among the advantages upon which i have not sufficiently dilated, the maecenas club had a smoking-room, of which the members were justly proud. great improvements have been lately made; but in those days the smoking-room was a novel ingredient in club-comfort, and its necessity was not sufficiently recognized. old gentlemen, generally predominant in clubs, were violently opposed to tobacco, save in the shape of the club snuff; regarded smoking as a sure sign of dissipation, if not of entirely perverted morality, and combined together in committee and out of committee to worry, harass, and annoy the devotees of the cigar. consequently these last were in most clubs relegated to a big gaunt room at the top of the house, which had palpably been formed by the removal of the partition between two servants' attics, a room with bare walls, an oil-cloth-covered floor, like a hair-dresser's cutting-room, a few imitation-marble-topped tables, some windsor chairs, and a slippery black-leather ottoman stuck against the wall. thither, to that tremendous height, the waiter, humorously supposed to be devoted to the room, seldom penetrated; and you sat and smoked your cigar, and sipped your gin-and-seltzer when you were lucky enough to get it, and watched your neighbour looming through a fog of his own manufacture in solemn silence. it required a bold man to penetrate to such howling wildernesses as the smoking-rooms of the retrenchment, the true blue, and the no surrender in those days; nor were they much better off at the rag, save in summer, when they rigged up a tent in the back-yard, and held their tabagie under canvas. at the minerva they had no smoking-room; the bishops, and other old women in power there, distinctly refusing to sanction a place for any such orgies. but at the maecenas the smoking-room was the room in the house. none of your attics or cock-lofts, none of your stair-climbing, to get into a bare garret at the end of your toil. at the maecenas you went straight through the hall, past all the busts of the eminent gentlemen, through a well-lit stone passage, where, if you were lucky, you might see, in a little room on the right, honest mr. turquand the steward brewing a jorum of that gin-punch for which the club was so renowned; past the housekeeper's room, where mrs. norris sat breast-high in clean table-linen, and surrounded by garlands of lemons and groves of spices; past the big refrigerator, into which tom custance threatened to dip little captain rodney one night, when that peppery light-weight had had too much of the club claret; and then, built over what should have been the garden, you found the pride of the little m. a big square room, lit by a skylight in summer, or sun-burner in winter, with so much wall paper as could be seen of a light-green colour, but with the walls nearly covered with sketches in oil, crayon, and water-colour, contributed by members of the club. from mantel-shelf to ceiling had been covered by gilks, in distemper, with "against wind and tide"--a lovely bit of seascape, to look at which kept you cool on the hottest night; opposite hung sandy clobber's hot staring "sphinx and pyramids;" jack long's crayon caricature of "king jamie inditing the counterblast" faced a charming sketch of a charming actress by acton, r.a.; and there were a score of other gems of art. such cosy chairs and luxurious lounges; such ventilation, watched over specially by fairfax, the oldest and perhaps the jolliest member of the club; such prime cigars and glorious drinks, and pungent anecdote and cheerful conversation, were to be had nowhere else.

the room was full when laurence and bertram entered, and the former was immediately received with what dramatic critics call "an ovation;" that is, the men generally shook hands with him, and expressed themselves glad to see him back.

"and i see by your dress that you've no sooner arrived than you've plunged into the vortex of society, colonel," said old fairfax from his post of honour in the chimney-corner.

"not i, mr. fairfax," replied laurence, laughing; "i've only been to the play."

"what! not to spofforth's,-not to the parthenium?"

"why not? is there any harm? is it a riddle? what is it? let me know at once, because, whatever it is, i've been there."

"no, no; only there's been a difference of opinion about the new piece. billy gomon thinks it capital, and gave us a flaming account of it; but since then captain hetherington has come in and spoken very strongly against it. now, colonel, you can act as umpire between these two referees."

"not at all, not at all," said mr. gomon, a mild baldheaded little gentleman who did boswell to spofforth, and was rewarded for perpetually blowing his idol's trumpet by opera-ivories and first-night private boxes, and occasional dinners with pleasant theatrical people. "i merely said that there was--ah, an originality,--a cleverness,--and--a--above all a gentlemanly tone in the piece such as you never find in any one's writings but spofforth's."

most of the men sitting round laughed heartily as billy gomon uttered his sentiments in the mildest, most deprecatory manner, and with the pleasantest smile.

