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The Queen's Scarlet, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 18. Dick Finds A Pupil |
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_ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. DICK FINDS A PUPIL "No one would know me now," said the recruit to himself one morning as he glanced at his face in a piece of looking-glass, for the military barber had been operating upon his head, and had--as the _Punch_ man said in the hot weather in allusion to his hair--"cut it to the bone." For the first time Richard Frayne dressed in his tightly-fitting, stiff uniform. "Hallo, Flutey!" said one of the men; "I was looking for you. Got 'em on, then?" "Yes," said Dick, smiling. "Do they fit?" "Oh, yes, pretty tidy. Feel all right?" "No; I don't think I can get my hand up level with my mouth, and the tunic feels as if it would split up the back, and the buttons go flying, the first time I move." "Oh, that'll be all right. Sure to feel a bit stiff at first. I say, he has padded you out well in the chest and over the shoulders." "Yes, far too much." "Not a bit of it. Makes you look broader-chested and square-shouldered--more of the man. But, here, Lieutenant Lacey wants you up at his quarters. Sent that chuckle-headed Joe Todd, his servant, to fetch you directly." "What does he want?" cried Dick, aghast with the idea that something had been found out. "Go and ask him." "But I must change first." "Nonsense! Go as you are. You've got to wear the red now," added the man, with a grin. Dick went down into the barrack yard, to find the lieutenant's servant waiting, and followed him, with the peculiar tremor increasing, and a cold, dank perspiration breaking out about his temples and in the palms of his hands. A few minutes after he was ushered into the handsomely-furnished rooms which formed the lieutenant's quarters; and he felt a pang shoot through him for the moment as the piano in one corner, and some music and a flute upon the table, recalled his own rooms at Draycott's. But his thoughts were back directly to his troubles, and he felt a kind of momentary relief on finding that there was no one in the sitting-room. "I'll go and tell him you're here," said the man who had fetched him, and he lifted a curtain, caught his foot against a fold, stumbled, and drove his head with a crash against the panel of the door beyond. Then, as the curtain fell behind him, Dick heard, in smothered tones:-- "I had you out of the ranks, Joe Todd, for my servant; I don't want a battering-ram." "Beg pardon, sir. Haxident." "Accident! That's the third time you have done it within a week. Torn the curtain?" "No, sir; don't think so. Hurt my head." "I don't believe it, Joe. A wooden door could not hurt your head! You may have cracked the panel!" "No, sir; all right, sir." "Then take those clothes and brush them again. The trousers have mud-splashes as high as the knees. And take those boots, too; I can't wear them like that." The man came out of the inner room with a portion of his master's uniform under his arm and a pair of boots, swinging by the tags, one of which badly-cleaned articles he dropped in trying to open the outer door, the handle of which Dick turned for him, so that he could pass out. As Dick closed the door he was conscious of a rustling behind him, and he turned smartly, to find himself face to face with the great lieutenant, gorgeous now in shawl-pattern smoking-trousers and purple velvet lounging-coat. "Now for it!" he thought. "And you might have been an officer," said the lieutenant, shaking his head at Dick sadly, while all the blood in the lad's body seemed to run to his heart. "I--I beg your pardon, sir," faltered Dick, as he began to think that he would have to get away again, and then recalled the fact that he could not without being looked upon as a deserter. "I said 'And you might have been an officer.'" "Yes," said Dick bitterly, and turning and speaking as he felt that he was driven to bay. "I'm glad you feel it," said the lieutenant, letting himself sink down into a lounge. "I do, sir--bitterly," replied Dick. "If I were not as patient as a lamb, I should have kicked him out of the place a year ago. Of course, it didn't matter before you, but it might have been the colonel or the major; and, though there is a way out through my bedroom, that blundering ass must bring my boots and clothes through my sitting-room!" Dick felt as if he had been respited after condemnation, and began to breathe freely. "You heard him run his head against the door, of course?" "Yes, sir." "But it wouldn't break; everything else does. He'll ruin me before he has done.