Is it, dear? There, it shall not be long. You know what your uncle said to me the other day?
Oh, yes, Luke; but I dont think he quite meant it.
I am sure he did mean it, he replied; and he is quite right. For the past year I have been learning lessons of self-denial, and been taught to place the schoolmasters duty above questions of a pecuniary kind; but your uncle has placed my position in a practical light, and, Sage, dear, it is as if all the past teaching has been undone.
Oh, Luke, Luke, she cried, dont talk like that!
I must. I have had another talk with your uncle. This morning I overtook him, and he asked me, as a man, whom he says he can trust, to set aside all love-making, as he called it in his homely Saxon-English, and to treat you only as a friend! Let matters stand for the present, and see what a couple of years bring forth, if you are doing well, he said, in your new position.
In your new position, Luke? Why, what do you mean?
Sage, dear, I have decided to set aside the idea of being the
and he looked worthy of his tailors care. Frank, manly, handsome, there was a pleasant look in his grey eyes; and if his fair moustache had not been quite so heavy, a well-cut firm mouth would have been better seen. Perhaps that very glossy hat was worn a trifle too much on one side, and with the well set up appearance it suggested military, but the gold horse-shoe pin with diamond nails directly after hinted equine: the result being a compromise, and the looker-on concluded cavalry.
The other was of a heavier build, and was decidedly not dressed by a good tailor. He was not shabby, but careless; and while his companion was carefully gloved, he carried his hand-shoes in his hands, and certainly his hat had not been touched by a brush that morning.
He was a good-looking, manly fellow, with very short hair and a very long beard, thick enough to hide three parts of his chest.
The judge of human nature who had tried to read him at a glance, would, if right, have said, Good fellow, somewhat of a cynic, dont care a sou for appearances.
Two of the characters in this comedy, to wit, Henry Lord Artingale, man of fashion with a good income; and James Magnus, artist of a manly school, who had cut deeply his mark upon the time.
Another character was seated upon a bench some twenty yards away, cutting his mark, not on the time, but upon the park seat, with an ugly, sharp-pointed clasp-knife, which he closed with a snap, and then threw one great leg over the newly-cut wood, as he seemed to feel more than see the appearance of a policeman, who ran his eye shrewdly over the fellow as if considering him a party likely to be wanted.
Jock Morrison looked decidedly like the proverbial fish out of water as he stared sullenly about, but not as one might stare who finds himself in an incongruous position by accident. About the only ill-dressed person in his neighbourhood, Jock seemed in no wise abashed, nor yet the worse for his course of imprisonment, his dark beard having rapidly grown and got well over the blacking-brush stage so affected by the Parisian swell. Far from seeming abashed, Jock Morrison was ready with a cool, defiant look for every one not in the law, and as a rule those who stared at the great swarthy fellow once were satisfied not to repeat the look.
Jock was evidently in the park for a purpose, and every now and then his eyes wandered over the lines of carriages, but without seeing that of which he was in quest, and as soon as the policeman was gone he once more opened his knife, and began to carve, handily enough, a new design this time a couple of hearts locked together after the time-honoured fashion shown in a valentine.
Thats about as picturesque-looking a blackguard as Ive seen for months, said Magnus, looking across the road at where the fellow lounged. I wonder whether hed come and stand for me.
Hm, yes, said his companion; nice-looking youth.
Hed make a splendid bull-fighter in a Spanish scene.
Hm, bull-dog fighter, I should have said, Mag. By the way, Id have a certificate from the baths and wash-houses before I admitted him to the studio. He looks disgustingly dirty.
Yah! horrible! Take me away, Harry. I feel as if I were going to be sick.
Why, whats the matter now?
Talk about that great blackguard looking disgusting: heres my great horror!
What, Perry-Morton?
Yes. Look at his hideously fat, smooth face, and his long greasy hair tucked behind his ears. Look at his open throat, and confound the animal, yes a crimson satin tie. Harry, I shall be had up one of these days for an atrocious assault upon that creature. I shall lie in wait for him like a bravo, and armed with a pair of new scissors I shall cut his hair. Is it possible to prevail upon him to go about clothed, and in his right mind?
For shame, Jemmy! and you a brother artist.
Brother artist be hanged! You dont call that thing an artist.
Why, my dear boy, hes acknowledged in society as the apostle of the poet-painters school.