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F
A SHABBY GENTEEL STORY 73
CHAPTER VIII
WHICH TREATS OF WAR AND LOVE, AND MANY THINGS
THAT ARE NOT TO BE UNDERSTOOD IN CHAP. VII.
ITCH'S verses, inserted in a previous chapter of this story
(and of which lines, by the way, the printer managed to
make still greater nonsense than the ingenious bard ever
designed), had been composed many years before ; and it was with
no small trouble and thought that the young painter called the
greater part of them to memory again, and furbished up a copy for
Caroline's album. Unlike the love of most men, Andrea's passion
was not characterised by jealousy and watchfulness, otherwise he
would not have failed to perceive certain tokens of intelligence
passing from time to time between Caroline and Brandon, and the
lady's evident coldness to himself. The fact is, the painter was in
love with being in love,—entirely absorbed in the consideration of
the fact that he, Andrea Fitch, was at last enamoured, and he did
not mind his mistress much more than Don Quixote did Dulcinea
del Toboso.
Having rubbed up his verses, then, and designed a pretty emblematical
outline which was to surround them, representing an
arabesque of violets, dewdrops, fairies, and other objects, he came
down one morning, drawing in hand ; and having informed Caroline,
who was sitting very melancholy in the parlour, preoccupied, with
a pale face and red eyes, and not caring twopence for the finest
drawing in the world,—having informed her that he was going to
make in her halbum a humble hoffering of his hart, poor Fitch was
just on the point of sticking in the drawing with gum, as painters
know very well how to do, when his eye lighted upon a page of the
album, in which nestled a few dried violets and—his own verses,
signed with the name of George Brandon.
" Miss Caroline—Miss Gann, mam !" shrieked Fitch, in a tone
of voice which made the young lady start out of a profound reverie,
and cry nervously,—" What in Heaven is the matter ?"
" These verses, madam—a faded violet—word for word, gracious
'eavens! every word !" roared Fitch, advancing with the book.
She looked at him rather vacantly, and as the violets caught