it's over. Soho, old girl--gently--gently."
'Whether the vixenish mare was sufficiently well acquainted with the
tones of Tom's voice to comprehend his meaning, or whether she found it
colder standing still than moving on, of course I can't say. But I can
say that Tom had no sooner finished speaking, than she pricked up her
ears, and started forward at a speed which made the clay-coloured gig
rattle until you would have supposed every one of the red spokes were
going to fly out on the turf of Marlborough Downs; and even Tom, whip
as he was, couldn't stop or check her pace, until she drew up of her own
accord, before a roadside inn on the right-hand side of the way, about
half a quarter of a mile from the end of the Downs. 'Tom cast a hasty
glance at the upper part of the house as he threw the reins to the
hostler, and stuck the whip in the box. It was a strange old place,
built of a kind of shingle, inlaid, as it were, with cross-beams, with
gabled-topped windows projecting completely over the pathway, and a low
door with a dark porch, and a couple of steep steps leading down into
the house, instead of the modern fashion of half a dozen shallow ones
leading up to it. It was a comfortable-looking place though, for there
was a strong, cheerful light in the bar window, which shed a bright ray
across the road, and even lighted up the hedge on the other side; and
there was a red flickering light in the opposite window, one moment but
faintly discernible, and the next gleaming strongly through the drawn
curtains, which intimated that a rousing fire was blazing within.
Marking these little evidences with the eye of an experienced traveller,
Tom dismounted with as much agility as his half-frozen limbs would
permit, and entered the house.
'In less than five minutes' time, Tom was ensconced in the room opposite
the bar--the very room where he had imagined the fire blazing--before a
substantial, matter-of-fact, roaring fire, composed of something short
of a bushel of coals, and wood enough to make half a dozen decent
gooseberry bushes, piled half-way up the chimney, and roaring and
crackling with a sound that of itself would have warmed the heart of
any reasonable man. This was comfortable, but this was not all; for a
smartly-dressed girl, with a bright eye and a neat ankle, was laying a
very clean white cloth on the table; and as Tom sat with his slippered
feet on the fender, and his back to the open door, he saw a charming
prospect of the bar reflected in the glass over the chimney-piece, with
delightful rows of green bottles and gold labels, together with jars of
pickles and preserves, and cheeses and boiled hams, and rounds of beef,
arranged on shelves in the most tempting and delicious array. Well, this
was comfortable too; but even this was not all--for in the bar, seated
at tea at the nicest possible little table, drawn close up before the
brightest possible little fire, was a buxom widow of somewhere about
eight-and-forty or thereabouts, with a face as comfortable as the bar,
who was evidently the landlady of the house, and the supreme ruler over
all these agreeable possessions. There was only one drawback to the
beauty of the whole picture, and that was a tall man--a very tall
man--in a brown coat and bright basket buttons, and black whiskers
and wavy black hair, who was seated at tea with the widow, and who
it required no great penetration to discover was in a fair way of
persuading her to be a widow no longer, but to confer upon him the
privilege of sitting down in that bar, for and during the whole
remainder of the term of his natural life.
'Tom Smart was by no means of an irritable or envious disposition, but
somehow or other the tall man with the brown coat and the bright basket
buttons did rouse what little gall he had in his composition, and did
make him feel extremely indignant, the more especially as he could
now and then observe, from his seat before the glass, certain little
affectionate familiarities passing between the tall man and the widow,
which sufficiently denoted that the tall man was as high in favour as he
was in size. Tom was fond of hot punch--I may venture to say he was VERY
fond of hot punch--and after he had seen the vixenish mare well fed
and well littered down, and had eaten every bit of the nice little hot
dinner which the widow tossed up for him with her own hands, he just
ordered a tumbler of it by way of experiment. Now, if there was
one thing in the whole range of domestic art, which the widow could
manufacture better than another, it was this identical article; and
the first tumbler was adapted to Tom Smart's taste with such peculiar
nicety, that he ordered a second with the least possible delay. Hot
punch is a pleasant thing, gentlemen--an extremely pleasant thing under
any circumstances--but in that snug old parlour, before the roaring
fire, with the wind blowing outside till every timber in the old house
creaked again, Tom Smart found it perfectly delightful. He ordered
another tumbler, and then another--I am not quite certain whether he
didn't order another after that--but the more he drank of the hot punch,
the more he thought of the tall man.
