CHAPTER XXVI.
DESVOEUX IN DESPAIR.
All through, love Protested in a world of ways save one Hinting at marriage----
The news of Maud's engagement was naturally a congenial topic for gossipin Dustypore. The romantic circumstances under which it had come aboutlent themselves readily to the superaddition of any details, necessary,in the teller's opinion, in order to bring the story to the correctpitch of embellishment. Everybody considered Maud a lucky girl; somecynics remarked that once again Sutton had shown himself the mostcourageous of mankind; and Mrs. Vereker said, sentimentally, that shefeared poor Desvoeux would _this time_ be really broken-hearted. Therewas some satire lurking in the words 'this time,' because the presentoccasion was by no means the first on which the same sort of thing hadoccurred. Desvoeux's was one of those inconveniently adjustedtemperaments to which no woman is completely delightful till she hasbecome unattainable. His relations to the opposite sex did not as ageneral rule appear to involve anything of a seriously pathetic order;but no sooner was a girl engaged to some one else than he awoke to theterrible discovery that he was deeply in love with her himself anddeeply aggrieved by her betrothal to another. He was known not to be amarrying man; he made no secret of his dislike of matrimony as aninstitution; still he greatly resented other people's marriages.Whenever any ladies of his acquaintance got married he used to send themthe most lovely bridal presents, with beautiful little gilt-edged noteson the finest satin paper, politely intimating that he wasbroken-hearted. Sometimes his feelings were too much for prose and hismelancholy would break out into epigrammatic versicles; sometimes thegift bore only an inscription eloquent in its reticence--'_Le don d'untriste celibataire_,' or '_Avec un soupir_.' The presents, however, wereso very pretty (for Desvoeux's tastes were of the extravagant order),that their fair recipients, for the most part, were glad enough to takethem, sighs, poetry and all, without inquiring too rigidly into thegiver's actual frame of mind. As most of the young ladies who had forsome years past been married at Dustypore had experienced something ofthe sort, they probably compared notes and reassured each other as tothe probability of a disease, from which Desvoeux had already more thanonce recovered, not proving fatal on any subsequent occasion.
Maud's engagement, however, touched Desvoeux more nearly than anyprevious blow of the same description. Her joyous, childish beauty, thereadiness of her wit, the quickness of her replies, the great fun whichthey always had whenever Fortune was kind enough to throw them together,Maud's unconcealed appreciation of himself, despite the coquettish airsin which she now and then indulged; the ready frankness which invitedintimacy so pleasantly--all had gone deep into Desvoeux's heart, and hehad grown to feel a sort of proprietorship in them, which it vexed himterribly to feel suddenly at an end. He felt certain that Maud liked himvery much; and certain, doubly certain now, that he intensely admiredher. No one else, he felt bitterly, had an equal right to do so. ThatSutton, too, should be the fortunate rival made defeat all the bitterer.Sutton's good qualities were precisely those which Desvoeux could leastappreciate; his military prowess did not impress him in the least; hischivalry touched no corresponding chord; his ideas of duty seemedpedantic, his feelings about women an anachronism.
If there was one thing in which it was especially irritating that such aman should have carried the day, it was in the ascendancy over women,which Desvoeux considered as his especial forte. He piqued himself not alittle on his knowledge of the sex, his insight into their weaknesses,his experienced tact in dealing with them to the best account. He hadestablished what he considered a perfectly satisfactory footing withMaud, and had spent no little time, trouble, and sentiment in theprocess. It was a cruel humiliation to be rudely displaced from thisagreeable eminence by a mere commonplace soldier, who had lived all hislife in a camp and talked about women like a child.
Women are, Desvoeux came bitterly to feel, inscrutable, and thecleverest or stupidest of mankind alike puppets in their hands when theyhave a passion to gratify or a secret to conceal. Anyhow, the news ofMaud's engagement set his heart a-beating and sent his spirits down tozero. He was dining with the officers in the Fort when the announcementwas made. One of them had been calling at the Vernons', and had heardthe interesting fact from Felicia's own lips. 'Honneur aux braves!'cried Desvoeux, with ostentatious merriment, tossing off his glass;'here's to their very good healths.' He was an adept at concealing hisfeelings, but a near observer might have seen that his hand trembled sothat it was with difficulty he could carry his glass to his lips, andthat, despite his jovial tones, he had turned deadly pale.
'I am glad she has come into the Army, at any rate,' said some one.
'Of course,' said Desvoeux; 'it is the old story. "J'aime beaucoup lesmilitaires." What chance have we poor civilians when a red jacket is inthe field?'
