CHAPTER I.

Observer, Volume 3, Issue 72, 28 January 1882, Page 312

CHAPTER I.

We should all have enjoyed our visit to Sir John's country house but for Mr Cosway. And, to make matters worse, it was not Mr Cosway, but We who Avere to blame. Our society repeated the old story of Adam and Eve, on a' larger scale. The women were the first sinners, and the men were demoralised by the women. Mr Cosway's bitterest enemy could not have denied that he was a handsome, well-bred, unassuming man. No mystery of any sort attached to him. He had adopted the Navy as a profession, had grown weary of it after a few years' service, and now lived on the moderate income left to him after the death of his parents. Out of this unpromising material the lively imaginations of the women built up a romance. The men only noticed that Mr Cosway was silent and thoughtful, that he was not ready with his laugh, and that he had a fancy for taking long walks by himself. Harmless peculiarities, surely ? And yet they excited the curiosity of the women as signs of a mystery in Mr Cosway's past life, in which some beloved object unknown must have played a chief part. When I asked my wife to explain what had led to this extraordinary conclusion, she answered with satirical emphasis, " Tou don't look below the surface ; we do." As a matter of course, the influence of the sex was tried, under every indirect and delicate form of approach, to induce Mr Cosway to open his heart and tell the tale of his sorrows. With the most perfect courtesy on that " surface " of which my wife had spoken, and with the most immovable obstinacy under it, he baffled curiosity, and kept his supposed secret to himself. The most beautiful girl in the house was, to my certain knowledge, ready to offer herself and her fortune as consolations, if this impenetrable bachelor would only have taken her into his confidence. He smiled sadly, and changed the subject. Defeated so far, the women accepted the next alternative. One of the guests staying in the house was Mr Cosway's intimate friend — formerly his brotherofficer on board ship. -This gentleman was now subjected to the delicately directed system of investigation wliieh had failed with" his friend. With the most unruffled composure he referred the ladies, one after another, to Mr Cosway. His name was Stone. The ladies decided that his- nature was not unworthy of his name. The last resource now left to our wives, daughters, and sisters was to rouse the dormant interest of the men, and to trust to the confidential intercourse of the smoking-room for the enlightenment which they had failed to obtain by other means. They wisely began with the men who, in these modern days, are most easily reached by female influence — the men of mature age. Now, at last, my wife condescended to tell me what she and her friends had seen " under the surface." In plain words, thay had collected evidence by means of then* maids, derived from the gossip in the servants' hall j and had then exercised their imaginations on the narrow field of discovery thus opened to them. The man that waited on Mr Cosway had heard him sigh and grind his teeth hi his sleep ; and had caught him one morning, when he ought to have been shaving himself, kissing something which looked like a portrait in miniature. These mysterious circumstances and the conclusions to which they led, repeated with endless pertinacity, acquired, a certain andventitious importance amongst us, due to the state of affairs in the house. The shooting was not good for much ; the billiard-table was under repair ; and there were two accomplished whist-players among the guests. In our idler moments, and on showery days, we drifted into discussing the mystery of Mr Cosway. The younger men, beginning by laughing at us, ended in catching the infection of our curiosity, for waut of a nobler social epidemic in the house. Little by little, we became (I am ashamed to say) as eager as tlie women themselves to lead Mr Cosway into making his confession. At the late sitting over our cigars, it was decided that one of us should inform this inoffensive gentleman that he was answerable for a state of nervous irritability among the guests, which it would be downright cruelty on his part to prolong. Thereupon, the inevitable question followed. Would any person, possessed of the necessary resources of polite circumlocution, volunteer to make his announcement on behalf of the rest ? Nobody volunteering, we decided to select the victim by drawing lots. The lot fell iipon me. On our next evening in the smolang-room the disgrace of acknowledging to what extremities of ill-bred curiosity idleness and folly can lead persons holding the position of ladies and gentlemen was to be mine. I suffered under a sense of my responsibilities at intervals during the night, and when we all met again in the morning I brought a bad appetite with me to the breakfast-table. As we left our room my wife tried to compose my mind. "Don't worry yourself anymore about it," she said ; " leave it to luck." I received this childish advice in sardonic silence. Before another hour had passed it became my conjugal duty (and privilege) to express my gratitude and to make my apologies. Luck not only relieved me from all apprehension of offending Mr Cosway, but actually used my wife as its chosen instrument ! The newspapers came in before we had risen from the table. Our host handed one of them to my wife, who sat on his right hand. •_ She first looked, it is needless to say, at the list of births, deaths, and marriages ; and then she turned to the general news — the fires, accidents, fashionable departures, and so on. In a few minutes she indignantly dropped the newspaper in her lap. " Here is another unfortunate man," she exclaimed, " sacrificed to the stupidity of women ! If I had been in his place I would have used my knowledge of swimming to save myself, and would have left the women to go to the bottom as they deserved !" " A boat accident, I suppose ?" said Sir John. "• Oh, yes ; the old story. A gentleman takes two. ladies out on the river. After a while they get fidgety, and feel an idiotic impulse to change

places. The boat upsets, as usual; the poor dear man tries to save them, and is drowned along with them for his pains. Shameful ! shameful !" " Are the names mentioned ?" " Yes ; they are all strangers to me. I speak on principle." Asserting herself in these words, my wife handed the newspaper to Mr Cosway, who happened to sit next to her. " When you were in the Navy," she continued, " I dare say ■your life v. as put in jeopardy by taking women in boats. Read it yotu'self, and let it be a warning to you for the future." Mr Cosway looked at the narrative of the accident, and revealed the romantic mystery of his life by a devout burst of exclamation, expressed in these words : " Thank God, my wife's drowned !"