continues). The family of your " retired merchant '' are in full swing of worldly prosperity, and seem to be of no very retiring disposition themselves, and you must now know tliu real nature of his occupation. Heart. You do make such game of them. And. You have pitched on a very apt word, they are playing a bold game, but it is a little too impudent and lacks the finesse, which is usually essential to success. I prefer to play a game with one ball, such as football, hockey, cricket or rounders ; you have taken to a family who use three, and it will amuse me to see the settlement your worthy father-in-law will draw up for you. I think it will both settle you and draw down your wrath, if that is possible. THE SIREN. 45 Heaut. Andrew, you will repent these words, for they are very hard. And. The hardness that knocks a friend down or pushes him aside, when he is walking blindfold over a cliff. Heaet. Well, well! But don't you think I shall be fairly happy when received into the family? And. Yes, the happiness that is found by a man who has tumbled from a cliff to the beach below. Heart. Dear me, dear me, just the right age and temperament for me ! And. Neither the right temperament nor temper, though these points are not of paramount consideration or of any serious moment. Heart. Such sweet pouting lips for a lover's first kiss ! And. You surely do not consider that a serious reason for courting a girl. These pouting lips to me suggest much more temper than kisses ; but to return to the point. The purity of breed, to use a common but suitable word, and the mental and inward correspondence, is infinitely more to be considered than suitability as to years. I trust to prove the latter point to you practically ere long. A deerhound must find his mate in a deerhound, a bull-dog in his own species, etc. ; how you, a delicate-skinned and tenderly nurtured Italian grey- hound, can seek for your mate a rough-coated, ill-conditioned mongrel, whose chief joy would be to worry and bite her partner, is beyond my knowledge of life, and is so extraordinary that it cannot be talked about without laughing at its absurdity. Heart. Spare her and me also. And. Again you say that ; she won't spare you if I do. If she had been of the homely house-dog species — a good Scotch or English terrier — I would object far less than I do to this mongrel. I mean if you had chosen Miss Sirloin, whom I happened to see in her father's shop, who is handsome, lady-like and a fine creature, I would not have made a tithe the fuss I now do. Girls may often possess aU the feelings of ladies, though their manners may not be as polished as the daughters of our more exclusive classes ; there is real beauty about Miss Sirloin, and, could her father only place Esquire after his name, there would be a score of young gentlemen pining for a smile from her ; as you think so much of pink lips. Miss Sirloin has a lovely pair, and a nice expression to set them off. This Waggie seems to me to have the faults of all classes and the virtues of none. Heart. This is too much. I feel quite faint, my feelings are so racked and lacerated. Miss Sirloin do you recommend ? Ah, she is so youthful and And. Bah ! many girls of eighteen or nineteen are quite as much developed 46 THE SIKEN. ns men of thirty or tliirtj^-five, especially in gumption. But I do not recommend ]\riss Sirloin, I only sny I should make far less objection to her than to Waggie. T'esiilf's, Waggie is still younger, though she is sixty in point of brazen assurance; of course T should prefer you to choose one from your own social position, but from the short talk I had with ]\[iss Sirloin in her father's shop, when your mother sent me to order sometliing more for dinner, I should say she was both intelligent, well-trained, educated and good-hearted, to say nothing of her real beauty. It is always best that the family you marry into should be able to assimilate with yours ; marriage is very unlike friendship, you may make a friend of a man or a woman almost independent of these considerations. On(> man may be close friends with another, and know little of the ladies of the family'; but in marriage intermingling of the two families and cordiality Ijetween them is essential; if not, there must be a constant cause of discontent and uneasiness, and assimilation between them would be difficnlt and trying for these reasons. Marriage is a pair-oared l.ioat, in which the wife onglit to pull bow to the husband's stroke ; let her in domestic matters steer, while you do the hard work ; with her this VA'Ould be reversed, she would insist on pulling stroke, and a very queer and bad one she would set, wdiich would soon send you into one of the banks of the river of life, if it did not upset you altogether. He.vrt. Well, well ! your .sporting images always confuse me. Can't you draw your similes from more tasteful .subjects ? Axil. Tasteful ! Most men would consider a pair-oar gliding along on a lovely river, and most rivers are so, a very pretty and tasteful sight; and would also hold the same opinion on the exhibition of liatting by a skilful and graceful batsman; so don't condemn what you know nothing about; and I choose my images from what seems most suitable and a}ipropriate, whether pretty or not. Consider what you are pursuing. The creature, even if she looks pretty, is like a certain American little animal which, tliough it is pretty to look at, is most objectionable when captured, and you would wish to get rid of it much quicker than you seized it. Heart. What is it ? AxD. I will find it for you in " Wood's Natural Hi.story," and you shall ponder over the account of the creature as a morning's profitable meditation. Heaet. I will read it, but I cannot stand the wrench of breaking with her. Axil. When we, have a bad tooth in the head, which is past stopping, we seek a dentist and have it out. Now you have a very bad social tooth in your mind, and everyone that sees you would like to gi\e a helping tug in extracting it. THE SIREN. 47 This raisevalile fancy must come out of your brain, however much you have to suffer in the operation ; you will thank me afterwards heartily and long, that is, during your whole life. Heart. Tear that mueli-cherished image from my heart ? Slie has been the lovely rainbow that cheered the landscape of life. And. Yes. We have just seen a charming exhibition of character, modesty and loveliness in woman. She is a rainbow in more senses than one, and will give you a most tremendous wetting if you get in contact with the reality. Blodger's relatives and friends are the onl j j^ersons ("parties'' is their word; the name of "ladies and gentlemen" I cannot utter in such a connection) you will see at the wedding or that will visit you after, for I tell you frankly I will not be present at the mar (I cannot get farther than the first S3d]able), nor will I call on j'our wife ; and I don't envy your life with that vixen. Heart. How crushing you are on her — " vixen," "mongrel !" And. Too mild, I think. If I had expressed my thoughts, you would have the strongest adjective inserted before each noun. Heart. Poor damsel ! And. That reminds me of a schoolboy riddle that, in deference to your feelings, I abstain from asking, though a young lady once put it to me. Will the last syllable now express the exact truth ? [Heartley strolls into the (jardcn, v:liih Andisew loohs out of the luindoia. Heart. " Art thou- then gone, my young and lovely one, whom youth and youth's affections bound to me ? " And. Eatlier mis-directions. Heart. " Whose done " — — And. Yes. Whose done me easier than all else have done. And turned my head, albeit so turned to thee ; And now 'tis o'er, thy most audacious spree. Heart. Andrew, how can you desecrate those touching lines ? And. And how can you profane Byron's lovely lament o'er his sister by applying it to that young ruffian ? If a milder epithet occurred to me I would use it, but " out of tlie abundance of the heart," etc. Heart. I thought I could train her into a loveable woman. And. As easy to train a braml^le into a lily. Heart. I thought, also, I had found a second Lucy at first, but I confess there is a difference. And. The figure and face, at a sufficient distance, have a general resemblance, 48 THE SIEEN. but on nearer view there is as mncb difference between the two as between the engraver's proof of Turner's " Ancient Italy " over my mantelpiece and the foreign counterfeit I put opposite, as a foil to throw up the beauties of the other. The lights and shades are all changed in the impression, which is a very bad one, so that it looks more like a caricature than a copy. Heakt. I crave for some kindred spirit. AxD. Well, well, we shall see ere long. Lucy had that mixture of sense and sensibility you require, and we shall keep a sharp look-out for her duplicate. There are as good fish in the sea as were ever taken out of it, and as fine birds in the forest as were ever taken out of it ; as soon as you go again into society you will realise the truth of this saying. Heaet. My feelings, which had expanded like the eyes in deep'ning twilight, are thrust back again into themselves, as if the noon-day sun of July had suddenly appeared in full brightness. AxD. That is impossible, like most of your similes; happily your youthful readers do not discover the dissimilarity in them. Now if a policeman had caught you mooning (which you often do without the moon for an excuse) and had flashed his bull's-eye on your pupils, distended with too copious potions at this love feast, no doubt you would have suffered in the way you describe. Heaet. What very carnal images you employ to illustrate your meaning to me, who never ate or drank too much in my life ! And. I can't find a suitable metaphor from a lady's eyes, unless it is a lash to whip your mamorafa with, but your mind is simply gorged with unwholesome literary food, and paralysed by these efforts to turn an utterly vulgar school-girl into a heroine ; it is really more puzzling to me than the feats of the wizard of the North, and e\'en the changing of small beer into champagne. Heaet. I will sadly and gravely reflect on your words. And. Yes, I hope it will be the grave of this affair. With that gravity alone shall I be satisfied. [Uxit. THE SIKEN. 49 SCENE III. Two days after Scene II. Mrs. SweetinbueCtH, Heartley and Andrew, are sitting chatting together, after Ireakfast. And. I have found something that may tickle Mrs. Sweetinburgh. Mrs. Sweet. What is it ? I should like to know. And. Heartley told me I should find some of his peculiar cigars in the little drawer of his wardrobe upstairs, and I discovered this Mrs. JSTorton-inspired ode to the Siren. On Parting. — No. 7. " My beautiful, my beautiful, that standest by me now, With thy finely shaped and graceful form, deep eye and noble brow. Fret not to roam these paths alone, when evening's light grows pale. Thy lover's steps no more can tread this dear poetic vale." No. 7. This I suppose is one of a series of compositions to be entitled the " Warmington Melodies," but only one seems to be written as yet, the rest are in Heartley's brain. Mrs. Sweet, {to Heartley). I trust you \v\]l not mar Andrew's good work on your behalf by sending this effusion to that creature, which implies that you are an accepted lover ; it will bring Mr. Blodger here, to a certainty. And. Blodger ! he will come as it is, I feel sure, to try the screw on us. I hope he will call while I am here. Heart, {meekly). I am under Andrew's guidance now. And. This is one point, Heartley, I ought to call your attention to, and that is, that when Waggie tried to get another present from you by falsifying the date of her birthday, the mother connived at the deception, and did not administer the slightest reproof ; thus she shows lack of principle, as well as Waggie. Heart. I own it was not nice or right, but, but, but — And. You will soon have a warehouse full of buts ; they accumulate so, but they do not hold any good liquor, and are very empty. {T]i,e postman's knock is E 50 THE SIKEN. heard, and a letter delicrrcd to Heartlcy, lulio looks very dejected). And now Heartley, let us have the benefit of that letter. I think I know the graceful hand. Heakt. {reads). "Goldie Yilla, April 23rd. Most Dear and respectable Sir — At the requests of my dear and much liill-hused darter, I just writes these lines to impress her deep sorrows and hagonys on your heart. Your dearie's sweet face was bathed and drownded in tearsies." And. Impossible ! Mrs. Blodger's imagination when speaking of her darling is unbounded. Heart, {continues). "At having lost her temper at your convivial apartments, an 'ot temper that allers goes with a loving soul, but she is as hartless as a lamb {et peed of lenigliter) . AxD. She has applied the right adjective, heartless, to her disposition, at last, tho' not spelt quite right. If I could take those two about the country as an exhibition, I should make a fortune. I hope, Heartley, you will have these letters carefully preserved, or better still, framed, as part of the furniture of your "Waggie-presided-over home. Heart. You are very satirical, you flay my feelings alive. AxD. For your own benefit, my Ijoy. I hope your mental hide will be toughened by all the blows it has received. Heart, {continues). " But she was that a-badgered and bull-battered as never was. That sharp looking gent, who we suppose is hout and hout Eadical, and is trying to hundermine the good old county fammylies like us be." ilrs. Sweet. County families ! what a specimen ! And. It is the first time I have been called a lladical, though Whig was my name at college, owing to my having such a quantity of hair. Heart, {continues). " He was allers a staring at her with his cold glittering eyes, which, she says, much reminded her of the evil one." AxD. These people will give me a fit. She must be intimately acquainted with his appearance to be able to speak so accurately. Heart, {continue.