LORD PETERSFIELD'S PUMPS.

Press, Volume LIII, Issue 9604, 19 December 1896, Page 2

LORD PETERSFIELD'S PUMPS.

. «■ Queer Story from Truth. Young Viscount Petersfield was remarkable for three things: his intense basbiulness ; his indecision of character; and his abnormally small hands and feet. Of the two former qualities he had the grace and the sense to feel ashamed. Of the.latter he particularly prided himself. And his friends used to remark, with considerable amusement, how he would try to make bis hands and feet look even smaller than they were by forcing them into gloves and shoes at least a size too tight. It was obvious that he usually walked in pain, and that his fingers, when gloved, were incapable of any manual exercise. For the rest, he was a quiet, unobtrusive young mahi who had the mildest tastes, kept very much to himself, and did not in the least know what to do with his fine income. If he had been born only to a small competency, he would doubtless have been much happier than he was in the possession of £25,000 a year. The cares of his estate and rank merely worried him, and caused him to be run after by Society, of which he would much rather have been quit. He liked nothing better than to be left alone. All the assiduous attentions of the fair sex, to which he was perpetually exposed, kept him in a state of constant discomfort. Not that he was a misogynist, or, indeed, the reverse. On that score he was simply neutral. But his intense bashf ulness made it a positive pain for him to associate with any woman. And this it was that led him to avoid the sex as much as possible. Of course, he was the most eb'gible of i bachelors. Equally of course, he was being everlasting stalked . by husband-hungry mammas and daughters. But they could make nothing of him. Their most sirenic ' efforts simply frightened him. The abandon with which they threw themselves at him and almost proposed to him confused and distressed his bashful senses beyond expression. Other men would have given their eyes for the tremendous marks of favour which he received from pretty girls. He would have given his eyes—nay, even his hands and feet, which he valued far more—to have been exempt. But exemption was impossible. He was young ; single ; a viscount. He had over £25,000 a year. One autumn, three or four years ago, Lord Petersfield went down into Sussex to stay with his friends, the Wentwarps, at Wentwarp Hall, a very fine old country seat. Sir John Wentwarp had been a great friend of his father's; and the intimacy between the two elder men, cut short by death* had bean partially raaewed between

the baronet and his deceased friend's only son. This was chiefly why Lord Petersfield went to stay there, to please Sir John, and as an act of duty to his father's memory; for he cordially detested making one in a house party, although, to be sure, he liked all the members of the Wentwarp family well enough; and if he had to visit anywhere, he would have chosen their house in preference to most others. For one thing, they understood his character, and did not worry him with excessive hospitality. And then, for another, the daughters of the house, Mabel and Maud—very pretty girls, too, by the way—did not run after him or make eyes at him. Thc3' were simply friendly and cordial towards him, and treated him with just that amount of attention tbat an amicable politeness required. But then, of course, there were the other guests, and it was ten to one that he was persecuted by some of these. On the present occasion, when he arrived at Wentwarp, he was greatly dismayed to find that almost his two worst- betes-noires in Society had been asked there to meet him. These were old Lady Slanderson and her daughter Julia. He detested and feared them both from the I bottom of his heart; and hod run from their relentless pursuit through a whole season. ' Nothing could deter the mother. Nothing could put the daughter off. However distant, however unfriendly he showed himself, Lady Slanderson remained cordial and empressse ; Julia made eyes at him just the same. The hounds were in full cry, and there was no checking them. As soon as the Viscount found that these two ladies were staying in the house, he decided to cut his visit short, and to leave as soon as he decently could. But it was, of course, impossible for him to do this just immediately (on account of his worthy host and hostess), and he resigned himself to the prospect of two or three days' stay under the same roof with his obnoxious pursuers. Much, however, can happen in two or three days, and in these two or three days certain things happened which were attended with certain results. The event round which everything centred —a trilling event, too, in itself—occurred at dinner on the second night of his visit. And it arose out of the poor Viscount's infirmity—his weakness for tight shoes. May it serve as a warning to others who have the same besetting sin ! Now Viscount Petersfield had contracted a deplorable habit of easing his pinched toes by kicking off his pumps, during the progress of dinner, and only re3uminj; them just before he had to jump up in deference to the rising of the ladies. On this particular occasion, he made no exception to his usual habit. He had enjoyed the dinner more than he had expected, because both Lady Slanderson and her daughter were several places removed from him, and also because he sat between two ladies whose company he did not dislike, viz., his hostess, whom he iiad taken in, and her elder daughter, Mabel. He was even rather sorry when he saw Lady Wentwarp preparing to make the signal, and lie had to feel for his vacant