"well, that's not bad to begin with; and now, cis, what have you got to say?"

a big man, half sitting, half lolling on an ottoman at the other side of the room, wholly occupied in smoking a very large cigar, staring at the ceiling and pulling his long tawny moustaches, looked up at the mention of his name and said:

"well, look here, alsager i'm not clever, and all that sort of thing, you know; i'm not particularly sweet on my own opinion; of course, being a plunger, i can't spell or write, or pronounce my r's 'cordin' to punch and the other funny dogs, and so i've no doubt billy gomon's right; and it's doosid clever of mr. spofforth, a gentleman whose acquaintance i've not the pleasure of possessing--and don't want, by jove, that's more!-doosid clever of mr. spofforth to rake up a dunghill story out of the newspapers when it had been forgotten, and to put the unfortunate devils who were concerned in it on to the stage, and bring back all the old scandal. i've no doubt it's doosid clever; and i'm sure it's a very gentlemanly thing of mr. spofforth to do; so gentlemanly that, if any of my people had been mixed up in it, i'd have tried the strength of my hunting-crop over mr. spofforth's shoulders!" and having concluded, cis hetherington leant back lazily, and resumed his contemplation of the ceiling.

there was a pause for a moment, and then bertram said:

"quite right, hetherington; horrible piece, dreary and dirty. d--d unpleasant to think that one can't go to the theatre with a modest woman without having innuendoes and doubles entendres thrown at you."

"by jove, a second edition of the miraculous gift of tongues!" said a man seated on laurence's right. "i never heard the blab so charmingly eloquent. you were with him at the theatre, alsager; who was the lady whom he so deliciously described as a 'modest woman' that he escorted?" the speaker was lord dollamore, a man of good abilities and position, but a confirmed sybarite and a renowned roué.

"bertram escorted no one; he merely had a seat in a box with lady mitford and her husband," said laurence coldly. he hated lord dollamore. as he himself said, he "didn't go in to be strait-laced; but dollamore was a cold-blooded ruffian about women, and, worse still, a boaster."

"ah, with lady mitford!" said lord dollamore, slowly expelling a mouthful of smoke; "i have the pleasure of her acquaintance. she's very nice, alsager!"

there was a succulence in the tone in which these last words were spoken that sounded unpleasantly on laurence's ear; so he said shortly, "i saw lady mitford for the first time to-night."

"oh, she's very nice; a little too classical and statuesque and clite-like for my taste, which leans more to the beauté-du-diable order; but still lady mitford's charming. poor little woman! she's like the young bears, with all her troubles before her."

"her troubles won't be many, one would think," said laurence, who was growing irritated under his companion's half-patronizing, half-familiar tone in speaking of lady mitford.

"won't they?" said lord dollamore, with another slow expulsion of smoke; this time in the shape of rings, which he dexterously shot one through the other.

"i can't see how they should. she has beauty, wealth, and position; a young husband who dotes on her,--oh, you needn't grin; i saw him with her in the box."

"yes, and i saw him without her, but with bligh and winton, the two clarks, who are coryphées at drury lane, and mdlle. carambola from the cirque at leicester square, turning in to supper at dubourg's. now, then, what do you say to that?"

"nothing. mitford told his wife he was going to supper with bligh and winton. i heard him."

"very likely; but you didn't hear him mention the female element. no, of course not."

"sir charles mitford being, i presume, a gentleman, that suggestion is simply absurd."

"pardon me, my dear colonel alsager, i never make any suggestion that can be called 'simply absurd.' the fact is, alsager, that though i'm only, i suppose, five or six years older than you, i've seen a deal more of life."

"of which side of it?"

"well, the most interesting,--the worst, of course. while you've been mounting guard and saluting colours, and teaching bullet-headed recruits to form square, and all that kind of thing, i've been studying human nature."

"how delightful for human nature!"

"that may or may not be," said lord dollamore calmly, and without the smallest sign of irritation; "but this i know, that all boy-and-girl marriages invariably come to grief. a man must have his fling some time or other; if he does not have it before his marriage, he will after. and between ourselves, alsager, this mitford is a devilish bad egg. i've known of him all his life. he had a fast turn when he was a mere boy, and didn't stick at trifles to raise money, as you may have heard."

"i know all about that; but--"

"and do you think that, now that he has plenty of money and health and position, he won't go in for that style of pleasure which he formerly risked everything to obtain? nonsense, my dear alsager; cela va sans dire. lady mitford will have to run the gauntlet of society, as do most married women with loose husbands; and will certainly be more successful than most of her competitors."

laurence put down his cigar, and looking steadily at his companion, said, "i don't envy the man who could be blackguard enough to attempt to throw a shadow on such a woman's life."

"don't you?" said lord dollamore, as steadily returning the glance; "of course not." then, in a somewhat lighter tone, he added, "by the way, have you seen the hammonds lately?"

a flush, noticeable even through the red bronze, rose on laurence's cheeks; but before he could speak, a man who was sitting on the other side of lord dollamore cut into the conversation by saying, "oh, by the way, there was a brother of percy hammond's dining here last week; prothero asked me to meet him. he's a sporting parson, and a tremendous character. he told us he always knew when woodcock came in by the lesson for the day."

"i know him," said cis hetherington, who had lounged up and joined the party; "tom hammond, a thundering big fellow. his vicarage, or rectory, or whatever it is, is close by dursley; and at the last election tom seconded my brother--westonhanger, you know--for the county. the rads brought over a lot of roughs, navvies and fellows who were working at the railway close by; and whenever tom spoke these fellows kept yelling out all sorts of blackguard language. tom roared to them to stop it; and when they wouldn't, he quietly let himself drop over the front of the hustings, right into the middle of 'em. he's a splendid bruiser, you know; and he let out--one two, one two--right and left, and sent half-a-dozen of 'em flying like skittles. then he asked if any more was wanted, carefully settled his clerical white choker, and went back to the hustings again."

