“You don’t mean to say that you are afraid to walk round St. James’s Park with me, because it’s dark!” said Wharton.
“I certainly should be afraid by myself, but I don’t know that I am afraid with you. But what’s the good?”
“It’s better than sitting here doing nothing, without a soul to speak to. I’ve already smoked half-a-dozen cigars, till I’m so muddled I don’t know what I’m about. It’s so hot one can’t walk in the day, and this is just the time for exercise.” Lopez yielded, being willing to yield in almost anything at present to the brother of Emily Wharton; and, though the thing seemed to him to be very foolish, they entered the park by St. James’s Palace, and started to walk round it, turning to the right and going in front of Buckingham Palace. As they went on Wharton still continued his accusation against his father and said also some sharp things against Lopez himself, till his companion began to think that the wine he had drunk had been as bad as the cigars. “I can’t understand your wanting to go into Parliament,” he said. “What do you know about it?”
“If I get there, I can learn like anybody else, I suppose.”
“Half of those who go there don’t learn. They are, as it were, born to it, and they do very well to support this party or that.”
“And why shouldn’t I support this party—or that?”
“I don’t suppose you know which party you would support—except that you’d vote for the Duke, if, as I suppose, you are to get in under the Duke’s influence. If I went into the House I should go with a fixed and settled purpose of my own.”
“I’m not there yet,” said Lopez, willing to drop the subject.
“It will be a great expense to you, and will stand altogether in the way of your profession. As far as Emily is concerned, I should think my father would be dead against it.”
“Then he would be unreasonable.”
“Not at all, if he thought you would injure your professional prospects. It is a d⸺ piece of folly; that’s the long and the short of it.”
This certainly was very uncivil, and it almost made Lopez angry. But he had made up his mind that his friend was a little the worse for the wine he had drunk, and therefore he did not resent even this. “Never mind politics and Parliament now,” he said, “but let us get home. I am beginning to be sick of this. It’s so awfully dark, and whenever I do hear a step, I think somebody is coming to rob us. Let us get on a bit.”
“What the deuce are you afraid of?” said Everett. They had then come up the greater part of the length of the Birdcage Walk, and the lights at Storey’s Gate were just visible, but the road on which they were then walking was very dark. The trees were black over their head, and not a step was heard near them. At this time it was just midnight. Now, certainly, among the faults which might be justly attributed to Lopez, personal cowardice could not be reckoned. On this evening he had twice spoken of being afraid, but the fear had simply been that which ordinary caution indicates; and his object had been that of hindering Wharton in the first place from coming into the park, and then of getting him out of it as quickly as possible.
“Come along,” said Lopez.
“By George, you are in a blue funk,” said the other. “I can hear your teeth chattering.” Lopez, who was beginning to be angry, walked on and said nothing. It was too absurd, he thought, for real anger, but he kept a little in front of Wharton, intending to show that he was displeased. “You had better run away at once,” said Wharton.
“Upon my word, I shall begin to think that you’re tipsy,” said Lopez.
“Tipsy!” said the other. “How dare you say such a thing to me? You never in your life saw me in the least altered by anything I had drunk.”
Lopez knew that at any rate this was untrue. “I’ve seen you as drunk as Cloe before now,” said he.
“That’s a lie,” said Everett Wharton.
“Come, Wharton,” said the other, “do not disgrace yourself by conduct such as that. Something has put you out, and you do not know what you are saying. I can hardly imagine that you should wish to insult me.”
“It was you who insulted me. You said I was drunk. When you said it you knew it was untrue.”
Lopez walked on a little way in silence, thinking over this most absurd quarrel. Then he turned round and spoke. “This is all the greatest nonsense I ever heard in the world. I’ll go on and go to bed, and tomorrow morning you’ll think better of it. But pray remember that under no circumstances should you call a man a liar, unless on cool consideration you are determined to quarrel with him for lying, and determined also to see the quarrel out.”
“I am quite ready to see this quarrel out.”
“Good night,” said Lopez, starting off at a quick pace. They were then close to the turn in the park, and Lopez went on till he had nearly reached the park front of the new offices. As he had walked he had listened to the footfall of his friend, and after a while had perceived, or had thought that he had perceived, that the sound was discontinued. It seemed to him that Wharton had altogether lost his senses;—the insult to himself had been so determined and so absolutely groundless! He had striven his best to conquer the man’s ill-humour by good-natured forbearance, and had only suggested that Wharton was perhaps tipsy in order to give him some excuse. But if his companion
