"IT'S--THE--THE WIDOW! IT'S MRS.--FINNIMORE!!!"
Had a bombshell burst--but I forbear. That comparison is, I believe,
somewhat hackneyed. The reader will therefore be good enough to
appropriate the point of it, and understand that the shock of this
intelligence was so overpowering, that I was again rendered speechless.
"You see," said Jack, after a long and painful silence, "it all
originated out of an infernal mistake. Not that I ought to be sorry for
it, though. Mrs. Finnimore, of course, is a deuced fine woman. I've
been round there ever so long, and seen ever so much of her; and all
that sort of thing, you know. Oh, yes," he added, dismally; "I ought to
be glad, and, of course, I'm a deuced lucky fellow, and all that;
but--"
He paused, and an expressive silence followed that "but."
"Well, how about the mistake?" I asked.
"Why, I'll tell you. It was that confounded party at Doane's. You know
what a favorite of mine little Louie Berton is--the best little thing
that ever breathed, the prettiest, the--full of fun, too. Well, we're
awfully thick, you know; and she chaffed me all the evening about my
engagement with Miss Phillips. She had heard all about it, and is crazy
to find out whether it's going on yet or not. We had great fun--she
chaffing and questioning, and I trying to fight her off. Well; the
dancing was going on, and I'd been separated from her for some time,
and was trying to find her again, and I saw some one standing in a
recess of one of the windows, with a dress that was exactly like
Louie's. Her back was turned to me, and the curtains half concealed
her. I felt sure that it was Louie. So I sauntered up, and stood for a
moment or two behind her. She was looking out of the window; one hand
was on the ledge, and the other was by her side, half behind her. I
don't know what got into me; but I seized her hand, and gave it a
gentle squeeze.
"Well, you know, I expected that it would be snatched away at once. I
felt immediately an awful horror at my indiscretion, and would have
given the world not to have done it. I expected to see Louie's flashing
eyes hurling indignant fire at me, and all that. But the hand didn't
move from mine at all!"
Jack uttered this last sentence with the doleful accents of a
deeply-injured man--such an accent as one would employ in telling of a
shameful trick practised upon his innocence. "It lay in mine," he
continued. "There it was; I had seized it; I had it; I held it; I had
squeezed it; and--good Lord!--Macrorie, what was I to do? I'll tell you
what I did--I squeezed it again. I thought that now it would go; but it
wouldn't. Well, I tried it again. No go. Once more--and once again. On
my soul, Macrorie, it still lay in mine. I cannot tell you what
thoughts I had. It seemed like indelicacy. It was a bitter thing to
associate indelicacy with one like little Louie; but--hang it!--there
was the awful fact. Suddenly, the thought struck me that the hand was
larger than Louie's. At that thought, a ghastly sensation came over me;
and, just at that moment, the lady herself turned her face, blushing,
arch, with a mischievous smile. To my consternation, and to my--well,
yes--to my horror, I saw Mrs. Finnimore!"
"Good Lord!" I exclaimed.
"A stronger expression would fail to do justice to the occasion," said
Jack, helping himself to a glass of beer. "For my part, the thrill of
unspeakable horror that was imparted by that shock is still strong
within me. There, my boy, you have my story. I leave the rest to your
imagination."
"The rest? Why, do you mean to say that this is all?"
"All!" cried Jack, with a wild laugh. "All? My dear boy, it is only the
faint beginning; but it implies all the rest."
"What did she say?" I asked, meekly.
"Say--say? What! After--well, never mind. Hang it! Don't drive me into
particulars. Don't you see? Why, there I was. I had made an assault,
broken through the enemy's lines, thought I was carrying every thing
before me, when suddenly I found myself confronted, not by an inferior
force, but by an overwhelming superiority of numbers--horse, foot, and
artillery, marines, and masked batteries--yes, and baggage-wagons--all
assaulting me in front, in flank, and in the rear. Pooh!"
"Don't talk shop, Jack."
"Shop? Will you be kind enough to suggest some ordinary figure of
speech that will give an idea of my situation? Plain language is quite
useless. At least, I find it so."
"But, at any rate, what did she say?"
"Why," answered Jack, in a more dismal voice than ever, "she said, 'Ah,
Jack!'--she called me Jack!--'Ah, Jack! I saw you looking for me. I
knew you would come after me.'"
"Good Heavens!" I cried; "and what did you say?"
"Say? Heavens and earth, man! what could I say? Wasn't I a gentleman?
Wasn't she a lady? Hadn't I forced her to commit herself? Didn't I have
to assume the responsibility and pocket the consequences? Say! Oh,
Macrorie! what is the use of imagination, if a man will not exercise
it?"
"And so you're in for it?" said I, after a pause.
"To the depth of several miles," said Jack, relighting his pipe, which
in the energy of his narrative had gone out.
"And you don't think of trying to back out?"
"I don't see my way. Then, again, you must know that I've been trying
to see if it wouldn't be the wisest thing for me to make the best of my
situation."
"Certainly it would, if you cannot possibly get out of it."
"But, you see, for a fellow like me it may be best not to get out of
it. You see, after all, I like her very well. She's an awfully fine
woman--splendid action. I've been round there ever so much; we've
always been deuced thick; and she's got a kind of way with her that a
fellow like me can't resist. And, then, it's time for me to begin to
think of settling down. I'm getting awfully old. I'll be twenty-three
next August. And then, you know, I'm so deuced hard up. I've got to the
end of my rope, and you are aware that the sheriff is beginning to be
familiar with my name. Yes, I think for the credit of the regiment I'd
better take the widow. She's got thirty thousand pounds, at least."
"And a very nice face and figure along with it," said I, encouragingly.
"That's a fact, or else I could never have mistaken her for poor little
Louie, and this wouldn't have happened. But, if it had only been little
Louie--well, well; I suppose it must be, and perhaps it's the best
thing."
"If it had been Louie," said I, with new efforts at encouragement, "it
wouldn't have been any better for you."
"No; that's a fact. You see, I was never so much bothered in my life. I
don't mind an ordinary scrape; but I can't exactly see my way out of
this."
"You'll have to break the news to Miss Phillips."
"And that's not the worst," said Jack, with a sigh that was like a
groan.
"Not the worst? What can be worse than that?"
"My dear boy, you have not begun to see even the outside of the
peculiarly complicated nature of my present situation. There are other
circumstances to which all these may be playfully represented as a
joke."
"Well, that is certainly a strong way of putting it."
"Couldn't draw it mild--such a situation can only be painted in strong
colors. I'll tell you in general terms what it is. I can't go into
particulars. You know all about my engagement to Miss Phillips. I'm
awfully fond of her--give my right hand to win hers, and all that sort
of thing, you know. Well, this is going to be hard on her, of course,
poor thing! especially as my last letters have been more tender than
common. But, old chap, that's all nothing. There's another lady in the
case!"
"What!" I cried, more astonished than ever.
Jack looked at me earnestly, and said, slowly and solemnly: