RANDOLPH'S BUCKLING.
There was a lacrosse match at Montreal that September, the Indians
of Brautford against the Indians of Caughnawaga, at which that section
of the community interested in sport, and now returned from the
regattas of the coast, mustered strong. The Lacrosse Club, the
getters-up of the exhibition, were there in a body, the school boys
were all there, and the betting men, as well as those who are willing
to go anywhere on a fine day on any pretext, and the ladies, who like
to see what is the excitement which draws the latter class--the
butterfly class--together.
"See how the Caughnawagas have got the ball, and are carrying it on,
and on. There--there! They will win. Almost at the goal. But, ah! That
little fellow! He seems only a boy. How he breaks through them--See!
He has got it away--caught it on his lacrosse--throws it back over his
shoulder--away back past them all. Not a Caughnawaga near it. And now
Brautford has got it. They strike it again and again. Won! By Jove!
Brautford has won. Who would have thought it?"
It was Randolph Jordan who spoke, springing on his chair and waving
his hat in the general tumult of applause, and the cheering for
"Little Brautford," who now rejoined his comrades amidst the loud
plaudits in which they all shared, but which were especially for him
who had earned the victory. They had won the first game.
Randolph occupied a chair in front of the grand stand, and beside him
sat Adéline Rouget, dressed in cardinal red and white, tolerably
conspicuous, and not objecting to be looked at; but still better
pleased with the evident admiration in Randolph's eyes, and the
devoted attention he was paying her, than with anything else. They
were old friends, those two, now. Their friendship dated from the
night of their first tobogganing together, when Randolph had
discovered to his surprise that mademoiselle was "really a jolly girl,
and with no nonsense in her." They had many another tobogganing after
that first, and many a jolly waltz, and found that they suited each
other to a nicety. Both were fairly good looking, and always well got
up, and each felt the presence of the other was a credit and setoff to
one's self in the eyes of the world to which both belonged. It is a
strong point in a friendship when one is sure that it looks well. A
friend of the other sex, with whom one groups badly, may be a
delightful companion at home or in the country; but what pleasure can
there be in being seen in society dancing with a guy? A certain share
of the ridicule will fall on one's self. It must always show one at a
disadvantage, and if it is a dance, how can even the finest figure and
get-up look well, if awkwardly held or turned round, or rumpled as to
flounces, and so forth?--or hung upon, or stood away from, as if
people were marionettes?
These two young people realized that they looked well together. Their
friends had told them so frequently; therefore it was indubitable,
even if they had not known it themselves. Their relations had also
told them that they should marry, and as each found the other
extremely "jolly" and companionable, and saw in a joint establishment
an indefinite prolongation of the gaieties of the past six months,
they were nothing loth. People said they were engaged, and they
supposed so themselves; in fact, they must have been, for in their
conversations that was taken for granted. They were not of a "spoony"
disposition, as they said themselves, however, and found many other
things to talk about more interesting than an analysis of their
affections; and nothing but opposition applied to their head-strong
tempers could have fanned their easy-going preference into an
appearance of genuine strength. That stimulus was now afforded by the
lady's papa, in a way both sudden and unexpected.
Randolph had resumed his seat beside his companion, and plied the fan
for her, while she managed the parasol, so as to make a small tent,
from under which they could scan their neighbours while greatly
sheltered themselves. There was a tap on Randolph's shoulder,
accompanied by "Pairmit me, sair."
Randolph looked round. "Mr. Rouget! Good morning, sir. I did not think
we should have had the happiness to see you here--believed you were in
New York. When did you arrive in Montreal?" His hand was held out
while he spoke, expectant of being shaken, but it remained untouched.
This might have been an oversight, though Mr. Rouget was scrupulously
particular in such matters, as a rule; but on the present occasion he
seemed resolved there should be no mistake. The extended hand not
having been withdrawn when the speaker ceased, he drew himself up to
the top notch of his stature--it was French stature, and not
excessive--placing his hands behind his back with a look of lowering
majesty and indignation, which made him as overhanging and colossal,
if also as stagy, as was possible.
"Sair! Pairmit me to pass you."
Randolph drew half a step aside, and backward; it was all he could do,
owing to his companion's close proximity.
"I vish to speak to mademoiselle, my daughtaire."
"Adéline is here, sir;" showing with his left hand how the parent
might place himself on her other side.
