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Vol. II. No. 32
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1870.
PUBLISHED BY THE
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THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD,
By ORPHEUS C. KERR,
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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Office of the Librarian of
Congress at Washington.
* * * * *
THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD,
AN ADAPTATION.
BY ORPHEUS C. KERR
CHAPTER XXVI.
FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE.
Miss CARROWTHERS having gone out with Mrs. SKAMMERHORN to skirmish with
the world of dry-goods clerks for one of those alarming sacrifices in
feminine apparel which woman unselfishly, yet never needlessly, is
always making, FLORA sat alone in her new home, working the latest
beaded pin-cushion of her useful life. Frequently experiencing the truth
of the adage, that as you sew so shall you rip, the fair young thing was
passing half her valuable time in ripping out the mistaken stitches she
had made in the other half; and the severe moral discipline thus
endured, made her mad, as equivalent vexation would have made a man the
reverse of that word. Flippant social satirists cannot dwell with
sufficient sarcasm upon the difference between the invincible amiability
affected by artless girls in society and their occasional bitterness of
aspect in the privacy of home; never stopping to reflect that there are
sore private trials for these industrious young crochet creatures in
which the thread of the most equable female existence is necessarily
worsted. Miss POTTS, then, although looking up from her trying worsted
occupation at the servant who entered with a rather snappish expression
of countenance, was guilty of no particularly hypocritical assumption in
at once suffering her features to relax into a sweetly pensive smile
upon learning that there was a gentleman to see her in the parlor.
"'MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON,'" she softly read from the card presented. "Is
he alone, BRIDGET, dear?"
"Sorra any wan with him but his cane, Miss; and that he axed me wud I
sthand it behind the dure for him."
There was a look of desperate purpose about this. When a sentimental
young man seeks a private interview with a marriageable young woman, and
recklessly refuses at the outset to retain at least his cane for the
solution of the intricate conversational problem of what to do with his
hands, it is an infallible sign that some madly rash intention has
temporarily overpowered his usual sheepish imbecility, and that he may
be expected to speak and act with almost human intelligence.
With hand instinctively pressed upon her heart, to moderate its too
sanguine pulsations and show the delicate lace around her cuffs, FLORA
shyly entered the parlor, and surprised Mr. PENDRAGON striding up and
down the apartment like one of the more comic of the tragic actors of
the day.
"Miss POTTS!" ejaculated the wild young Southern pedestrian, pausing
suddenly at her approach, with considerable excitement of manner, "scorn
me, spurn me, if you will; but do not let sectional embitterment blind
you to the fact that I am here by the request of Mr. DIBBLE."
"I wasn't scorning and spurning anybody," explained the startled orphan,
coyly accepting the chair he pushed forward. "I'm sure I don't feel any
sectional hatred, nor any other ridiculous thing."
"Forgive me!" pleaded MONTGOMERY. "I reckon I'm a heap too sensitive
about my Southern birth; but only think, Miss POTTS, what I've had to go
through since I've been amongst you Yankees! Fancy what it is to be
suspected of a murder, and have no political influence."
"It must be _so_ absurd!" murmured FLORA.
"I've felt wretched enough about it to become a contributor to the
first-class American comic paper on the next floor below me," he
continued, gloomily. "And here, to-day, without any explanation, your
guardian desires me to come here and wait for him."
"I'm sorry that's such a trial for you, Mr. PENDRAGON," simpered the
Flowerpot. "Perhaps you'd prefer to wait on the front stoop and appear
as though you'd just come, you know?"
"And can you think," cried the young man with increased agitation "that
it would be any trial for me to be in your society, if--? But tell me,
Miss POTTS, has your guardian the right to dispose of your hand in
marriage?"
"I suppose so," answered FLORA, with innocent surprise and a pretty
blush; "he has charge of _all_ my money matters, you know."
"Then it is as I feared," groaned her questioner, smiting his forehead.
"He is coming here to-day to tell you what man of opulence he wants you
to have, and I am to be witness to my own hopelessness!"
"What makes you think anything so ridiculous, you absurd thing?" asked
the orphan, not unkindly.
"He as good as said so," sighed the unhappy Southerner. "He told me,
with his own mouth, that he wanted to get you off his hands as soon as
possible, and thought he saw his way clear to do it."
The girl knew what bitter, intolerable emotions were tearing the heart
of the ill-fated secessionist before her, and, in her own gentle heart,
pitied him.
"He needn't be so sure about it," she said, with indignant spirit. "I'll
never marry _any_ stranger, unless he's awful rich--oh, as rich as
anything!"
