At five o'clock Mr. Osborne came back to his dinner, which he and his

daughter took in silence (seldom broken, except when he swore and was

savage, if the cooking was not to his liking), or which they shared

twice in a month with a party of dismal friends of Osborne's rank and

age. Old Dr. Gulp and his lady from Bloomsbury Square; old Mr.

Frowser, the attorney, from Bedford Row, a very great man, and from his

business, hand-in-glove with the "nobs at the West End"; old Colonel

Livermore, of the Bombay Army, and Mrs. Livermore, from Upper Bedford

Place; old Sergeant Toffy and Mrs. Toffy; and sometimes old Sir Thomas

Coffin and Lady Coffin, from Bedford Square. Sir Thomas was celebrated

as a hanging judge, and the particular tawny port was produced when he

dined with Mr. Osborne.

These people and their like gave the pompous Russell Square merchant

pompous dinners back again. They had solemn rubbers of whist, when

they went upstairs after drinking, and their carriages were called at

half past ten. Many rich people, whom we poor devils are in the habit

of envying, lead contentedly an existence like that above described.

Jane Osborne scarcely ever met a man under sixty, and almost the only

bachelor who appeared in their society was Mr. Smirk, the celebrated

ladies' doctor.

I can't say that nothing had occurred to disturb the monotony of this

awful existence: the fact is, there had been a secret in poor Jane's

life which had made her father more savage and morose than even nature,

pride, and over-feeding had made him. This secret was connected with

Miss Wirt, who had a cousin an artist, Mr. Smee, very celebrated since

as a portrait-painter and R.A., but who once was glad enough to give

drawing lessons to ladies of fashion. Mr. Smee has forgotten where

Russell Square is now, but he was glad enough to visit it in the year

1818, when Miss Osborne had instruction from him.

Smee (formerly a pupil of Sharpe of Frith Street, a dissolute,

irregular, and unsuccessful man, but a man with great knowledge of his

art) being the cousin of Miss Wirt, we say, and introduced by her to

Miss Osborne, whose hand and heart were still free after various

incomplete love affairs, felt a great attachment for this lady, and it

is believed inspired one in her bosom. Miss Wirt was the confidante of

this intrigue. I know not whether she used to leave the room where the

master and his pupil were painting, in order to give them an

opportunity for exchanging those vows and sentiments which cannot be

uttered advantageously in the presence of a third party; I know not

whether she hoped that should her cousin succeed in carrying off the

rich merchant's daughter, he would give Miss Wirt a portion of the

wealth which she had enabled him to win--all that is certain is that

Mr. Osborne got some hint of the transaction, came back from the City

abruptly, and entered the drawing-room with his bamboo cane; found the

painter, the pupil, and the companion all looking exceedingly pale

there; turned the former out of doors with menaces that he would break

every bone in his skin, and half an hour afterwards dismissed Miss Wirt

likewise, kicking her trunks down the stairs, trampling on her

bandboxes, and shaking his fist at her hackney coach as it bore her

away.




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