"Mademoiselle Rouget vill dispense vit your presence, sair," with
severe dignity; and he stepped, not as ushered by Randolph's left
hand, but in the direction of his right, the consequence being that
his foot caught between the legs of Randolph's chair, and he found
himself prostrated on the turf.
"_Mon Dieu!_" cried Adéline, rising and taking refuge with one of her
friends, a few chairs off, under the impression that a brawl in public
was imminent, and screening herself from all share in it with her
parasol, while she continued to watch the scene through the fringes.
"_Sac-r-r-ré_," growled the father, passing from dignity into fury.
Dignity cannot possibly survive a trip up with a chair leg, and there
is no refuge from the ridicule of the thing but in anger.
"You vould dare knock me down? _Coquin!_" as he regained his feet,
grasping his cane, and gnawing his white moustache between his teeth.
"Pardon me, Mr. Rouget," said Professor Hammerstone, coming forward
and dusting a blade of grass with his handkerchief from the angry
gentleman's sleeve. "I hope you have not hurt yourself. I was standing
by, and you must forgive my saying that our young friend here is
really not to blame for this little accident. It is all the fault of
those foolish chairs. I have bruised my own shins with them. The club
would have done better to provide benches. Jordan is as innocent of
the _contretemps_ as I am."
Rouget bowed--what else could he do?--and thanked Professor
Hammerstone, who at least had done him the kindness of giving him a
cue to modulate back naturally into the ordinary manner of civilized
men; but he scowled at Randolph, who, in the bewilderment caused by
Rouget's unexpected address--they had parted last as any expectant
father and son-in-law might, three weeks before--had nearly laughed at
his sudden downfall.
"I vill rekvest you to valk aside vit me one instant, sair. Dis vay."
Randolph followed, and presently they were out of the crowd, pacing
the grass in silence. Rouget cleared his throat, pushed out his chest,
and strove to be grand once more.
"It surprises me, Mistaire Jordan, to observe you in ze society of
Mademoiselle Rouget. I demand zat you do not intrude yourself again."
"Not speak to my promised wife, Mr. Rouget? I do not understand."
"Understand zen, sair, zat mademoiselle is no more promessed to you.
You mus be fol to expect it. Ze son of your fazer mus know so much. He
has vat you call 'chiselled' and 'gouged' me of my money, and my
shares, and land. He has----"
"Mr. Rouget! Is it the part of a gentleman to speak of my father in
such terms to me? I did not think you would have done it. I know
nothing of business transactions between you and my father. I presume
both are men of the world. It would be impertinent in me to inquire
into your affairs. But you yourself have sanctioned my pretensions to
Adéline's hand, and our engagement."
"Have ze bounty to speake of Mademoiselle Rouget by her proper
title--Mademoiselle Rouget de La Hache-young sair! Ze promesse or
contract is now forfeit, as you should know, by ze _chicane_ of--of
_monsieur voire père_," with a shrug and a low bow. "I mus rekvest you
vill not again intrude yourself on ze presence of mademoiselle my
daughtaire, who is on ze point to make a retraite at ze Convent of ze
Sacred Heart, and von day may have ze blessedness to become
_réligieuse_. Mademoiselle Rouget vill not be at home to you in
future." And thereupon the little gentleman executed his very finest
bow, exhibiting both rows of his perfectly-fitting false teeth from
ear to ear, and turned away. He was surprised, a minute later, on
turning his head, to observe that Randolph, at a yard or two of
distance, was pursuing the same course as himself towards where his
daughter was sitting.
"Mistaire Jordan! I protest! Have I not defended you from coming in
presence of my daughtaire? Vould you draw _esclandre_ on mademoiselle
before _tout le monde?_"
"I must return Mademoiselle Rouget's fan, sir."
Rouget held forth his hand ready to become the bearer; but,
disregarding the motion, Randolph only quickened his pace, Rouget
following as quickly as he dared without appearing to run a race.
Randolph arrived first, and presented the fan, saying, "I shall pass
your garden gate ten minutes before seven," and withdrew in time to
make way for Rouget, who presented his arm with a ceremonious bow, and
led his daughter from the ground.
Their walk homeward could not have been a happy one. When Randolph met
Adéline, at ten minutes before seven, her face was flushed and her
eyes swollen.
"Adéline! have you consented to be made a nun, then?"