^). " She says she will be taking an hevenin' pomade at the witchy 'ours of sunset — by the river side, left bank." AxD. Over the left she must mean. Mrs. Sweet. There is a retired sort of bower close to the place she indicates. -VxD. "Where you will be utterly //i/.s's-Zc/ and your doom fixed for life. I will give you a specimen of what this meeting in the summer-house will be if it comes off : — THE SIREN. 51 Lover reclining in summer-house. Enter Waggie, sits hy his side, llerovs arms round his neck and salutes him with many loud lisses, irhieh he shrinks from in so jndjlic a place. Waggie. Now that that nasty, horrid, detestable, brutal, rude, hill-mannered fellow is not with j'ou, we will have a cosy time of it. {liavinrj e.rpended all her ■strength in adjeetires at the beginning, they naturally become less incisive tuirards end of speech). LovEK. My friend is at home. You may not like him, but should abstain from such expressions. [Enter fatigued old lady. _ Waggie. Can't yer see, ma'am, you are not wanted here, when people are carting ; you see they doesn't like heavesdroppers. [Old lady indignantly departs. Lover. I must go and apologise to the lady, for she seemed very tired and weary. Waggie. There is no call to do that, (aside) I will take care he does what I tell him as soon as we are married, the hidea of his wanting to apologise to that old frump, &c., &c. Heart, (looks frightened but continues to reael). " Near the worter fally, and 'opes to meet you there. She sends her lovsies to you, and I know feels great fondlings in 'er poor torn yearning heart. I supperments these with kindest regardiugs. There is an old proverb I calls your hattention to, — Heaven defend us from our friends." And. Very considerate of her, but shall we stroll up to Girling College and see what Miss Thumpingstock thinks of her and of the essay ? Heart. Certainly. I feel sure you will find her opinion of Miss Vane is much better than you expect, though I confess I am disappointed; but I am sure we have seen her under peculiar disadvantages. And. And I think it will be much worse than anything we have found out hitherto. Having given you a specimen of a scene from your courting days, I will now give a sample of what I honestly believe will be any day of your future life, taken at random when she is Mrs. Sweetinburgh. You are seated at your desk writing at a MS. [Enter your loving loife. Wife. Well now 'Artley, at that there stupid stuff again, it were 'ard work to put up with that there sort of fiddlededee in carting days. But now I woaint abide it, no I woaint. You ought to have taken me hout to Mrs. Lushington's party last night. Husband. Very sorry my love. I am but finishing my new tale, that I hope will be accepted by the — Wife. You 'opes. I 'opes to 'ave that silk dress and lovely earrings you promised me. Husband. You shall have your desire gratified, my dear, but kindly allow me to pursue my profession. Wife. Profession indeed! I know you paid 2^ guineas for that there big French Dictionary, and 30 shillings for some other big buke, when I am wanting two pairs of boots, another hevenin' dress, and another — Husband. I have just paid a very heavy bill for dresses and jewelry ; you have had every indulgence, and ought not to speak like this. Before our marriage E 2 52 THE SIKEN. you said you looked up to me as your guide and counsellor, and admired my library much, land wished to read my folios, and you said the black lettered books interested you much. AYlFE. Your follyoes indeed ! Folly is the right and only name for them. I intended to use them things to light the fires with, and what do you mean by black lettered books 1 Ain't all hooks got black letters 1 iNDUiNANT HusDAND. I could not have supposed such language possible. Wife. And were'nt yon just a green 'un to believe all that twaddle. Of course, I wanted to marry a rich noodle who I could do anything with. I came in not spooney, but to tell you that I had asked Tom Cobby (This fellow, who is a whipper-in, is one of her chief allies) to take me out riding to-morrow and dine after; and Joe Lownian is a coming the next day, to take me to see "Robert Macaire," at the Bendigo theatre. You can keep in- your study if you does'nt like 'em, and if I come across your "Hem, Hess, Hesses," as you call 'em, in my drawing room. Til tear 'em up. Hu.SBAND. You are told on high authority, to obey and reverence j'our husband. Loving Wife. I must find something to reverence first, before we talk about obeying. Husband. What a want of affection as well as respect; a contrast indeed to your former behaviour ! Heart. Horrible! terrible!! frightful!!! And. Instead of being exaggerated, I do not think this picture is as vivid as the reality would be. I am not making up a sensational scene, but giving what I believe would be a specimen leaf from the book of your daily life, and of your wife's gracious behaviour and forcible humour. Literary men have made the greatest mistakes of any in choosing unsuitable wives, who have rendered their lives wretched, as your biographical knowledge will tell you; the very fact, that they are constantly using their imaginations more than their discerning and penetrating faculties, lays them open to make the greatest mis- takes in their estimates of feminine perfections or imperfections, and it is not easy for the keenest of us to judge these rightly, or fairly. Heart. You do not credit her with one good quality. And. Yes, health, and enough of it to wear out three strong husbands in succession. {Hearthy does not answer, but looks sad and thought/id.) THE SIREN, 53 SCENE IV. Miss Thumpingstock and Hen- Krammk arc discovered in a sitting room at Girling College. A ring is Iicafd. Andrew Knivett and Heartley SWEETINBURGH are shown in. And. I trust we are not disturbing you, but I have a matter of some importance to communicate, about a young person under your care called Miss Vane, which you will allow justifies our intrusion. Miss Thump, (sharpie/). I hope then you have come to remove her {Andrew loohs at Heartley), for she has given me more trouble than all the other girls put together, and I trust you are the two uncles she often talks so grandly about. And. {smiling). No indeed. I am thankful to say I am not one of the distinguished company of pawnbrokers, nor related to the great family of Blodger, though my friend wishes to be, 54 THE SIREN. Heart. Well hardly — that is — not quite — not just yet. Miss Thujip. How very strange ! Horr K^JA^[^rE. Don't you see, Madame Thoompanstock, dees young gentle- mans has von der ver large reason for wisliiug to know de character of Miss Vane. I did tink, from de deportment of dees gcntlemans, that dere was some joke or other uf pleasantrie wid dem and Miss Vane, but I see now it is ver serious. Miss Thump. Ah ! I see, you have called, I hope, really to consult me, for some young gentlemen have come here on pretence of seeing me, but really to speak to some girls they said they knew ; and I tell you plainly I will not bring any girl in here to talk to you. AxD. Miss Vaue is the last young lady in Warmington I wish to speak to. ]Miss Thujip. Good. "Well what do you think of her character, Mein Herr ? Herr Kkajime. I do tink her de ver most vicket fraulein I ever did meet. By chance I did catch her talking at de door, at de behind, with a young man during school hours, and I did tell her it was very wrong, but she did say " mind your own business, you great hairy baboon," when I did in anger give her vun ver large box on de ear {Hcartlcij and Andrew cjxhanfjc glances), and she did say to de young man who did look like de paid rider on de race-horse " Xow Jim take my part, square up and 'ave a round with 'im." I did not comprehend how a thing could be a sc^uare and round and de same time, but de young man who did look like de paid rider, he did go off very quick. "I sail pay you out for this," said the girl. " I sail want very much paying into my pocket if I am to keep to teaching you," I answered. " I'll be even with you," she said. " It is odd then if 1 can't conquer you," says I, and dis is how I do it. I did always tiuk dat you did not gain de prize for de aritmetic quite fair, but I did say nutting though I did tink much, but now I will say a good deal. You and the tree next best shall have a ver' difficult paper of soonis for tu do, and see which is the most good. She did keep de silence, but did give me two or tree ver' black looks indeed, vich did remind me of the picture of iladame Laffage. The next morning ven I was going to sit d(jwn in my chair, I notice her eyes looking very hard at it, and I did see von great peen stickiu' up dat would have given hurt to me \ti\ much indeed. I knew at once she had put it dere, and I went up and told her so. "Now, Mces," I said, " I shall tell de JIadame Thumpingstock all dees and see vat she does say to it." I did tink it best for to tell you completely of her. Miss Thump. Your replies and actions were equally good. You liave acted quite right, Mcin Herr; and she shall try for the prize again with Miss Colenso, THE SIREN. 55 Miss Addington and Miss Light, the three best arithmeticians in the school ; and if it can be proved she stuck the pin in your chair I will expel her. And now, Sir (to Andrew), what, have you to tell me about this girl ? For a class is waiting for me. And. Simply that she has copied all the original and striking part of her prize essay from Dryden, as this book will clearly show you {hands it to her). [ITerr Kramme and Miss Thimqnnffstock eagerly read and show much astonishment. Herr Kkamme. Tank you, Sar, ver' much. I never did tink much of her heart-piece, but now I tink as badly of her head-piece. Miss Thump. I also thank you, Sir, much, for such knavery must be exposed. Her own father, Mr. Vane, I am told, had strong literary tastes, and possessed a large and well chosen library, which I see this girl knows how to utilize. She shall be stripped of her prize before the whole school, and I only regret I do not administer corporal punishment. It will be best, perhaps, to let her remain to the end of the term, when she will receive from her schoolfellows that proper contempt and dislike that is the most suitable reward for her miserable meanness. Of course Dryden's essay must be shown to the judges and their sanction to my proceedings obtained. And. [slily). A friend of mine wishes much to know, if you think this young lady will make a good wife. Miss Thump, {in a startled mice) . A good wife ! Herr Kramme. (in alarm). A vife, a vife ! {Andreiu looks heenly at Heartley), if she were de only lady in this ver large world, and did make proposals to me, de race of meen might come to its conclusion, before I would be hoosband for her. A vife ! I should expect to have something bigger zan a pin stuck into my heart before ze honey of ze moon's was finished. Miss Thump. I thought, Sir, you were only enjoying a bit of sly fun with your friend ; but you do not mean seriously to say that he thinks of Miss Vane in that light. I should have thought it was impossible for anyone to have taken a real fancy to that girl. A young man might indulge in a flirtation with her, though anything more seems to me incredible, but even in that questionable pastime he would not find much pleasure, I should think. All I can say is, if I did not put a very strong curb on my temper, I should be constantly boxing her ears. Herr Kramme. When I do look at my cane de promenade, I do wish much Miss Vane were a boy. 56 THE SIEEN. Miss Thump. I \Yish you could see her for a few hours in the school-room ; but if your friend desires to contemplate the nhject of his affections without being observed, he will have a very yood opportunity this afternoon. Miss Vane practises gymnastics fur her lesson to-morrow, in a large barn at the back of the house. She is first rate at these exercises, and will therefore be seen to peculiar advantage. Herr Keajime. And her worthy farder has placed a largest barrarl under de vinder at de side in order to regard de girl's circumlocootions wid her little broder, when she least has de suspicion. Miss Thump, (ironiccdly). As she excels at all athletics, no doubt his attraction and admiration for her will be considerably increased. By the way, if you had looked about you in the afternoon (pardon the remark. Sir, but I must be allowed to make it) you would have seerr twenty more pleasing girls than she is, as external attractiveness seems your chief object in marriage. Heaet. When recovering from my illness two months ago, I used always to go along the Kennel-Prince Iload in the afternoon, as it is the sunniest and driest, and generally met Miss Vane going home ; and she looked extremely attractive and pretty as she tripped along, and made me think of Lucy Gray. Miss Thump, (ivith astonishment). Lucy Gray ! What can there be in common ? Herr Keamme. Lucy Gray, dat was de name of von ver charming leetle girl in de poem of beauty, and de other is ver uircharming indeed. Miss Thump. It is a pity you did not take the Bramwell Eoad ; you would have found it far more sunny, to the mental part of your nature, than the other road; you would have met Miss Sirloin and Miss White, or perhaps Miss Mountjoy. If you care for [Andrew starts) good looks chiefly, as most young men do, the first is handsome enough, the second pretty enough to please a prince, and as for Miss Mountjoy {^Andrew starts again) if you had been lucky enough to be introduced to her, why you would have met the most charming instead of the most unattractive girl in the school [Andrew turns aioay). Heaet. I fear, indeed, I must have taken the wrong road. Miss Thump. I have no more time to spare now and must wish you good morning, [to Andrew) and I thank you again for the service you have done the school, and myself also ; I should be glad to see you again if you can call in the after part of the day. Herr Keamjie. I, too, should like to see you again ver much, for you have given us light where it was ver dark before. THE SIREN. 