THE ENTANGLEMENT.
When we think for a moment over all the toils, all the anxieties, all the
fevered excitement of a _grande passion_, it is not a little singular that
love should so frequently be elicited by a state of mere idleness; and yet
nothing, after all, is so predisposing a cause as this. Where is the man
between eighteen and eight-and-thirty--might I not say forty--who,
without any very pressing duns, and having no taste for strong liquor and
_rouge-et-noir_, can possibly lounge through the long hours of his day
without at least fancying himself in love? The thousand little occupations
it suggests become a necessity of existence; its very worries are like the
wholesome opposition that purifies and strengthens the frame of a free
state. Then, what is there half so sweet as the reflective flattery which
results from our appreciation of an object who in return deems us the _ne
plus ultra_ of perfection? There it is, in fact; that confounded bump of
self-esteem does it all, and has more imprudent matches to answer for than
all the occipital protuberances that ever scared poor Harriet Martineau.
Now, to apply my moralizing. I very soon, to use the mess phrase, got
“devilish spooney” about the “Dals.” The morning drill, the riding-school,
and the parade were all most fervently consigned to a certain military
character that shall be nameless, as detaining me from some appointment
made the evening before; for as I supped there each night, a party of one
kind or another was always planned for the day following. Sometimes we had
a boating excursion to Cove, sometimes a picnic at Foaty; now a rowing
party to Glanmire, or a ride, at which I furnished the cavalry. These
doings were all under my especial direction, and I thus became speedily
the organ of the Dalrymple family; and the simple phrase, “It was Mr.
O’Malley’s arrangement,” “Mr. O’Malley wished it,” was like the _Moi le
roi_ of Louis XIV.
Though all this while we continued to carry on most pleasantly, Mrs.
Dalrymple, I could perceive, did not entirely sympathize with our projects
of amusement. As an experienced engineer might feel when watching the
course of some storming projectile--some brilliant congreve--flying over
a besieged fortress, yet never touching the walls nor harming the
inhabitants, so she looked on at all these demonstrations of attack with
no small impatience, and wondered when would the breach be reported
practicable. Another puzzle also contributed its share of anxiety,--which
of the girls was it? To be sure, he spent three hours every morning with
Fanny; but then, he never left Matilda the whole evening. He had given his
miniature to one; a locket with his hair was a present to the sister.
The major thinks he saw his arm round Matilda’s waist in the garden; the
housemaid swears she saw him kiss Fanny in the pantry. Matilda smiles when
we talk of his name with her sister’s; Fanny laughs outright, and
says, “Poor Matilda! the man never dreamed of her.” This is becoming
uncomfortable. The major must ask his intentions. It is certainly one
or the other; but then, we have a right to know which. Such was a very
condensed view of Mrs. Dalrymple’s reflections on this important topic,--a
view taken with her usual tact and clear-sightedness.
Matters were in this state when Power at length arrived in Cork, to
take command of our detachment and make the final preparations for our
departure. I had been, as usual, spending the evening at the major’s, and
had just reached my quarters, when I found my friend sitting at my fire,
smoking his cigar and solacing himself with a little brandy-and-water.
“At last,” said he, as I entered,--“at last! Why, where the deuce have you
been till this hour,--past two o’clock? There is no ball, no assembly going
on, eh?”
“No,” said I, half blushing at the eagerness of the inquiry; “I’ve been
spending the evening with a friend.”
“Spending the evening! Say, rather, the night! Why, confound you, man, what
is there in Cork to keep you out of bed till near three?”
“Well, if you must know, I have been supping at a Major Dalrymple’s,--a
devilish good fellow, with two such daughters!”
“Ahem!” said Power, shutting one eye knowingly, and giving a look like a
Yorkshire horse-dealer. “Go on.”
“Why, what do you mean?”
“Go on; continue.”
“I’ve finished; I’ve nothing more to tell.”
“So, they’re here, are they?” said he, reflectingly.
“Who?” said I.
“Matilda and Fanny, to be sure.”
“Why, you know them, then?”
“I should think I do.”
“Where have you met them?”
“Where have I not? When I was in the Rifles they were quartered at Zante.
Matilda was just then coming it rather strong with Villiers, of ours, a
regular greenhorn. Fanny, also, nearly did for Harry Nesbitt, by riding a
hurdle race. Then they left for Gibraltar, in the year,--what year was it?”
“Come, come,” said I, “this is a humbug; the girls are quite young; you
just have heard their names.”
“Well, perhaps so; only tell me which is your peculiar weakness, as they
say in the west, and may be I’ll convince you.”
“Oh, as to that,” said I, laughing, “I’m not very far gone on either side.”
