Chapter 7. Of A Lady That Had A Musical Voice...

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_ CHAPTER VII. OF A LADY THAT HAD A MUSICAL VOICE, BUT USED IT TO DECEIVE

Many of the advantages that wait upon the readers of this history are, I should hope, by this time obvious. Among them must be reckoned the privilege of taking precedence of Admiral Buzza--of paying a visit to "The Bower" not only several minutes in advance of that great man, but moreover on terms of the utmost intimacy.

Shortly before eleven on Monday morning the Honourable Frederic Augustus Hythe Goodwyn-Sandys was shaving contemplatively. He was a tall, thin man, with light, closely cropped hair, a drooping moustache that hid his mouth, and a nose of the order aquiline, and species "chiselled." For the present the lower half of his face was obscured with lather. His dress--I put it thus in case Miss Limpenny should read these lines--was that usually worn by gentlemen under similar circumstances.

Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys was just taking his first stroke with the razor, when the creaking of the garden gate caused him to glance out of window. The effect of this was to make him cut his cheek; whereupon he both bled and swore simultaneously and profusely.

On the gravel walk stood Admiral Buzza with his three daughters.

Again the great man was in full dress. Behind him in Indian file advanced Sophia, Jane, Calypso, each in a straight frock of vivid yellow surmounted by a straw hat of such enormous brim as to lend them a fearful likeness to three gigantic fungi. As far as the hats allowed one to see from above, each wore sandal-shoes, and carried a small green parasol, neatly folded.

At the sight of this regiment of visitors, Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys paused with razor in air and blood trickling down his chin. The Admiral marched resolutely up the path and struck three distinct knocks upon the door.

It was opened by the youth in buttons.

The Admiral produced a sheaf of visiting cards and handed them to the page, as if inviting him to select one, note it carefully, and restore it to the pack.

"Is the Honourable Frederic Goodwyn-Sandys or the Honourable Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys at home?"

Words cannot do justice to the Admiral's tone.

The regiment was marched into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys rose to receive them.

She was undeniably beautiful; not young, but rather in that St. Martin's Summer when a woman learns for the first time the value of her charms. Her hair was of a glossy black, her lips red and full, her figure and grey morning gown two miracles. But on her eyes and voice you shall hear Mr. Moggridge, who subsequently wasted a deal of Her Majesty's time and his own paper upon this subject. From a note-book of his, the early pages of which are constant to a certain Sophia, I select the following--

"TO GRACIOSA, WALKING AND TALKING."

Whenas abroad, to greet the morn,
I mark my Graciosa walk,
In homage bends the whisp'ring corn;
Yet, to confess
Its awkwardness,
Must hang its head upon the stalk.

And when she talks, her lips do heal
The wound her lightest glances give.
In pity, then, be harsh and deal
Such wounds, that I
May hourly die
And, by a word revived, live!

All this was very shocking of Mr. Moggridge; for Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys was not _his_ Graciosa at all. But it was what we were fated to come to, in Troy. And Graciosa's voice and smile were certainly inspiring.

Let us return to "The Bower." The Admiral having presented his daughters, and arranged them in line again, cleared his throat and began--

"Though aware that, as judged by the standard of the best society, this visit may be condemned as premature, I have thought right to stifle such apprehensions in my anxiety to assure you of a welcome in Troy--I may say, an open-armed welcome."

Here the Admiral actually spread his arms abroad. His hostess retreated a step.

"My daughters,--Calypso, I perceive an errant curl--my daughters, madam, will bear me out when I say that only excess of feeling prevents their mother from joining in this--may I call it so?--this ovation."

(In point of fact, Mrs. Buzza had been judged too red in the eyes to accompany the Admiral.)

"Ever since I beheld you and your husband--whom I do not see" (here the Admiral stared ferociously under a table), "but who, I trust, is in health--for the first time in church yesterday"-- (Oh, Admiral Buzza!)--"I have been forcibly reminded of an expression in one of our British poets, which runs--Sophia, how the devil does it run?"