--I have sent for you, Smithson," said the lieutenant, "because I want you to give me some lessons on the flute." "Oh, with pleasure, sir," began Dick. "I--I beg your pardon, sir. Of course, if you wish it." "I hope it will be with pleasure, Smithson," said the lieutenant, smiling; "but I'm afraid it will not be; for, between ourselves, I am very dull over music." "I used to think I was, sir," said Dick; "but I worked hard till I could play a bit." "A bit!" said the lieutenant, smiling. "Ah, well, I won't flatter you. I should like you to come often and play with me--duets and pieces. The fact is, Smithson, I want to perform something in--in--in public one evening--a duet. I have been thinking that I might play the first part and you the second. What do you think?" "I think the same as you do, sir," said Dick. "When would you like to begin?" "Well, the fact is, Smithson, I am rather pressed for time." "I will come in at any hour you appoint, sir--that is, if there is no band practice." "Oh, the colonel will speak to Wilkins about that, Smithson; but you do not understand me. I have plenty of time, but I am pressed--anxious to play a duet or two as soon as possible." "I understand, sir," said Dick, scanning the handsome face and athletic mould of the young officer, as the feeling grew upon him that the former was what some people would call rather mild; "but I am no teacher, would you like Mr Wilkins to give you some lessons?" "No, Smithson," said the lieutenant; "that I really should not. I want you, and I want you to treat all this as confidential." "But it is sure to be known, sir." "That you are giving me lessons, yes; but not the style of lesson. When could you begin?" Dick glanced at the flute. "Would you like a lesson now, sir?" "Yes, exactly; but you have no instrument." "But you have, sir; and I could help you better without." "I'm afraid not, Smithson. You see, I should want to hear the air played at the same time." "I could run that through as an accompaniment on the piano." "You could?" cried the lieutenant, staring. "Well enough, perhaps, for that, sir." "Then, let's begin at once." "Have you selected an air, sir?" "Well--er--yes," faltered the great fellow. "I have--er--chosen two-- duets. Here they are." He handed the music, and Dick took it up, glancing at each piece in turn; while the young officer looked warm and uncomfortable, watching his visitor uneasily. "'Flow on, thou Shining River;' 'Oh, Happy, Happy Fair!'" read Dick. "Both beautiful melodies;" and, taking the former, he crossed to the piano and ran through the melody, and then the accompaniment, with plenty of expression; while the lieutenant sat upon his chair with his eyes glistening from excitement. "Now this piece," he cried; and Dick ran through the second. "Why, Smithson," cried the lieutenant, "you are a wonderful musician! I--I'm afraid that you will be ready to laugh at me." "Oh, no, sir. Now, then--I suppose your flute is of the right pitch?" "I--er--think so." "Try, sir." Dick struck the chord of the key in which the piece was set, and the young officer blew a note of a most uncertain sound. "Fully a quarter of a tone out, sir," said Dick, thoroughly in earnest now over his task. "Shall I alter the slide, sir?" "If you please." Dick altered the slide again and again till his pupil blew the note in perfect accord, and then they began, with the air played slowly out of time--a most feeble performance--right to the end of the strain, when the lieutenant lowered his flute, and looked at his master with a rather pitiful, but comically perplexed, expression. "Horribly bad, isn't it?" he said. "Well, it might be a good deal better, sir." "Yes, of course. Will you be good enough to run through it?" "No, sir; I think it would be better not. I want to encourage you--not discourage; of course, I could play it more perfectly, but then I have practised for years." "Yes; I suppose so." "But I can make you play that twice as well in a week." "Do you think so?" cried the lieutenant, eagerly. "I'm sure of it, sir. Now, again, please. I'll play each note on the piano, and I want you to blow that note firmly and with a full breath. Never mind about time, blow each note as if it were a minim, giving a breath to each." It was a complete change of position, the officer diligently obeying his subordinate, and working hard, if with no brilliant effect, till quite a couple of hours had passed, when he laid down his flute. "I shall never do it." Dick smiled. "You shall do it, sir," he cried. "I'll make you." "You will, Smithson? Ah! if you only can! When will you come again? I want to play it so very badly." "To-morrow, sir," said Dick; and he went back toward his quarters, wondering why the lieutenant wanted to play those two old-fashioned airs. "Surely he does not want to serenade someone." Dick laughed quite cheerily as he thought of the lieutenant's handsome face, and the idea tickled him for the moment; but the next moment he sighed and felt angry with himself for his mirthful display, and forgot the lieutenant's lessons till the next day. _ |
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