x>umps. He found tlieni and got them on in time—Phew ! Certainly they were abominably tight! When he stood up and moved back the adjacent chairs, they really did hurt him unmercifully. They seemed to throw him forward on his toe 3, too, in a way to which he was not accustomed, llilloa ! What was this? He looked down at his feet. A throb of deep annoyance, of dismayed embarrassment shook him. Only'as "the last fair diner swept past him, on her way out, did he realise that his toes were being tortured in a pair of lady's shoes., * They were high-heeled, of black satin, with large rosettes and silver buckles. He had no difficulty in recognising them. They were Mabel Weutwarp's. Then he saw how it was. An embarrassing accident ! An unintentional exchauge ! The young lady must have kicked off her shoes also, and meaning to resume them, have unknowingly resumed his instead. And so she had gone oft'to the drawing-room in his pumps, and he was left.to make what shift he could with the black satins and rosettes. Here was a pretty predicament for a bashful Viscount 1 He sat hastily down again, and thrust his feet well under the table, devoutly hoping that none of the other gentlemen had caught sight of the black satin shoes. An ordinary man would, no doubt, have been merely amused at the contretemps and have regarded his position as a very good joke. My lord Viscount, however, sa,w nothing at all jocular in his accidental annexation of the lady's shoes. The fact was, his sense of humour was almost as conspicuous by its absence as his bashfulness by its perpetual presence. And if he ever did see a joke, it was certainly not on those occasions when he himself happened to be a victim of it. He now began.at once to think how he could get rid of the high-heeled satins, before they were " spotted" by any of the other guests. After carefully considering the matter in his extremely agitated mind, he decided that his best course was:to slip away, on some pretext or other, while the gentlemen were still smoking their cigarettes ; then to hurry upstairs to his bedroom and exchange the satins for a second pair of pumps, which he remembered that he had, fortunately.brought with him. As his chair happened to be close to one/.of the exit doors of the diningroom, he believed that he could retire without his feet bejing noticed. And once out of the dining-room there was little further danger. Of course—for none of these matters escaped his anxious thoughts —there would still be before him the task of restore ing the black satins to Miss Mabel. But that was a less pressing and immediate necessity; for the young lady had doubtless, ere this, discovered her mistake, and changed his shoes for a pair of her own. Having decided on this line of action, he murmured—with a very red face —a few excuses andapologies to his host, and then performed a skilful and speedy exit, with so. much rapidity, as to make it impossible for the black satins to have been seen. But the' shoes hurt him so confoundedly as he began- to hurry in them, and altogether: rendered walking such an intolerable torture, that no sooner did he find himself safely on the staircase, than he had them off, took them in his hand, and ran quickly upstairs in his stocking-feet. Now as he passed, with rapid and nervous stealth, along the corridor which led to his room, he happened to notice that one of the bedroom doors on the way stood open. He recognised whose room it was. It was Mabel Wentwarp's. He had often seen her go in and out. And seeing that the chamber was in darkness and evidently empty, it flashed across him that here was a grand opportunity of restoring *the young lady's shoes to her, without difficulty or embarrassment. In an instant he had popped them safely inside the door of her room, and was proceeding with a lighter, heart towards his own apartment at the end of the passage. He was glad that the open door had made that bright idea occur to him. It relieved him of an embarrassing duty, to which he had looked. forward with distressing apprehension. On reaching his own room, he turned np the gas, and was about to hunt out his second pair of pumps from a cupboard, when his eye- fell upon his best pair—the pair which Mabel Wentwarp had appropriated— standing in a. conspicuous position by his dressing-table. The.discovery caused him a start.of surprise with the surprise came a definite sense of relief. He saw how it was. Miss Mabel, haviug discovered her mistake, had had the promptness and delicacy to replace them thus in his room. It was certainly most tactful and considerate of her. No doubt she had done it to spare both him and herself an uncomfortable explanation —an embarrasing re * exchange. The most distressing consequences of the contretemps had thus been obviated. He blessed the young lady's nous and his own discretion, as he hurried down again to the dinine-room in his own best pumps. When they joined the ladies, Lord Petersfield still, however, felt rather nervous, in case any of the fair guests might have shared Miss Mabel's discovery about the exchange of shoes. But he was soon set free from anxiety on this point by Miss Wentwarp herself, who, taking the opportunity to approach him as he stood for a moment alone, murmured, with a blushing, downcast look:— "I found out oar little mistake, Lord Petersfield, and I at once restored your property to your room. Sah !. No one knows anything about it. An !" (turning her eyes down upon his varnished toes). "I see that you have already reclaimed your own!" " A thousand thanks ! I found them in my j room. And I have already restored your property," replied his lordship, also blushing.

