TWICE MARRIED
Now I have never to this day been able to make up my mind whether the
Lady Kirkpatrick was really stirred with such anger as she pretended,
whether she was only more than a little mad, or if all was done merely
to break down Irma's reserve by playing on her anger and pride.
If the last was the cause of my lady's strange behaviour to us, it was
shiningly successful.
"We will not go a step to find my Lady Frances," said Irma when we were
outside; "if she be so full of all the wisdoms, she would very likely
try to separate us."
And certainly it was noways my business to make any objections. So,
hardly crediting my happiness, I went southwards over the Bridges, with
Irma by my side, my heart beating so rarely that I declare I could
hardly bethink me of a minister to make me sure of Irma before she had
time to change her mind. As was usual at that hour at the Surgeon's
Hall, we met Freddy Esquillant coming from the direction of Simon
Square. Him I sent off as quickly as he could to Rankeillor Street for
Amelia Craven. I felt that this was no less than Amelia's due, for many
a time and oft must she have been wearied with my sighs and
complaints--very suitable to the condition of a lover, but mightily
wearisome to the listener.
Irma said nothing. She seemed to be walking in a dream, and hardly
noticed Freddy--or yet the errand upon which I sent him.
It came to me that, as the matter was of the suddenest, Amelia Craven
might help us to find a small house of our own where we might set up our
household gods--that is, when we got any.
An unexpected encounter preceded the one expected. I was marching along
to our rendezvous with Freddy and Amelia at the crossing from Archers'
Hall to the Sciennes, when all of a sudden whom should we meet right in
the face but my rosy-cheeked, bunchy little employer--my Lord Advocate
in person, all shining as if he had been polished, his face smiling and
smirking like a newly-oiled picture, and on his arm, but towering above
him, a thin, dusky-skinned woman, plainly dressed, and with an enormous
bonnet on her head, obviously of her own manufacture--a sort of tangle
of black, brown and green which really had to be seen to be believed.
"Aha!" cried my Lord Advocate; "whither away, young sir? Shirking the
proofs, eh, my lad? And may I have the honour to be presented to your
sister from the country--for so, by her fresh looks, I divine the young
lady to be."
"If you will wait a few minutes till we can find a minister, I will say,
'This, sir, is my wedded wife,'" I declared manfully.
"And is the young lady of the same mind?" quoth my Lord, with a quick,
gleg slyness.
"I am, sir--if the business concerns you!" said Irma, looking straight
at him.
"What, and dare you say that you will take a man like this for your
wedded husband?" he demanded, with the swift up-and-down play of his
bushy brows which was habitual to him.
"I see not what business it is of yours," Irma answered, as sharply,
"but I do take him for my husband."
"There!" cried the lawyer, pulling out his snuffbox and tapping it
vehemently, "it is done. I have performed my first marriage, and all the
General Assembly, or the Gretna Green Welder himself, could not have
done it neater or made a better job. Declaration before witnesses being
sufficient in the eye of the law of Scotland, I declare you two man and
wife!"
Irma looked distressed.
"But I do not feel in the least married," she said; "I must have a
minister!"
"You can have all the ministers in Edinburgh, my lass, but you have been
duly wedded already in the presence of the first legal authority of your
kingdom, not to mention that of the Lady Frances Kirkpatrick----"
"My aunt Frances, after all!" cried Irma, suddenly flushing.
"Who may you be?" said the tall lady, with the face like sculptured
gingerbread.
"Who _was_ she, you mean, my Lady Frances?" said the Advocate blandly,
helping himself to a pinch of snuff. "I can tell you who she is--Mrs.
Duncan MacAlpine, wife of my private assistant and the sub-editor of the
_Universal Review_."
It was the first time he had given me that title, which pleased me, and
led me to hope that he meant to accompany the honour by a rise in
salary.
"I am--I was--Irma Sobieski Maitland," the answer was rather halting and
faint, for Irma was easily touched, and it was only when much provoked
that she put on her "No-one-shall-touch-me-with-impunity" air.
"If the bride be at all uneasy in her mind," said the Lord Advocate,
"here we are at Mr. Dean's door. I dare say he will step down-stairs
into the chapel and put on his surplice. From what I judge of the
lady's family, she will probably have as little confidence in a
Presbyterian minister as in a Presbyterian Lord Advocate!"
Freddy and Amelia were waiting across the street. I beckoned to them,
and they crossed reluctantly, seeing us talking with my Lord Advocate,
whom, of course, all the world of Edinburgh knew. I was not long in
making the introductions.
"Miss Craven, late of Yorkshire, and Mr. Frederick Esquillant, assistant
to Professor Greg at the College."
"Any more declarations before witnesses to-day?" said my Lord, looking
quaintly at them. "Ah--the crop is not ripe yet. Well, well--we must be
content for one day."
And he vanished into a wide, steeply-gabled house, standing crushed
between higher "lands."
"The Dean will officiate, never fear," said Lady Frances. "So you have
been staying with my sister, and of course she turned you out. Well, she
sent you to me, I'll wager, and you were on your way. You could not have
done better than come direct to me."
"Indeed it was quite an accident," said Irma, who never would take
credit for what she had not deserved; "you see, I did not know you, and
I thought that one like my Lady Kirkpatrick was quite enough----"
"Hush, hush," said the tall brown woman; "perhaps she means better than
you give her credit for. She is a rich woman, and can afford to pay for
her whimsies. Be sure she meant some kindness. But, at any rate, here
comes the Advocate with our good Dean."
