This time Don did _not_ go the whole round of the lake; he had had quite enough of it long before the _Cygnet_ reached Highwood, but he did not get a chance until they came to Winderside, and then, watching his opportunity, he gave his tormentors the slip at last.
Two hours later, as Daisy and her aunt sat sketching under the big holm-oak on the lawn, a dusty little guilty dog stole sneakingly in under the garden-gate. It was Don, and he had run all the way from Winderside, which, though he did not appreciate it, had done him a vast amount of good. "Oh!" cried Daisy, dropping her paint-brush to clap her hands gleefully, "Look, Aunt Sophy, he has had his lesson already!"
Miss Millikin was inclined to be shocked when she read the ticket. "It was too bad of you, Daisy!" she said; "I would never have allowed it if I had known. Come here, Don, and let me take the horrid thing off."
"Not yet, please, auntie!" pleaded Daisy, "I want him to be quite cured, and it will take at least till bedtime. Then we"ll make it up to him."
But Don had understood at last. It was this detestable thing, then, that had been telling tales of him and spoiling all his fun! Very well, let him find himself alone with it--just once! And he went off very soberly into the shrubbery, whence in a few minutes came sounds of "worrying."
In half an hour Don came out again; his collar was gone, and in his mouth he trailed a long piece of chewed ribbon, which he dropped with the queerest mixture of penitence and reproach at Daisy"s feet. After that, of course, it was impossible to do anything but take him into favour at once, and he was generous enough to let Daisy see that he bore her no malice for the trick she had played him.
What became of the card no one ever discovered; perhaps Don had buried it, though Daisy has very strong suspicions that he ate it as his best revenge.
But what is more important is that from that day he became a slim and reformed dog, refusing firmly to go on board a steamer on any pretence whatever, and only consenting to sit up after much coaxing, and as a mark of particular condescension.
So that Daisy"s experiment, whatever may be thought of it, was at least a successful one.
_TAKEN BY SURPRISE_
BEING THE PERSONAL STATEMENT OF BEDELL GRUNCHER, M.A.
There are certain misconceptions which a man who is prominently before the public is morally bound to combat--more for the sake of others than his own--as soon as it becomes probable that the popular estimate of his character may be shaken, if not shattered, should he hold his peace.
Convinced as I am of this, and having some ground to antic.i.p.ate that the next few days may witness a damaging blow to my personal dignity and influence for good, I have thought it expedient to publish the true history of an episode which, if unexplained, is only too likely to prejudice me to a serious extent. Any circ.u.mstance that tends to undermine or lessen the world"s reverence for its instructors is a deplorable calamity, to be averted at all hazards, even when this can only be effected by disclosures scarcely less painful to a delicate mind.
For some years I, Bedell Gruncher, have consecrated my poor talents to the guidance and education of public taste in questions of art and literature. To do this effectively I have laboured--at the cost of some personal inconvenience--to acquire a critical style of light and playful badinage. My lash has ever been wreathed in ribbons of rare texture and daintiest hues; I have thrown cold water in abundance over the nascent flames of young ambition--but such water was systematically tinctured with attar of roses. And in time the articles appearing in various periodicals above the signature of "Vitriol" became, I may acknowledge without false modesty, so many literary events of the first magnitude. I attribute this to my early recognition of the true function of a critic.
It is not for him to set up sign-posts, or even warning-boards, for those who run and read. To attain true distinction he should erect a pillory upon his study table, and start the fun himself with a choice selection of the literary a.n.a.logues of the superannuated eggs and futile kittens which served as projectiles in the past. The public may be trusted to keep it going, and also to retain a grateful recollection of the original promoter of the sport. My little weekly and monthly pillories became instantly popular, for all my kittens were well aimed, and my eggs broke and stuck in a highly entertaining fashion. We are so const.i.tuted that even the worst of us is capable of a kindly feeling towards the benefactor who makes others imperishably ridiculous in our eyes; and to do this was my _metier a moi_. At first my ident.i.ty with the lively but terrible "Vitriol" was kept a profound secret, but gradually, by some means which I do not at present remember, it leaked out, and I immediately became a social, as well as a literary, celebrity. Physically I have been endowed with a presence which, though not of unusual height and somewhat inclined to central expansion, produces, I find, an invariably imposing effect, especially with members of the more emotional and impressionable s.e.x. Consequently I was not surprised even at the really extraordinary sensation I inspired upon my first introduction to a very charming young lady, Miss Iris Waverley, as soon as my _nom de guerre_ was (I forget just now by whom) incidentally alluded to. However, as it turned out, she had another and a deeper reason for emotion: it seemed she had been engaged to a young poet whose verses, to her untaught and girlish judgment, seemed inspired by draughts of the true Helicon, and whose rhythmical raptures had stirred her maiden heart to its depths.