'"Confound his impudence!" said Tom to himself, "what business has he
in that snug bar? Such an ugly villain too!" said Tom. "If the widow had
any taste, she might surely pick up some better fellow than that." Here
Tom's eye wandered from the glass on the chimney-piece to the glass on
the table; and as he felt himself becoming gradually sentimental, he
emptied the fourth tumbler of punch and ordered a fifth.
'Tom Smart, gentlemen, had always been very much attached to the public
line. It had been long his ambition to stand in a bar of his own, in a
green coat, knee-cords, and tops. He had a great notion of taking the
chair at convivial dinners, and he had often thought how well he could
preside in a room of his own in the talking way, and what a capital
example he could set to his customers in the drinking department. All
these things passed rapidly through Tom's mind as he sat drinking the
hot punch by the roaring fire, and he felt very justly and properly
indignant that the tall man should be in a fair way of keeping such an
excellent house, while he, Tom Smart, was as far off from it as ever.
So, after deliberating over the two last tumblers, whether he hadn't a
perfect right to pick a quarrel with the tall man for having contrived
to get into the good graces of the buxom widow, Tom Smart at last
arrived at the satisfactory conclusion that he was a very ill-used and
persecuted individual, and had better go to bed.
'Up a wide and ancient staircase the smart girl preceded Tom, shading
the chamber candle with her hand, to protect it from the currents of air
which in such a rambling old place might have found plenty of room to
disport themselves in, without blowing the candle out, but which did
blow it out nevertheless--thus affording Tom's enemies an opportunity of
asserting that it was he, and not the wind, who extinguished the candle,
and that while he pretended to be blowing it alight again, he was in
fact kissing the girl. Be this as it may, another light was obtained,
and Tom was conducted through a maze of rooms, and a labyrinth of
passages, to the apartment which had been prepared for his reception,
where the girl bade him good-night and left him alone.
'It was a good large room with big closets, and a bed which might have
served for a whole boarding-school, to say nothing of a couple of oaken
presses that would have held the baggage of a small army; but what
struck Tom's fancy most was a strange, grim-looking, high backed chair,
carved in the most fantastic manner, with a flowered damask cushion,
and the round knobs at the bottom of the legs carefully tied up in red
cloth, as if it had got the gout in its toes. Of any other queer chair,
Tom would only have thought it was a queer chair, and there would have
been an end of the matter; but there was something about this particular
chair, and yet he couldn't tell what it was, so odd and so unlike any
other piece of furniture he had ever seen, that it seemed to fascinate
him. He sat down before the fire, and stared at the old chair for half
an hour.--Damn the chair, it was such a strange old thing, he couldn't
take his eyes off it.
'"Well," said Tom, slowly undressing himself, and staring at the
old chair all the while, which stood with a mysterious aspect by the
bedside, "I never saw such a rum concern as that in my days. Very odd,"
said Tom, who had got rather sage with the hot punch--"very odd." Tom
shook his head with an air of profound wisdom, and looked at the chair
again. He couldn't make anything of it though, so he got into bed,
covered himself up warm, and fell asleep.
'In about half an hour, Tom woke up with a start, from a confused dream
of tall men and tumblers of punch; and the first object that presented
itself to his waking imagination was the queer chair.
'"I won't look at it any more," said Tom to himself, and he squeezed his
eyelids together, and tried to persuade himself he was going to sleep
again. No use; nothing but queer chairs danced before his eyes, kicking
up their legs, jumping over each other's backs, and playing all kinds of
antics.