" That is good of you ! And how merciful that our ridiculous mistake was never discovered. We are fellow-sinners, it seems, Lord Petersfield 1" What reply the Viscount would have made, or whether in his confusion he wouldhave found words for any reply at all, cannot be determined. For, at that moment, Julia Slanderson swooped down upon her prey, and to his great annoyance, forcibly annexed him for the re3tof the evening. Next morning after breakfast, the unfortunate Viscount noticod that this persistent young lady was still hovering on the pounce": aud not meaning again to be caught by her, he evaded her at the expense of somo skill, and slipped off into the dampest and most secluded portion of the garden to enjoy his cigar alone. The morning was chilly, and occasional heavy showers were falling ; so that his lordship would much have preferred the cosiness of the smokingroom. But the smoking-room was no : safeguard against Miss Julia, who frequently invaded it, and there took a whiff at a cigarette herself. Therefore, our poor hunted Viscount felt that, on this damp morning, the garden and a macintosh were his only resource. But oven so, he was destined to have his solitude invaded. Not, however, by Julia • Slanderson. It was Mabel Wentwarp who : startled him by suddenly appearing at his • side. Her face was white and distressful. I Her eyes, he noticed, were bright with s unshed tears. As she spoke, it was evident I tbat she could scarcely restrain the sobs which were audibly rising in her pretty > throat. , . , I "0, Lord Petersfield !" she exclaimed, i " Forgive my intrusion, but I saw you come , out and I have followed you, because I—l— • have somefchiug I—l—must tell you." " I—l—trust there is nothing the f matter !" remarked his lordship, looking f embarrassed, and conscious of a vague sense - of alarm. I " I—l—cannot deceive you. A great deal 3 is the matter. And—and—it has all arisen i out of our—our —foolish mistake last night." "Kb? What? I—l—thought we-we I —had managed that—that—affair all—or— b satisfactorily," ejaculated the Viscount, . looking very confused and apprehensive. 3 "So did I. But it appears that we -were . mistaken. I—l—have just had a dr-drcad- > ful interview with—that—that—odious Lady Slanderson ! " I " fhe dcv—oil, I bag your pardon. But 3 —but—do you mean to say that she di - . covered our—our —mistake? i " Worse than that," murmured Mabel, in i a voice of most pitiable distress. "How do you mean? What do you 3 mean? I—l—don't understand," queried [• his lordship nervously. \ '-She—she—thinks that she has found j out some -something dr-dreadful about us." ) And poor Mabel, unable to restrain her > feelings any longer, began to sob. , "Oh dear ! Pr-pray don't distress your- • self, Miss Wentwarp. It—it—whatever it : is—can surely be nothing to—to —make you - —cr-ery like this?" > "It can ;it is!" sobbed poor Mabel, i "0, Lord Petersfield, I—l—don't know r how 1 shall tell you the—the shameful things ■ Lady Slanderson said to mc. hut—but— j in justice to you, as well as to myself, I ■ must. . . . ■. It—it—seems that she > was up-stairs last night, at—at a most '■> unfortunate moment, and that —that—she i saw mc sl-slip out of your room—-without 1 my shoes on !" t "Good Heavens !" gasped his lordship, in ■' a tone of evident dismay. " What a " 5 " And also," Mabel went on, hurriedly, as 1 if anxious to finish her painful disclosure, " She waited up there, spying, in the dark, , and saw you slip out of uiy room—without 5 your shoes on !" 1 "But, surely," began Lord Petersfield, r whose face was now nearly as white as • Mabel's, "she " ' "I—l—told her the truth," interposed ' , the girl; "1 explained everything. She— I she—scoffed at my version. ' She had the I sense,' the false, ciuel creature told mc, 'to ' put two aud-two together,' and—and—she said she would — would—'publish tho j scandal to the four winds of heaven.' 