57 Miss Thump, (shaking hands, to Heartley). But I ought to seriously caution you against choosing any girl chiefly on account of her good looks, for they by no means certify a good heart. {Andrew looks at Hcarilcy). Herr Kramme {extending his hand). You have done to me von large service, for Fraulein Light will now take de prize for de Shakespair ; a young lady in whom much interest possesses me. {Aside) I do much fear he has von large touch of de loonatique — he deed look as eef struck by de stroke of de moon. Heart. Alas ! Alas ! ! {Looks uncomfortable arid ruffied). And. Yes, it is a lass indeed, and she will make a wo(e)man. [Uxe^mt. 58 THE SIREN. SCENE V. A large Barn at the had- of Goldic Vilhi, containing a gymnastic bar, with a set of small cricket tilings, Indian eluhs, dumb bells, battledores, chest ex- panders, etc., strcicn ((bout. "VYagciie and her young brother ToM are discovered , having just finished a game of criehef, played according to Waggie's peculiar rules. Axdkew and Heaktley are seen behind the half-open door {having declined the barrel), where they can both see and hear, the former 'with a very amused, the latter with a very horrified, expression, Waggie and ToJiiiY chattering. WAiiGiE is exercising herself with dumb bells. x\xD, Your beauty is anything but like the chest expander she holds in her hand, a dumb bell. Heart. How satirical you are ! Your first words on seeing her turn her into ridicule. And. It does not require much turning. Heart. Shall we mount on the water-butt to observe them from ? It looks the most secure place to escape observation from anyone inside the building at any rate. And. I do not care, Heartley, about standing on that barrel, as from the infirm state of the lid I should tliink the worthy parent must have played involuntary " Jack-in-the-Dox " more than once ; and it is fur easier to withdraw from notice l^ehiud the half-opened door than mounted up there. Heart. I thought iliss Thunipingstock looked very stern and severe ; most tall thin people are so, I think. And. I did not think so. The German master, who was most severe on Waggie, looked very pleasant and genial, with a deal of fun in him. To.MMY (to his sister). I don't care to play with you. l"ou are always in and I am always out, however well I play. Waggie. That is becorse ] 'm so much superior to you in cricket as in every- thing else. TojLMY. Superior in size, that's alL It's becorse yer cheats that yer beats me. [Andrew looks at Heartley. Waggie. How dare you say that to me ? THE SIREN. 59 Tommy. You puts your great sprawling gound and your big lolloping feet in front of the sticks, and of course I can't bowl you out. You'd be given " out " the first over in a proper game. I only wishes I had a real cricket ball instead of this soft gal's thing ; you wouldn't do it then in a hurry. Wouldn't I put 'em in sharp. Waggie. My big feet, indeed ' I know Mr. Sweetinburgh thinks them perfection. He looks at my face first, and then allurs at my feet and hancles, and them 'as the longest look. And I'll give you a worse crack than I did yesterday if you don't shut up. [^Threatens him vnth a stump. Tommy. In three years I shall be as strong as you be, and we'll see who can whack the hardest. What's made you so cantankerous this afternoon, Black Bess? [ Waggie is much softejud hy this name, which she lilrs to be called by, as she Jcnows it is the appellation of Dick Turpin's mare. Waggie. Well, Tommy, I've been that precious badgered and put out lately in every way, just as I was carrying all before me, both at school and with soft Sweety. [^Heartley looks angry. Tommy. Which of your young fellows may Sweety be ? as I knows you like a change. And. You hear, you are not sole master of that loving heart. Waggie. That lollipop-noodle of a invalid. Well, all was straight, when a strange, sharp-looking chap turned up suddenly, who looks like an 'awk changed into a man, and who has hit me 'awful 'ard with both Sweety and old Thumpy. The first is so soft and silly that I shall soon wheedle him again, when that chap's back is turned, but I know it's no use trying to soap Thumpy. [Heartley's wrathful looks increase. Tommy. I don't quite twig this, for I know yer can take up quick any one that chaffers yer at 'ome, and slip into 'em pretty sharp. Waggie. Oh ! this fellow was quite different to any of 'em ; they were poor weak creatures to 'im. He quietly waited his time, like the tall boy we saw in the fight last week, who never lost his temper, but slipped into the other when- ever there was a hopening. He seemed to know aforehand what to say that would most sting and hirritate me, and for every slap I gave him he gived me an arder one. It was like being in a nest of wopses. At last I lost my temper, and so this chap bate me. I see now that was just what he was trying for ; but doesn't I just 'ate 'im ! but won't I pay 'im out ! But as for Lollipop, pop. is the best part of his name, and I wish he'd look sharp about it, and then a good 60 THE SIREN. breach of promise would set me up a bit in coin, even if the match never came hoff. Pa said that I'd quite enough already to make a strong case against him, as though he liad actually popped, and that the affair was quite worth trying to make money out of. £1,500 or £2,000 would be a nice golden hointment to 'eal my great 'eart wound. Them jury fellers allurs makes the rich uns pay up well, and this is an aggravated case. Polly Grasper got £1,000, Fanny Eateman £1,500 ; wasn't it stunning ? These poetry chaps are so green, and always think us such dear hinnicents if we 'appens to liave what they calls a pretty sweet face. ToJLMY. Oh ! I'll help you to pay t'other out ; but it's very queer he did you so. Waggie {moii^rnfully). Yes, just as everything was going most prime, that silly Lollipop, who thinks every pretty school-girl a faultless angel, he was just going to pop, and he told me to read " The Hangel in the 'Ouse." Ha ! ha ! it's not much of one he'll find in me. He's such a noodle-doodle of a feller as never was. {Heartley's face assumes a look of wrath seldom seen there). What a delightful time I should have had as Mrs. Sweety. I intended to live in Warmington, and 'ave my 'unter. ISTothing I likes better than to see a fox killed. He might sit at home writing his twaddley tales and nincompoop rhymes — if parties pay 'im for 'em I don't mind ; if they don't I'd tear his Hem Hesses up — while I went out with Dick Cobby to 'unts, balls {Andreiu looks at Hcartlcy) and other jolly sprees. Just catch me allowing him to spend his money in buying books ! Wouldn't I look glum and savage if he dared to bring anything back from the book-stalls except a book on sports. He shall give me " The Adventures of Tom Highflyer, the Crack Whip of the Lightning," " Mr. Spunge's Sporting Tour," " Mr. Jorrocks' Jaunts," or nice books like them. Tommy. You must catch him again fust before you can squeeze him. Waggie. I'll make him spin round like that cockchafer I stuck the other day. Didn't it just make a good humming noise. [Hcartley clasps his hands in horror. Tommy. I doesn't half like these tricks of j'ours. I'^ven father thought that cruel. Waggie. Tliem things can't feel. No matter if they does. What was I a-saying of ? Tlien there's tlio larks of " Tim Teasem, the Mischievous Boy " (they be better larks than those twittering birds, that are only fit to eat), such a pretty book. He should take me to London for the season, and then I'd wheedle and coax him ; but if he wouldn't go I'd just stick a few pins into him. I knows how to tread on people's toes by haccident, and hurt them by saying THE SIKEN. 61 stinging words, wliile I loolvs as hinnicent as a lamb. But of course I should have hira under my 'eel, and you should spend the holidays with me. Tommy. How jolly it would be. Waggie. Jolly ! Yes, but this nasty sharp lawyer chap has snatched the nice dress away just as I was going to put it on; and while he's here I know I can't get round the spooney. But I don't know any name shows all his silliness. It requires several stuck together to come near him. [Hcartlcy s face rdidns a hue of permanent criynson, and he is with difficulty restrained by Andrew. And. {aside). Her insolence is almost too much for even you, Heartley. Heakt. Yes, indeed I can hardly keep still And. Don't give way, we must see this through. Tommy. You've got an 'ard whack for once, Bessie, and I 'ope it's not a knock down, or if it is that you'll get up agin but little the worser. Waggie. And I'd planned it all so nice too. After supper, I had intended to say " Dear, dear, Sir, may I look over some of your beautiful books in your study, where you composes so many lovely things, that brings tears, tears of sympathy into one's heyes. I'm so fond of hinstructive books ! If I had only someone like you to guide me and direct my wayward steps, life would be heaven to me, with your 'and in mine, woes would be turned to joy." I had been coaching up the sweet loving artless expression at my looking glass, for the last ten days, and putting ray 'ands in a posture of submission and hadmiration. I had a little bit of mustard already in the corner of my 'andkerchief, for though I'm not much of a hand at blushing and tears, I could get up with this, that sort of look that they say affecshunate parties puts on when very spoony. {Here she poses herself). He'd have been certain to have popped. He could not have stood 'arf the endearments I 'ad ready ; or if not then, at mamma's picnic on the 4th of May ; and this 'orrid man as spoilt it all ; and then you know Sweety is very delicate, and I might be left a rich young widow, as 'e might catch a cold in taking me out to a jolly dance. You may'nt know we sha'nt 'ave as much when we grows up as you'd suppose, as Pa spends all his income to keep up appearances. You don't catch me a marrying any poor fellow. Tommy. I don't half like your talking like that ; it don't seem nice some'ow to look forward to a man's dying. How do you intend to pay out Knives ? Waggie. I have thought a good bit about it, and think I shall buy some blowing up stuff, and send it him by post. It would frighten him at any rate. Heart, {to Andreio). She is a young demon. 62 THE SIREN. And. I see you at last endorse my remarks about Satanella. ToiiiiY. Yes, and hurt 'im awfully too, which I knows is what yer wants, yer are so precious spiteful when yer are put out. I am crack sure it was yer as put some horanye peel on top stairs up to my bed room, and a nice tumble I should have had, if I had not just cotched hold of the barnister, and that just becorse by haccident I chanced to hit you in the face with a cricket ball. Waggie. "Well lets wipe off old scores, and have another game, and I'll give you first innings. Let us be sure father is not a heaves-dropping on the barrel, as he did last week. [SJie faJccs a chair, runs vp to the windoiu and looks out. Andreiv and licurtlcij retire from the door. Tommy. N(j fear after the ducking he got. Waggie. Was'nt it just glorious ' And. What a kind and affectionate daughter. A very good job we did not try it ; we should have been both caught and soused : by the way, Heartley, how do you like your intended's sketch of your character, her tender love for you, and the prospects of your married life ? [ILiirtley sh/uhlcrs, hut is silent. Tommy (tol-cs the bat and ijuts himself in a posture of d( fence according to his ideas, and then says) Where's Curly ? she used to fetch the ball and save us a lot of fagging and chivying ; 'tis so pretty too to see her cut about after the ball with her tail in the hair. ^YAGGIE. She's gone. Tommy. What do yer mane ? W^AGGIE. The Ijeast bit me, and I drownded her. TOiMMY. Yer be only a chafferin', yer don't mane it. Waggie. Yes I do though. [Andrnv looks grave and angry. Heartley recoils in- horror, and puts his hands before, Ms fcLce. Tommy (throiving down his hat and walking up to her). If I was only a little older and stronger I'd give you the most awful hiding yer ever 'ad in yer life ; and I'll tell father, and ax him to give it yer as sharp as he can lay it on ; and I'll never play with yer again, cricket or any other game, you young devil.* [li'aggie catches up her bat and thrcedens Tommy. * This inriilciit is imt imaginary. A girl in the author's presence boasted at a dinner table of having drowned her fiivourite cat for tlic fun of it; and as she related the account of her cruelty she laughed, and looked as pleased as if she had been engaged in some act of charity. THE SIREN. 63 Andrew and Heaetley 71010 enter through the open door. Tommy (sHly) . Here's father coming with the horsewhip. Heart, (in horror). What a vile creature. I never, never could — have — And. I could have, though, and worse. Well done, Tommy, my boy — pluckily spoken. [Turning to Waggie) You creature, who possess neither the good points of boy or girl, and the bad points of both, the suffering you so wantonly inflict on helpless creatures, and that last a favourite, you shall be made to feel yourself, if it is possible for me to bring it about. I shall lay this act of detestable inhumanity before the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, which has a branch in this town, and hear what they have to say to it ; and also before your mistress, who, I trust, for such incredible cruelty will administer to you that castigation which I believe will alone produce any effect on a character like yours. Heart, (stepping forward). As you have so forcibly sketched the programme of the life you intend to lead me and me to lead, you will pardon me if I decline the reality; and also I should be sorry to leave so inconsolable and estimable a widow. 