She and I, Volume 2

  CHAPTER SIX.

  "MY LIFE, I LOVE THEE!"

  --Then, in that time and place I spoke to her, Requiring, tho' I knew it was mine own, Yet for the pleasure that I took to hear, Requiring, at her hand, the greatest gift, A woman's heart, the heart of her I loved.

  When "hope deferred," and baffled love combined, had well-nigh made meas miserable and woebegone as I could possibly be, I heard a piece ofnews one day which almost nerved up my halting resolution to bringaffairs to a final issue by speaking out again to Mrs Clyde--no matterwhat might be the result.

  The joyful intelligence was circulated by the pleased Lady Dasher, that,Mr Mawley had at length proposed for her daughter, Bessie. It was timefor it, as he had angled around and nibbled warily at the tempting baitoffered him--like the knowing fish that he was--for months before hewould permit himself to be caught!

  The curate had, doubtless, noticed at length that the damsel was comelywithal; and, his heart yearned towards her. The reverend gentleman,however, had not been unobservant of the charms of other maidens withwhom he had been brought in contact, so, it may be presumed that hisheart had "yearned" in vain for them; or, peradventure, these had notplayed with him so dexterously, when once hooked, as did the fairBessie--who had not been the granddaughter of an Irish peer for nothing!

  Still, there is no object to be gained now in raking up all of MrMawley's old conquests or defeats, ere his present "wooing and a':"--hehad been accepted, in this his most recent venture, and was engagedexplicitly--Lady Dasher taking very good care to inform everybody of heracquaintance of the fact, in order that there might arise no such littlemistake as that of the curate's backing out of the alliance.

  Her ladyship only wished for one thing more to make her "happy," so shesaid; and that was, that her "poor dear papa" were but alive, so thatshe might tell him, too, about the coming event. This was impossiblethough, as she added, with her customary melancholy shake of the head,and a return to her normal expression of poignant grief; for, as shesaid very truly, "one can never expect to be thoroughly happy in thisweary pilgrimage of ours!"

  Her complete gratification would, certainly, have been little less thana miracle.

  The engagement was of very short duration, Bessie's mamma acting up tothe Hibernian policy of "cooking her fish," as soon as she had capturedhim. There's "many a slip," you know, "'twixt cup and lip."

  Mawley would probably have gladly lingered yet awhile longer amid thefestive scenes of clerical bachelorhood, flirting--in a devout way, ofcourse--under the shade of the church, with Chloe and Daphne, thoseunappropriated spinsters of the parish who took pleasure in ministeringto the social wants of the curate and others of his cloth.

  But, it was not to be. Lady Dasher was, for a wonder, wise in hergeneration; and, the twain--not my lady and Mawley, but her daughter andditto--were married within a month after the public announcement oftheir attachment, much to the surprise of Saint Canon's, themortification of sundry single ladies thereof, and the well-disguiseddelight of Lady Dasher, who, even on such a festive occasion, lookedmore melancholic than ever.

  It was this, that nerved me up to desperation. Why, thought I, the dayafter the wedding, as I paced along the Prebend's Walk--over which thelong-branched elms and waving oaks and thickly-growing lime-trees formeda perfect arch, in all the panoply of their new summer leaves,sheltering one from rain and sun alike--why, thought I, should thatfellow, Mawley, be made happy, and I not?

  Really, I could not answer the question at all satisfactorily.

  You see, I was not able to come to a decision with myself as to whetherI should repeat the darling request which I had made to Min very nearlytwelve months before, or wait on still in suspense. The risk of theformer course was great, for, Mrs Clyde might, and most likely would,put an end immediately to all communication whatever between us, shouldshe continue hostile to my suit--an eventuality horrible to contemplate;and yet, would it not be better for me to be relieved from the existingstate of uncertainty in which my mind was plunged?

  What must I do?

  I had to determine that point, at all events.

  I could not settle it in a moment: it was far too weighty aconsideration--it required serious deliberation. So, I paced on, stillmoodily to the end of the Prebend's Walk; and, although it was rainingheavily, sat down on the stone balustrade of the little rustic bridgeover the fosse, facing the river.--"Ah me!" I reflected, calling to mymemory Thackeray's sad lament, in that seemingly-comic "Ballad of theBouillabaisse," which is all the more pathetic from its affected humour.