"'I may as well see one real chair, as two or three complete sets of
false ones," said Tom, bringing out his head from under the bedclothes.
There it was, plainly discernible by the light of the fire, looking as
provoking as ever.
'Tom gazed at the chair; and, suddenly as he looked at it, a most
extraordinary change seemed to come over it. The carving of the back
gradually assumed the lineaments and expression of an old, shrivelled
human face; the damask cushion became an antique, flapped waistcoat; the
round knobs grew into a couple of feet, encased in red cloth slippers;
and the whole chair looked like a very ugly old man, of the previous
century, with his arms akimbo. Tom sat up in bed, and rubbed his eyes to
dispel the illusion. No. The chair was an ugly old gentleman; and what
was more, he was winking at Tom Smart.
'Tom was naturally a headlong, careless sort of dog, and he had had five
tumblers of hot punch into the bargain; so, although he was a little
startled at first, he began to grow rather indignant when he saw the
old gentleman winking and leering at him with such an impudent air. At
length he resolved that he wouldn't stand it; and as the old face still
kept winking away as fast as ever, Tom said, in a very angry tone--
'"What the devil are you winking at me for?"
'"Because I like it, Tom Smart," said the chair; or the old gentleman,
whichever you like to call him. He stopped winking though, when Tom
spoke, and began grinning like a superannuated monkey.
'"How do you know my name, old nut-cracker face?" inquired Tom Smart,
rather staggered; though he pretended to carry it off so well.
'"Come, come, Tom," said the old gentleman, "that's not the way to
address solid Spanish mahogany. Damme, you couldn't treat me with less
respect if I was veneered." When the old gentleman said this, he looked
so fierce that Tom began to grow frightened.
'"I didn't mean to treat you with any disrespect, Sir," said Tom, in a
much humbler tone than he had spoken in at first.
'"Well, well," said the old fellow, "perhaps not--perhaps not. Tom--"
'"Sir--"
'"I know everything about you, Tom; everything. You're very poor, Tom."
'"I certainly am," said Tom Smart. "But how came you to know that?"
'"Never mind that," said the old gentleman; "you're much too fond of
punch, Tom."
'Tom Smart was just on the point of protesting that he hadn't tasted a
drop since his last birthday, but when his eye encountered that of the
old gentleman he looked so knowing that Tom blushed, and was silent.
'"Tom," said the old gentleman, "the widow's a fine woman--remarkably
fine woman--eh, Tom?" Here the old fellow screwed up his eyes, cocked
up one of his wasted little legs, and looked altogether so unpleasantly
amorous, that Tom was quite disgusted with the levity of his
behaviour--at his time of life, too! '"I am her guardian, Tom," said the
old gentleman.
'"Are you?" inquired Tom Smart.
'"I knew her mother, Tom," said the old fellow: "and her grandmother.
She was very fond of me--made me this waistcoat, Tom."
'"Did she?" said Tom Smart.
'"And these shoes," said the old fellow, lifting up one of the red cloth
mufflers; "but don't mention it, Tom. I shouldn't like to have it
known that she was so much attached to me. It might occasion some
unpleasantness in the family." When the old rascal said this, he looked
so extremely impertinent, that, as Tom Smart afterwards declared, he
could have sat upon him without remorse.
'"I have been a great favourite among the women in my time, Tom," said
the profligate old debauchee; "hundreds of fine women have sat in my
lap for hours together. What do you think of that, you dog, eh!" The old
gentleman was proceeding to recount some other exploits of his youth,
when he was seized with such a violent fit of creaking that he was
unable to proceed.
'"Just serves you right, old boy," thought Tom Smart; but he didn't say
anything.
'"Ah!" said the old fellow, "I am a good deal troubled with this now.
I am getting old, Tom, and have lost nearly all my rails. I have had an
operation performed, too--a small piece let into my back--and I found it
a severe trial, Tom."
'"I dare say you did, Sir," said Tom Smart.