'And what, pray,' said one of the guests, a new arrival, 'is the lady'sname?'
Desvoeux had risen from the table, and was moving towards thebilliard-room. 'Her name,' he said, stopping in the act of lighting acigar, 'is that of the rest of her sex--frailty.'
'Desvoeux is hard hit this time,' observed one of a little knot wholingered behind the rest over their wine; 'he really loved her.'
'Fiddlededee!' said another. 'Desvoeux love her, indeed!'
'He will have to drop all that now,' observed a third; 'Sutton wouldwring his neck for him or pitch him out of the window, if he as much asdared look at her!'
The fact, however, was that, conceal it as he would, Desvoeux was hardhit. His usual expedient of buying a handsome wedding present andwriting the lady some poetry quite broke down. Maud's bright eyes andglowing cheeks, her beautiful upper lip--now full of pretty scorn, nowmelting into a smile that was sweetness itself--haunted him in hisdreams. He lit his pipe, he raged about the room, he denounced theperfidy of womankind, he read all the most horrible passages in all theworst French novels in his possession, he quoted all the fiercestcynicism of Chamfort and Rochefoucauld in vain; there was Maud,enthroned unquestioned mistress of his heart, and it was labour lost toendeavour to displace her.
In course of time Desvoeux lashed himself into a highly uncomfortablestate of mind and became perfectly convinced that Maud had treated himmost cruelly. Accordingly, when next they met, his appearance wassuggestive of a Byronic gloom of the very deepest dye; his handkerchiefwas tied with the negligence which spoke of shattered hopes, and hisgeneral demeanour was that of a man for whom the world was over. Maudwas really in consternation at her friend's metamorphosis and feltherself growing inconveniently shy. She was conscious of an instinctiveapprehension that Desvoeux was going to bring about a scene. His face ofmartyrdom was a study in the completeness of its woe.
'You expect me to wish you joy,' he said, 'and so I do. May all brightthings attend you wherever you go, and wherever you are! The news ofyour engagement surprised and hurt me, of course.'
'Surprised and hurt you, Mr. Desvoeux!' cried Maud, with increasedalarm, 'I can't think why it should do that or why you should look sovery odd and--untidy.'
'Cannot you?' cried the other, stalking about the room and fanning theflame of his excitement; 'I suppose not; you women are all soheartless.'
'No, we are not,' said Maud; 'and if we were, I do not see that you, ofall people in the world, have any right to complain. Come now, tell mewhat is the matter. Has the Agent been scolding you?'
'The Agent!' cried Desvoeux, in tones of the profoundest disgust; 'youlittle traitress, don't you know as well as possible that there is onlyone thing in the world that could really hurt me, and that you have doneit?'
'I!' exclaimed Maud, in horror. 'I'm sure I am very sorry. You must tryand forget me.'
'Try and fly to the moon!' said Desvoeux; 'I shall remember you all mylife, to my cost, as the most bewitching little piece of mischief inexistence. Why am I so unfortunate? I wish to goodness I had never seenyou.'
'I am sure,' said Maud, fervently, 'I wish to goodness you never had,since it m
akes you so unhappy. But remember, if you please, that I hadno idea of what you were feeling. You never told me, you know.'
'Who was to guess that Sutton would be so abominably precipitate? Ithought he was safe with his soldiers and out of harm's way. Besides, Itold you! Why, you knew as well as possible that I adored you. Don't youremember how I squeezed your hand at the last Government House ball?'
'And don't you remember,' cried Maud, indignantly, 'how I refused todance a single round dance with you all the evening in consequence, andonly gave you a Lancers to prevent your being laughed at?'
'I only wish you could feel my heart beating,' said Desvoeux, feelingthat interesting organ, and apparently horrified at its activity.
'That is because you will go stamping about the room in that absurd wayinstead of sitting still and talking quietly. Come now, Mr. Desvoeux,come and sit down and wish me joy kindly and pleasantly, or I never willspeak to you again.'
'Little tyrant!' said the other, doing as he was bid as meekly as couldbe wished; 'and to think that you should be growing lovelier every dayand more charming, if possible, and all for Sutton! Speak to me, indeed!Why, you will not dare open your mouth for fear of a scandal. Suttonwill make you cut me, you will see, as an old admirer.'
'Indeed,' said Maud, upon whom Desvoeux's flattery always told with someeffect, 'I have not the slightest intention of giving up my old friends.Why should I? Only you will not make love to me, of course.'