  "Ah me! how quick the days are flitting! I mind me of a time that's gone When I'd sit, as now I'm sitting, In this same place--but not alone.

  "A fair young form was nestled near me, A dear, dear face looked fondly up, And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me-- There's no one now to share my cup."

  As I was musing thus sadly, I was unexpectedly tapped on the shoulder byMonsieur Parole d'Honneur, who had come up quietly behind me, without mynoticing his approach. He was on his way to pay a visit to his "goodvicaire" at the vicarage, after giving his usual Wednesday lecture atthe neighbouring "college for young ladies;" where, blooming misses--inaddition to their curriculum of "accomplishments" and "all the'ologies"--were taught the noble art of family multiplication, domesticdivision, male detraction, feminine sedition, and, the glorious ruleof--_one_!

  Me grieving, he joyously addressed.

  "Ohe! my youngish friends"--his general term in speaking to me--"howgoes it?--Hi--lo!" he went on, seeing from my face, as I turned my headto speak to him, that, "it" did not "go" particularly well--"Hi--lo! vatees ze mattaire?--you look pallide; you have got ze migraine?"

  "No," I answered; "there's nothing the matter with me, I assure you,Monsieur Parole. I'm all right, thank you."

  "Ah! but yes," he retorted--"you cannote deceives me. You are pallide;you take walks on feet this detestable day.--Mon Dieu! votre climatc'est affreux!--I knows ver wells, Meestaire Lorton, dat somesings eesze mattaire!"

  "But, I'm quite well, I tell you," said I.

  "Quaite well en physique, bon:--quaite well, here?" tapping his chestexpressively the while--"non! I knows vat ees ze mattaire. C'est uneaffaire de coeur, ees it not, mon ami? You cannote deceives me, I tellsto you! But, nevaire mind dat, my youngish friends: cheer oop and begays--toujours gai! I have had, myselfs, it ees one, two, tree,--seexlofes! Seex times ees mon coeur brise, and I was desole; and now, yousees, I'm of a light heart still!"--and he laughed so cheerily, that,even Lady Dasher, I think, could not have well helped chiming in withhis merriment.

  I did not laugh, however. "Pardon me, monsieur," I said,--"I'm not in ajoking mood."

  "Come, come, mon brave," he continued, seeing that my dejection wasbeyond the point where it could be laughed away; and accommodatinghimself to my humour, with the native delicacy of his race--"I havemyself, suffered:--ainsi, I can condoles! You know, my dear, youngishfriends, when I was deporte de mon pays, he?"

  I nodded my head in acquiescence, hardly feeling inclined for therecital of some revolutionary anecdote, which I thought was going to berelated to me. Monsieur Parole, however, astonished me with quite adifferent narration.

  "Leesten," said he.--"When I did leeves my Paris beloved, helas! I wastored from my lofe--my fiancee dat I adore! I leaves her in hopes andau desespoir. I dreams of her images in my exiles! When I learns at myacadamies ze young ladees, ze beautifool Eenglish mees, I tinks of mabelle Marie, her figure, and her face angelique, wheech I sail nevaireforgets--no, nevaire! And I says to myselfs, `Ah! she ees morebeautifools dan dese!' Mais, mon ami, I was deceives by her all dattime. Not sooner go I from France, dan she ees marie to un grand, gros,fat epicier of La Villette--Marie dat was fiancee au moi, gentilhomme!Mais, mon Dieu; when I was heard ze news, I was enrage--I goes back toParis. I fears notings--no mouchard--no gend'armerie--no notings--although, I was suspect and deporte de France! I sends un cartel--youcomprends--to ze gros
bon ami de ma Marie, ce cochon d'un epicier! Wemeets in ze Bois: I gives him one leetel tierce en carte dat spoils hislovemakings for awhile; and, I leeves France again for evers--dat is,unless ma patrie and ze sacred cause of ze Republique Francaise callsupon me--but, not till den! So, you sees, my youngish friends, datoders suffer like yourselfs. I have told to you my story; cheer oop!If ze ladees have deceives you, she is not wort one snaps of zefingers!"