"Oh, Miss POTTS!" roared MONTGOMERY, suddenly, folding-down upon one
knee before her, and scratching his nose with a ring upon the hand he
sought to kiss, "why will you not bestow upon me the heart so generously
disdainful of everything except the most extreme wealth? Why waste your
best years in waiting for proposals from a class of Northern men who
occasionally expect that their brides, also, shall have property, when
here I offer you the name and hand of a loving Southern gentleman, who
only needs the paying off of a few mortgages on his estate in the South
to be beyond all immediate danger of starvation?"
Turning her pretty head aside, but unconsciously allowing him to retain
her hand, she faintly asked how they were to live?
"Live!" repeated the impetuous lover. "On love, hash, mutual trust,
bread pudding: anything that's cheap. I'll do the washing and ironing
myself."
"How perfectly ridiculous!" said the orphan, bashfully turning her head
still further aside, and bringing one ear-ring to bear strongly upon
him. "You'd never be able to do fluting and pinking in the world."
"I could do anything, with you by my side!" he retorted, eagerly. Oh,
Miss POTTS!--FLORA!--think how lonely I am. My sister, as on may have
heard, has accepted Gospeler SIMPSON'S proposal, by mail, for her hand,
and is already so busy quarrelling with his mother that she is no longer
any company for me. My fate is in your hands; it is in woman's power to
either make or marry the roan who loves her--"
"Provided, always, that her legal guardian consents," interrupted the
benignant voice of Mr. DIBBLE, who, unperceived by them, had entered the
room in time to finish the sentence.
Springing alertly to an upright position, and coughing excessively, Mr.
PENDRAGON was a shamefaced reproach to his whole sex, while the young
lady used the edge of her right foot against a seam of the carpet with
that extreme solicitude as to the result which is always so entirely
deceiving to those who have hoped to see her show signs of painful
embarrassment.
After surveying them in thoughtful silence for a moment, the old lawyer
bent over his ward, and hugged and kissed her with an unctuousness
justified by his great age and extreme goodness. It was his fine old way
of bestowing an inestimable blessing upon all the plump younger women of
his acquaintance, and the benediction was conferred on the slightest
pretexts, and impartially, up to a certain age.
"Am I to construe what I have seen and heard, my dear, as equivalent to
the conclusion of my guardianship?" he asked, smilingly.
"Oh, please don't be so ridiculous--oh, I never was so exquisitely
nervous," pleaded the helpless, fluttered young creature.
"I reckon I've betrayed your confidence, sir," said MONTGOMERY,
desperately; "but you must have known, from hearsay at least, how I have
felt toward this young lady ever since our first meeting, and should not
have exposed me to a temptation stronger than I could bear. I have,
indeed, done myself the honor to offer her the hand and heart if one
who, although but a poor gentleman, will be richer than kings if she
deigns to make him so."
"Why, how absurd!" ejaculated the orphan, quickly. "It's perfectly
ridiculous to call me well off: and how could I make you richer than
kings and things, you know?"
The old and the young men exchanged looks of unspeakable admiration at
such touching artlessness.
"Sweet innocence!" exclaimed her guardian, playfully pinching her cheek
and privately surprised at its floury feeling. "What would you say if I
told you that, since our shrewd EDDY retired from the contest, I have
been wishing to see you and our Southern friend here brought to just
such terms as you appear to have reached? What would you say if I added
that, such consummation seeming to be the best you or your friends could
do for yourself, I have determined to deal with you as a daughter, in
the matter of seeing to it that you begin your married life with a
daughter's portion from my own estate?"
Both the young people had his hands in theirs, on either side of him, in
an instant.
"There! there!" continued the excellent old gentleman, "don't try to
express yourselves. FLORA, place one of your hands in the breast of my
coat, and draw out the parcel you find there. * * * That's it. The
article it contains once belonged to your mother, my dear, and has been
returned to me by the hands to which I once committed it in the hope
that they would present it to you. I loved your mother well, my child,
but had not enough property at the time to contend with your father.
Open the parcel in private, and be warned by its moral: Better is wilful
waist than woeful want of it."
It was the stay-lace by which Mrs. POTTS, from too great persistence in
drawing herself up proudly, had perished in her prime.
"Now come into the open air with me, and let us walk to Central Park,"
continued Mr. DIBBLE, shaking off his momentary fit of gloom, "I have
strange things to tell you both. I have to teach you, in justice to a
much-injured man, that we have, in our hearts, cruelly wronged that
excellent and devout Mr. BUMSTEAD, by suspecting him of a crime whereof
he is now proved innocent at least _I_ suspected him. To-morrow night we
must all be in Bumsteadville. I will tell you why as we walk."