Neither of the Misses Buzza had the faintest idea. Their father's efforts to remember it were interrupted by Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, who begged them, with a charming smile, to be seated.

"My husband," she said, "will be down in a minute or two. It is really most kind of you to call; for, as strangers, we are naturally anxious to hear about the place and its people."

Her voice, which was low and musical, came with the prettiest trip upon the tongue. There was just the faintest shade of brogue in it-- for instance, she said "me husband"--but I cannot attempt to reproduce it.

Upon this hinted desire for information, the Admiral bestowed his cocked-hat under the chair, and began--

"Our small town, ma'am, may be viewed in many aspects--as an emporium of commerce, a holiday centre, or a health resort. In our trade you would naturally, with your tastes, find little interest. It is rather our scenic advantages, our romantic fortresses, our river (pronounced by many to equal the Rhine), our mild atmosphere--"

"On the contrary, I take the greatest interest in your trade."

The Admiral lifted his brows and smiled, as one who would imply "You are kind enough to say so, but really, with your high connections, that can hardly be seriously believed." What he said was--

"It is indeed good of you to interest yourself in our simple tastes. We are (I confess it) to some degree--ahem!--mercantile, and as citizens of Troy esteem it our duty to acquaint ourselves (theoretically) with the products of other lands. To this end I have had all my daughters carefully grounded in the 'Child's Guide to Knowledge.' Jane, my dear, what is Gamboge?"

"A vegetable, gummy juice, of a most beautiful yellow colour, chiefly brought from Gambodia in the East Indies," repeated Jane, with a glance at her gown.

"You see, ma'am," explained her father with a wave of the hand, "it is a form of instruction in which the rawness of the material is to some extent veiled by a clothing of picturesque accessories. This will be even more noticeable in the case of Soy. Calypso, inform Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys of the humorous illusion under which our seamen labour with regard to Soy."

But at this point the door opened, and Mr. Samuel Buzza entered, with Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys himself.

The introductions were gone through; the Admiral let off another speech of welcome, and plunged with the Honourable Frederic into a long discussion of Troy, its scenery and neighbourhood; the three girls sat bolt upright, each on the edge of her chair; and their brother took his hostess' extended hand with a bashful grin.

"Ah, Mr. Buzza, I am interested in you already--my husband has been telling me how he met you."

"Proud to hear it," muttered Sam.

"Oh, yes. I hope we shall be great friends. It is so kind of you all to call."

Sam asked her not to mention it; and looked at his father, whose face was by this time purple with conversation.

"I say, ain't the old boy enjoying himself, though!" he remarked in a sudden burst of confidence. "What do you think of him?"

Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys smiled sweetly, and replied that the Admiral was "so thorough."

"Thorough old duffer, you mean. Look at him. What with his gold spangles and his talking to Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys, he's as proud as a cock on a wall."

His hostess laughed. "You are very frank," she said.

"That's me all over," replied Sam, evidently pleased. "You see, I ain't polite--not a ladies' man in any way."

"There I am sure you do yourself injustice."

"No, 'pon my word! I never had any practice."

"What, not among all the charming girls I saw in church yesterday? Oh, Mr. Buzza, you mustn't tell me _that_." A look from the dark eyes accompanied this sentence.

Now, very few young men of Sam's stamp greatly mind being considered gay Lotharios. So that when he repeated that "'Pon his word he wasn't," he also turned his neck about in his collar for a second or so, smiled meaningly, and altogether looked rather pleased than not.

"I'm afraid you are a very sad character, Mr. Buzza."

"No, really now."

"And are deceiving me horribly."

"No, really; wouldn't think of it."

"Sam!" broke in the Admiral's voice in tones of thunder.

"Yes, sir."

"How does Mr. Moggridge describe the 'Man-o'-War' Hotel?"

"Says the beer's falling off, sir. It _did_, once upon a time, taste of the barrel, but now he'll be hanged if it tastes of anything at all. It ought--"

"Don't be a fool, sir! I mean in that poem of his from 'Ivy Leaves: or, Tendrils from Troy.'"

