The Child Wife

Swinton’s turn-out was seen upon the street below: a cabriolet with a coat of arms upon the panel – a splendid horse between the shafts, pawing the pavement, chafing his bit, flinging the froth over his shining counter, and held in place by a miniature groom in top-boots and buckskins.

“What a pretty equipage?” exclaimed Julia. “I’m sure it must be pleasant to ride in?”

“Miss Girdwood; if yaw will do me the honaw – ”

Julia turned to her mother, with a glance that said: “May I?”

“You may,” was the look given back by Mrs Girdwood. How could she refuse? Had not Mr Swinton denied the Honourable Geraldine, and given the preference to her daughter? An airing would do her good. It could do her no harm, in the company of a lord. She was free to take it.

Mrs Girdwood signified her consent; and Julia hastened to dress for the drive.

There was frost in the air; and she came back from her room enveloped in costly furs.

It was a cloak of sea-otter, coquettishly trimmed, and becoming to her dark complexion. She looked superb in it.

Swinton thought so, as with hopeful heart, but trembling hand, he assisted her into the cabriolet!

The drive was round the Park, into Kensington Gardens, and then back to the Clarendon.

But not till after Mr Swinton had passed along Park Lane, and stopped at the door of a great nobleman’s residence.

“It is very wude of me, Miss Girdwood,” said he, “but I have a call to make on his lawdship by appointment; and I hope yaw will kindly excuse me?”

“By all means,” said Julia, delighted with her accomplished cavalier, who had shown himself such a skilful driver.

“One moment – I shall not allow his lordship to detain me more than a moment.”

And Swinton sprang out; surrendering the reins to his groom, already at the horse’s head.

He was true to his promise. In a short time he returned – so short, that his lordship could scarce have done more than bid him the time of day.

In truth he had not seen the nobleman, nor intended seeing him either. It was a counterfeit call; and went no further than a word or two exchanged with the house steward inside the hall.

But he did not tell this to his fair companion in the cabriolet; and she was driven back into Bond Street, and landed triumphantly at the Clarendon, under the eyes of her mother, admiring her from the window.

When that lady had an account of the drive in general, but more especially of the call that had been made, her respect for Mr Swinton was still further increased. He was surely the thing sought for! And Julia began to think so too.

Chapter Seventy One.

A Quiet Hotel

By the drive Swinton believed himself to have achieved a grand success; and he determined to lose no time in following it up.

The ground seemed now well under him – enough to support him in making the proposal so long deferred.

And in less than three days from that time, he called at the Clarendon, and made it.

Favoured by an opportunity in which he found her alone, it was done direct to the young lady herself.

But the answer was not direct – nor definite in any way. It was neither a “yes” nor a “no.” He was simply referred to her mother.

The equivocation was not exactly to his taste. It certainly seemed strange enough. Still, though a little chagrined, he was not altogether discomforted by it; for how could he anticipate refusal in the quarter to which he had been referred?

Obedient to the permission given him, he waited upon Girdwood mère; and to her repeated the proposal with all the eloquent advocacy he could command.

If the daughter’s answer had not been definite, that of the mother was; and to a degree that placed Mr Swinton in a dilemma.

“Sir!” said she, “we feel very much honoured – both myself and daughter. But your lordship will excuse me for pointing out to you, that, in making this proposal, you appear to have forgotten something.”

“Pway what, madam, may I ask?”

“Your lordship has not made it in your own name; nor have you yet told us your title. Until that is done, your lordship will see, how absurd it would be for either my daughter, or myself, to give you a decisive answer. We cannot!”

Mrs Girdwood did not speak either harshly, or satirically. On the contrary, she unburdened herself in the most conciliatory tone – in fear of offending his lordship, and causing him to declare “off.”

She was but too anxious to secure him – that is, supposing him to be a lord. Had she known that he was not, her answer would have been delivered in very different terms; and the acquaintance between her and Mr Swinton would have ended, with as little ceremony as it had begun.

It seemed on the edge of such termination, as the pseudo-lord, stammering in his speech, endeavoured to make rejoinder.

And not much farther off, when this was made, and the old excuse still pleaded for preserving that inexplicable incognito!

Swinton was in truth taken by surprise; and scarce knew what to say.

But the American mother did; and in plain terms told him, that, until the title was declared, she must decline the proffered honour of having him for a son-in-law!

When it was made known, he might expect a more categorical answer.

Her tone was not such as to make him despair. On the contrary, it clearly indicated that the answer would be favourable, provided the conditions were fulfilled.

But then, this was sufficient for despair. How was he to make her believe in his having a title?

“By possessing it?” he said to himself, as, after the fruitless interview, he strode off from the Clarendon Hotel. “By possessing it,” he repeated. “And, by heavens! I shall possess it, as sure as my name’s Swinton!”

Farther on he reflected:

“Yes! that’s the way. I’ve got the old rout in my power! Only needs one step more to secure him. And he shall give me whatever I ask – even to a title!”

“I know he can’t make me a lord; but he can a knight or a baronet. It would be all the same to her; and with ‘Sir’ to my name, she will no longer deny me. With that, I shall get Julia Girdwood and her two hundred thousand pounds!”

“By heaven! I care more for her, than her money. The girl has got into my heart. I shall go mad, if I fail to get her into my arms?”

Thus wildly reflecting, he continued to traverse the streets: down Bond Street, along Piccadilly, into the neighbourhood of Leicester Square.

As if the devil had turned up to aid him in his evil designs, an episode occurred in exact consonance with them. It seemed an accident – though who could tell that it was one; since it might have been prearranged?

He was standing by the lamp-post, in the centre of the Piccadilly Circus, when a cab drove past, containing two fares – a lady and gentleman.

Both were keeping their faces well back from the window; the lady’s under a thick veil; while that of the gentleman was screened by a copy of the Times newspaper held cunningly in hand, as if he was intensely interested in the perusal of some thundering leader!