64 THE SIEEN. And. {vnth much gravity). Mr. Knives wishes a very long farewell to all your littleness, and will not forget to look out for blowing-up parcels. Heaet. Farewell, and if for ever, still for ever fare thee well. And think of your lost lollypops. {Both how ironimlly and walk out. And. Well, you have seen the enchantress at her home, in unadorned beauty. What do you think of her ? I am very glad you controlled your feelings and saw the scene through. Heart, {in horror). What an escape ! And. And a very narrow one. Your wicket has been repeatedly shaved on all sides, and it is a miracle it is still standing intact ; and the catches have certainly been endless. Heart. "\^'Tiat a purgatory I should have endured with that demon ! And. Something warmer, I should call it. Utterly unsuited couples would make another circle for Dante's Inferno, especially where one is quiet and gentle and the other cruel and aggressive. Do you notice that pale mild-looking young man walking with a young lady on that side ? Mountjoy told me he was so bent on matrimony that he proposed to a series of girls one after another, until he was at last accepted by the one he has on his arm. How they hit it off I don't pretend to know, but there is something very delicious in playing battledore and shuttlecock for a life-long companion ; and it is a happy-go-lucky style, in which the delight and happiness is apt to end at the church door. The example of the gentleman must be most instructive and pleasing to yourself ; so don't despair, there is no need. Heart. It does not seem there is. And. We asked Miss D. Light to the dinner in order that you might see the vast difference between the two girls, but you refused to see the plainest pikestaff; perhaps you, who are a learned man, can tell me why a pikestaff is a plainer object than anything else. Had I chosen such a creature, you would have put both of us in one of your romances. Heart. Ah! Miss D. Light, how delightfully charming and ladylike she was (inarming icith the thought of her); so intelligent and pretty^ I hope she will be the light to illumine my literary and domestic path. And now I thank you, my dear friend, most heartily for your courage and skill in disenchanting me. And. Very glad all the enchanting scenes and chanting to the Siren are over, but it has been like moving a millstone ; and if I had not had many circumstances to act as a lever, I should never have lifted the huge weight, and you would have been tied for life to this Jezebel, though I pay her a THE SIREN. 65 great compliment in calling her by this name, for Jezebel loved her husband, and this creature seems incapable of loving anyone but herself. You were talking about Miss Light, and you have made a sudden transfer of your affections with a rapidity that is as unusual as it is unedifying. Cannot your sympathetic heart bear a vacuum for a little while till the next " Siren " appears, who is doubtless on her way already ? Your hard-worked feelings require a long vacation, I should say. Heart. Don't be too satirical, I was but thinking of the difference. And. Thoughts often move words and actions; but you must remember that Miss Light has not seen you under very favourable circumstances lately, and might not be able to feel that sudden glow of affection towards you with which you regard her. Besides, I fear her merits have been already thoroughly appreciated by another, who is no contemptible rival, and you hardly know enough of her as yet to judge. The right estimate of character, it is needless to tell you, is best formed before and not after marriage. Herr Kramme calls her his little pet I am told, and I suppose he has good reasons for doing so ; he is a staid and solid man and not likely to use such an expression lightly, and has a long and intimate knowledge of her character to warrant his choice. \_Exeunt. 6G THE WIliKN. SCENE VI. Andeew Kxi\'Ett is discorcrcd shctching a groiqo of children in the Gainsborough Gardens, on a camp-stool hy the riverside, on a fine morning. Heartley is sitting on a bench, on one side close to Andrew, loriting a part of his new roriumtic tale " The Discarded One" and his countenance shows great joy, as the fine and original thoughts flash through his brain, which joy is 'perhaps considerably heightened by hnoiuing he is freed from Waggie. Enter Boss Blodgee, standing about twenty yards off. Axo. (to Heart.) I wonder who that fat, puffy, unwholesome-lookiug fellow is ' He looks as if he lived on gin. Lad air and tobacco smoke, and what is he staring at us for i he can't have many artistic sympathies in common with me THE SIREN. 67 {begins to sketch him). I think he will make a good model for a publican, a suitable personage in my drawing of a tavern in the time of Henry VIII. Blodger {to himself). That big-nosed hairy fellow with the spooney by him must be the artist that flouted Waggie, and his noodle friend is Sweetinburgh ; tliey must have wondered that I have let them all play their little game so quiet without any interruption. When I called at Sunbury Crescent they said I should find them in the Gardings. I will see if I can't do a little business with them ; really I think that hartist chap has got the cheek to be drawing me. {Blodger approaches and addresses Heartley). Is your name Mr. Heartley Sweetinburgh ? Heart. Yes, sir. May I ask who I have the pleasure of addressing ? Blod. I doubt if my address will give you much pleasure, for my name is Boss Blodger, of Goldie ViUa, and so p'raps you may guess I should like a few words with you. Heart, {airily). No, I do not guess it in the least ! I thought all com- munication between our families had ceased for good. Blod. For bad you mean, and it may be that all familiar dealings have ceased between us, but matters of business are just going to begin. You thought you could do what you liked with two unprotected ladies. And. One of the ladies knew not only how to protect herself but also to attack others as well. But, thank heaven ! there are no business dealings between us and you. Blod. (Jlihshing angrily) When love promises — and those written ones — are not kept, there is very apt to be a little business transaction between the two parties afterwards, the columns of the daily papers would tell you that, sir. You know well enough that your friend made very hot love indeed to my step-daughter, and, if it had not been for your hinterference, she would have been his wife. I was going to bring a haction for breach of promise, but will give you the chance of settling it quietly first, for your own benefit. And. For your own, you mean. I am perfectly sure you will not propose anything for our advantage. I should be glad to see any written promise, for I know none has been sent. Blod. What do you call this, sir ? {Beads valentine.) And. Very silly and sentimental lines, but as they are not in Mr. Sweetin- burgh's writing, I fear they won't help you much. Blod. Indeed? And. If you compare this writing with that to which his signature is F 2 68 THE SIEEN. affixed, you must perceive they are utterly unlike; besides, if a proposal had been made and accepted, the outrageous conduct of Miss Vane at Mrs. Sweetinburgh's house, and her base and cruel remarks on my friend in the barn, that even excited the anger of your little boy, would release him from being wedded to a girl, who only wished his death, in the minds of any judge and jury. [Blodger is staggn-ed, hut having a strong reason for 'persisting , he determines to carry the venture through. And. Shall we consider our interview as over ? as my time is valuable, if your's is not. Blod. {to himself). I wish I had waited to tackle the spooney till this fellow had gone. You are very rude. Sir, but I am accustomed to deal with those lacking in good breeding and manners. Mrs. Blodger said you were the rudest man she ever met. And. a man must be rude to some persons, or be untrue to his strongest convictions. I stated a simple fact, because, if you did not suppose we knew an action would damage you far more than us, you would make some preposterous pecuniary demands on us ; and you are perfectly aware of the fact, or you would bring the action without consulting our feelings. O CO Blod. How dare you talk like this ? but to our business. You need not believe me, but I honestly say that it is best for both parties, if you will have it so, to settle matters quietly ; of course, to be quite candid and hopen, I own I would not have our family name bandied about in a lawsuit, and therefore I name £1000 instead of £2000, at which sum my legal hadvisers begged me to lay the damages, if you will settle the affair without trouble. (Aside) If I could get this little sum out of them in a quiet way, it's not much my precious step-daughter would hear about it. [Blodger stares hard at Andrew to sec the effeet of this speech, which had evidently'heen carefidhj prepared. And. I should not think one more lawsuit would add much to the dinginess of your name. Another pail of slops does not make a ditch much dirtier. {Blodger looJcs still more angry.) But remember Sir, you have not Mr. Softus or Mrs. Quaver to deal with {Blodger starts at the names of these tiuo individuals, and looks very discomposed), and I don't believe, nor do you, that you will get a shilling damages in a court of justice, but I recommend you to bring the case into court, for it will produce roars of laughter as loud and continuous as were ever aroused by the broadest farce in a theatre. AiJD. {aside to Heartley). The individuals I alluded to are two persons that THE SIREN. 69 Blodger has scandalously cheated. {To Elodger) If you bring an action against my friend here, Mr. Softus and Mrs. Quaver will be advised to bring a lawsuit against you for shamefully defrauding them ; and I do not think that the facts that will be disclosed will increase your business connection. I am not sure that they will not proceed against you as it is. I should advise them to do so if I were their lawyer. Blod. {turns purple with rage). You threaten me ? we will soon see which is the stronger man. You will find Sir, in England at any rate, the richer man is the stronger. And. Eiches, I know, have far too great weight in most matters in England, but they will not weigh one ounce in the righteous scales of a court of justice. In any way you please we will try who has the most power. Allow me to proceed with my sketch of you. Blod. I feel inclined to chastise you. [Shakes his fist and advances, hut a nearer survey of Andrew's athletic frame causes him to patose. During this colloquy the children Andrew Knivett had been sketching have clustered round the two disputants, and their number has gradually increased. Tliey have not been slow to observe that Blodger, who vms known to some, ivas getting the worst of it ; unable to keep quiet any longer they call out in turns. 1st. Baint yer glad that old Blodger is getting a licking ? 2nd. I should just think so^ the old baste promised me 6d. to carry a letter near on three miles, he only gived me 3d., saying I'd a dirtied it. 3rd. The greatest skinflint in the place, wot pleases 'im best is to do some un out of wot he ought to pay 'em. 4th. I've heard tell he's the biggest cheat in Biggborough. 5th. T'other's a nice un, he tipped us aU round to let him draw us. And. Even the little children know your real character. I'll just take the names of some of these children ; they will make telling witnesses in case you try the law on us. You can oblige me in one matter, please to stand still while I finish my sketch of you ; it is not often one gets the opportunity of drawing one like you. {Bows) [Blodger here makes a dash at Andrew, and tries to upset his drawing apparatus, etc. Andrew quickly moves aside, throwing out his leg suddenly so as to upset Blodger into the shallows of the river, where his venom becomes cooled, without any danger of drowning. Chorus of " Bravo," " Well done," " Served him right" from the juvenile spectators. 70 THE SIREN. And. {To Heartky as they depart). This is all very amusing, but let me tell you I consider you have had a very easy " let-off." Blodger's knavish character, and the girl's bad behaviour, have precluded him from trying the law on us, or he might have eased you of £500 ; you might have met a girl as heartless as Waggie, but with a very different exterior. She might have been far prettier, more lady-like, and with plenty of experience of good society, without the vulgarity to mar her good looks, the vanity to spoil her game, or the relatives to arouse disgust. Had she been a few years older she would have possessed the tact to play her part, as well as to rivet her chains around your willing heart; she would probably have given you no reason for breaking with her, nor should I have found any tangible excuse for endeavouring to separate you from her, however great had been my suspicions of her real character. {Heartlcy sighs). And had even this creature managed as well as she could have done, and not wantonly offended you and outraged your feeKngs, she would have been Mrs. Sweetinburgh. THE SIREN. 