"Not if I know it! Not if my Randolphe ees true."
"Are you game to run away, Adéline? It would be a sin to cut off all
that splendid hair. My mother is at Long Branch. Shall we go to her? I
have money enough to take us down."
"Long Branch! It vould be divine! my Randolphe. Ze saison ees not yet
there passed. I vill go. But--for ze toilettes? And so many are
demanded zere. But yes! I do see ze vay. I vill send ze robes to
_cette chère_ Mlle. Petitôt, and she vill forvard by express."
"The very thing! I hate the bother of women's trunks. Besides, we
could not get them out of the house. You can stroll in to Mlle.
Petitôt after dinner and explain. She will do anything to oblige a
friend. And then your maid can bundle the things over the wall, from
the one garden to the other, and Mlle. Petitôt will do the rest. Our
train leaves at half-past eleven to-night. I shall be at the corner
with a cab at eleven sharp. Be sure and bring as little baggage as you
can; nothing but what I can carry on the run from here to the corner,
for you know we might be chased, and then it would be convent, sure--a
hand-bag is the best thing."
"There is the dinner bell. _Au revoir_. I shall be ready at eleven."
Amelia Jordan was surprised rather than pleased, three days after,
when the cards of her "children" were brought up to her with her
morning tea. They had arrived late overnight, she was told, too late
to disturb her, and they hoped to see her at breakfast about ten.
"Oh, you imprudent children!" she cried an hour later, meeting them in
a broad verandah overlooking the sea. "You impetuous, inconsiderate,
absurd pair of children. And to come to Long Branch, of all places. Do
you know how much a day it costs to live here? And what about gowns,
Adéline? You can scarcely come down to breakfast, even once, in that
travelling suit, and assuredly you must not be seen in it again after
half-past eleven."
"We came to you, mother, because we had no one else," said Randolph.
"Adéline has run away, without a single thing, unless Mlle. Petitôt
should send her some clothes, and that depends on the maid's being
able to throw them over the garden wall."
"You pair of babies! Adéline, the very wisest thing that you can do is
to go right back home again."
"They'd stick her into a convent, mother. Her father told me himself
he meant to. Besides, she's _your_ daughter now as much as his. We
stopped over in New York yesterday and got married."
"Good gracious! I never heard anything so preposterous. And how do you
propose to live?"
"We mean to live with _you_, mother, to comfort your failing years
like dutiful children?"
"Well, now, that really is kind of you, I must say. The sooner I get
back to my quiet little house at St. Euphrase, then, the better. I
cannot afford to support a family of three at Long Branch. It costs a
great deal too much for the mere living, not to speak of the dressing.
Again, at St. Euphrase, I can make you young people work for your
board, as, of course, being honest, you would like. Randolph shall dig
the garden and Adéline shall milk the cows. That will save me two
servants' wages."
"_Mais, madame_," whimpered Adéline, "Randolphe has me promessed to
come to Long Branch for to see ze gaieties."
"My child, you have no clothes to appear in. You will have to look at
the gaieties from your bedroom window, and even your meals will have
to be brought you. Are you aware that three new gowns every day is the
smallest number in which any self-respecting woman can appear at Long
Branch? You need not smile, it is no laughing matter. You will
compromise me hopelessly if you come downstairs, and, I may add,
that any things Mlle. Petitôt may send you will not help you here.
Tailor-made gowns are _de rigueur_, and above all, they must be
indubitably new, and worn for the very first time. I would recommend a
bilious attack, my dear; keep your room. And, after all, a fictitious
attack of bile is better than the real thing. I will arrange for our
going back to Canada, and with that view, perhaps, I had better begin
by writing your mother. She will be anxious to know what has become of
you, and I dare say I shall be able to make your peace now, more
easily than later."
"Ah! _Chère madame_, do not write. Zey vill send me to ze _couvent_. I
know so vell. And never to come out again. And zere I shall be made
make ze _grande rétraite_ for always for marrying me vidout consent.
And it will be so _triste_, have _pitié, ma mere_."
"My dear child, you may trust me. I have no intention of giving you
up, all the archbishops in Lower Canada shall not deprive my boy of
his wife. Now, be sensible, for once! Go back to your room, and I will
do my best for you."
And poor Adéline, like a naughty child, went upstairs to her room.
