THE WEDDING MORNING.—DISRUPTION OF HARMONY, AND THE NEW
ACQUAINTANCE.—THE CONCLUSION.
Accident, strange to say, had taken our old acquaintance, Admiral Bell,
to the house of a lawyer, there to transact some business, as well as
to lodge at his house. The fact was, the old admiral hearing that a
brother officer was in trouble—one who had shared with him the dangers
of the sea and the fight—he came to town to see, himself, what could
be done; and finding the affair beyond his comprehension, or, at least
beyond his power of personal interference; that, in fact, it required
the aid of a third party, and that third person must, of necessity, be
a lawyer, he determined to employ the man who happened to be conversant
with the circumstances of the case, and this was no other than Mrs.
Meredith’s friend, Twissel.
However, the admiral’s good will towards the race who follow the law,
not being so great as his philanthropy, he determined to watch every
stage of the proceedings, and to permit nothing to be done without his
knowledge, and to see that nothing was neglected.
Hearing from Mr. Twissel the affair that was to take place, a sudden
crotchet entered his head, that he should like to be present at the
ceremony, and he broached it to Mr. Twissel, who turned to his daughter
to ascertain if it were at all possible.
That young lady was desirous of shining among her acquaintances, as
one who could introduce an admiral, and who did not like the idea of
Margaret Meredith being so fine a lady as she now attempted to make
herself appear; indeed, she would have been willing to have assisted
in raising her some species of mortification; she felt more than true
pleasure in the disaster that would be the cause of such feelings.
There was a very general dislike to Miss Margaret Meredith, and the
truth was, she was much more than usually arrogant and proud, and took
all imaginable methods of vexing and mortifying those around her.
But there is little to be said about that; the consent was brought back
to the attorney, who felt somewhat elated at it, and communicated it to
the admiral, with some remarks upon the kindness and condescension of
the persons who had done him so much honour.
This, however, only had the effect of drawing from the admiral, the
word, swab, and then he became silent and did not appear to be at
all taken aback by the knowledge that an East India colonel was the
bridegroom on the occasion, and one of very large property and singular
behaviour.
The evening before the marriage was a busy one. The young ladies had to
arrange and to re-arrange all their finery; and the bride herself had
the task of seeing how she became her bridal dress, to do an infinity
of other little matters, and to contemplate the change that was about
to take place in so short a period. A few hours more, and she would
become a wife.
The colonel, himself, did not in the least fall off in his ardour; he
was particularly anxious it should, on no account, be delayed after the
day fixed. A later day he appeared to have the utmost objection to;
indeed, he declared he would do anything if it came but a day or two
earlier.
However, this was considered impossible, and the young lady was
permitted to have her way, though it was expressly stipulated that it
should not be an hour after the appointed time, for he declared himself
dying with impatience to call her his own.
“Now, ma,” said Margaret, as she sat talking to her mother the night
before; “now, ma, I hope you will not give any of these people
countenance when I am gone, and throw off their acquaintance; you will
be firm on this point for my sake.”
“I will, my dear,” said Mrs. Meredith, “I will.”
“Then, when I come back, I shall know more of the colonel’s mind
about where we shall live, and how we shall live. He must let me have
something handsome; I have no doubt but what he will; he does not
appear to be a close-handed man, quite the reverse; and, all things
considered, we shall be able to make a very agreeable living out of it.”
“Why, yes, my dear, I cannot doubt it; he is, no doubt, a man of
property and can well afford us enough, and some sum as pin-money;
indeed, he is too liberal now to be otherwise by and bye; perhaps
he will keep on this house, and pay for proper domestics, and
keep a carriage. What a change it will be for us all, and how the
neighbourhood will stare!”
“Yes, ma, they will; but suppose we were to reside out of town, we
should have our carriage driving into town, as a matter of course, and
now and then sleep in town when we made up a party, or went to the
theatre.”
“Yes, my dear. What time shall you see the colonel in the morning?”
“Not before I am ready to go.”
“To church? Well, but you will have some breakfast with him?”
“No, he will be in his own room, I dare say, till late; he will scarce
present himself before the time has come to start; you know his
habits, he does not get up very early, and I do not expect to see much
alteration. At eleven o’clock we are to be at church. We breakfast at
nine, you know, so we shall have time.”