71 FINALE. Mrs. SwEETiNBUEGH, Heartley and Miss D. Light, are sitting cosily waiting for dinner, a feiu days after the last scene. Enter Andrew Knivett. Mrs. Sweet. Do you know, Mr. Knivett, that the capital style in which yon settled old Blodger has found its way into the Warmingtonian, together with a very clever sketch of that personage ? (Beads). " Warmingtonian worthies and unworthies great and small. No. XXXIII. The Pawn (broker) taken by a Knight. Old Balls and his Bess Played a good game of Chess, With pawns he could press His foes, and them terribly give it — But a strange cannie Knight Put his pawns all to flight, And the name of this Knight was A. Knivett." And. There is a smartness about it. Not at all bad for this style of com- position, though the fourth line is hardly grammatical, which may be excused, for my name is hard to find a rhyme to: trivett is the only one I can think of, but that would not fit in with chess. Heart. The editor, Mr. King-Pisher, called when you were out, and said there was a deal of talent and originality in your caricature of Blodger. He hoped you would prolong your stay here, as he would pay you well for sketches as good as this one. He says the circulation of the Warmingtonian is increasing rapidly, and he only wants a first-rate caricaturist to complete the success of the paper. And. I will consider the matter, for it is worth it, and call on him ; but I am behind-hand with Brothers Grinrod. You would add much more to your income, and become far more famous, by composing comic songs or humorous pieces, like Bon Gaultier or Calverley, than by your everlasting series of sentimental verses on butterflies, brunette-beauties, blooming roses, summer sunsets, moonlight meanderings, and all that class of prose. The present age chiefly loves what will make it laugh or excite it with liorror, and banish 72 THE SIREN. in sensational interest the cares that grind too many of its toilers. I will tell you a true anecdote to illustrate my meaning. Heart. I should like to hear it, but fear what you advise is suited neither to my talents, such as they are, nor taste. And. As you are so keen on matri-mony, which you will find is a matter of money, as the old joke says, I simply advise the only way by which I see you can increase your income materially, and you will find the increase wanted in more ways than you imagine laeforehand. Heart. I hope you are exaggerating or colouring the case far too highly. And. Not at all : you must do the horrible, more thoroughly ; now, when you introduce a murder or suicide it is in a mild mellifluous manner that defeats its own end ; see how thoroughly Miss Braddenton and G. Gore enter into the matter with pen and pencil, and they are two of the most popular artists — Gore gives just enough of the horrible to attract. Heart. I could not do it. I was once induced to enter the Wierx Gallery, at Brussels, to see the works of that celebrated painter ; and the paintings of a man under the " supplice de pieds '' torture, and one nearly starved to death, and another just beheaded, made me ill for the rest of the day — besides there were many others equally horrible. And. He goes beyond the public's present taste, at any rate in England, though they might answer in France. The knack in writing is just to hit the nail on the head ; you may fall short and hit it so hard that it will split the board of Public Opinion in two. Heart. Surely you do not mean to say that persons enjoy them if not made too ghastly and revolting ? And. Yes, rather so. An old lady I know was out of sorts when I called on her, I asked her maid what the reason was. " Why, sir, the papers 'as been so dull lately, there 'as been no murders to speak of, she does miss her nmrders so." Look at the love the populace show for anything that is ghastly ; if an accident happens in a street, the victim, however horribly he may be torn or mangled, is instantly surrounded by a group not only of men but of women and children. I have often turned away from spectacles that these seem to revel in. Heart. I do not like to do more than allude to or touch on these things in writing ; it is the method of the old writers, I think. And. I will bet ten to one that you will propose to some girl during the next six months, if not six weeks or even six days. If you do not stick to any regular profession, I would simply place clearly before you the only means within your THK SIKEN. 73 reach by which you can increase your income, and the very substantial reasons for your so doing, as you are not the man to marry for money, and you may win a lady whose talents and tastes are for spending, like those of your sweet Waggie, and not practising economy. Heart. I shall not be so easily gulled again. And. Not by the same style of fascinations. You will not wish to purchase a picture when the very glaring and coarse colours have been pointed out to you ; you naturally revolt from that now, but some differently and delicately painted image of the same subject will inevitably captivate you, till you learn to discriminate and look beneath the surface. Heaet. You are joking, my dear friend. And. And I will bet ten to one in £5. notes that in three days you are engaged. The instant a graceful, and I hope this time not disgraceful, creature next appears, you open fire. Heart. I will bet in shillings. Higher sums I should consider gambling. Eeally, I am contracting a fear and horror of girls, new ones especially, for it seems a pleasing face is often only a mask to cover a bad mind. And. Then you must take a more expansive view of the sex. Don't run into the other extreme ; it may be so sometimes, though I deny that Waggie possesses attractiveness, except at a distance. A face made charming by a good expression, indicates the kind of mind, and is quite independent of regularity of features or pretty colouring. Very wise and judicious to appeal to your good principles when you are certain to lose. I have just called at Girling College, and the Herr has told me some news about the charming Miss Vane that may interest you. He said that Jim Cobby, the huntsman, went up to this girl in flaming wrath, for he had given her that beautiful little King Charles dog as a present, and said " Is it true that you drowned Curly? " " Quite so " she answered. " Then take that as my good-by," and he gave her a few switches on the back (which, by-the- bye shows what sort of a man he must be to strike a girl, though she deserves worse, by Jove), and he said, " You may humbug the fellow that sends you the silly verses, but you won't take me in any more." " Wouldn't I just scratch you if I could get at you ! " she replied. And so they parted. Her father, I heard, abused her (you know he is only her step-father) when he found she had lost her rich suitor through bad management and misconduct: he insulted and taunted her. But I have some pleasanter news to tell. {Turns to Miss Light). Miss Light, not only have you obtained by far the highest marks in the new arithmetic competition (a clear proof how Waggie won her's before, she had the lowest marks 74 THE SIREN. for arithmetic), but the Shakespeare prize has been transferred to you, as you were second before, and the gold watch, which the Vane one was so proud of, will be given to you, its rightful owner. She dropped the watch, but did not succeed in injuring it. I also heard that the Society for the " Prevention of Cruelty to Animals " had threatened her with an action, as the story has been well circulated, and reached the ears ©f a member, so that her path is not without pit- falls already. I passed the young lady in question coming up from the Gardens, and thought I would make one attempt to rescue her from the pit she had been for so many years busy digging for herself; but she only turned round with her eyes full of spite and said " I have you to thank for all my troubles, the loss of my true love and of my prizes, and my place at schooL" "I wonder you can have the effrontery to call my friend by such a name, after the insulting and unfeeling remarks you passed on him," I answered ; " you have to thank your own cruel and false heart for your mishaps. If you had acted rightly not one of these misfortunes would have happened to you ; you will say, I suppose, that it was I who instigated the wanton murder of your household favourite." " Don't you preach to me," she broke in, " I gets enough of that stuff on Sundays, but I'll pay you out yet." " And be paid out yourself much more severely next time ; remember I shall be on the look-out for parcels that come by post," I rejoined. " So you've done me because you were a sneaking and a heaves-dropping in the barn," she said. "I usually consider eaves-dropping as the special prerogative of Eve's daughters, and it was only because no other means would open the eyes of my blinded friend, that I was compelled to resort to it," said I ; and so, after more words, we parted. \_Enter Heer Keamme ivith the luatch in one hand and two large lound volumes under the left arm. Herr Keamme. Here are de two prizes for a dear little girl, who is as good as she is pretty, and as clever as she is good. That wicked creature had time to spill some of the ink oder vun of de pictures in de illustrated Shakespeare before she would with it part company, and she let her watch on ze floor fall, in the hope to injure it ver mooch, in vich attempt she was fortunate not succeed. You and I ought to be ver happy. Mister Knivett. I do feel ver much of de sorrow for Mr. Sweetinburgh at his von great disappointing. Mrs. Sweet, {loith a knowing look). I am not so sure he needs your pity. [A knock is heard. Enter a Maid ivith a card, which, ivith a sly look, she gives to Heartley. Heart, (reads). " Mrs. Horseman." THE SIREN. 75 Betty. Yes, Sir, a discxtinguislied-looking lady, as is waiting, and she says as she must 'ave an interview with Mr. Sweetinburgh alone. She perticilery said alone, Sir. Heaet. No more stra,nge young ladies for me at present. I utterly decline to see her. I do not ever remember to have heard the name before. It sounds like the name of some horsey hunting woman. This visit must be intended for Mr. Sadler, next door, who hunts. Names and characters often go together. And. You did not think so in the case of Miss Vane. Names and characters need not fit in the least. You are judicious in putting in the proviso " at present." Betty. She is very positive like in wishing to see you. Sir. I don't think there is any mistake. Heart. What is she like ? How old does she look ? Betty. Well, Sir, it aint easy like to explain, 'ceptin' as she is nice looking, very, and a serious expression on her, leastways, as much as I see when she threw back her veil ; and she had on a widder's cap, which was becoming to her, which it aint to all. As to her age — well. Sir, I aint a good 'and at tellin' ages, but I should say she was about five-and-twenty. Heart, (in consternation). A young widow ! I am more afraid of a widow than any person in creation. She must have known the art of settling a husband quickly. Mrs. Sweet, [laughing). This is very different, Heartley, to your usual sentiments towards young ladies. Heart. I do not look upon a widow as a young lady. \_Laughter. And. The pendulum has, I think, been very strongly impelled in the direc- tion of absurd adoration of all girls, and now the swing has taken it as far towards the opposite side of an universal and unreasonable distrust. Doubtless this is someone who has been charmed by your romances, odes, tender songs, &c. and who comes, as it is leap year, to confess her irrepressible sympathy for the author ; so be prepared and return it gallantly, and with your usual ardour. Heart. I have very little ardour left in me, if any ; indeed I feel quite a chilly feeling towards the sex. [Laughter. Herr Keamme. Yes, it is de year of de leap ; so dat de lady can leap over de barrifere dat de gentleman has to joomp en general. Betty. The lady is waiting. Sir. What shall I say ? Mrs. Sweet. This is very unlike you, Heartley. Heart, {looking as if he were going to be executed, faintly). Admit her ; I suppose I must go through with it. (Gasps out) Protect me, my friends (more laughter). Remain in the ante-room, and don't shut the folding doors. 76 THE SIREN. And. (to Bdly). Pray admit the lady, and apologise for keeping her waiting so long. You had better mention that Mr. Sweetiuburgh was not ready to receive a visitor when she called, but particularly say that Mr. Sweetinburgh is disengaged now. Heaet. Pray do not use that word, she is certain to take it in a wrong sense. [Uxit Betty, ivith a hroad grin. All but Heartlig, u-ho stands in a 'posture, of extreme agitation and terror, retire to the ante-room. Eater Mrs. Horseman, veileel. Hearthy shrinlis liuelinard into the corner of the room. Stifled laughter is heard from hehind the folding doors, to the crael's of which eyes are applied. Mrs. Horse, {throwing hack her veil and advancing). What, don't you know me, Heartley ? This is a very tardy and different reception to what I expected, and is most strange. I wrote my name in pencil on the back of the card, on purpose that you should not be perplexed or unprepared. Heart, (to himself). I begin to comprehend that all in there have kept me in the dark on purpose, and rubbed the pencil-mark out. {In delight and surjjrise) Lucy ? Is it possible ? Mrs. H(jRSE. Yes. I should have appeared long before, had not your strong fancy for iliss Vane (love I cannot call it) rendered that impossible {Heartley shuelders). But your conscience must tell you that I ought to be Mrs. Horsemaa to you, and not Lucy ; and I have debated with myself wliether it was becoming to have sought you at all, when I found you devoted to another. Heart. But I thought you were lost to me for ever; and the inaction enforced by my doctor laid me peculiarly open to this sort of influence, and turned a sparrow into a golden eagle. Mrs. Horse. That is quite true. It is what Andrew has repeatedly told me, using exactly the same class of simile. And. {overhearing). Ko, partly inexact, like most of his similes. A sparrow is a nice little creature, which Waggie is not; and makes a very pretty and charming home, which Waggie does not. Heart. I am delighted that you have been so kind as to come. What ages it seems since I have seen you ; and {glancing at her mourning), if it is not an impertinent cj^uestion for such an old friend to ask, what have you been doing all this long time ? Mrs. Horse. I had better tell you briefly the story of my life, since we were parted, and our childish love broken off. {They sit close together). I went out to Secuuderabad — THE SIREN. 