'Oh, of course not,' said the other, with a laugh. 'But tell me now, areyou not a wee bit sorry for a poor fellow who is breaking his heartabout you?'
'Breaking his fiddlestick!' cried Maud, bursting out laughing. 'Why, Mr.Desvoeux, you don't, I assure you, know what you say. It is very kind ofyou to like me, and admire me, and so forth, and I am very muchobliged.'
'Don't, don't, for heaven's sake, talk like that,' cried the other; 'itis not kind of me at all to be over head and ears in love with you, butjust my misfortune. But, tell me: they teased you into it, did theynot?'
'Teased me into it!' cried Maud, tossing her head indignantly; 'howlittle you know!'
'Yes,' said the other, positively, 'it is obvious. You are anorphan--you have that sweet, interesting, dependent look that orphanshave; and Mrs. Vernon made it up; set Sutton to flirt with you;everybody observed that much last summer; and then, no doubt, told youthat you had been flirting and were bound to accept him. Why didn't youpluck up heart of grace and say "No"?'
'Because I plucked up heart of grace to say "Yes." Do you think thatColonel Sutton is a sort of man who needs any one to help his wooing?'
'I do,' said Desvoeux, with provoking persistency, 'and Mrs. Vernon gavehim every assistance. I only wish she would have done half as much forme.'
'Well, then,' cried Maud in a passion, 'if you must know, it was I thatproposed to him--not he to me; and I adore the tip of his little fingermore than all the other men and women in the world. Now do you thinkthey teased me into it?'
'No; but if you begin with so much enthusiasm you will come to dislikehim very much before long. His little finger indeed! And here am I leftout in the cold! What am I to do?'
'Write and consult Mrs. Vereker,' said Maud. From which unfeeling remarkit may be inferred that she believed less in Desvoeux'sbroken-heartedness than he was inclined to do himself.
'Well,' said her companion, with a resigned air, which Maud felt had atouch of reproachful dignity in it, 'laugh at me as you will. I loveyou, and always shall.'
'Nonsense!' said Maud. 'Here comes my cousin. I have a great mind totell her, and get her to comfort you.'
The interview was over. Maud had stuck to her programme, which was totreat Desvoeux with an airy indifference and his protestations withostentatious disbelief. Nevertheless his words were not without effect.Had she been less inexperienced Maud would have known that she hadallowed him to leave off in a most dangerous position; that of anadmirer whose homage was sufficiently congenial to be allowed a hearing;whom it was within her power to have at any moment at her feet, and who,whether rightly or wrongly, felt he had some show of right to beaggrieved and disappointed at her declared preference for another man.
There was another person, however, besides Desvoeux to whom the news ofMaud's engagement gave a serious shock.
One of Sutton's first acts, after Maud and he had mutually ascertainedeach other's views, was to scribble a line to Boldero, announcing thejoyful event; and he had done so, too full of his own happiness to paymuch attention, even had he known more than he did, to the view hisfriend might take of it. All that he knew was that Boldero, like allthe world, was a great admirer of his future wife. This was but natural,and Sutton without the least misgiving accepted the position. 'My dearold boy,' he wrote, 'you will, I know, be pleased to hear a good pieceof news of me, to make up for my bad luck the other day. Come over assoon as you can and wish me joy. Meanwhile, remember, of course, thatyou must be my groomsman.'
'His groomsman!' Boldero sat, pale and speechless and stunned by thesudden overthrow of all his hopes. The day-dream of his existence wasended by this stern awakening. Life--all that part of life, at least,which is worth living--was, he felt bitterly, over for him. It was, touse Heine's expressive figure, as if some one had climbed up a celestialladder, rolled up the bright blue sky and taken down the sun. Only thedismal scaffolding, the dust, the gloom remained. Maud, though she hadnever quite encouraged him to hope, had never bidden him despair, andfigured, we may be certain, the lovely chatelaine of all his castles inthe air. He found out now to his cost how full his thoughts had been ofher. And now it was all over. His pleasant hope lay shattered on theground. The blow was hard to bear; none the easier, perhaps, that it washis dearest friend's hand that struck it.
Being, however, a man of pluck and determination, he sat downcourageously, wrote a cheery note of congratulation to the fortunatewinner of the prize, promised his services as groomsman or anything elsewhich Sutton wished, and then ordered his horse and rode twenty miles toan outlying village, where there was a troublesome boundary dispute tobe settled, which he had had in his eye for weeks past as wanting avisit from the Collector.