That day Amelia had a long letter to write. She liked letter-writing,
for she imagined she had a talent for affairs, and this is what she
wrote:
"Long Branch.
"My Dear Madame Rouget,
"I have been so startled this morning by the totally undreamt of
appearance of your daughter in company with my boy Randolph. They
informed me that they stopped over at New York and were married, and
have now come on here to favour me with a visit during their
honeymoon. I am powerless, therefore, to separate them, as otherwise I
would. I hasten to inform you of this, judging from my own feelings
that you will be thankful to learn that your daughter, on her
disappearance, has fallen into good hands. At the same time, permit me
to assure you, dear Madame Rouget, that this--I scarcely know how to
express my feelings on the subject--this elopement is none of my
devising. I neither instigated, assisted, nor approve it. The children
are of different faiths, and I fear poor Adéline has no fortune, and
no prospect of ever having any. She has come here claiming my maternal
care, and, actually, she has not a gown fit to appear at breakfast in.
I have recommended her to keep her room, and, if you are the
reasonable person I have believed you, I shall see that she stays
there till she has received her mother's forgiveness for this very
foolish step. Indeed, it is superabundantly foolish, and you may
assure M. Rouget, from me, that I deplore it far more than he possibly
can. To think that my cherished son should have married a French
woman, and without _dot_. It is mortifying. When there are differences
of religion there ought to be compensation. M. Rouget will reply that
it is owing to Randolph's father that his daughter is not suitably
dowered. Perhaps so; I shall not express an opinion; but, for myself,
I feel untrammelled by such a consideration. When I was married
myself, my dearest father saw that I did not go to my husband
penniless. He availed himself of our admirable Lower Canada law, and I
was _séparée des biens_. I have my own income, which no one can touch,
and my own house at St. Euphrase, bought with my own money. If La
Hache--what is left of it--were settled on your daughter in the same
way, it might prove a blessing some day.
"And this brings me to my purpose in writing you. Dear Madame Rouget,
had we not better make a virtue of necessity and accept an
accomplished fact? It would be better, surely, to have our children
properly married in a church than merely for them to have been buckled
together by a Yankee magistrate. My boy insists that M. Rouget shall
assure him on this point before he returns to Canada. His wife, as he
calls her, being under legal age, if any difficulty is made, he
threatens to continue living in this country, which I am sure you
would regret as much as I shall. As to their plans, the young people
can live with me till some employment is found for Randolph. The
Minister of Drainage and Irrigation should be able to find him
something.
"As to their religion, they have already settled that question for
themselves, having adopted civil marriage. Had Randolph's suit
progressed, as was at one time contemplated, it is probable that, as
he is no bigot, he might have acquiesced in any wishes of his
_fiancée_ or her family; but now they have forbidden the match, and
yet it has taken place. I will not consent to any disrespect being now
shown to our venerable Church of England, and, indeed, I have never
been able to understand how one section of the Catholic Church can
claim superiority over another. No doubt when the present difficulty
shall have been arranged, the young couple, who appear devotedly
attached to each other, will grow into each other's views, and both be
of the same communion. Meanwhile, I am aware that in your church there
are difficulties connected with mixed marriages; but his grace the
archbishop, as I have been informed, holds discretionary power to
grant a dispensation for sufficient reason. I am confident his grace
will see such reasons in the present case, as otherwise our hapless
children will be condemned to remain in this most undevout republic,
and may become the prey of no one knows what pernicious sect.
"Assuring you of my entire sympathy, and begging that you will not
defer your reply, for in truth the hotel bills at Lone Branch for a
party of three are enough to make one shudder, believe me,
"Dear Madame Rouget,
"Yours in parallel tribulation,
"Amelia Jordan."
"Now!" cried the lady, throwing down her pen; "I defy them to pretend
that _we_ wanted their alliance!" Then she read the letter over,
frowning at it critically the while.
"It is an impertinent letter--or insolent, rather; but what is one to
do? If one shows a tittle of respect they take it as their due, and
become so hoity-toity one can do nothing with them."
The letter duly reached its destination, and was fumed and growled
over by magnates both of Church and State. Nothing could be done,
however, and, therefore, like prudent people, they yielded--yielded,
too, with a very tolerable grace; and Amelia returned to St. Euphrase
triumphant, leading her children in her suite, and with a vastly
heightened opinion of her own cleverness.