Think upon my grief,
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match.--SHAKSPEARE.
“But are you quite sure,” said General St. Leger, “are you quite sure
that this girl still permits Mordaunt’s addresses?”
“Sure!” cried Miss Diana St. Leger, “sure, General! I saw it with my own
eyes. They were standing together in the copse, when I, who had long had
my suspicions, crept up, and saw them; and Mr. Mordaunt held her hand,
and kissed it every moment. Shocking and indecorous!”
“I hate that man! as proud as Lucifer,” growled the General. “Shall we
lock her up, or starve her?”
“No, General, something better than that.”
“What, my love? flog her?”
“She’s too old for that, brother; we’ll marry her.”
“Marry her!”
“Yes, to Mr. Glumford; you know that he has asked her several times.”
“But she cannot bear him.”
“We’ll make her bear him, General St. Leger.”
“But if she marries, I shall have nobody to nurse me when I have the
gout.”
“Yes, brother: I know of a nice little girl, Martha Richardson, your
second cousin’s youngest daughter; you know he has fourteen children,
and you may have them all, one after another, if you like.”
“Very true, Diana; let the jade marry Mr. Glumford.”
“She shall,” said the sister; “and I’ll go about it this very moment:
meantime I’ll take care that she does not see her lover any more.”
About three weeks after this conversation, Mordaunt, who had in vain
endeavoured to see Isabel, who had not even heard from her, whose
letters had been returned to him unopened, and who, consequently, was in
despair, received the following note:--
This is the first time I have been able to write to you, at least to get
my letter conveyed: it is a strange messenger that I have employed, but
I happened formerly to make his acquaintance; and accidentally
seeing him to-day, the extremity of the case induced me to give him a
commission which I could trust to no one else. Algernon, are not the
above sentences written with admirable calmness? are they not very
explanatory, very consistent, very cool? and yet do you know that I
firmly believe I am going mad? My brain turns round and round, and my
hand burns so that I almost think that, like our old nurse’s stories of
the fiend, it will scorch the paper as I write. And I see strange faces
in my sleep and in my waking, all mocking at me, and they torture and
aunt met and when I look at those faces I see no human relenting, no!
though I weep and throw myself on my knees and implore them to save me.
Algernon, my only hope is in you. You know that I have always hitherto
refused to ruin you, and even now, though I implore you to deliver me, I
will not be so selfish as--as--I know not what I write, but if I cannot
be your wife--I will not be his! No! if they drag me to church, it shall
be to my grave, not my bridal. ISABEL ST. LEGER.
When Mordaunt had read this letter, which, in spite of its incoherence,
his fears readily explained, he rose hastily; his eyes rested upon a
sober-looking man, clad in brown. The proud love no spectators to their
emotions.
“Who are you, sir?” said Algernon, quickly.
“Morris Brown,” replied the stranger, coolly and civilly. “Brought that
letter to you, sir; shall be very happy to serve you with anything
else; just fitted out a young gentleman as ambassador, a nephew to Mrs.
Minden,--very old friend of mine. Beautiful slabs you have here, sir,
but they want a few knick-knacks; shall be most happy to supply you; got
a lovely little ape, sir, stuffed by the late Lady Waddilove; it would
look charming with this old-fashioned carving; give the room quite the
air of a museum.”
“And so,” said Mordaunt, for whose ear the eloquence of Mr. Brown
contained only one sentence, “and so you brought this note, and will
take back my answer?”
“Yes, sir; anything to keep up family connections; I knew a Lady Morden
very well,--very well indeed, sir,--a relation of yours, I presume, by
the similarity of the name; made her very valuable presents; shall be
most happy to do the same to you, when you are married, sir. You will
refurnish the house, I suppose? Let me see; fine proportions to this
room, sir; about thirty-six feet by twenty-eight; I’ll do the thing
twenty per cent cheaper than the trade; and touching the lovely
little--”
“Here,” interrupted Mordaunt, “you will take back this note, and be
sure that Miss Isabel St. Leger has it as soon as possible; oblige me by
accepting this trifle,--a trifle indeed compared with my gratitude, if
this note reaches its destination safely.”
“I am sure,” said Mr. Brown, looking with surprise at the gift, which
he held with no unwilling hand, “I am sure, sir, that you are very
generous, and strongly remind me of your relation, Lady Morden; and
if you would like the lovely little ape as a present--I mean really a
present--you shall have it, Mr. Mordaunt.”
But Mr. Mordaunt had left the room, and the sober Morris, looking round,
and cooling in his generosity, said to himself, “It is well he did not
hear me, however; but I hope he will marry the nice young lady, for I
love doing a kindness. This house must be refurnished; no lady will like
these old-fashioned chairs.”