“Oh, he is sure to be down to breakfast, there can be no doubt about
that; indeed, he must be called for the purpose; of course, there must
be some deviation from a regular rule upon extraordinary occasions like
the present.”
“Well, well, there may be; but have you given all the invitations you
intended to give?—and have you got any answers to them so as to ensure
their attendance?”
“Oh, yes, that is all safe and fixed; we shall have a good many here by
half-past eight in the morning, at the latest; but you must contrive
to let me have money very soon, or to send me some up, as I am getting
very short, for I have laid out a great deal of money lately, and much
more than I could, under other circumstances, spare or afford.”
“Of course, ma, you will not lose anything by this; I shall take care
of you; not a penny that you have laid out but what shall be repaid,
and with a handsome return; but do not think about this, it grows late
and I must to sleep.”
“Do, my dear, and I’ll wake you in time in the morning.”
• • • • •
The morning came, and some of them were about early. Mrs. Meredith
was up, and so was Margaret. She could not lie so late as usual. She
had done much, and yet she had so much to do still. It was really
astonishing to see what there was to do—no one would have believed it,
and even Margaret became surprised.
The morning was now fairly come; the servants were about in the house,
and the neighbours were up and about; she could hear her mother chiding
and scolding; she could hear the sound of her voice, and she began to
believe there was now no time to lose.
The hour of nine was now gone. The knocker and the guests had been
heard for the last half hour at the door, and she could hear the
voices of the guests below, some of whom spoke audibly enough; then
they soon after descended to the breakfast-room, which, by the way, was
the drawing-room, as there was not enough room below.
The colonel, at the same moment, entered the room, and a vast number of
congratulations were given and received, from side to side, with the
utmost urbanity and good will. The colonel, for the first time, had
thrown on one side the green shade which he usually wore, but he looked
remarkably pale, though he had still the looks of a hearty and healthy
man.
The paleness, which seemed to be constitutional, was very
extraordinary; but that was explained by the colonel saying, that he
had been so ever since he had the yellow fever, which had had that
effect upon his complexion.
There was much rejoicing at the occurrences that were now in progress;
everybody praised the viands; everything was of the best and first-rate
quality, and there were many attendants, which made it so much the
better and the more comfortable, as everybody had an abundance of
everything.
Mrs. Meredith now shone in the greatest triumph; there was none so
great and grand. She patronized everybody, and appeared remarkably
condescending, considering she was the mother of a daughter who was
about to marry a retired East India service colonel. There were few who
did not understand fully the nature of the condescension of the lady
herself; besides, she was the presiding goddess of the feast.
Among those who had been invited was the Miss Smith and Mr. Smith. This
was the young lady who had been so terrified at the attack that had
been made upon her the first night that Colonel Deverill lodged there,
and on that night he was so terribly vexed and disturbed.
Mrs. Meredith had invited them, because they were people of means,
and Miss Smith could not now do any mischief, because the colonel was
pledged to Margaret too far to retract; and as there were several
young females, why, the more the better, because it would divert his
attention.
Miss Smith, however, came out of curiosity, and because it was a
wedding party, which is the delight and admiration of all young
females, and Miss Smith was no exception. Mr. Smith was civil and
polite, and hid his internal dislike to the colonel, which he felt and
could not account for it; neither did his daughter—she had a great
aversion to him, but at the same time suppressed it.
The colonel was courtly and complimentary, and made civil speeches
to such as spoke to him; indeed, he never for a moment lost his
self-possession; he stood in a less stooping posture than usual, and he
was considered a tall, handsome man—a fine man.
“Mr. Twissel,” said the colonel, “I am happy to see you—especially
gratified to see you—you will be witness of my happiness to-day—you
will mark my progress in this affair, and learn what lesson it may
teach. That is the way we should pass through life, Mr. Twissel, is it
not? Gain knowledge by experience, and become, in old age, a wise man.”