77 And, (in a loud loMsper from behind the folding door). Heartley's second was very bad — Mrs. Horse. And, believing that we were parted for ever, T accepted there the addresses of Major Horseman, a brave and popular officer in the 100th Eapiers, according to the wishes of my relatives, and from feelings of very great regard and admiration for his many fine qualities. Heart, [aside). I am thankful she did not say love. Mrs.HoRSE. He seemed extremelypoorly on our wedding day; in the afternoon symptoms of Asiatic cholera showed themselves, and before night the vigorous hold on life in that young, strong frame, was loosened in a manner no one can realize, but those who have seen the progress of that terrible disease. He did not appear to suffer much, but his strength, which was great, collapsed in utter weakness, and the eyes sank back in the head during the afternoon in a manner I have only noticed in the last stage of decline. That voice, the most powerful in his regiment, faded to a whisper in a few hours, and before midnight he was gone. {Looks distressed and shows feelings of sorrow). Being now independent, and having stronger ties and calls on my affections in England than in India {glances at Heartley), I returned as soon as I possibly could, but in spite of all my enquiries I failed to trace you or to obtain any clue to your whereabouts, till one day I was overjoyed to find a monthly part of your serial story, with weird illustrations by the celebrated Frenchman Gor^, that universal purveyor of Art, who, in my opinion, brings heaven down to earth ; instead of, like Turner, elevating earth to heaven. He sends out his illustrations for his authors by the bale or by the yard, according to the method you prefer to weigh and judge them by. I grant that there is great imagination, and some startling effects and wonderfully weird faces in his drawings for your tale, but the waves in ISTo. IV of your monthly parts, are fashioned more in the form of flames than any shapes of sea-water I have seen ; and the cliff, against which they dash, is not like any formation of rock that I have noticed, and exists only in his imagination, and is therefore suitable enough for Dante's Inferno, the illustrations of which made him famous, but not for scenes in this world. I should much prefer quality to quantity myself. And. She can criticize well, by Jingo, and ought to be of great service to Heartley. Heart, {smiling). The same Lucy as ever. As a child you used to make pithy comments on what you saw and I wrote. And what do you think of the tale itself ? I know I can rely upon yoii, not to flatter me. 78 THE SIEEN. Mrs. HoESE. I like it, but I think you should cultivate a higher class of fiction. You have a considerable amount of imagination and invention, and can construct a probable plot; but these require to be balanced and governed by reason, and this story savours too strongly of the JIis. Eatcliffe style — trap doors, ghosts, duels, murders, &c. Could you not take Jliss Austen as a model, as you are so fond of that period ? though I do not endorse Macaulay's opinion of her. She awakens and sustains keen attention throughout her stories, and though the portraits of her characters are within a small range, they are life-like ; the cleverness and naturalness of her small talk are unrivalled in their own style, and her conversations are the diamond dust of trivialities ; and mark the extraordinary interest she throws over the commonest incidents of every-day life. She constructs her tales without a single horror or murder, and though they only treat of one fraction of society they are very interesting, and these are excellent qualities, and worthy of your imitation. There may not be much religious influence, the highest moral elevation, or the greatest intellectual power about her works, but the tone is healthy and pure, the little touches are super- excellent, and make her books like a highly finished steel or copper-plate engraving on a slight subject. And. Her remarks are apt and true enough, and I shall recommend her for the stafi' of the " Saturnine," " Eapier," or " Shillelagh." ilrs. HoESE. (over hearing him). Please don't flatter me. I have read a great many novels and romances, too many; but the heat of India made one's mind indolent, and, if you questioned me on historical or scientific subjects, I fear you would soon alter your opinion. And. You ought to exercise your critical powers on Heartley's works as they appear. Heart. Please do not. I should be nijwhere. I only write to amuse myself, as but a certain portion of the public read me — why ilis. HoESE. Still you should do your Ijest, and our great writers do not depend on sensation for success, and do not find it necessary to introduce a thrilling incident into each chapter. Heart. The publishers begged or ratlier compelled me to conclude every part with some scene of peculiar excitement or interest. They only allow a certain space for a tale, and if one is tempted to spread out the beginning or centre of a story, one has to bring it to a sudden conclusion in a style that must astonish and disgust an interested reader who does not like his favourite characters to be sent over a precipice because the editor has no more space for them. THE SIKEN. 79 Lucy. You can remedy that blemish, which I have often noticed in serial fiction and could not account for, when you issue the romance on your own account. Heart. Thank you, Lucy ; you are the sort of woman to improve a man's taste and elevate his mind. But that is enough and more tlian enough about my scribbling ; I am anxious to hear how you found out where I was. Mrs. Horse. 1 wrote to your publishers, Messrs. Page, of Taper Buildings, after reading your tale, and they gave me the latest address they had, which was Moonmoutli. From that place I traced you here, and having an old schoolfellow living in Kennel -Prince Eoad, I managed to pay her a visit, and see you without your knowing it. Heart. How faithful and good of you ! I wish you could have appeared before that Waggie got hold of me ; it would have soon knocked her scheme on the head. Mrs. Horse. You may imagine so now, but I do not think that my sudden appearance could have wrought this transformation, while you were under the full influence of blind delusion ; you had simply transferred your own trusting and sympathising nature to a creature who is not capable of appreciating either. Mr. Knivett's prompt and decided measures have destroyed the delusion much more effectually than I could have hoped to do, besides which, I gave you the chance of this ; I have passed you two or three times at different places, but you seemed so pre-occupied and absorbed by the heavenly image of your angel, with your eyes turned up to the skies, that your little Lucy Blessington, once so sought for and followed, was passed unknown and unnoticed. (A little sob). Had the object been more worthy 1 should not have felt so humiliated ; if I really sup- posed you covild love such a perversion of a woman, do you think I should seek you out again ? Heart, {fcdteringly). I know you will do me the justice to believe that I deemed her to be worthy, and could not have imagined her to be a young ruffian. And. He's actually using the very word he rowed me so for when I applied it to her. Heart, {continues). Delighting in bird's-nesting, torturing dumb animals, and other acts of cruelty that would disgrace a street boy. Mrs. Horse. I believe you from my heart, or I should not be here to Heart. To give me one more blessed chance of Do I quite understand ? Oh ! if I could think you would take me after making such an idiot of myself, 80 THE SIKEN. the love and devotion of the rest of my life — but that will not be long enough to show my appreciation of your goodness and worth, and to do all I can to make you happy. [Thry clasj} hands and kiss — length of oixration according to taste. And. {from behind the folding doors). Your friends have protected you long enough from your terrible visitor, and are most impatient of sustenance after this extra delay. (Then, as thcij turn, aside to Lucy). You have given him a quiet little lecture that will do him more good than all my sarcastic remarks, though I own Waggie needed them. Here is the engagement ring which I said I would keep for you on my arrival till a more suitable lady appeared, so I have as much pleasure in returning it now as I felt in taking it away then. \_Presents the ring to Heartley ivith serio-comic air. Heartley looks confused, and does riot knoiu what to do with the ring ; he seems about to offer it to Mrs. Horseman. Mrs. HoESE. I really cannot accept anything bought for Miss Vane — it is not pride, but Heart. How did you contrive this delicious surprise, Andrew ? And. Very simply, indeed. In the last Warmington Gazette you sent me with B. Blodger, Esq., Goldie Villa, Kennel-Prince Eoad, marked in red ink, I read over the list of visitors staying at " The George IV Hotel," hoping to find the name of a friend who I knew was coming there ; among the names appeared Mrs. Horseman from Secunderabad. I had been told of her marriage, and at once guessed she was a widow. I called on her the same afternoon that I went to Mountjoy, and we arranged together that, as soon as Waggie was bowled out, she should have her innings. Waggle's wicket would have been as impregnable as that of W. G. Grace had she not received some shooters, which the state of her mental ground produced ; had I not been very much aided by this, she would be batting now, and making )'ou run all over the ground after her hits. Heart. Don't, in pity don't! And. I can't dismiss the mental picture immediately, in two or three years she would have done you to death. Heart. I have repented, mentally, in dust and ashes. And. You may remember that I stayed with you at Salterton-super-Mare, when your boyish attachment was at its height, so that I knew Miss Blessington well. Then you were a gentlemanly and well-read boy of fourteen oi j'Jteen, and doubtless contrasted favourably with the young cubs of that age who seem to delight chiefly in being rude to girls if they notice them at all, and THE SIUEN. 81 she was a charming child. I approved of your taste then as much as I have disapproved of it lately. Herr Kkamme. I do ver much you congratulate Mr. Heartley, for I ver much did your lonely state pity, [A very loud and contimtous hnocldng is here heard. All ring the ehanges on "Who can it be?" Enter Betty, in great haste, with a terrified look on her face. Betty. It's Miss Vane, Sir, and she says as she tvill see you, and she said as 'ow she would give me the worst smack ever I 'ad in the face, if I didn't take her message at once, Sir. And. I thought I heard her harsh nasal voice. {To Heartley) A foretaste of some passages of arms you would have experienced as her husband. [Heartley looks aghast. Betty. Lawks, Sir, she's a coming ! [Steps are heard advancing rapidly and noisily. Herr Keamme. Don't you have de fear from her, Sair, and if she do attempt de strength, vy, I put her out from de window on de ver prickle bushes thereunder. Don't let the courage lose, Sair. {Enter Waggie with her face hidden hy a veil). And. {aside). How extraordinarily modest our young friend has become on her second visit. Waggie. As no one is polite enough to offer me a chair, I takes one, and you call yourselves gentlemen and ladies — ugh ! {In harshest tone to Heartley). Am I to really understand that you have baselessly abandoned me, who have been so faithful to you ? And. Intruders are not usually welcomed or invited to stay. Heart, {luith an effort). It certainly looks like it. Waggie. Don't presume to joke. Sir, a revenge terrible and sudden will Heart, {stoutly). Do you dare threaten ? Waggie {hissingly). Yes, because you cut me, who was so fond of yer, and be- cause yer 'ave been an' gone after a heiress — who yer found had much more money than I 'ad — but I 'ave come to give yer a last chance of sticking to yer true love. Heart. Yes, you were so fond of me, and doubtless your love will increase till it ends in removing by some pleasant means the slight obstacle that prevents you from becoming a rich young widow, as you are so fond of sticking : sticking, I dare say, will be the method you will choose. [Chonos of "hravo" from the audience. G 82 THE SIREN. Waggie. Well then, terrible vengeance will overtake yer both when yer least suspects it. And. You may chance to find yourself shut up as a dangerous person before you reacli home to-night. And now " be off," unless you wish to see the sergeant again. AVaG(!IE {inith a pretence of feeling). I think my poor 'art will break. And. {derisivdy). You are too transparent to take us in, the only thing you are likely to break is your promise. Articles made of gutta percha and India rubber are not so easily broken. Waggie {unth ijreed spite). You haudacious and impudent old man, I will get the best of yer yet, and cut up your cheek into small pieces. And. Please remember I have none to spare, as you have. Waggie. I won't forget the words of the poet, and will " nuss my wrath and keep my hanger warm.'' Herr Ki;a.mme. There is von nice boosh full of de sharp pricklings, such as you do like, just outside dat wiudow,aud dere I will put you in von twinkling of de star. Waggie (grandly, rising to depart). I shakes the dust liorf my feet against yer all. [Heartley regards Wagejie loitli an expression in lohich horror, aversion and dismaij are cvrionsly llended. She turns to depart, but a sudden ea/eh in her eoiee is heard , she throics baeh her veil eind sinks down in a chair in an irrepressihlc Jit of merriment, cliselosing to the evmpany the bright and laughing feediires of CllEKKY ]M0L'NT,10Y; her beevutiful hair fedls, and tossing off her ontcr dress, siuch out with a crinoline, she discloses her graceful f.gurc tastefnlbj dressed . And. By lieavens ! my beauty of the riverside ! Audso you kept your face determinedly turned from me, and as I have not seen you for two years and a half, I was quite unconscious who it was ! I had no idea you had developed in so short a time into anything so bewitching. Cheery. I wanted to see if your anxiety would overcome your politeness, I saw y(ju twitching your sketch-book as if )'ou were anxious to draw me, but please don't use up all your conrpliments at once, Andrew, for I shall require one every day you are here. The expression on Mr. Sweetinburgh's face settled me completely ; if I had not caught his awful gaze of terror and horror, I think I could have gone through with it. It is a pity I could not. kxD. (admiringlg). I quite agree with you, you Little mischief-maker. I have never been so thoroughly done before ; and, considering that I have known THE SIKEN. 