A NEW CHARACTER.—MISS TWISSEL’S VISITOR.—THE INVITATIONS.
Nothing could exceed the smoothness and easiness of the course of
things in the wooing of Margaret Meredith; all things appeared so well
ordered. People were all of one mind; and it is needless to say that
the young lady was elated. She was elated, and we might not be out of
the way in saying she was elated overmuch, and knew not how to keep the
exhibition of her joy within proper bounds; she could not help showing
she was to be the lady of a colonel.
Mrs. Meredith, too, was well pleased. What could she do but feel proud
at the change that was about to take place? She would go to watering
places in the summer, and remain in town during the winter; they would
lead a very fashionable life—they would be of the elite, and all their
acquaintances they would be compelled to cut, or, at the most, only
speak to them when they were unseen by any others.
It is astonishing how a change of circumstances produces a change in
our habits and feelings; how it happens that those who were considered
respectable acquaintances suddenly become the objects of our aversion,
and we begin to devise all sorts of methods for evading recognition, or
of speaking to them when we can avoid it.
This arises merely from the change in one’s circumstances, which
causes us to look for something much beyond what we have been used to;
but, unfortunately, it brings ingratitude often in the train of its
consequences.
“My dear,” said Mrs. Meredith to her daughter Margaret, “we really
cannot know the people at the corner house over the way, who invited us
to their parties.”
“Oh, dear, no, we cannot think of it; but we must get rid of them the
best way we can. You see they will not be quite the thing for us when
we come to have our change of circumstances, you may depend upon it; it
will become necessary to weed one’s acquaintance.”
“Yes, that must be done.” said Mrs. Meredith.
“And the sooner we set about it the better; for the more intimate we
continue now, the more trouble will there be of getting rid of them
afterwards.”
“Certainly; we need not accept of their invitation for to-night.”
“Oh, dear, no; I have dismissed the whole affair from my mind, and
there is no need even of thinking of it any more. I shall not even
think of sending them an answer; the consequence will be, they will be
angry, and expect we shall go and apologise, and when they find we
don’t, but that we try to get rid of them, they will be baffled, and
the whole affair is settled.”
“That is a very good plan, my dear. Then, you know, there are the
Morgans; we must positively get rid of them. It will never do to have
those young men hanging about; the colonel would do something dreadful,
to say the least of it. Why, he would shoot them, and perhaps have a
separation, who knows?”
“But then I should be entitled to a maintenance.”
“You would, my dear; but unfortunately you well know you have no
property, an that, added to an early separation, would put it in his
power to offer you and compel your acceptance of a very small sum,
which he may pay as he pleases—weekly, monthly, or quarterly.”
“I see, ma; but we will run no risk of that kind of thing. Moreover,
there would be those girls, they would be a nuisance hanging about the
colonel.”
“No doubt, and the cause of unhappiness in the extreme. Better to leave
all such people; you are a great deal better without them. Why, I tell
you what, you will be at no loss of company or acquaintances, you will
find they will be sure to spring up; property is sure to enable you to
choose those whom you will have, and whom you will not—the reason is
obvious enough. Moreover, like loves like, you know, and people with
means soon find out people who have none.”
“Yes, ma, and those who have plenty; besides, a colonel, and a man
of rank and standing—and everybody knows that a colonel in the India
service is a rich man—and that would bring us all into the best of
society. Only think of my going to Bath, Bristol, and Brighton, in
their seasons. Of course we couldn’t keep company with people who can’t
afford to go to some fashionable place at least once in a year.”
“Oh, dear, no; certainly not, my dear; but there is no need of our
troubling ourselves about that matter; we shall only go when the
colonel goes, and we shan’t be seen without him, and he’ll be a
constraint upon them; and, therefore, where they find themselves
uncomfortable, they will not come again.”
“That will be a very good plan, for it will appear as their own faults;
but, at the same time, I do not trust to that upon all occasions; it
might fail, and then we should have to take some unpleasant steps to
get rid of them, which is certainly easily done, but unpleasant.”
“Yes, yes, certainly,” replied the mother; and then suddenly, as a
knock and ring came upon the door, Margaret said, “Dear me, who is
that?—I hope none of these people whom I have been speaking about—it
will be a dreadful nuisance to all; especially when I am to be married
in three days more.”
“You needn’t be seen, Margaret; I’ll see them.”