“Why, yes; oh, yes,” said Twissel, who felt there was something in the
remark that touched him to the quick, and he winced under the smart;
but he thought it might have been accidentally given, and the colonel
was quite ignorant of his disasters; and yet it was a very home thrust,
without any previous introduction to it, that made it all the more
uncomfortable, and he merely replied,—
“I am happy to see you, Colonel Deverill, and to see you so happy, and
the young lady, who, I am sure, deserves to be happy; in fact, I think
you both deserve happiness; I am sure, I wish you every imaginable joy,
and it gives me great pleasure in seeing it.”
“I am sure you do, sir; but you do not seem to eat and enjoy yourself.”
“I am so occupied in witnessing the felicity of others, that I had
forgotten it; moreover, I expect a friend to be present who happens to
be late; he is quite a stranger to all present, and therefore I wished
to countenance him as much as I could on that account.”
“Then I will not press you now; perhaps you’ll do me the favour of
introducing your friend to me when he comes, yourself, and I shall be
most happy to receive him.”
“Thank you, colonel, you do me much honour; I will accept of your great
kindness, and do myself the pleasure of presenting him to you, and to
Miss Meredith, whom I hope to see soon changed in name.”
“I hope the time will now be very short. What hour is it?”
“Half-past nine,” said the attorney, consulting his watch.
“At eleven we must be at the church. Well, if we leave at half-past
ten, then we shall be there in ample time; I would it were over and
that we were on our journey.”
“Ah! you are impatient, colonel,” said Margaret, as she came up to him.
“My dear angel!” replied Deverill, bowing, “how could I be otherwise
when you are the object of my affections? It is not impatience to leave
this good company—quite the reverse. But it is because the change of
scene, travelling, and change of air will do you much good, and is, I
can see, quite necessary for you.”
“I think it will do me no harm,” said Margaret; “but here comes ma, who
really looks tired.”
“Well, my dear, I am a little fatigued, but you know I shall have ample
time to recover myself. I shall have nothing to disturb my repose.”
“Indeed, Mrs. Meredith!” said the colonel; “I am sure we must alter
that; we must find some other kind of employment for you, and not
suffer you to remain hidden at home. You have catered so well for us
this morning, that I am sure you are a most valuable acquisition to
a household; with such a superintendence as yours, we should have
everything in the utmost plenty, and at the proper moment.”
“Ah, colonel! you are flattering—you are.”
“We shall soon show that we are not flattering, I hope,” said the
colonel. “My dear madam, you are the life and soul of the whole
company. What should we have done without you? I hope all our friends
here are happy and comfortable. I do not know them well enough to pay
them all that attention and respect they deserve.”
“Exactly, colonel; they all know that well enough, and are fully alive
to the honour you do them in being present in the midst of them.”
“Who is that young lady who was looking here just now?” inquired the
colonel.
“Who? the young lady with the elderly gentleman by her side?”
“Yes; I should like to be introduced to her,” said the colonel.
“Oh! certainly,” said Mrs. Meredith, vexed in her own heart that she
had invited her and her father, now, for she had no wish that any one
present should be future acquaintances; but there was no help for
it; she must introduce them, and accordingly she went up, with the
best grace she could put on, to them both, to request they would be
introduced to the colonel, who desired the honour of their acquaintance.
There was no hesitation, of course, and they at once advanced to meet
him, and were introduced to the colonel as Miss and Mr. Smith.
“I am most happy to see you, sir,” said the colonel; “and the young
lady here is your daughter, I can see, by the family likeness she bears
to you.”
Miss Smith, however, could not repress a convulsive shudder as she
looked upon the colonel. It might have been his complexion, or it might
have been that his features brought some terrible recollections to her
mind; but she could not, for a moment or so, speak.
“The young lady is ill!” said the colonel, who noticed the emotion.
“What is the matter, Clara, my dear?” said Mr. Smith; “what’s the
matter—you are ill?”
“No, no,” said Miss Smith; “it was a—a—sudden—sudden dizziness that
came across me. I dare say I shall be better by and bye. I am sorry it
should have come upon me now.”
“Ah! my dear young lady,” said Colonel Deverill, drawing himself up
to his full height, and looking gravely, but speaking with the utmost
courtesy, “you have nothing to regret respecting the occasion; the
illness itself is a matter of regret to us all, I am sure; however, let
us hope it will be but temporary, and that you will be able to wish me
joy, and my beautiful bride.”