"Beg pardon, sir, I'm sure. Let me see--"

Before he could recall it, Sophia finished the quotation, timidly. "I think, papa, I can remember it:--"

'And thou,
Quaint hostel! 'neath whose mould'ring gable ends
In amber draught I slake my noonday thirst . . .'

"Something like that, I think, papa."

"Ah, to be sure: 'mould'ring gable ends,' a most accurate description. It used to belong to--" and the Admiral plunged again into a flood of conversation.

"You must bring this Mr. Moggridge and introduce him," said Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys to Sam. "He is a Collector of Customs, is he not? Do you think he would recite any of his verses to me?"

"By the hour. But I shouldn't advise you to ask him. It's all about my sister."

"Which?"

"The eldest there--Sophy's her name--and don't judge from appearances; the family diet is not hardware."

"Hush, sir! you must not be rude. That reminds me that I ought to go and speak to them."

"You won't get anything out of them. If you want a subject, though, I'll give you the straight tip--lambs. I've heard them talk about lambs by the hour. Say they are nice and soft and woolly: that'll draw them out."

"You are a great quiz, I perceive."

"No, really, now, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys."

"But, really yes, Mr. Buzza. I shall have to cure you, I see, before I can trust my husband in your company."

She rose and left him to his flutter of pleased excitement. Oh, Sam! Sam! To fall from innocence was bad enough, but to fall thus easily!

In a few moments and with charming tact, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys had drawn the Misses Buzza into a lively conversation; had told Sophy of some new songs; and had even promised them all some hints on the very latest gowns, before Sam Buzza, weary of silence, called across the room--

"I say, dad, what do you think is the news about the seedy-looking fellow you treated by mistake to all that speechifying?"

The Admiral looked daggers, but Sam was imperturbable.

"Ho, ho! I say, Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys, the governor took him for you, and welcomed him to Troy in his best style-flower in his buttonhole and all--'twas as good as a play. Well, the fellow has taken Kit's House."

"Kit's House!"

"Yes, and lives there all alone, with Caleb Trotter for servant. I'd advise you to call, now that you've got your Sunday best on. I'm sure he'd like to thank you for that speech you made him."

"Be quiet, sir!"

"Oh, very well; only I thought I'd mention it. I'm afraid I must be going, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys." Sam held out his hand.

"Must you? Good-bye, then," she said, "but remember, you have to come and be taught innocence."

"Oh, I'll remember, never fear," answered Sam, and departed.

The Admiral also rose.

"I trust," he said, "that this may be the beginning of a pleasant intimacy. My wife will be most happy to give you any information concerning our little town that I may have omitted. By the way, how is Lord Sinkport? I really forgot to ask. Quite well? I am so glad. I was afraid the gout--Come, Sophy, my dear, we have trespassed long enough. Good-morning!"

He was gone. Scarcely, however, could his host and hostess exchange glances before he reappeared.

"Oh, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, that quotation--I have just remembered it. It was, 'Welcome, little strangers!' The original, I believe, has the singular--'little stranger'--but the slight change makes it more appropriate. 'Welcome, little strangers!' Good-morning!"

O Troy, Troy! Scarcely had the garden gate creaked again, when Mr. and Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys looked at each other for a moment, then sank into arm-chairs, and broke into peals of the most unaffected laughter.

"Nellie, hand me a cigar. This beats cock-fighting."

"Whist, me dear!" answered the lady, relapsing into honest brogue, "but Brady is the bhoy to know the ropes."

"I believe you, Nellie."

Outside the garden gate the Admiral had fallen into a brown study.

"I perceive," he said, at length, very thoughtfully, "that wine and biscuits have gone out of fashion, as concomitants of a morning call. In some ways I regret it; but they are evidently people of extreme refinement. Sophy, how badly your gown sits."

"Why, it was only yesterday, papa, that you praised it so!"

"Did I? H'm! Well, well, now for the boat."

"The boat, papa?"

"Certainly, Sophy; we are going to call at Kit's House." _

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