“Do, ma; and I’ll go up stairs. But let’s hear who it is first, who
comes to-day.”
At that moment she heard the door open, and her own name pronounced,
and at once knew the speaker, and she said to her mother,—
“Oh, ma, ’tis Miss Twissel, my bridesmaid; what an infliction! but,
then, I must see her. She has come, I suppose, to consult me about some
new gown, or the way in which she and her friend will have their hair
done up on the occasion—nothing more important, I dare say.”
“Very well, my dear; they had better come in—send them in pray,” she
added to the servant. “Oh, Miss Twissel, how glad we are to see you.”
“Now, really,” said Miss Twissel; “how kind you are, for I am sure you
speak the truth. Oh, Margaret, don’t you feel all of a flutter?”
“I don’t, indeed; I am very comfortable. I hope you are all quite
well—don’t put yourself out of the way on this occasion; you need not,
I assure you.”
“Oh, I have got my pa to give us new gowns, and some lace; but I did
not mean to tell you that—I and Martha had agreed that that should be a
secret between us; that we should not say anything about it to any one;
but surprise you on your wedding morning.”
“Ah, you have been at a great deal of trouble and expense about this
affair, I am sure. You really must not think I wish you to do all this;
I really don’t know how to scold you enough, for I shall be dressed
very plainly indeed.”
“Oh, but then you are the bride—we ain’t, you know, and that makes the
difference; besides which, we have a visitor come up to London to see
us.”
“Indeed! some young gentleman, I suppose, whose heart you want to run
away with, and so have another wedding, and upon your own account this
time; and, perhaps, you are helping Miss Martha to a husband. What is
he—a physician or a divine?”
“Neither—but, I will tell you, he is only an old man.”
“An old man! What a sweetheart you have chosen, to be sure! but, I dare
say you have your reason as well as other people. But have you known
him long?”
“No, we haven’t done so; but, the fact is, pa’ and he have had some
business together, and they are very much in each others company. He’s
a man, however, of great rank, though a very odd man to talk to, I
assure you, but a man of rank and property.”
“Indeed! Oh, tell me what he is—a lord?”
“Well, he is not much short of it; and he is higher than a great many
lords, I assure you. Why, he’s no less than an admiral—only, I wasn’t
to say anything about it.”
“Oh, will he be with you when my marriage takes place?”
“Yes, he will; and I wanted to know, as he will be much with my father,
and as a visitor, shall we be intruding to bring him here to grace your
wedding?”
“Oh, yes; by all means,” said Margaret, who thought the presence of an
old man could in no way interfere with any of her schemes; besides, a
man of rank, such as an admiral, would greatly increase the noise of
her marriage. Indeed, here was probably a new acquaintance with whom
she could be intimate; besides, it was some one of consequence on her
side that the great man was to come, and would, she thought, add some
lustre to herself.
“Well, then, I would not ask him until I had seen you, because it might
turn out you would be displeased; and, as I have not done so, I cannot
tell you whether he will come or not. He’s a strange man, and I won’t
ask him until the night before.”
“Very well; we shall be quite happy to see him. I dare say he’ll come,
if you tell him who’s going to be married. Indeed, if he’s likely to
come, I’ll invite a few friends to meet him; but I won’t say anything
to anybody about it.”
“No; let it be a surprise to them all; and let nobody know whom they
are going to meet.”
“That will be delightful, certainly—very delightful. What a surprise
it will be to them to be introduced to colonel this and admiral that.
I declare I long for the day on account of the confusion that some
persons will be in.”
“I must now bid you good bye; for I’ve got to call upon my dressmaker,
to give her some orders.”
“You will stop and take tea with us? Surely you won’t run away.”
“Oh, but I must,” said Miss Twissel, and so said Miss Martha, and after
much pressing and refusing, they parted, and left Margaret filled by
other thoughts than those she had so recently held.
“Ma’,” said she, after a long pause, “do you know what I have been
thinking of?”
“No, my dear, I do not.”
“Well, then, it is this, that after all, we may as well make a bit of
a figure for the last time. That we will have some friends who will
figure upon that occasion and no other.”
“What makes you think so, my dear Margaret?”
“Why, you see, ma’, we are likely to have a distinguished visitor, and
we may as well have as many as we can; their number and dresses will
look well, and as we shall leave town immediately, I don’t see that we
shall be at any future time annoyed by their visits. Indeed, it will be
retiring from their society after giving them a feast.”