  "But, she has not deceived me," I said.

  "Den why are you melancolique?"

  "Because, because--" I hesitated:--I was ashamed to say what made medespondent.

  "For ze reasons dat you don't knows weder she lofes you or not?" heasked. "Ah, ha! Den, why not ask her, my friends? You are young; youhave a deesposeetion good; you are handsome--"

  "O-oh, Monsieur Parole," I exclaimed at his nattering category of myattributes, almost blushing.

  "Ah, but yes," he went on--"I am quaite raite. You are handsome; withun air distingue; reech."

  I shook my head, to show that I could not lay claim to being amillionaire, in addition to my other virtues.

  "No, not reech, but clevaire; and you will be reech bye-bye! I see notwhy ze ladees should not leesten to you, mon ami, he?--But, if she doesnote; why, courage! Dere are many odere ladees beautifool also inEngland; and, yet, if you feels your loss mooch, like myselfs with maperfide Marie, why you can go aways and be console, as I!"

  His words encouraged me:--and, my face imperceptibly brightened.

  "Ah, ha! dat is bettaire," he said--"I likes you, Meestaire Lorton; andit does me pain to sees you at deespair like dese! Cheer oop; and allwill be raite, as our good friend, ze vicaire, all-ways tells to us. Wewill go and sees him now!"

  He took my unresisting arm, and carried me off to the vicarage; changingthe conversation as we went along, and gradually instilling fresh hopeinto my heart.

  I dare say you think it was very idiotical on my part, thus to bewail mygrief to another person; and allow a few empty words to change thecurrent of my feelings?

  But then, you must recollect, that I would not have comported myself inthis way with a brother Englishman.

  If Horner had told me of _his_ woes, for example, similarly as I toldmine, or let them be drawn out of me by Monsieur Parole, I confess Iwould have been much more likely to have laughed at, than sympathisedwith him.

  A Frenchman, however, is naturally more sentimental than any ofourselves. He looks seriously and considerately on things which we makelight of.

  Besides, in my then cut-throat mood, I was longing for sympathy; andwould have made a confidante of any one offering for the post--barringLady Dasher or Miss Spight--neither of whom would I have chosen as adepository were I anxious to give my last dying speech and confession tothe world; although, they would probably cause the same to be circulatedfast enough--judging by their habit in regard to that sort of privateinformation respecting the delicate concerns of other people which ispassed on from hand to hand "in strict confidence, mind!" and which isnot to be told to any one else "for the world!"

  Monsieur Parole's story was a good lesson to me.

  I saw that he who had had grief as great, and greater than mine, for Iknew that Min loved me and was constant--had concealed it so that nonewho looked on his round merry face, would have supposed him capable of adeep emotion; while, I, on the contrary, had paraded my littleanxieties, like a fool!

  He also taught me determination; for, I resolved now, that, on the firstopportunity I had, I would speak to my darling again, and have my fatesettled, without more delay--for good or ill, as the case might be.

  I would not remain in suspense any longer.

  Within a week, this wished-for opportunity came.

  Some mutual friends, to whom, indeed, Min had been the original means ofmy introduction--they living without the orbit of the Saint Canoncircle--asked me to a large evening party that they gave late in theseason.

  There, I met my darling, as I hoped--unaccompanied by her mother, whichI had _not_ imagined would happen; consequently, my chances for speakingto Min would be all the more favourable.

  There was so general a crush of people; that, although the rooms werelarge and there were many nice little retreats for tete-a-teteconversation, in balconies that were covered in like marquees and snugconservatories, besides the stair landings--those last "refuges for thedestitute" who might desire retirement--I had to put off my purposeuntil evening wore on to such a late hour, that I thought I would not beable to speak to my darling at all!

  After midnight, however, my opportunity came.

  First getting rid of a horrible person, who would persist in followingMin about under the false pretence that his name was on her card forseveral of the after-supper dances--an assertion _I_ knew to beridiculously unfounded; for, I had taken care to place my own name downfor as many as Min would give me, and, all the latter ones I hadappropriated also without asking her permission, thinking that when thathappy time arrived, she would not be very hard on me for my presumption;nor was she.