“Then, Matilda, probably, has not tried you with Cowley, eh?--you look a
little pink--‘There are hearts that live and love alone.’ Oh, poor fellow,
you’ve got it! By Jove, how you’ve been coming it, though, in ten days! She
ought not to have got to that for a month, at least; and how like a young
one it was, to be caught by the poetry. Oh, Master Charley, I thought that
the steeple-chaser might have done most with your Galway heart,--the girl
in the gray habit, that sings ‘Moddirederoo,’ ought to have been the prize!
Halt! by Saint George, but that tickles you also! Why, zounds, if I go on,
probably, at this rate, I’ll find a tender spot occupied by the ‘black
lady’ herself.”
It was no use concealing, or attempting to conceal, anything from my
inquisitive friend; so I mixed my grog, and opened my whole heart; told how
I had been conducting myself for the entire preceding fortnight; and when
I concluded, sat silently awaiting Power’s verdict, as though a jury were
about to pronounce upon my life.
“Have you ever written?”
“Never; except, perhaps, a few lines with tickets for the theatre, or
something of that kind.”
“Have you copies of your correspondence?”
“Of course not. Why, what do you mean?”
“Has Mrs. Dal ever been present; or, as the French say, has she assisted at
any of your tender interviews with the young ladies?”
“I’m not aware that one kisses a girl before mamma.”
“I’m not speaking of that; I merely allude to an ordinary flirtation.”
“Oh, I suppose she has seen me attentive.”
“Very awkward, indeed! There is only one point in your favor; for as your
attentions were not decided, and as the law does not, as yet, permit
polygamy--”
“Come, come, you know I never thought of marrying.”
“Ah, but they did.”
“Not a bit of it.”
“Ay, but they did. What do you wager but that the major asks your
intentions, as he calls it, the moment he hears the transport has arrived?”
“By Jove! now you remind me, he asked this evening, when he could have a
few minutes’ private conversation with me to-morrow, and I thought it was
about some confounded military chest or sea-store, or one of his infernal
contrivances that he every day assures me are indispensable; though, if
every officer had only as much baggage as I have got, under his directions,
it would take two armies, at least, to carry the effects of the fighting
one.”
“Poor fellow!” said he, starting upon his legs; “what a burst you’ve made
of it!” So saying, he began in a nasal twang,--
“I publish the banns of marriage between Charles O’Malley, late of his
Majesty’s 14th Dragoons, and ------ Dalrymple, spinster, of this city--”
“I’ll be hanged if you do, though,” said I, seeing pretty clearly, by this
time, something of the estimation my friends were held in. “Come, Power,
pull me through, like a good fellow,--pull me through, without doing
anything to hurt the girls’ feelings.”
“Well, we’ll see about it,” said he,--“we’ll see about it in the morning;
but, at the same time, let me assure you, the affair is not so easy as
you may at first blush suppose. These worthy people have been so often
‘done’--to use the cant phrase--before, that scarcely a _ruse_ remains
untried. It is of no use pleading that your family won’t consent; that your
prospects are null; that you are ordered for India; that you are engaged
elsewhere; that you have nothing but your pay; that you are too young or
too old,--all such reasons, good and valid with any other family, will
avail you little here. Neither will it serve your cause that you may
be warranted by a doctor as subject to periodical fits of insanity;
monomaniacal tendencies to cut somebody’s throat, etc. Bless your heart,
man, they have a soul above such littlenesses! They care nothing for
consent of friends, means, age, health, climate, prospects, or temper.
Firmly believing matrimony to be a lottery, they are not superstitious
about the number they pitch upon; provided only that they get a ticket,
they are content.”
“Then it strikes me, if what you say is correct, that I have no earthly
chance of escape, except some kind friend will undertake to shoot me.”
“That has been also tried.”
“Why, how do you mean?”
“A mock duel, got up at mess,--we had one at Malta. Poor Vickers was the
hero of that affair. It was right well planned, too. One of the letters
was suffered, by mere accident, to fall into Mrs. Dal’s hands, and she was
quite prepared for the event when he was reported shot the next morning.
Then the young lady, of course, whether she cared or not, was obliged to be
perfectly unconcerned, lest the story of engaged affections might get wind
and spoil another market. The thing went on admirably, till one day, some
few months later, they saw, in a confounded army-list, that the late
George Vickers was promoted to the 18th Dragoons, so that the trick was
discovered, and is, of course, stale at present.”
“Then could I not have a wife already, and a large family of interesting
babies?”
“No go,--only swell the damages, when they come to prosecute. Besides, your
age and looks forbid the assumption of such a fact. No, no; we must go
deeper to work.”
“But where shall we go?” said I, impatiently; “for it appears to me these
good people have been treated to every trick and subterfuge that ever
ingenuity suggested.”
“Come, I think I have it; but it will need a little more reflection.
So, now, let us to bed. I’ll give you the result of my lucubrations at
breakfast; and, if I mistake not, we may get you through this without any
ill-consequences. Good-night, then, old boy; and now dream away of your
lady-love till our next meeting.”