Mr. Erwyn, left alone, smiled at his own reflection in the mirror;
rearranged his ruffles with a deft and shapely hand; consulted his watch;
made sure that the padding which enhanced the calves of his most notable
legs was all as it should be; seated himself and hummed a merry air, in
meditative wise; and was in such posture when the crimson hangings that
shielded the hall-door quivered and broke into tumultuous waves and yielded
up Miss Dorothy Allonby.
Being an heiress, Miss Allonby was by an ancient custom brevetted a great
beauty; and it is equitable to add that the sourest misogynist could hardly
have refused, pointblank, to countersign the commission. They said of
Dorothy Allonby that her eyes were as large as her bank account, and nearly
as formidable as her tongue; and it is undeniable that on provocation there
was in her speech a tang of acidity, such (let us say) as renders a salad
none the less palatable. In a word, Miss Allonby pitied the limitations of
masculine humanity more readily than its amorous pangs, and cuddled her
women friends as she did kittens, with a wary and candid apprehension of
their power to scratch; and decision was her key-note; continually she knew
to the quarter-width of a cobweb what she wanted, and invariably she got
it.
Such was the person who, with a habitual emphasis which dowagers found
hoydenish and all young men adorable, demanded without prelude:
"Heavens! What can it be, Mr. Erwyn, that has cast Mother into this
unprecedented state of excitement?"
"What, indeed?" said he, and bowed above her proffered hand.
"For like a hurricane, she burst into my room and cried, 'Mr. Erwyn
has something of importance to declare to you--why did you put on that
gown?--bless you, my child--' all in one eager breath; then kissed me, and
powdered my nose, and despatched me to you without any explanation. And
why?" said Miss Allonby.
"Why, indeed?" said Mr. Erwyn.
"It is very annoying," said she, decisively.
"Sending you to me?" said Mr. Erwyn, a magnitude of reproach in his voice.
"That," said Miss Allonby, "I can pardon--and easily. But I dislike all
mysteries, and being termed a child, and being--"
"Yes?" said Mr. Erwyn.
"--and being powdered on the nose," said Miss Allonby, with firmness. She
went to the mirror, and, standing on the tips of her toes, peered anxiously
into its depths. She rubbed her nose, as if in disapproval, and frowned,
perhaps involuntarily pursing up her lips,--which Mr. Erwyn intently
regarded, and then wandered to the extreme end of the apartment, where he
evinced a sudden interest in bric-à-brac.
"Is there any powder on my nose?" said Miss Allonby.
"I fail to perceive any," said Mr. Erwyn.
"Come closer," said she.
"I dare not," said he.
Miss Allonby wheeled about. "Fie!" she cried; "one who has served against
the French, [Footnote: This was not absolutely so. Mr. Erwyn had, however,
in an outburst of patriotism, embarked, as a sort of cabin passenger, with
his friend Sir John Morris, and possessed in consequence some claim to
share such honor as was won by the glorious fiasco of Dungeness.] and
afraid of powder!"
"It is not the powder that I fear."
"What, then?" said she, in sinking to the divan beside the disordered
tea-table.
"There are two of them," said Mr. Erwyn, "and they are so red--"
"Nonsense!" cried Miss Allonby, with heightened color.
"'Tis best to avoid temptation," said Mr. Erwyn, virtuously.
"Undoubtedly," she assented, "it is best to avoid having your ears boxed."
Mr. Erwyn sighed as if in the relinquishment of an empire. Miss Allonby
moved to the farther end of the divan.
"What was it," she demanded, "that you had to tell me?"
"'Tis a matter of some importance--" said Mr. Erwyn.
"Heavens!" said Miss Allonby, and absent-mindedly drew aside her skirts;
"one would think you about to make a declaration."
Mr. Erwyn sat down beside her, "I have been known," said he, "to do such
things."
The divan was strewn with cushions in the Oriental fashion. Miss Allonby,
with some adroitness, slipped one of them between her person and the
locality of her neighbor. "Oh!" said Miss Allonby.
"Yes," said he, smiling over the dragon-embroidered barrier; "I admit that
I am even now shuddering upon the verge of matrimony."
"Indeed!" she marvelled, secure in her fortress. "Have you selected an
accomplice?"
"Split me, yes!" said Mr. Erwyn.
"And have I the honor of her acquaintance?" said Miss Allonby.
"Provoking!" said Mr. Erwyn; "no woman knows her better."