Well, that young poet"s latest volume of verse came under my notice for review, and in my customary light-hearted fashion I held it up to general derision for a column or two, and then dismissed it, with an ineffaceable epigrammatic kick, to spin for ever (approximately) down the ringing grooves of criticism.
Miss Waverley, it happened, was inclined to correct her own views by the opinions of others, and was, moreover, exceptionally sensitive to any a.s.sociation of ridicule with the objects of her attachment--indeed, she once despatched a dog she fondly loved to the lethal chamber at Battersea, merely because all the hair had come off the poor animal"s tail! My trenchant sarcasms had depoetised her lover in a similar fashion; their livid lightning had revealed the baldness, the glaring absurdity of the very stanzas which once had filled her eyes with delicious tears; he was dismissed, and soon disappeared altogether from the circles which I had (in perfect innocence) rendered impossible to him.
Notwithstanding this, Miss Waverley"s first sentiments towards me were scarcely, oddly enough, of unmixed grat.i.tude. I represented the rod, and a very commendable feeling of propriety made her unwilling to kiss me on a first interview, though, as our intimacy advanced--well, there are subjects on which I claim the privilege of a manly reticence.
I hasten over, then, the intermediate stages of antipathy, fear, respect, interest, and adoration. In me she recognised an intellect naturally superior, too indifferent and unambitious to give life to its own imaginings--too honest, too devoted to humanity, to withhold merited condemnation from those of others. I was the radiant sun whose scorching beams melted the wax from the pinions of many a modern Icarus; or, to put the metaphor less ingeniously, the shining light in which, by an irresistible impulse of self-destruction, the poetical and artistic moths flew and incontinently frizzled.
One trait in my character which Iris valued above all others was the caution with which I habitually avoided all a.s.sociations of a ridiculous nature; for it was my pride to preserve a demeanour of unsullied dignity under circ.u.mstances which would have been trying, if not fatal, to an ordinary person. So we became engaged; and if, pecuniarily speaking, the advantage of the union inclined to my side, I cannot consider that I was the party most benefited by the transaction.
It was soon after this happy event that Iris entreated from me, as a gift, a photograph of myself. I could not help being struck by this instance of feminine parsimony with regard to small disburs.e.m.e.nts, since, for the trifling sum of one shilling, it was perfectly open to her to procure an admirable presentment of me at almost any stationer"s; for, in obedience to a widely expressed demand, I had already more than once undergone the ordeal by camera.
But no; she professed to desire a portrait more peculiarly her own--one that should mark the precise epoch of our mutual happiness--a caprice which reminded me of the Salvation Army recruit who was photographed, by desire, "before and after conversion"; and I demurred a little, until Iris insisted with such captivating pertinacity that--although my personal expenses (always slightly in excess of my income) had been further swelled since my engagement by the innumerable _pet.i.ts soins_ expected by an absurd custom from every lover--I gave way at length.
It was her desire that my portrait should form a pendant to one of herself which had been recently taken by a fashionable photographer, and I promised to see that this wish should be gratified. It is possible that she expected me to resort to the same artist; but there were considerations which induced me to avoid this, if I could. To the extent of a guinea (or even thirty shillings) I could refuse her nothing; but every one knows what sums are demanded by a photographer who is at all in vogue. I might, to be sure, as a public character, have sat without being called upon for any consideration, beyond the right to dispose of copies of my photograph; but I felt that Iris would be a little hurt if I took this course, and none of the West-end people whom I consulted in the matter quite saw their way to such an arrangement just then. There was a temporary lull, they a.s.sured me, in the demand for likenesses of our leading literary men, and I myself had been photographed within too recent a period to form any exception to the rule.
So, keeping my promise constantly in mind, I never entered a secluded neighbourhood without being on the look-out for some unpretending photographic studio which would combine artistic excellence with moderate charges.
And at last I discovered this photographic phoenix, whose nest, if I may so term it, was in a retired suburb which I do not care to particularise. Upon the street level was a handsome plate-gla.s.s window, in which, against a background of dark purple hangings and potted ferns, were displayed cartes, cabinets, and groups, in which not even my trained faculties could detect the least inferiority to the more costly productions of the West-end, while the list of prices that hung by the door was conceived in a spirit of exemplary modesty. After a brief period of hesitation I stepped inside, and, on stating my wish to be photographed at once, was invited by a very civil youth with a slight cast in his eye to walk upstairs, which I accordingly did.
