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CHAPTER IV.

The professional Verdict. Mr. Whelp was confounded at this professional judgment, the magisdecree : and as the readiest means of tracy thought fit to impose silence obtaining a revision of it, he sent in upon their own senses which reto the next sitting of the bench a turned a very opposite award : and copy of the bust which had pre- thus it happened that the former deviously been omitted. As bad luck cision was affirmed. Now certainly would have it however, there hap- Mr. Whelp had his remedy: he pened on this occasion to be present might appeal from the magistrate's an artist who had a rancorous enmity sentence. But this he declined. both to Mr.Whelp and to the modeler “ No, no," said he, “ I know what of the bust. This person, being I'm about: I shall want the magisasked his opinion, declared without trate once more; and I mustn't scruple that the bust was as wretch- offend him. I will appeal to public ed a portrait as it was lamentable in opinion: that shall decide between its pretensions as a work of art; and me and the old rogue of a merchant." that his youngest pupil would not And precisely in this way it was have had the audacity to produce so brought about that the late stampinfamous a performance unless he distributor Goodchild came to stand had an express wish to be turned exposed to public view in the neck and heels out of his house. centre window of the china-manu

Upon this award of the conscien- factory. tious artist,-out of regard to his

CHAPTER V.

The Sinecurist. At the corner of this china-manu- that young and old had unanimously factory a beggar had his daily sta- pronounced the bust a most admition, -- which, except for bis youth, rable likeness of the late stamp-diswhich was now and then thrown in tributor Goodchild. This report was his teeth, was indeed a right pleasant regularly brought for eight days: on sinecure. To this man Mr. Whelp the eighth Mr. Whelp was satisfied, promised a handsome present if he and paid off his commissioner, the would repeat to him in the evening beggar. what the passers-by had said of the The next morning Mr. Whelp prebust in the day-time. Accordingly sented himself at Mr. Goodchild's at night the beggar brought him the to report the public approbation of true and comfortable intelligence his brother's bust.

a

CHAPTER VI.

The young Visionary. But here there was sad commotion. and, when he pretended to be reading Mr. Goodchild was ill: and his ill. the pandects at his window, too often ness arose from a little history which it must be acknowledged) his eyes must here be introduced by way of were settled all the while upon Ida's episode. Mr. Goodchild had an blooming face. The glances of these only daughter named Ida. Now eyes did certainly cause some deMiss Ida had begun, like other young rangement occasionally in Ida's sew. ladies of her age, to think of mar. ing and netting. What if they did ? riage: nature had put it into her Let her drop as many stitches as she head to consider all at once that she would, the next day was long enough was seventeen years of age. And it to take them up again. sometimes occurred to her that Mr. This young man then was clearly Tempest the young barrister, who pointed out by Providence as the occupied the first floor over the way, partner of her future life. Ah! that was just the very man she would like her father would think so too! But in the character of lover. Thoughts he called him always the young of the same tendency appeared to visionary. And whenever she took have occurred also to Mr. Tempest: a critical review of all their opposite Ida seemed to him remarkably well neighbours, and fell as if by accifitted to play the part of a wife; dent upon the domestic habits, re

spectable practice, and other favour able points about Mr. Tempest, her father never failed to close the conversation by saying,-"Aye, but he's a mere young visionary." And why, Mr. Goodchild? Simply for these two reasons: first, because once at a party where they had met, Mr. Tempest had happened to say a few words very displeasing to his pre

judices on the "golden age" of German poetry, to which Mr. Goodchild was much attached, and on which he could bear no opposition. Secondly and chiefly, because at the same time he had unfortunately talked of the King of Hayti as a true crowned head-a monarch whom Mr. Goodchild was determined never to acknowledge.

CHAPTER VII.