  Extinguishing the interloper--some people have such blindness of mentalvision, that they never can see when they are not wanted!--I managed atlength to open proceedings.

  It was while in a quadrille that I began referring to the agonised stateof my mind, and explained the mental suffering I then was experiencing.

  Min listened attentively, as far as she heard, a warm flush on her dearface and a light sparkling in the deep grey eyes; but, I would defy anylover to plead his cause with due effect in that mazy old cotillondance, which a love of French nomenclature in the early part of thecentury, taught us to style "quadrille."

  How can you inform the object of your passion that you adore her, withany becoming effusion of sentiment, when you are chassez-ing andbalancez-ing like a human teetotum? How, breathe the words of love;when, ere you have completed your avowal, you have to make a fool ofyourself in the "Cavalier seul," the cynosure of six different pairs ofeyes besides those of the girl of your heart? How, tone your voice,sweetly attuned though it may be to Venusian accents, when, one moment,it may be inaudible to her whom you address, through the rampagiousgallopading and ladies-chaining of excited quadrillers; and, the next,be so raised in pitch, from the sudden hush that falls on band anddancers alike, between the figures, that your opposite vis-a-vis, andthe neighbouring side couples, can hear every syllable of your franticdeclaration--much to their amusement and your discomfiture?

  You cannot do it, I say.

  No, not if you were a Talleyrand in love matters; and, so completelyversed in the pathology of the "fitful fever," as to be able to diagnoseit at a glance; besides nursing the patient through all the severalstages of the disease--watching every symptom, anticipating each change,bringing the "case," finally, to a favourable issue!

  No, sir, or madam, or mademoiselle, as the case may be; you cannot doit--not in a quadrille, at all events, or I will;--but, no, I won'tbet:--it is wrong to do so, Min told me!

  Presently, on the music stopping, I led her to a seat in a quiet corner."Here"--thought I--"I shall be able to have you to myself without fearof interruption!"

  I commenced my tale again; but, Min, evidently, did not wish to come toany decision now. She wanted to let matters remain as they were.

  I could see this readily, by the way in which she tried to put me off,changing the conversation whenever I got on to the forbidden ground, andsuggesting various irrelevant queries on my endeavouring again to chainher wilfully-erratic attention down to the one topic that I only thoughtworthy of interest.

  The feminine mind, I believe, delights in uncertainty.

  Girls are not half so anxious to have their lovers "declare themselves,"as some ill-natured people would have us think. They much preferholding on in delightful doubt--that pleasant "he-would-and-she-wouldn't" pastime that precedes a regular engagement or undoubteddismissal--just as a playful mouser sports with its victim, long afterthe trembling little beast has lost its small portion of life;pretend
ing that it is yet alive and essaying to escape, when pussy knowsright well that poor mousey's fate is sealed, as far as any furtherstruggles on its part are concerned.

  A man, on the contrary, abhors suspense.

  It is not business-like, you know.

  He much desiderates a plain answer to a plain exposition of fact orfancy--even when it takes the form of that excruciating littlemonosyllable "no."

  Those diminutive arts and petty trickeries of feigned resistance, withwhich our "angels without wings" strive to delay the surrender of themaiden-citadels of their hearts, are but vexatious obstacles to hislegitimate triumph. These, the veteran wooer attempts to carry by stormat once, seeing through their utter transparency:--to the unpractisedDamon, however, they assume the proportions of an organised defence.

  Look at my case, for instance:--I had hardly managed to manoeuvre Mininto my selected corner, and to say two words on the subject thatoccupied all my thoughts; when, she, who had previously condoled with meon the "horrid crowd" that prevented our having "a nice chat" together,as "we used to have last year," and joined in abusing "that wretchedquadrille," which had interfered so sadly with our talking, now tried tobaulk my purpose of an explanation by every means in her power.

  Ladies having generally ample resources to suit such ends, it was almostuseless for me to combat her obvious resolve.

  The moment I sat down beside her, what does she do, but, ask me to gether an ice--it was "_so_ hot!"