“Well, to be sure, I never thought of that,” said her mother—“I never
thought of it. What shall we do now—how can we provide for so many?”
“Send an order to a pastry cook to provide breakfast for so many,
whether they come or not, and then we need trouble ourselves very
little about giving them time. If we tell them about the day before,
they will have all in readiness for us.”
“Well, well—and as for the expense, it will be of no consequence.”
“None,” said Margaret. “I shall be able to pay that and others, if we
owe any. But now comes the job of inviting visitors, and we must only
invite those who will make up a show, dress well, and pass off on the
occasion for fashionable people.”
“Oh, as for that, there are many people who never had a penny in their
lives to call their own, may be very fashionable-looking people, and
pass for men of a thousand a year, to say nothing of a lord looking
like a workman, and the like, which is common enough.”
“Then we’ll settle it at that point, ma’, and you had better
superintend the invitations and the other affair—the breakfast, I mean.”
“Very well, my dear; you know that I have no objection. I have seen
such occasions before, and I well know what they ought to be; therefore
you may safely rely upon my judgment in such an affair as that at
least.”
“And about the selection of friends—visitors, I mean.”
“That you may also leave to me,” said Mrs. Meredith; “and, depend upon
it, I will not invite one party whom we shall have cause to say we are
sorry they came; though, you know, every allowance would be made for
them by the colonel or admiral, if he come. By the way, I would not
tell the colonel a word about it, for sometimes the land service hates
the sea service, and the latter often laugh at the former; so it will
be safest to say nothing.”
“No, ma, I won’t—I didn’t intend to do so.”
Thus both mother and daughter had suddenly changed their views of what
was to take place on the day of the intended marriage. They were now
resolved they would have as many of their old friends as they could
get together upon the occasion, to cause the affair to go off with all
the _eclat_ that it was possible; it would be the last ball of the
season—that is, it would be the last she ever intended to give them,
and that would be the last occasion upon which they would meet.
Her respect for Miss Twissel was augmented by the knowledge that she
had an admiral for a friend or a visitor, it didn’t matter which. Who
could tell what might happen? Mightn’t Miss Twissel marry an admiral,
as ugly as she was, as well as she should a colonel? but there were
many reasons why she should. She, too, might have had some means of
entangling his heart; perhaps, after all, she only came there with him
for the purpose of showing him off.
“At all events,” said Margaret, to herself; “at all events, he is one
that we can keep on terms with; and it will look well to be acquainted
with some person of rank. I am, at all events, well pleased it has
happened as it has.”
Mrs. Meredith, on the other hand, appeared to think her daughter’s
marriage with a colonel, ought to be celebrated by no common
rejoicings; that, indeed, the marriage ought to go off with as much
disturbance to the whole neighbourhood, as it was possible to make.
This could not be better effected than in the manner we have referred
to; namely, inviting a number of persons to come and be present at the
ceremony, and to take a late breakfast, and to wish the bride joy, to
see her depart, and then to lose sight of her, as she hoped, for ever.
This purpose Mrs. Meredith ably carried out, and she succeeded in
inviting about two or three-and-twenty persons together; and any person
who had a carriage and would come in it, was sure of an invitation—that
was a passport to the marriage feast.
“Well,” she muttered to herself, as she reckoned up the number of
persons whom she expected to be present upon the occasion—“well, I
don’t think I have omitted any one who ought to be present, nor have I
invited any one who ought not to be here. I shall have a busy day of
it—very busy day; but the result is everything; so long as the marriage
takes place, and we are really married to an East Indian colonel, why
we shall do, there can be no doubt of it.”
This was a consolatory reflection. There was but little else, indeed,
that could be done—little, indeed. The cook had the orders for the
entertainment the next day; they had but little to do in the household
with that; indeed, they had extra hands, lest there should be any need
of them, as she would not have anything go wrong upon such an occasion,
for worlds.
But there was one thing that gave her some satisfaction, and that
was, Mr. Twissel had not been to them lately to give any doubtful
counsels; ever since she had announced her intention of permitting the
marriage to take place, he had not been to express any doubts about the
matter; but had been a mere spectator, doing all that was necessary.
He had forgotten all objection, and never made one. He was perfectly
quiescent; but would now and then look very hard at the colonel, but
that was all; he never discovered anything, and all was smooth and
pleasant.