At last Ida and Mr. Tempest had come to form a regular correspondence together in the following way. The young advocate had conducted a commerce of looks with the lovely girl for a long time and hardly knowing how it began: he had satisfied himself that she looked like an angel: and he grew very anxious to know whether she also talked like one. To ascertain this point, he followed her many a time and up and down many a street: and he bore patiently for her sake all the angry looks of his clients, which seemed to say that he would do more wisely to stay at home and study their causes than to roam about in chace of a pretty girl. Mr. Tempest differed from his clients on this matter: suits at law, said he, have learned to wait: they are used to it: but hearts have not learned to wait, and never will be used to it. However all was in vain. Ida was attended constantly either by her father, or by an old governess: and in either case his scheme was knocked on the head.

At length chance did for him more than he could ever do for himself, and placed him one night at her elbow in the theatre. True it was that her father, whose dislike to him ever since his fatal acknowledgment of the king of Hayti he had not failed to remark, sate on the other side of her: but the devil is in it, thought he, if I cannot steal a march on him the whole night through. As the overture to his scheme therefore he asked in the most respectful manner for the play-bill which Ida held in her hand. On returning it, he said -what a pity that the vanity of the manager should disturb so many excellent parts: the part allotted to himself would have been far better played by several others in the company.

Mr. Tempest was not much delighted on observing that Mr. Goodchild did not receive this remark very propitiously but looked still gloomier than before. The fact was that the manager constantly attended all Mr. Goodchild's literary parties, professed great deference for his opinions, and was in return pronounced by Mr. Goodchild a man of "exceedingly good taste and accurate judgment." His first shot, Mr. Tempest saw clearly, had missed fire; and he would have been very glad to have had it back again: for he was thrown into a hideous fright when he saw the deep darkness which was gathering on Mr. Goodchild's face. Meantime, it was some little support to him under his panic-that in returning the play-bill to Ida, he had ventured to press her hand, and fancied (but it could only be fancy) that she slightly returned the pressure. His enemy, whose thunder now began to break, insisted on giving an importance to his remark which the unfortunate young man himself had never contemplated-having meant it only as an introduction to further conversation, and not at all valuing himself upon it. "A pity! my good Sir? said Mr. Goodchild: "Why so, my good Sir? On the contrary, my good Sir, on the contrary, I believe it is. pretty generally admitted that there is no part whatsoever in which this. manager fails to outshine all competitors."

"Very true, Sir: as you observe, Sir, he outshines all his competitors: and in fact that was just the very remark I wished to make."

"It was, was it? Well then, upon my word, my good Sir, you took a very odd way to express it. The fact is-young and visionary people of this day, are very rash in their judgments. But it is not to be supposed that so admirable a performer

as this can be at all injured by such light and capricious opinions."

Mr. Tempest was confounded by this utter discomfiture of his inaugural effort, and sank dejected into silence. But his victorious foe looked abroad in all directions with a smiling and triumphant expression on his face as if asking whether

CHAPTER VIII.

With a view to do this as soon as possible, at the end of the first act he begged a friend who stood next to him to take his place by the side of Ida for a few minutes, and then hastened out. Under one of the lamps on the outside of the theatre, he took out from his pocket the envelope of a letter he had lately received, and with a pencil wrote upon it a formal declaration of love. His project was to ask Ida a second time for the play-bill, and on returning it to crush up the little note and put both together into her hand. -But lord! how the wisest schemes are baffled! On returning to the pit,

CHAPTER IX.

In his whole life had Mr. Tempest never witnessed a more stupid performance, worse actors, or more disgusting people about him than during the time that he was separated from Ida. With the eye of an experienced tactician, he had calculated to a hair the course he must steer on the termination of the play to rejoin the object of his anxious regard. But alas! when the curtain dropped, he found his road quite blocked up. No remedy was left but to press right on and without respect of persons. But he gained nothing by the indefatigable labour of his elbows except a great number of scowling looks. His attention was just called to this, when Ida who had now reached the door looked back for a moment and

CHAPTER X.

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any body had witnessed the ability. with which he had taken down the conceit of the young rattle-brain.

