The Congo Rovers | Page 6

his forehead with a thoughtful
air and murmured:
"Hawkesley! Hawkesley! I'm positive I've heard that name before. Now,
where was it? Um--ah--eh? Yes; I have it. You're the handsome
heartless fellow who played such havoc with my cousin Lady Mary's
affections at the state ball last year. Now, don't deny it; I'm positive I'm
right. Do you know," he continued, glaring at me in a most ferocious
manner--"do you know that for the last six months I've been looking for
you in order that I might shoot you?"
Somehow I did not feel very greatly alarmed at this belligerent speech,
and vanity having by this time conquered my natural truthfulness, I
determined to sustain my unexpected reputation as a lady-killer at all
hazards. I therefore drew myself up, and, assuming my sternest look,

replied that I should be happy to give him the desired opportunity
whenever he might choose.
Fitz-Johnes' ferocious glare continued for a moment or two; then his
brow cleared, and, extending his hand, he grasped mine, shook the
member violently, and exclaimed:
"That was spoken like a gentleman and a brave man! Give me your
hand, Hawkesley. I respect you, sir; I esteem you; and I forgive you all.
If there is one thing which touches me more than another, one thing
which I admire more than another, it is to see a man show a bold front
in the face of deadly peril. Ah! now I can understand Lady Mary's
infatuation. Poor girl! I pity her. And I suppose that pretty girl who
passed just now is another victim to your fascinating powers. Ah, well!
it's not to be wondered at, I'm sure. Tomnoddy, do you remember, by
the by--?"
But Lord Tomnoddy was now standing with his back turned toward us,
and his face buried in his pocket-handkerchief. His head was bowed,
his shoulders were heaving convulsively, and certain inarticulate
sounds which escaped him showed that he was struggling to suppress
some violent emotion.
Lord Fitz-Johnes regarded his companion fixedly for a moment, then
linked his arm in mine, drew me aside, and whispered hastily:
"Don't take any notice of him; he'll be all right again in a minute. It's
only a little revulsion of feeling which has overcome him. He's
frightfully tender-hearted--far too much so for a sailor; he can't bear the
sight of blood; and he knew that if I called you out I should choose him
for my second; and--you twig, eh!"
I thought I did, but was not quite sure, so I bowed again, which seemed
quite as satisfactory as words to Fitz-Johnes, for he said, with his arm
still linked in mine:
"That's all right. Now let's go and cement our friend ship over a bottle
of wine at the `Blue Posts,' what do you say?"

I intimated that the proposal was quite agreeable to me; and we
accordingly wheeled about and directed our steps to the inn in question,
which, in my time, was the place of resort, par excellence, of all
midshipmen.
Lord Tomnoddy now removed his handkerchief from his eyes; and,
sure enough, he had been weeping, for I detected him in the very act of
drying his tears. He must have possessed a truly wonderful command
over his features, though, for I could not detect the faintest trace of that
deep feeling which had overpowered him so shortly before; on the
contrary, he laughed uproariously at a very feeble joke which I just then
ventured to let off; and thereafter, until I parted with them both an hour
later, was the merriest of the party.
We arrived in due course at the "Blue Posts," and, walking into a
private parlour, rang for the waiter. On the appearance of that
individual, Fitz-Johnes, with a truly lordly air, ordered in three bottles
of port; sagely remarking that he made a point of never drinking less
than a bottle himself; and as his friend Hawkesley was known to have
laid down the same rule, the third bottle was a necessity unless Lord
Tomnoddy was to go without. Lord Tomnoddy faintly protested against
the ordering of so much wine; but Fitz-Johnes was firm in his
determination, insisting that he should regard it as nothing short of a
deliberate insult on Tomnoddy's part if that individual declined his
hospitality.
After a considerable delay the wine and glasses made their appearance,
the waiter setting them down, and then pausing respectfully by the
table.
"Thank you; that will do. You need not wait," said Fitz-Johnes.
"The money, if you please, sir," explained the waiter.
"Oh, ah! yes, to be sure. The money." And Fitz-Johnes plunged his
hand into his breeches pocket and withdrew therefrom the sum of
twopence halfpenny, together with half a dozen buttons (assorted); a
penknife minus its blades; the bowl of a