  Of course, I started off to procure it, our conversation being stoppedmeanwhile; but then, when I had scrambled through the crowd in thedoorway, making ninepins of all the male wallflowers; had rudely jostledthe peripatetics on the staircase; and, literally, fought my way intothe supper-room and back to her again with the desired dainty--what doyou think was my reward?

  I assure you, there was the identical, horrible person, with sandy hairand sallow, elongated features--whom I had before routed in the matterof Min's dancing with him,--seated in my chair, chattering away at afine rate to my darling; and, she?--

  Was listening to his sallies with apparent contentment.

  It was, enough to have caused a Puritan to swear!

  She saw that I was annoyed; but, she thanked me so prettily for her ice,that my anger towards her was instantly appeased:--not so, however,toward the interloper! I gnawed, in impotent fury, the attenuated endsof the small fragment of a moustache which nature had allotted to me,and talked at him and over him, so pointedly, that he had to beat aretreat and claim some other partner for the ensuing waltz.

  We were again left alone; but, Min, still, wouldn't listen to me amoment!

  "Oh, Frank!" she said. "This is _our_ dance, I think, is it not? Wehave sat out _such_ a time! Do let us begin."

  I liked dancing, but wanted to speak more; so, I got angry again.

  "You are cruel to me, Min,"--I said.--"You _know_ that I wish to speakto you seriously, and you won't let me have a chance. You can joke andlaugh, while I'm breaking, my heart! I will leave you"--and, I walkedaway from her out of the room and down the staircase--very proudly, verydefiantly, very miserably.

  On my way I met, or rather encountered, our sandy friend who had spoiltmy interview. There was a heavy crush on the stairs; and so, somebodyelse having shoved against me, I revenged myself on this gentleman,giving him such a malicious dig in the ribs from my elbow as elicited adeep sighing groan. This was some slight satisfaction to me. Itsounded exactly like the affected "Hough!" which paviours give vent to,when wielding their mallets and ramming down the stones of the roadway!

  In the hall, as I was hunting for my overcoat and hat, which had beenburied beneath an avalanche of other upper garments, Min, who hadfollowed me down, laid her hand timidly on my arm. She looked up in myface entreatingly.

  "You are not going yet, Frank, are you?" she asked.

  "Yes," said I, curtly. "What should I stay for? Do you think I find itso amusing to be laughed at? It is very poor fun, _I_ think!"

  "But you, surely, won't go before saying good-bye to the lady of thehouse, Frank?" she then said.

  She evidently thought, you see, that I was going to commit anunpardonable breach of good manners; and, that made her call me back--nothing else!

  I returned with her to the drawing-room. Min's face was quite pale now;and, the little rosebud lips were pressed closely together, as if in setdetermination. She perceived that she could not any longer put off whatshe knew was coming--no matter what might have been her kindly intent inso wishing to do.

  On our entrance the band was playing the _Mabel_ waltz. How well Iremember it!

  We joined in for a few turns; and, as I clasped my arm round her darlingwaist, feeling her warm heart beating against mine, I longed to claspher so always, and waltz on for ever!

  In a little while we rested; and, getting her to walk out on to thecanopied balcony through the French windows of the drawing-room, I theresaid my say to her, amidst the waving ferns and showy azaleas thatsurrounded us.

  We had the place all to ourselves; for, as it was now early in themorning, most of the guests had already gone:--the indefatigables whoremained were too busily engaged to mind us. They were making the mostof the last waltz, which was protracted to an indefinite length.

  "Min, my darling,"--said I, after a brief pause, looking straight downinto her honest, upturned face,--"will you promise to be my wife, orno?"

  "O-oh, Frank!" she murmured, bending her head down without another word.

  "Darling!"--I continued.--"You know full well that I love you; and I'vethought, dearest, that you loved me a little?"

  "Hush! Do not speak so, dear Frank; you grieve me so," she said.

  "Have you forgotten all the past then, Min? Don't you remember lastyear, and all that happened then?"--I asked.

  "I remember, Frank," she whispered, rather than spoke.

  "And do you not love me still, darling?" I pleaded:--"Look up into myface, and let me see your eyes:--_they_ won't deceive me, I know!"