However Mr. Tempest was not so utterly dejected but he consoled himself with thinking that every dog has his day: his turn would come: and he might yet perhaps succeed in laying the old dragon asleep.

he found the whole condition of things changed. His faithless representative met him with an apology at the very door. The fact wasthat, seeing a pretty young lady standing close by him, the devil of gallantry had led him to cede to her use in perpetuity what had been committed to his own care in trust only for a few moments. Nor was this all: for the lady being much admired and followed, and (like comets or highland chieftains) having her "tail" on for this night, there was no possibility of reaching the neighbourhood of Ida for the pressure of the lady's tail of followers.

then disappeared in company with her father. Two minutes after he had himself reached the door; but, looking round, he exclaimed pretty loudly- —“Ah, good lord! it's of no use;" and then through the moonlight and the crowd of people he shot like an arrow-leaving them all to wonder what madness had seized the young advocate who was usually so rational and composed. However he overtook the object of his pursuit in the street in which he lived. For, upon his turning rapidly round the corner, Mr. Goodchild alarmed at his noise and his speed, turned round upon him suddenly, and said, "Is this a man, or a horse?"

Here Mr. Tempest stopped to congratulate himself upon the triumphant expression which the moonlight revealed upon the face of his antagonist. On this triumph, if his plans succeeded, he meant to build a triumph of his own.

"Aye, aye: what then you've come to reason at last, my good Sir?"

"Your judgment and penetration,

Mr. Goodchild, I am bound at all times to bow to as far superior to my own."

During this compliment to the merchant's penetration, Mr. Tempest gently touched the hand of Ida with his pencil note: the hand opened, and like an oyster closed upon it in an instant. "In which scene, Mr. Tempest," said the merchant, "is it your opinion that the manager acquitted himself best?"

"In which scene!" Here was a delightful question! The advocate had attended so exclusively to Ida, that whether there were any scenes 'at all in the whole performance was more than he could pretend to say: and now he was to endure a critical examination on the merits of each scene in particular. He was in direful perplexity. Considering how ever that in most plays there is some love, and therefore some love scenes, he dashed at it and boldly said "In that scene, I think, where he makes the declaration of love." "Declaration of love! why, God bless my soul! in the whole part from the beginning to end there is nothing like a declaration of love."

"Oh confound your accuracy, you old fiend!" thought Mr. Tempest to himself: but aloud he said " No declaration of love, do you say?-Is it possible? Why, then, I suppose I must have mistaken for the manager

that man who played the lover: surely he played divinely."

"Divinely! divine stick! what that wretched, stammering, wooden booby? Why he would have been hissed off the stage, if it hadn't been well known that he was a stranger hired to walk through the part for that night."

Mr. Tempest, seeing that the more he said the deeper he plunged into the mud, held it advisable to be silent. On the other hand, Mr. Goodchild began to be ashamed of his triumph over what he had supposed the lawyer's prejudices. He took his leave therefore in these words: "Good night, Mr. Tempest; and, for the future, my good Sir, do not judge so precipitately as you did on that occasion when you complimented a black fellow with the title of king, and called St. Domingo by the absurd name of Hayti. Some little consideration and discretion go to every sound opinion."

So saying, the old dragon walked off with his treasure-and left the advocate with his ears still tingling from his mortifications.

"Just to see the young people of this day!" said Mr. Goodchild, "what presumption and what ignorance !" The whole evening through he continued to return to this theme; and during supper nearly choaked himself in an ebullition of fiery zeal upon this favourite topic.

CHAPTER XI.

The Letter-box.

To her father's everlasting question—“ Am not I in the right, then? Ida replied in a sort of pantomime which was intended to represent "Yes." This was her outward yes: but in her heart she was thinking of no other yes than that which she might one day be called on to pronounce at the altar by the side of Mr. Tempest. And therefore at length, when the eternal question came round again, she nodded in a way which rather seemed to say"Oh! dear Sir, you are in the right for any thing I have to say against it"-than any thing like a downright yes. On which Mr. Goodchild quitted one favourite theme for another more immediately necessary: viz. the lukewarmness of young people towards good counsel and sound doc

trine.

