However, Clarence had been the recipient of all the
poor lad’s fervent feelings for Miss Winslow,
how she had been a new revelation to his desolate
spirit, and was to be the guiding star of his life,
etc., etc., all from the bottom of his
heart, though he durst not dream of requital, and
was to live, not on hope, but on memory of the angelic
kindness of these three weeks.
It was impossible not to be touched, though we strove
to be worldly wise old bachelors, and assured one
another that the best and most probable thing that
could happen to Lawrence Frith would be to have his
dream blown away by the Atlantic breezes, and be left
open to the charms of some Chinese merchant’s
daughter.
’Thus Esau-like, our Father’s blessing
miss, Then wash with fruitless tears our faded crown.’
Keble.
After such a rebuff as Martyn had experienced at Beachharbour,
he no longer haunted its neighbourhood, but devoted
the long vacation of the ensuing year to a walking
tour in Germany, with one or two congenial spirits,
who shared his delight in scenery, pictures, and
architecture.
By and by he wrote to Clarence from Baden Baden —
’Whom do you think I should find here but Griffith
and his bird? I first spotted the old fellow
smoking under a tree in the Grand Platz, but he looked
so seedy and altered altogether that I was not sure
enough of him to speak, especially as he showed no
signs of knowing me. (He says it was my whiskers
that stumped him.) I made inquiries and found that
they figured as “Sir Peacock and lady,”
but they were entered all right in the book.
He is taking the “Kur”—he
looks as if he wanted it—and she is taking
rouge et noir. I saw her at the salon, with
her neck grown as long as her namesake’s, but
not as pretty, claws to match, thin and painted,
as if the ruling passion was consuming her.
Poor old Griff! he was glad enough to see me, but
he is wofully shaky, and nearly came to tears when
he asked after Ted and all at home. They had
an upset of their carriage in Vienna last winter,
and he got some twist, or other damage, which he
thought nothing of, but it has never righted itself;
I am sure he is very ill, and ought to be looked after.
He has had only foreign doctoring, and you know
he never was strong in languages. I heard of
the medico here inquiring what precise symptom der
Englander meant by being “down in zie mout!”
Poor Griff is that, whatever else he is, and Selina
does not see it, nor anything else but her rouge
et noir table. I am afraid he plays too, when
he is up to it, but he can’t stand much of the
stuffiness of the place, and he respects my innocence,
poor old beggar; so he has kept out of it, since
we have been here. He seems glad to have me
to look after him, but afraid to let me stay, for fear
of my falling a victim to the place. I can’t