"he owed your brother a good turn after the way in which he astonished your governor a year or two ago, cis," said lord dollamore.

"what was that? did he pull the duke up for coming late to the church, or for not hunting the county? the last most likely, i should think."

"not at all. you all know what a tremendous swell cis's brother, the duke, is,--you know it, cis, as well as anybody,--wants all the pavement to himself in st. james's street, and finds the arch on constitution hill not quite high enough for his head. well, a year or two ago tom hammond had a splendid roan horse which he used to drive in a light whitechapel to cover. the duke saw this animal, and thought it would make a splendid match for a roan of his; so he sent his coachman over to tom's little place to ask if he'd sell. tom saw the coachman, heard what he had to say, and then told him he never spoke to grooms, except to give them orders; if the duke wanted the horse, he must come himself. i can't think what message the man can have given to his master; but two days after, the duke's phaeton pulled up at the parsonage door, and the duke himself bowed to tom, who ran to the window with his mouth full of lunch. tom's account of the interview was delicious. he imitates the duke's haw-haw manner to perfection,--you don't mind, cis? he asked him in, and told him that the stilton was in prime cut; but the duke declined, and said, i understand you wish to sell your roan, mr. hammond.' 'then your grace understands a good deal more than i gave you credit for,' said tom. 'then you don't want to sell the horse? i want him particularly for a match-horse.' 'no,' said tom, 'i won't sell him. i'm a poor parson, and i wouldn't take three hundred for him; but i'll tell you what i'll do, your grace. i'm always open to a bit of sporting; and i'll toss your grace for the pair; or, if that's not exciting enough, i'll get my curate to come in--he's only next door--and we'll go the odd man, the best of three. that's what i'll do.' tom says he thought the duke would have had a fit. he never spoke a word, but drove straight away, and has never looked at tom since."

after the laugh which this story raised had ceased, lord dollamore said, "did tom say anything about his brother percy the day he dined here?"

"o yes," said the man who had first spoken; "they're coming back at once. mrs. hammond finds florence disagrees with her."

"perhaps she'd find laurence agree with her better," said dollamore sotto voce; then aloud, "ah! and so of course poor percy is to be trotted back again. by jove, how that woman rules him! she has only to whistle, and he comes to her at once. i should like to see a woman try that on me,--a woman that i was married to, i mean.--by the way, you haven't seen mrs. hammond since her marriage, have you, alsager?"

"no; i left england just previously."

"ah! she's as pretty as ever, and infinitely more wicked--i beg your pardon, though; i forgot we had turned purist since our oriental experience."

"at all events we have learned one thing in our oriental experience, lord dollamore."

"and that is--?"

"to keep our temper and--hold our tongue. goodnight."

and as he said these words, laurence alsager rose from his seat and left the room; bertram had previously taken his departure; so that laurence walked off alone to his hotel, pondering on all he had seen and heard.

"so she's coming back," he said to himself as he strolled along; "coming back to bring back to me, whenever i may happen to meet her, all the sickening recollections of the old times, the heart-burnings, the heart-breaking, to escape from which i rushed away two years ago. she won the day then, and she'll be as insolent as she can be on the strength of her victory now, though she knows well enough that i did not shoot my best bolt then, but keep it in my quiver yet. it's impossible to fight with a woman; they can descend to so many dodges and meannesses where no man worthy of the name could follow them. no; i'll seek safety in flight. i'll be off again as soon as i've seen the governor; and then--and yet what a strange interest i seem to take in that girl i saw to-night! poor little child! i wonder if dollamore's right about her husband. well, i'll wait a few days, and see what turns up."

while these thoughts were passing through laurence alsager's mind, sir charles mitford was leaning against the jambs of the door leading from his dressing-room into his wife's bed-room. he had one boot off, and was vainly endeavouring to discover the hole in the bootjack in which to insert the other foot. the noise which he made in this operation awoke lady mitford, who called out, "oh, charley, is that you?"

"course, my dear," said sir charles in a thick voice; "who should it be this time o' night? not that it's late, though," he said, correcting himself after a moment's reflection; then looking vacantly at her, added in a high-falsetto key, "quite early."

"you are not ill, charley?" she asked, looking anxiously at him.

"not i, my darling; never berrer.--off at last, are you?" this last observation addressed to the conquered boot. "but you, what's marrer with you? look all flushed and frightened like."

"i've had a horrid confused dream about the theatre, and people we saw there, and snakes, oh so dreadful! and that grave man, colonel somebody, that you introduced me to, was just going to rescue me. oh, charley, i feel so low and depressed, and as though something were going to happen. i'm sure we shan't be happy in london. let's go away again.

"nonsense, georgie;--nonsense, my love! very jolly place for--good supper,--colonel snakes;" and with these intelligible murmurings sir charles mitford slipped into the land of dreams.