83 you since you were a yard high, your triumph is complete. The air, the voice, tlie style, the gait and the nasal twang, were a perfect copy of the original. You are a born actress, and require but little teaching, for art is nature with you. Besides, I shall enjoy the pleasure of making you sit to me, often and long, for Margaret of Anjou will require time and study. Chekey {archhj and provohinghj). I am a great deal too much occupied with my studies at school to sit for my portrait ; but, with regard to Waggie, I have been in the same class with her for a year, and know her by heart ; and the account I heard of her oglings, her airs, her love-making, her talk about kissing, and her rage at being thwarted, was so intensely rich and ludicrous, that no fear of consequences would have frightened me from having my bit of fun. I would have given up a quarter's pocket-money to have been present. Herr Ku.uime. I did never feel soospeecion it wars Mees Mountjoy, not for von instant ; but I did notice that de feet and de hands were much littler and prettier than iliss Vane's, and thought that vain thing must have pressed her's into ver tight boots and gloves. And. Heartley, you ought not to have been deceived on this point, for I know you especially admired her understandings as well as her understanding. Cheery. Some of us could have worn her shoes as goloshes, and that made her most wild. ISTothing I enjo}' so much as teasing and taking down that con- ceited creature, because she deserves it much more than any other girl — coming to school wearing, I think, all the jewellery of the pawn-shop in turn ; but I did not think this love-making was in her. She knows better than to give me one . of her " smacks," as she calls them ; for I caught her hand on my atlas last term. She used some choice words and gave me some sweet looks, but she has not tried it again. You see I have put an extra pair of boots on to get my feet to the Waggie size, but I hardly seem to have succeeded. Herr Kkamme. But my dear young lady, I did ver nearly put you out in de booshes of de monkey-tree outside the window ; for I thought, as you were so fond of prickly things, that you should feel them for yourself, and I should have been so sorry. Cheery. Oh ! I should have stopped you in time, be sure of that. AxD. How is it that I have not met you before ? I asked after you when I saw your father for the first time, and he said you had just left on a short visit. I thought your conduct in the Gardens rather heartless, considering it was so long since I had seen you. Cheery. I will explain. I was on my way to the station to catch the only G 2 84 THE SIUEX. train that stopped at the country village where I was going, having sent my portmanteau by 'bus so as to be able to call on my way on a friend I wanted to see. T saw you in the Gardens, of course. I did not suppose myself so much altered, and thought that you would soon recognise me, but when I turned my face towards you I was disappointed to see you walking away. I had not time to spare, or sbould have run after you. Enter Mr. MoUNTJOY, in haste. Mr. Mount. I fear I am not in time to prevent my irrepressible young scapegrace from carrying out her practical joke : yet I am not too late to apologise for the act ; and I trust she did not take you in as she did me. And. I am very glad to say she did take us in. It was a stroke of genius, and reminded me of one of Eobson's or Charles Mathews's inimitable impersona- tions. I would not have lost the treat for a good deal. Mr. MorxT. I was just returning home from lousiness, a little before I was expected, I fancy, when I saw coming out of my garden-gate what I took to be tbat atrocious Waggie. I was too astonished to speak, as she passed by, at her cheek in daring to call, but heard a suppressed giggle, which irritated me still more. The walk and swing, the head cocked on one side, the jaunty swaggering demeanour were Waggle's and Waggle's alone ; and she lifted her dress to show her ankles, just as "Waggie does when she fancies she is admired. And. That fancy, I am sure, has only been made reality once — at any rate, seriously. Heart. Pray let me off, Andrew ; I feel as if I had been put in the corner, with a fool's cap on my head, for days. And. Tou must expect a few switchings now and then after your wonderful goings-on with Waggie, especially as you have escaped. Mr. Mount. In flaming wrath I went quickly into the house to enquire the reason of Waggle's audacious conduct, and there extracted the truth from my small son. And now I must consult with Herr Kramme (for he is your master, Cherry) as to some suitable punishment for this lawless act. Once, when she took me in as a child, I set her this hymn to learn — " Oh ! what a tangled web we weave When first we practise to deceive ; " but now she is too old for such a punishment. CnEiiEY. Well, the web has soon been untangled. You ought to be included in the punishment. Papa, as I know you dressed up as a policeman and had a thorouLih lark. THE SIREN, 85 Mr. Mount. But there is a great difference between the cases: my intention was to help my friends, your's only to mystify and do them. Truly, the act was the same, but the motive was so different thut it entirely alters the case. You dressed up for a lark, / to bring a wholesome fear to bear upon a character that was amenable to no other influence. Cheery. That sounds very magnificent, Papa, but I heard that you and Mamma laughed heartily while you were dressing up, and it did not appear lilie an act of conscience. Mr. Mount. Well, of course culprits cannot see things in their proper light, and I leave you the choice of two punishments : to give up a picnic next Saturday with Mr. Knivett, to Kennel-Prince Castle ; or {turnmg to Herr Kramvie) you Sir are a great smoker, are you not ? Herr Kramme. My earthly Paradise. Mr. Mount, Well then Cherry, as you particularly dislike smoking, and make such a to-do about kissing me, even after a mild fragrant Havannah, you shall receive two kisses from Herr Kramme. Herr Kramme. I am quite ready to inflict de punishment. Cheery. But I am not at all ready to receive it. I should look afterwards as if I had had a scrimmage with Waggie, or as if I had been scrubbed with the hearth brush. Besides, if Herr Kramme should chance to tread on my feet, I should go lame for a month after. Herr Kramme. I should be ver sorry, but I should object not mooch to carry you into de school, but I ver mucli hope dat de young lady to whom I have the honor of being engaged does not look on de kuss with so great dislike. Cherry. But I am not engaged to Herr Kramme. Mr. Mount. Be more respectful in your remarks. Cherry, to your master; or I shall have to add to your punishment. Herr Kramme. My beard is ver steef and breestly, as I have not had de time to use de raizzar for almost von veek, so I have fear the Fraulein may suffer, as her complekshon is ver delicate. Mr. Mount. Have you decided, Cherry ? Cherry. I will never give np the picnic on Andrew's last day here, but let me have the round table between us, and if Herr Kramme can catch me in five minutes I will surrender myself. Mr. Mount. Herr Kramme is a man of substance and your master, and it is very indecorous and unbefitting for a pupil, as light and quick as a young roe, to 86 THE SIEEN. give him such a chase before he can inflict a well-deserved punishment. Why, you incorrigible young romp, what will you propose next ? Herr Kiiammic (hvV/i a gra lul and 'prctfiitious air). I have stooded a time ver long waiting for Miss Cherry's decision. Mr. Mount. Xow Cherry, submit with a good grace. Turn up your face. I give you leave to shut your eyes, but no shirking. And. (aside). I don't half like the dear little creature being harried like this. ^Yhat can Mountjoy mean ? [Hcrr Krammc puffs his lips out, smacls them loudhj as if going to have a drinh, tuchs his sleeves up, ostentatioushj advances with a heavy tread toirard Chcreij, 'wlio rceoils in hoi'ror. Mr. Muunljoij is intensely delighted a,t her alarm, as Herr Krammc th/inders sloaiy vp, U'itJi. chest cejiandcd and arms ^losed en hjlister-cla m j'ashioa. Anilreio (uigrily rises, but catcJiing a iciiil- from Ilerr Krammc, sits down. CiiEKEY {springimj lack and steppimj piicldy over to Andrev:). Protect me, Andrew, for I am run to eartli. I suppose I may take shelter on your knee, as I used to as a child, when I found Dick too much for me. Xot grown too big, am I ? And. (stuldeiily,'with feeling). Too big, darling ? I hope you will never be too big to be by me for the rest of your life. {Tarninrj to Mr. Mountjoy). I intended to have kept back this confession till Cherry had left school, and then have made it in a suitable }ilace, under proper circumstances, but my innermost citadel has been carried by storm, before I could get a single gun into position. I must call her "The Siren of Warmiugton," with your permission, as the crown has certainly been transferred from Heartley's former C[ueen, and placed on the head of one to whom it is much more suitable and becoming. To think of an antirpiity like me, who knows old age is waiting for him behind the next turning, having a confession of love drawn from his touglr old heart ! The young lady who can achieve this worthily deserves the title of Siren, for it is not what an ordinary girl could effect. Cheruy (pntlinghcrJiand on Jiis slionhler). Don't call yourself old, Andrew; you look ficshcr and more yoiithful than many men }ounger in years ; and I am sure your heart is much more tender than those of the puppies who pretend they are in love with me, as they Iiang round me at e\'ening parties, but who are much older in feeling. Mr. MoL'N'T. (slily). One of the " })uppies " might hang himself if not allowed to hang about you, if he were of a Werther turn of mind. THE SIREN. 87 Cheeky. Eidiculous ! He would think me merely mentally colour-blind to his varied charms. Mr. Mount. I think we must put Cherry on the confession stool and make her state how many proposals she lias had already at seventeen. Cheery. It is not my fault if these would-be lady-killers will make up to me; because I can't help being rational and jolly they think I'm in love with them. And. That's true enough. I must tell you, my old friend, that I think your child is as kind and sympathising as she is mischievous and clever, and that is saying a good deal. Mr. Mount. I am delighted to hear the opinion you have of Cherry, and especially to hear it from yoio of all men. A young boy or girl, who has no fund of frolic and fun in him or her, develops generally into a very poor specimen of humanity. Cherry. I thank you, papa. And. I should not have spoken so soon in such a place, or before others, had not Cherry's winningness overpowered me, as I said before. Heart. You confess this ! It delights me intensely. I thought you were an ironclad. And. a man is not a real man who is impervious to the charms of a true loveable woman, though circumstances, conflicting claims, and lack of a sufficient income to make a wife comfortable may cause him to suppress his feelings. Heart. It is now my turn to lecture you, whom I always looked on as the most confirmed of bachelors. I am not a satirical man, but this is really too much for the gravest mind. Eemember what you told me about marriage trebling expenses, etc., etc. ; and how do you intend to provide for and educate your quickly-coming family ? And. I own I have laid myself open to a considerable amount of chaiT, and, as I explained, I intended to wait ; but my income has so unexpectedly increased lately, that I have no reasonable fear for the future, though you are good enough to surround me with a large progeny. Besides, you forget that my partner has talent of an order which is certain, with cultivation, to bring in the needful if it were wanted ; also there is just a slight difference in the two objects of our regard that takes the edge off the keenest argument ; but you have missed the most salient point in your chaff — the proposal was made by me of all men in public, a feat unique in offers of marriage, I think. Cherry {archly). You all seem quite to forget, in your calculations of the future, that I have not accepted Mr. Knivett yet. 88 THE SIREN. Mr. MorxT. Your attitude, mentally and physically, does not look as if you had rejected him. And. I do not feel like a rejected suitor, though Cherry has come to me sooner than I expected. Cherky. Are you so venj sorry then, Andrew, to be saddled with me a year or two sooner than you intended ? Ituniemher, I am an irrepressible flirt, and you might have lost me. (-S'/y/y) Even now I shall require looking after, as you know girls are allowed to change their minds, especially when under twenty. And. Saddled is not the right word. Cherry, while the horse is waiting to carry his light burden with pleasure. But, seriously, I do not wish to hurry you into marriage before your education is completed. Mr. iloUNT. And Cherry will not come unprovided for. \^^indrcw hoivs to Mount joy. Cherry. Thank you so much, Andrew, and you, papa, for all you have said. And. {to Mr. Mounfjoy). Three years ago, you remember, Hugh, I sprained my ankle, and was excessively impatient, because confinement to the house was very irksome to a man of my active roving habits, and because it prevented my finishing some study of wild flowers I was drawing in "Warren Wood for a picture I had in hand ; but the loss of time was amply compensated for, since it showed me the goodness and worth of your darling child who, with an intelligence I could not have credited, constantl)' anticipated my every want, and gave up her spare time to jilay chess and draughts with an old fogie like me. Cherry. Xo great self-denial to be taught drawing and perspective, to be told amusing tales, to be shown the art of light and shade, and how to use colour. Mr. MorxT. (Inralinr/ in) Well, Andrew has taught you to colour to-day, whatever the previous lessons may liave been. Cherry (sceminr/ not to hear). And to be told most interesting ghost stories in the evening, and anecdotes and amusing experiences — why I always called him my Sunbeam. Mr. Mount. Well, he is going to be my son now, without the beam, unless a cudgel of large girth is required to keep you in order ; but I will do Cherry the justice to say that she never will take to herself the credit of doing anything unselfish, or even kind. Cherry [archly). The punishment, I suppose, is commuted ; or better, transferred to a responsible agent. [Loahs at Andrew. And. Yes, darling, you exactly express my view, the transfer is strictly legal. THE SIREN. 