Miss Allonby smiled. "Dear Mr. Erwyn," she stated, "this is a disclosure I
have looked for these six months."
"Split me!" said Mr. Erwyn.
"Heavens, yes!" said she. "You have been a rather dilatory lover--"
"I am inexpressibly grieved, that I should have kept you waiting--"
"--and in fact, I had frequently thought of reproaching you for your
tardiness--"
"Nay, in that case," said Mr. Erwyn, "the matter could, no doubt, have been
more expeditiously arranged."
"--since your intentions have been quite apparent."
Mr. Erwyn removed the cushion. "You do not, then, disapprove," said he, "of
my intentions?"
"Indeed, no," said Miss Allonby; "I think you will make an excellent
step-father."
The cushion fell to the floor. Mr. Erwyn replaced it and smiled.
"And so," Miss Allonby continued, "Mother, believing me in ignorance, has
deputed you to inform me of this most transparent secret? How strange is
the blindness of lovers! But I suppose," sighed Miss Allonby, "we are all
much alike."
"We?" said Mr. Erwyn, softly.
"I meant--" said Miss Allonby, flushing somewhat.
"Yes?" said Mr. Erwyn. His voice sank to a pleading cadence. "Dear child,
am I not worthy of trust?"
There was a microscopic pause.
"I am going to the Pantiles this afternoon," declared Miss Allonby, at
length, "to feed the swans."
"Ah," said Mr. Erwyn, and with comprehension; "surely, he, too, is rather
tardy."
"Oh," said she, "then you know?"
"I know," he announced, "that there is a tasteful and secluded summer-house
near the Fountain of Neptune."
"I was never allowed," said Miss Allonby, unconvincingly, "to go into
secluded summer-houses with any one; and, besides, the gardeners keep their
beer jugs there--under the biggest bench."
Mr. Erwyn beamed upon her paternally. "I was not, till this, aware," said
he, "that Captain Audaine was so much interested in ornithology. Yet what
if, even when he is seated upon that biggest bench, your Captain does not
utterly lose the head he is contributing to the _tête-à-tête_?"
"Oh, but he will," said Miss Allonby, with confidence; then she
reflectively added: "I shall have again to be painfully surprised by his
declaration, for, after all, it will only be his seventh."
"Doubtless," Mr. Erwyn considered, "your astonishment will be extreme when
you rebuke him, there above hortensial beer jugs--"
"And I shall be deeply grieved that he has so utterly misunderstood my
friendly interest in his welfare; and I shall be highly indignant after he
has--in effect, after he has--"
"But not until afterward?" said Mr. Erwyn, holding up a forefinger. "Well,
I have told you their redness is fatal to good resolutions."
"--after he has astounded me by his seventh avowal. And I shall behave
in precisely the same manner the eighth time he recurs to the repugnant
subject."
"But the ninth time?" said Mr. Erwyn.
"He has remarkably expressive eyes," Miss Allonby stated, "and really,
Mr. Erwyn, it is the most lovable creature when it raves about my
flint-heartedness and cutting its poor throat and murdering every man I
ever nodded to!"
"Ah, youth, youth!" sighed Mr. Erwyn. "Dear child, I pray you, do not
trifle with the happiness that is within your grasp! _Si jeunesse
savait_--the proverb is somewhat musty. But we who have attained the St.
Martin's summer of our lives and have grown capable of but a calm and
tempered affection at the utmost--we cannot but look wistfully upon the
raptures and ignorance of youth, and we would warn you, were it possible,
of the many dangers whereby you are encompassed. For Love is a deity that
must not be trifled with; his voice may chaunt the requiem of all which
is bravest in our mingled natures, or sound a stave of such nobility as
heartens us through life. He is kindly, but implacable; beneficent, a
bestower of all gifts upon the faithful, a bestower of very terrible
gifts upon those that flout him; and I who speak to you have seen my
own contentment blighted, by just such flippant jesting with Love's
omnipotence, before the edge of my first razor had been dulled. 'Tis true,
I have lived since in indifferent comfort; yet it is but a dreary banquet
where there is no platter laid for Love, and within the chambers of my
heart--dust-gathering now, my dear!--he has gone unfed these fifteen years
or more."
"Ah, goodness!" sighed Miss Allonby, touched by the ardor of his speech.
"And so, you have loved Mother all of fifteen years?"
"Nay, split me--!" said Mr. Erwyn.
"Your servant, sir," said the voice of Lady Allonby; "I trust you young
people have adjusted matters to your satisfaction?"