“You see, Colonel Deverill, ever since the night she was disturbed by
the strange attack of what she believes to have been a vampyre, or
something that had the form of a man, and a taste for blood, she has
been affected thus.”
“Dear me!” said the colonel; “what a shocking thing—a very shocking
affair! I think perhaps, the young lady is subject to illness,” and he
touched his forehead, as much as to intimate an insinuation that the
young lady might be somewhat affected in her intellects.
“No, sir; quite the reverse,” said her father. “I myself saw a tall,
gaunt figure gliding away, which felled me in an instant, and I lay
half a minute stunned.”
“God bless me!” said the colonel; “this affair is quite romantic! If a
German writer had such material by him, what would he not make of it?”
There had been a loud knocking at the door, and some one announced; but
nobody took any notice of it. Colonel Deverill did not hear it, but
stood talking to Mr. Smith; while Admiral Bell was introduced by Mr.
Twissel, who led him towards the group, explaining what had happened.
“By G—d!” said the admiral; “d’ye see how they are crowding about the
poor girl? Why, they’d extinguish a fire—if there was one! Why don’t
you give the young woman air? If you don’t stand on one side, I’ll put
a whole broadside into you, as I would into a Frenchman!”
This singular address produced an immediate sensation, and many moved
away.
“Colonel Deverill,” said Mr. Twissel, “allow me to introduce
my friend Admiral Bell to you. Admiral Bell, this is Colonel
Deverill.—Eh?—oh!—eh?”
These latter exclamations were uttered in consequence of the extreme
surprise depicted on the countenances of both parties. Admiral Bell’s
surprise was nothing out of the way; but that of Colonel Deverill was a
matter of consternation to many of them. He stepped back a pace or two,
and then his lips parted, as though he would speak, but he could not;
he panted—his eye glared, and his nostrils dilated.
“Shatter my mainmast—upset the cabouse—turn my state-cabin into a
cockpit, and the quarter-deck to a gambling-booth to the whole ship’s
company!”
“What’s all this about?” exclaimed Mrs. Meredith.
“Oh, that odious man!—who is he?—what is——”
“Why, ma’am, I’m old Admiral Bell; very well known for having beaten
the French, and the terror of all vampyres. Why, look at the swab—but
you ain’t going to get off this time!”
“What is the matter, dear colonel?” said Margaret. “You are
ill—speak—what is the matter?”
“Ah!” said the admiral; “let him speak, and he’ll tell you he’s no
colonel, and his name ain’t Deverill, or, if it be, it ain’t his only
name; he is Varney the vampyre!”
“A vampyre!” said Miss Smith, starting up with a shriek; “a vampyre!
Good heavens! I was not mistaken, then; that must be the man!” and she
sank back in her father’s arms.
“What! has he been at any of his tricks again!” exclaimed the admiral,
and he made a stride towards, him; but Varney—for it was he—avoided him
by stepping aside, and placing some other person between himself and
the admiral, and then he said,—
“What this madman will say you will not listen to—you——.”
“Madman! well, I’m hanged; call me mad!” said the admiral. “I wish I
had my sword by my side, and I would teach you how a madman can fight;
but you are not going; I have something to say to you first. If he’s
going to marry that young lady, all I can say is, she will be food for
him—she’ll never live till to-morrow; her blood will make his pale face
ruddy!”
Varney stood no longer; but seeing many around him who appeared to have
an inclination to stop his passage, he suddenly made to the door, which
he secured for a moment on the outside, and then in another he was
clear of the house.
This was no sooner done, than all present, who were staring at each
other in mute amazement, and unable to account for what had happened,
looked at the new comer, the admiral, who immediately began to relate
enough of Varney that made it apparent to all present that he was not
what he represented himself to be.
• • • • •
Amid the commiserations of their friends, and their jeers, Mrs.
Meredith sold all her furniture, and, with her daughter, retired
to some little place, where they opened a small shop, to eke out a
living by such means. They were unable even to pay many debts they
had contracted on account of this marriage, and they were, moreover,
ashamed to be seen by their former acquaintance.