Meantime Ida's looks were unceasingly directed to her neck handkerchief: the reason of which was this. In order on the one hand to have the love-letter as near as possible to her heart, and on the other to be assured that it was in safe custody, she had converted the beautiful white drapery of her bosom into a letter case; and she felt continually urged to see whether the systole and diastole which went on in other important contents of this letter-case, might not by chance expose it to view. The letter asked for an answer; and late as it was, when all the house were in bed, Ida set about one. On the following morning this answer was conveyed to its destination by the man who delivered the newspapers to her father and Mr. Tempest.

From this day forward there came so many letters to Miss Goodchild by the new established post that the beautiful letter-case was no longer able to contain them. She was now

obliged to resort to the help of her writing-desk, which-so long as her father had no suspicions-was fully sufficient.

CHAPTER XII.

The paper intercourse now began to appear too little to Mr. Tempest. For what can be dispatched in a moment by word of mouth, would often linger unaccomplished for a thousand years when conducted in writing. True it was that a great deal of important business had already been dispatched by the letters. For instance Mr. Tempest had through this channel assured himself that Ida was willing to be his for ever. even this was not enough. The contract had been made, but not sealed upon the rosy lips of Ida..

Yet

This seemed monstrous to Mr. Tempest. "Grant me patience!" said he to himself," Grant me patience, when I think of the many disgusting old relations, great rawboned absurd fellows with dusty snuff-powdered beards, that have reveled in that lip-paradise, hardly knowing-old withered wretches! what they were about, or what a blessing was conferred upon them; whilst I-yes, I that am destined to call her my bride one of these days, am obliged to content myself with payments of mere paper money."

This seemed shocking; and indeed, considering the terms on which he now stood with Ida, Mr. Tempest could scarcely believe it himself. He paced up and down his study in anger, flinging glances at every turn upon the opposite house which contained his treasure. All at once he stopped: "What's all this?" said he, on observing Mr. Goodchild's servants lighting up the chandeliers in the great saloon:-"what's in the wind now?" And immediately he went to his writing table for Ida's last letter for Ida sometimes communicated any little events in the

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family that could any ways affect their correspondence: on this occasion however she had given no hint of any thing extraordinary approaching. Yet the preparations and the bustle indicated something very extraordinary. Mr. Tempest's heart began to beat violently. What was he to think? Great fêtes, in a house where there is an only daughter, usually have some reference to her. "Go, Tyrrel," said he to his clerk, go and make inquiries (but cautiously you understand and in a lawyer-like manner) as to the nature and tendency of these arrangements." Tyrrel came back with the following report: Mr. Goodchild had issued cards for a very great party on that evening; all the seniors were invited to tea; and almost all the young people of condition throughout the town to a masqued ball at night. The suddenness of the invitations, and the consequent hurry of the arrangements, arose in this way: a rich relative who lived in the country had formed a plan for coming by surprise with his whole family upon Mr. Goodchild. But Mr. Goodchild had accidentally received a hint of his intention by some side-wind; and had determined to turn the tables on his rich relation by surprising him with a masquerade.

CHAPTER XIII.

Questions and Commands.

As night drew on, more and more company continued to pour in. The windows being very bright, and the curtains not drawn, no motion of the party could escape our advocate. What pleased him, better than all the splendour which he saw, was the

"Oh! Heavens! what barbarity!" said Mr. Tempest, as towards evening he saw from his windows young and old trooping to the fête. "What barbarity! There's hardly a scoundrel in the place but is asked: and I, -I, John Tempest, that am to marry the jewel of the house, must be content to witness the preparations and to hear the sound of their festivities from the solitude of my den."

melancholy countenance of the kindhearted girl as she stood at the centre window and looked over at him. This melancholy countenance and these looks directed at himself were occasioned, as he soon became aware, by a proposal which had been made

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