Cashel Byron's Profession
Page 86"What! Have I been harsh?"
"I do not complain."
"I was unlucky, Lucian; not malicious. Besides, the artifices by
which friends endeavor to spare one another's feelings are pretty
disloyalties. I am frank with you. Would you have me otherwise?"
"Of course not. I have no right to be offended."
"Not the least. Now add to that formal admission a sincere assurance
that you ARE not offended."
"I assure you I am not," said Lucian, with melancholy resignation.
They had by this time reached Charlotte Street, and Lydia tacitly
concluded the conference by turning towards the museum, and
beginning to talk upon indifferent subjects. At the corner of
Russell Street he got into a cab and drove away, dejectedly
acknowledging a smile and wave of the hand with which Lydia tried to
console him. She then went to the national library, where she forgot
Lucian. The effect of the shock of his proposal was in store for
her, but as yet she did not feel it; and she worked steadily until
for some hours, and it was still light, she did not take a cab, and
did not even walk straight home. She had heard of a bookseller in
Soho who had for sale a certain scarce volume which she wanted; and
it occurred to her that the present was a good opportunity to go in
search of him. Now, there was hardly a capital in western Europe
that she did not know better than London. She had an impression that
Soho was a region of quiet streets and squares, like Bloomsbury. Her
mistake soon became apparent; but she felt no uneasiness in the
narrow thoroughfares, for she was free from the common prejudice of
her class that poor people are necessarily ferocious, though she
often wondered why they were not so. She got as far as Great
Pulteney Street in safety; but in leaving it she took a wrong
turning and lost herself in a labyrinth of courts where a few
workmen, a great many workmen's wives and mothers, and innumerable
workmen's children were passing the summer evening at gossip and
play. She explained her predicament to one of the women, who sent a
the street to which the boy led her was almost deserted. The only
shop that seemed to be thriving was a public-house, outside which a
few roughs were tossing for pence.
Lydia's guide, having pointed out her way to her, prepared to return
to his playmates. She thanked him, and gave him the smallest coin in
her purse, which happened to be a shilling. He, in a transport at
possessing what was to him a fortune, uttered a piercing yell, and
darted off to show the coin to a covey of small ragamuffins who had
just raced into view round the corner at which the public-house
stood. In his haste he dashed against one of the group outside, a
powerfully built young man, who turned and cursed him. The boy
retorted passionately, and then, overcome by pain, began to cry.
When Lydia came up the child stood whimpering directly in her path;
and she, pitying him, patted him on the head and reminded him of all
the money he had to spend. He seemed comforted, and scraped his eyes
with his knuckles in silence; but the man, who, having received a
to the aggressor the sympathy due to himself, walked threateningly
up to her and demanded, with a startling oath, whether HE had
offered to do anything to the boy. And, as he refrained from
applying any epithet to her, he honestly believed that in deference
to Lydia's sex and personal charms, he had expressed himself with
studied moderation. She, not appreciating his forbearance, recoiled,
and stepped into the roadway in order to pass him. Indignant at this
attempt to ignore him, he again placed himself in her path, and was
repeating his question with increased sternness, when a jerk in the
pit of his stomach caused him a severe internal qualm, besides
disturbing his equilibrium so rudely that he narrowly escaped a fall
against the curb-stone. When he recovered himself he saw before him
a showily dressed young man, who accosted him thus: "Is that the way to talk to a lady, eh? Isn't the street wide enough
for two? Where's your manners?"