  But, the dear, grey eyes would not meet mine.

  "Oh, Min, my darling!" I asked again, pressing her closely to my heart,"will you not promise to be my wife? Sweet, I love you so!"

  "They are looking at us, Frank,"--was her rejoinder--"let us waltz on."

  We had some more turns, "Mabel" still dominant in the orchestra. O thatair! I can hear it now, as I heard it then, ringing yet in my ears--asit will continue always to haunt me!

  When we stopped again, I repeated my question once more. I wasdetermined to have an answer, good or bad.

  "Frank," she said, hurriedly, "I cannot say anything; I have promised:--I have promised. Pray, do not ask me!"

  She spoke with great agitation. There was a tremor in her voice; and, Icould see _now_ that the soft grey eyes, which were piteously turned tomine, were tearful and sad. I was mad, however, with love and grief, orI could not have resisted the mute entreaty I there read--to be silent.

  "Min," I went on to say, passionately, "you must now decide whether weare to meet again, or part for ever! You know how I love you now, haveloved you ever since I first saw your darling face,--will love you untilmy heart ceases to beat! But, I cannot, oh! I cannot go on like this.The suspense is killing me:--anxiety and uncertainty are driving me mad!Tell me, Min--dear as you are to me, I ask it for the last time--whether you will promise to be my wife? Only give me a grain of hope,that I may have something to look forward to; something to work for;some object in life? At present, I have nothing; and, my existence is aburden to me!"

  "Can we not be friends still, Frank?" she asked, sadly.

  "No, Min," I answered; "_I_ cannot promise any longer what I feel unableto perform. You must be everything to me or nothing! I would lay downmy life for you, darling! Won't you give me some hope?"

  "Oh, Frank! do not torture me,"--she exclaimed, in a choking voice--"Ihave pledged my word, and I cannot break it."

  "Better to break my heart than your mother's selfish command!" I
said,bitterly, knowing, now, how she had probably been bound down to refuseme, should I again offer my love.

  O wise, far-reaching, far-seeing Mrs Clyde!

  "Do not be so unkind to me, Frank," said Min, half sobbingly, after alittle time, during which I tried to keep down my own emotion; and, Ifelt a warm little tear drop on the hand in which I still clasped hersin a lingering clasp--"I have been a friend, though, to you; have I not,Frank?" she asked me.

  "Tell me, Min," I said, making a last appeal; "do you love me--have youever loved me? Let me have some consolation, to comfort me!"

  "I must not say anything, must not promise anything. I have given myword to mamma. But, oh, Frank! do not be angry with me. Let us befriends still, won't you?"

  "No," said I, sternly--I wondered afterwards at my cruelty; but, I wasgoaded on to desperation, and hardly knew what I was saying.--"We partfor ever now, Min! Your mother may certainly procure you a wealthiersuitor, but none who can love you as truly as I do, as I have done!Good-bye. I dare say you will soon be happy with some one else; but,perhaps, you will think sometimes of him whom you have discarded, whoseheart you have broken, whose life you have wrecked?--No, I do not wantyou to think of me at all!" I added, passionately, at the last--andthen, I left her.

  What a walk home I had, in the early dawn!

  I would not take a cab, although several passed me. I wanted to bealone in my misery; and so, I walked the whole way to Saint Canon's--three miles if it were an inch, over a rough, newly-stoned road, too,and in patent-leather boots with paper soles! I never thought of that,however, nor felt the stones, notwithstanding that my boots wereentirely worn out when I reached home. I might have been walking alongon a Brussels carpet, for all that I knew to the contrary!

  My thoughts were agony:--my mind, a perfect hell; and, that dreadful_Mabel_ waltz seemed to be continually running through my brain,tinkling the death knell of all my hopes!

  The tune always recurs to me, whenever my memory goes back to the nightof that miserable evening party, with all its attendant scenes andcircumstances; and, I hate it!

  Two bars of it whistled now, no matter where I heard them, or in whatcompany I might chance to be, would bring me mentally face to face withmy misery again!

  O Min, Min!

  She never knew how I loved her, or she would never have rejected me likethis!

  This was my consolation--ample, wasn't it?