I mounted flight after flight of stairs, till I eventually found myself at the top of the house, in an apartment pervaded by a strong odour of chemicals, and glazed along the roof and the whole of one side with panes of a bluish tint. It was empty at the moment of my entrance, but, after a few minutes, the photographer burst impetuously in--a tall young man, with long hair and pale eyes, whose appearance denoted a nervous and high-strung temperament. Perceiving him to be slightly overawed by a certain unconscious dignity in my bearing, which frequently does produce that effect upon strangers, I hastened to rea.s.sure him by discriminating eulogies upon the specimens of his art that I had been inspecting below, and I saw at once that he was readily susceptible to flattery.
"You will find me," I told him frankly, "a little more difficult to satisfy than your ordinary _clientele_; but, on the other hand, I am peculiarly capable of appreciating really good work. Now I was struck at once by the delicacy of tone, the nice discrimination of values, the atmosphere, gradation, feeling, and surface of the examples displayed in your window."
He bowed almost to the ground; but, having taken careful note of his prices, I felt secure in commending him, even to the verge of extravagance; and, besides, does not the artistic nature demand the stimulus of praise to enable it to put forth its full powers?
He inquired in what style I wished to be taken, whether full-length, half-length, or vignette. "I will answer you as concisely as possible,"
I said. "I have been pressed, by one whose least preference is a law to me, to have a photograph of myself executed which shall form a counterpart or pendant, as it were, to her own. I have, therefore, taken the precaution to bring her portrait with me for your guidance. You will observe it is the work of a firm in my opinion greatly overrated--Messrs. Lenz, Kamerer, & Co.; and, while you will follow it in style and the disposition of the accessories, you will, I make no doubt, produce, if you take ordinary pains, a picture vastly superior in artistic merit."
This, as will be perceived, was skilfully designed to put him on his mettle, and rouse a useful spirit of emulation. He took the portrait of Iris from my hands and carried it to the light, where he examined it gravely in silence.
"I presume," he said at length, "that I need hardly tell you I cannot pledge myself to produce a result as pleasing as this--under the circ.u.mstances?"
"That," I replied, "rests entirely with you. If you overcome your natural diffidence, and do yourself full justice, _I_ see no reason why you should not obtain something even more satisfactory."
My encouragement almost unmanned him. He turned abruptly away and blew his nose violently with a coloured silk handkerchief.
"Come, come," I said, smiling kindly, "you see I have every confidence in you--let us begin. I don"t know, by the way," I added, with a sudden afterthought, "whether in your leisure moments you take any interest in contemporary literature?"
"I--I have done so in my time," he admitted; "not very lately."
"Then," I continued, watching his countenance with secret amus.e.m.e.nt for the spasm I find this announcement invariably produces upon persons of any education, "it may possibly call up some a.s.sociations in your mind if I tell you that I am perhaps better known by my self-conferred _sobriquet_ of "Vitriol.""
Evidently I had to do with a man of some intelligence--I obtained an even more electrical effect than usual. ""_Vitriol!_"" he cried, "_not_ surely Vitriol, the great critic?"
"The same," I said carelessly. "I thought I had better mention it."
"You did well," he rejoined, "very well! Pardon my emotion--may I wring that hand?"
It is not my practice to shake hands with a photographer, but I was touched and gratified by his boyish enthusiasm, and he seemed a gentlemanly young fellow too, so I made an exception in his favour; and he did wring my hand--hard.
"So you are Vitriol?" he repeated in a kind of daze, "and you have sought me out--_me_, of all people in the world--to have the honour of taking your photograph!"
"That is so," I said, "but pardon me if I warn you that you must not allow your head to be turned by what is, in truth, due to the merest accident."
"But what an accident!" he cried; "after what I have learnt I really could not think of making any charge for this privilege!"
That was a creditable and not unnatural impulse, and I did not check it.
"You shall take me as often as you please," I said, "and for nothing."
"And may I," he said, a little timidly--"would you give me permission to exhibit the results?"
"If I followed my own inclinations," I replied, "I should answer "certainly not." But perhaps I have no right to deprive you of the advertis.e.m.e.nt, and still less to withhold my unworthy features from public comment. I may, for private reasons," I added, thinking of Iris, "find it advisable to make some show of displeasure, but you need not fear my taking any proceedings to restrain you."
"We struggling photographers must be so careful," he sighed. "Suppose the case of your lamented demise--it would be a protection if I had some written authority under your hand to show your legal representatives."