0, Lord Petersfield 1 What is to be done ? ", 3 "I will tell her. I will corroborate your , statement," exclaimed the Viscount in an I agitated voice. t "I said that you would," sobbed poor r Mabel, hopelessly, " and she said that you I were—an—an —interested party, aud that I she should not think of believing you." 1 "But, surely," stammered Lord Peters--2 field, who was naturally in a great state of f mind, " people will accept our version rather 3 than that of this vile old scandal-monger ! " 1 " Alas !" sobbed Mabel, " I wish I thought b so. You see, Lord Petersfield, I cannot 1 help recognising the very unfortunate state • of appearances. This is what Lady Slander-' 2 son will say—and it sounds unhappily » plausible. She will say that if—if—we had 2 —any —anything to conceal, we should, of course, be ready with an explanation, and 1 that even at that, our explanation is lame t and improbable. Besides, I know that 5 dreadful woman too well to suppose that • she will only confine herself to what she f actually saw; she will enlarge, and ' exaggerate, and—and tell 1— falsehoods, 5 until-—— Oh,' I had rather have died than t have had this happen 1 I—l shall be r-ruined s and disgraced for oyer. I—l—shall never -be able to hold up my head in Society - again !" • "Oh, come, my dear Miss Wentwarp ! r It cannot surely be so bad as that," exposs tulated his lordship, with a confused, disc tracted air. "We must find some way to I stop that—that—lying woman's mouth. fc To—" ; , " " There is no way to shut it," groaned the unhappy young lady, despairingly. "I am i a girl, Lord Petersfield, and my character is £ hopelessly compromised. If I had been a man, now —" " What is to be done ? How can I save ' you?" broke in the Viscount, wringing his _ hands, and evidently at his wits' end with dismay. "How—how—foolish I was to— to—outer yOur room—to " "And I to enter yours. But what is ' done is done!" said Mabel, checking her „ sobs, and speaking with solemn desperation. ' "I am prepared to face the worst 1" j The Viscount was silent for a minute. A sudden idea, born of the circumstances, had flashed across his mind. He had never thought of Mabel in this light before. He would not have done so now, unless the situation had forced it on him; but as he I looked.at her pretty, woeful face he realised . that it was not.such an unwelcome light in which to think of her after all. In an j instant (as shy men will) he had blurted out his mind, though rather enigmatically. B " My—my —dear Miss Mabel. I—l— mijjht, for all that Lady Slanderson knows 'j to the contrary, have—have—acquired the . right to—to—take your—your —slippers to i your room." > b " I—l—What do you mean Lord Peterst field?" 1 "Why," replied his lordship, blushing l and stammering, "if I were—were—engaged - to- be married to, you, Miss Mabel, it w-would make a—a—difference—wouldn't it ? " \ "Oh no, Lord Petersfield ! Not that! i Not that!" she cried, starting away. : "Couldn't you s-stand mc at—at—any price, then?" gasped the Viscount, paint fully mortified. l "Oh, yes. I—it was not that. I should . —I mean 1 could not let you s-sacrifice - youself to—to—save my reputation." . "It wouldn't be much of a sacrifice," said I his lordship, with an admiring glance at her fresh young "Do you know, I am j rather glad now that this—this—unfortunate > situation has opened my eyes? It—it— ".' shows mc something I didn't realise before. I_l_ Oh, Mabel, will you?" \ These tilings have a way of happening » suddenly. And it now happened suddenly \ that Mabel Wentwarp found herself enfolded t in Lord Peter-field's mackintosh cape. "Heis a noble man, mamma," said the i newly-engaged girl to her mother a few I hours later. "He—he—says he didn't » realise that he loved mc till this morning. I And I did not realise that—that —I loved j him. If I had, I would n-never have played > that horrid practical joke upon him about t his—his pumps. But when he—he—•sp-poke . to mc, I knew in a moment that—that—l did love him; and that it had been cruel— I shameful of mc to carry on the j-joke this r morning, simply to embarrass him. You B will—will—never tell him that I meant it, r originally, for a stupid hoax, will you, mamma dear?" 1 Lady Wentwarp smiled and kissed her.- ---" Don't be afraid of that, Mab. Your old f mother will not give you away. It was a r risky sort of joke, wasn't it? Though it - has had the happiest results, as it seems to have opened both your ayes."

"An interchange of shoes resulted in an interchange of hearts," murmured Mabel, smiling with roguish happiness. «« Yes, Mab. But be careful, m this instance, not to hazard a- re-exchange. Lord Petersfield'* heart is worth a good deal more than his pumps."