89 Cherry {turning to her father). I suppose it involves no breach of the moral law, retaliating the injury I am about to receive. Mr. Mount. You cheeky little rogue, when I hardly can get one ! But you took me in, and I really succeeded in frightening you, so we are quits now. Herr Kramme and I exchanged winks, which you did not see, when we proposed the salutation ordeal, and you really thought I should have ordered or even allowed such a proceeding. Ha ! ha ! ha ! And the cute keen Andrew was taken in also, which is better still ; twice done in half an hour. And. Yes, I am overdone altogether, and stand in grievous need of restorations. Herr Keamme. And you, Mr. Knivett, so like to de knife in your cutting remarks, were very blunt in being deceived. And did you really tink, my petty, that I was going to kiss you against your willing ? And. You must insert an " r " before the " e," for nothing is petty with her. Herr Keamme. You are clever more than me with the poons, but here is von — Miss Cherry, you believed a hig cram (Kramme). And. and All. Bravo ! And. I confess myself outwitted. Heart, {'producing the ring, and trying to imitate Andrew's manner). I think I ought to hand over this to you, Miss Cherry {offers the ring). Cherry {pouting). Do you suppose I am going to wear this bit of Waggle's goods that was to be ? The ring I shall wear must be bought by Andrew expressly for me, for I am a person of consequence now, and must be treated with deference. With your permission I will transfer it to Betty. So good-looking a girl is certain to be engaged, or to have her young man ; and it will set her up in jewellery, and make her the envy of the race of Betties. And. {laughing). A very fitting and appropriate destination for the article ; she has deserved it for helping Mountjoy. Mrs. Sweet. Why does not Betty bring dinner ? {rings). Enter Betty, looking alarmed, hearing a tray with Moselle and other effervescing drinhs. And. Here come delightful beverages, grateful to the system when agitated or exhausted by any extra strain upon the nerves, especially that of any kind of love-making and courting, or trying to aid others in similar afflictions. Cheeky {pouting). So you call it an affliction, requiring cordials. I am not going to supply you with them when you come to see me. 90 THE SIKEN. And. No, darling; our case is an exception to all rules or any satirical remarks. I am more likely to need a sedative. Eeally that struggle to displace Waggie took more out of me than a hundred made at a cricket match. It is not a common or easy task to tackle two female foes. Heakt. Ah ! You rememl:)er what James Montgomicry says — " I never felt so sweet a pain." C'hekey (arcJilij). I fear then I shall cham (sham) pagne (pain) very often. Mis. Sweet, (rings. Eater Betty). Why have you kept us so long, Betty ? Betty. "Well, Marm, I was so afeared of comin' agin that Waggie ; for just as I was a-lettin' her in, she said — " For a keepin' of me standin' like this 'ere I'll give yer phiz such a scratching as will spile yer complecksion for a year.'' Now, as it is Joe's day to come and see me to-morrow, I wanted much to look my best {laughter), and not as if I'd had a low quarrel ; but I telled cook, who is much bigger and stronger nor me, and she says — " The young woragoe (virago), I will give her such a basting as she won't easily ftjrget, as sure as my name is Jane Fry ! " and she's a-tucked up her sleeves, and is waiting on the havy steps till Waggie comes out ; and she has let her nails grow long a purpose, in case anyone should haggrevate her beyoud her powers of hindurance. {peals of laughter). Mrs. Sweet. The cook must really learn to control herself: for, though we are in lodgings, I must exercise some curb over her combative feelings. Betty. Please, Marm, do let the cook slip into her; she is the most him- perent girl as ever was ; and she cocked up the heel of her foot at me when she went out last time. AxD. Though I don't quite understand the nature or extent of the last insult, I've no doubt it was a very flagrant one. Betty {attraeted ly his voice, turns to him). Lawks, Sir, if there isn't Mr. Knivett a-makiu' up to (sees the east-off dress, and understands the tra/isfor>nation) — well. Miss, you did take me in ; but, believe me, Miss, that if I'd a knowed who it was I should have lieen much more likely to have kissed you (excuse me, Miss) than to have thumped into you {Cherrn presents the ring, to Betty's great delight). {Exit Betty. Herr Kkajime. It is very beautiful to see you t\v(j, eet is like one pretty little robin sitting on de branch of one strong tree — no doubt she will sing you some A'er sweet songs, widout or wid de words, when you are depressed or want cheering or cherrying, I cannot to make de pun in English more than once in an eveninw. THE SIREN. 91 And. a nice thought, and I hope yon will often come and hear her sing in future days. Herr Kkajime. There is one ver sweet custom in my Faderland — zat is when von young lady is engaged, her old friends have de privilege and pleasure to give her von lovely heart kiss of friendship. And. (laughing). I very much question the correctness of that statement, and I've no doubt you will find some other ancient usage that allows the same sort of thing the next time we meet. But mind it does not get beyond the salute of friendship, and it must be on the forehead — any other kind is between her and me. Herr Kramme. Ach, dat is so. And. [silly). But I will graciously allow you to salute her hand when you are overcome with admiration or affection. Herr Kramme. Yes, as a leetle overture to de sympony. And. You are incorrigible, and the worst of it is j'ou have a knack of looking too solemn and staid for this kind of amusement when your features are at rest, and the Syntax-like twinkle does not come forth and disclose your real nature, and so innocent persons are taken off their guard. Herr Kramme. I must find, as you say, some beautiful custom of my dear Faderland. But I shall much miss j\fiss Cherry from the school. And. That I can quite understand ; she is a sunbeam that cannot be every- where ; but, as I said before, I have no wish to shorten her education to suit my wishes. Speaking of the school reminds me of the creature, what has become of her? Herr Kramme. Oh ! she will be obliged to leave ; the girls would not speak to her, but she had made sure of ze German prize zis term and tried to brazen it out, but I am so pleased you took that prize from her last year, for she did learn languages better zan anyzing. And. We always have charades or theatricals at my mother's villa in St. James's Forest every Christmas, when the house is filled with as many of our old friends as it can hold without giving way, but it will never be so full as to exclude Herr and Mrs. von Kramme. I hope Cherry will then appear in some drama suitable to her gifts. In the meantime I have my eye on a little villa at Highstead, which I shall name " Mountjoy Lodge." Cherry. Thank you, Andrew. {To Herr Kramme). Where you will be always most welcome. Herr Kramme. You will be soore of me at Christmas ; I shall not forget the blessed English custom of de mistletoe. 92 THE SIEEN. And. (laughinff). With all these different blessed customs the poor girls will have a lively time of it. I know of a beautiful custom, which consists of big men embracing and hunj^ing one another ^vhen saying good-bye at a railway station; but I do not care to see this sort of beauty transported to England — a kind of transport we can do without. Herr Kramjee. It is Mr. ]\Iountjoy that you must much tank for remember- ing to my mind dees usages of delight, you de freezy, foggy English do so ver much despise, and complain of fogs. When I was at Wildbad there vas a dense mist zat obscured everyting with an incessant downpour of eight days. And. The idea of a German talking about frost ! Mr. Mount. You did not seem to want much reminding. And. What do you think, Miss Light, of your future husband searching for excuses to kiss young ladies in such an unlimited fashion ? {Tiijrning to Kraiamc) I suppose your favourite pupils undergo a series of these customs at Christmas, Easter, Whitsuntide, &c. Miss Light. Oh ! it is only his wish to make a little fun. And. I see it now. I confess he thoroughly took me in, but the solemnity of this style is very ?ftt's5-leading. Herr Keamme {to Andreiu). And now I do tank you ver mooch for your ver rapid and powerful support vich has put de bad girl and de good one in their proper places. If it had not arrived from your muchness of the book readings, that veeked Fraulein would still vear de vatch. Heart, (adrancinif). My very dear friend — it is no vain use of words to call you valued and valuable — I can never repay the service you have done me in opening the eyes of one \\ho was reason and heart-blind ; for, instead of having my existence marred and cursed by that atrocity, I've now this blessed one to guide and cheer me. And. Yes, it would have been mad and pa'd too. Cheeky. I think I have to thank you most of all, and shall do my best to keep my old name, even when I change it, and make your joy mount on every occasion. All. Bravo ! And. The story of Waggie is so intensely ludicrous, and so different to all my previous experiences, that I have written some verses on it which, with the permission of the company, I will recite. All. Pray go on ! THE SUIEN. 9o THE (PEOBABLY) TEUE BALLAD OF WAGGIE VANE. Air — Lucy Gi'ay. Yoii've heard me speak of Waggle Vane ; At evening's deep'uing shade, I chanced to spy amid the rain This most peculiar maid. How gay and airy was her tread, The rat is not more fleet ; The swiftest thing that ever sped Adown that lively street. You oft may see her puss again Larking from door to door. But the lithe form of Waggle Vane, Your eyes will see no more. Your ears may hear her parrot talk, Using not choicest word ; But the hard thud of Waggle's walk Will never more be heard ! Companions Waggie had but few, And school-life friendships none ; And yet she was a lass to view Who might have charmed your son. Some said she was both rude and proud. And some, too hard to please ; Perchance it was as she allow'd " I ham a hawful tease." Simple and few the tastes and joys That soothed her gentle breast ; Bird's-nesting, fighting little boys Pleased her of all the best. 94 THE SIREN. With her young brother she would play The manly game of cricket, Her brother had to IjowI all day While she stood at the wicket. What sweet humility was shewn By that celestial nose ; How thoroughbred her lofty tone Of graceful calm repose. Sometimes, when very bright or gay, She'd seize a hapless pet, And make it in some painful way Pay nature's final debt. " Mother," said she, " tis eventide, Thick mist obscures the view. And twilight's dodgy shades will hide The deed I have to do. "I'll take our Tom, and he shall taste The pain he made me feel. He scratched me twice — the 'orrid baste, And I'll just make him squeal." Not swifter is the schoolboy's pace When he's his sldn to saxe bent ; Not quicker rival busses race Than she bounds down the pavement. As well you seek to hold the wind, Or trap Apollo's beam ; The town is quickly left behind, She gains the wriggly stream. At death's dark gate of water stands The nymph respiring hard ; But not till puss leaves on her hands Some tokens of regard. THE SIKEN. 95 Eager with rage, she i^uickly gains The row of stepping stones, Which slipp'ry from autumnal rains Uncertain footing owns. ■'& " I'll take yer out to number nine "Where thickest is the mud, Stream deepest, and there. Pussy mine, I'll wash you from my blood." The Tom he gave a sudden plunge — Then, with a piercing scream. Sweet Waggie with quick sideward lunge Slipped down in middle stream. Where deepest flowed the swollen flood, Where thick weeds -wove a mat. There, stifled in collected mud. She died — and not her cat ! ! ! Her Ma she gave a dismal shriek And said : " This ends my peace ! " But Pa proclaimed, when he could speak, " It is a blest release." The valiant Tom, relieved from pain, With fond mates had a spree ; And o'er the fate of Bessie Vane They held high jubUee. 96 THE SIREN. EPILOGUE. Some say this tale is not correct, She only had a dive ; That, though her toggery was wrecked, The sfirl is still alive. &^ They say she left her native place. Expelled by laugh and jeer ; And advertises now her face And ankles on some pier ! That, coached in many new found arts, She fascinates the flats ; Finds breaking country noodles' hearts More fun than drowning cats. [Curtain. DRYDEN PRESS : J. DAVY & SONS, 137, LONG ACRE, LONDON.