We mounted into a curiously arranged house. At first one saw nothing but
flights on flights of stairs, range above range apparently going
steeply up to the second floor, without any first floor rooms at all.
Mr. Dean was a handsome old man with white hair, and he took our hands
most kindly.
"My friend here," he said, smiling at my Lord Advocate, "tells me that
he has not left very much for me to do from a legal point of view. But I
look upon marriage as a sacrament, and though the bridegroom is not, as
I hear, of our communion, I have no difficulty in acceding to the
request of my Lord--especially since our good Lady Frances has deigned
to be present as a near relative of the bride."
He called something into a sort of stone tube. Then bidding us to be
seated, he went into another room to array himself in his surplice, from
which, presently, he came out, holding a service-book in his hand.
We followed him down-stairs--I with Lady Frances on my arm, the Lord
Advocate preceding us with Irma, whom he was to give away. He appeared
to take quite a boyish interest in the whole affair, from which I
augured the best for our future.
We were rather hampered at the turning of the stair, and had to drop
into single file again, when Irma clutched suddenly at my hand, and in
the single moment we had together in the dusk, she whispered, "Oh, I am
so glad!"
Lady Frances told me as we passed into the little half-underground
chapel, low and barrel-shaped as to the roof, with the candles ready
alight on the altar, that all this secrecy had come down from the time
when the service according to the Episcopal form had been strictly
forbidden in Edinburgh--at least in any open way.
I cannot describe what followed. I must have stood like a dummy,
muttering over what I was prompted to say. But the responses came to
Irma's lips as if she had many times rehearsed them--which perhaps was
the case--I know now that she had always kept her father's King Edward
prayer-book, and read it when alone. We stood by the rails of what I now
know to have been the altar. All about was hung with deep crimson, and
the heavy curtains were looped back with golden cord. A kind of glory
shone behind the altar, in the midst of which appeared, in Hebrew
letters, the name of God. Irma, who was far more self-possessed than I,
found time to wonder and even to ask me what it meant. And I,
translating freely (for I had picked up somewhat of that language from
Freddy Esquillant), said, "Thou, God, seest me."
Which, at any rate, if not exactly correct, was true and apt enough.
"Well, are you well married now, babes?" said the Advocate, and I tried
to answer him as we made our way to the vestry--I stumbling and
self-abased, Irma with the certainty and calmness of a widow at least
thrice removed from the first bashfulness of a bride.
We signed the register, in which (the Advocate took care to inform us)
were some very distinguished names indeed. Which, however, was entirely
the same to me.
Then as I thanked Mr. Dean for his kindness, not daring to offer any
poor fee, the Advocate chatted with Amelia Craven with great delicacy
and understanding, inquiring chiefly as to Freddy's attainments and
prospects.
But what was my surprise when, as soon as we were on the cobble stones,
the Lady Frances turned sharply upon Irma, and said, quite in the style
of my Lady Kirkpatrick, "And now, Irma Maitland, since your husband has
no house or any place to take you to, you had better come to my house
in the Sciennes till he can make proper arrangements. It is not at all
suitable that a Maitland should be on a common stair like a travelling
tinker looking for lodgings."
Hearing which the neat, shining, dimpling little Advocate turned his
bright eyes from one to the other of us, and tapped his tortoise-shell
snuffbox with a kind of elvish joy. It was clear that we were better
than many stage-plays to him.
As for Irma, she looked at me, but now sweetly and innocently, as if
asking for counsel, not haughty or disdainful as had been her wont. The
accusation of poverty touched me, and I was on the point of telling her
to choose for herself, that I would find her a house as soon as
possible, when Amelia Craven thrust herself forward.
Up to this point she had kept silent, a little awed by the great folk,
or perhaps by the church, with the red hangings and twinkling,
mysterious candles on the altar.
"I do not know a great deal," she said, "but this I do know, that a
wife's place is with her husband--and especially when the 'love, honour
and obey' is hardly out of her mouth. She shall come home to my mother's
with me, even if Duncan MacAlpine there has not enough sense to bid
her."
Upon which the Advocate strove (or at least appeared to strive) to please
everybody and put everybody in the right. It was perhaps natural that,
till arrangements were completed, so young a bride should remain with
her family. But, on the other hand, young people could not begin too
soon to face the inevitable trials of life. The feelings of the young
lady who had expressed her mind in so lively a manner--Miss--Miss--ah
yes, Craven--Miss Amelia Craven--did her all honour. It only remained
to hear the decision of--of (a smirk, several dimples and a prolonged
tapping on the lid of his snuffbox)--_Mistress Duncan MacAlpine_.
"I will go with my husband," said Irma simply.
"There's for you, Frances!" cried the Advocate, turning to his companion
with a little teasing "hee-hee" of laughter, almost like the neigh of a
horse; "there spoke all the woman."
But Lady Frances had very deliberately turned about and was walking,
without the least greeting or farewell, in the direction of her own
house of Sciennes.
"There goes a Kirkpatrick," said the Advocate, tapping his box
cynically; "cry with them, they will hunt your enemies till they drop.
Cry off with them, and it's little you will see of them but the back of
their hand."
He touched my Irma on her soft cheek with the tips of his fingers. "And
I wish, for your goodman's sake," he said, "that this little lady's
qualities do not run in the female line."
"I hope," said Irma, "that I shall always have grace to obey my
husband."
"Graces you have--overly many of them, as it is easy to see," quoth the
gallant Advocate, taking off his hat and bowing low, "but it is seldom
indeed that ladies use either Grace or their graces for such a purpose!"