IN WHICH THE WEDDING COMES OFF.
The foggy day had ended in a stormy night. Black clouds had hurried
wildly over the troubled face of the sky; a dull peal of thunder,
booming in the distance, had been its herald. Rain, and thunder, and
lightning had it all its own way until about midnight, when the sullen
clouds had drifted slowly, and the moon showed her fair, sweet face in
her place. A day of brightest sunshine, accompanied by a high wind, had
been the result; and in its morning refulgence, Captain Cavendish was
sauntering along the Redmon road. Not going to the big brick house,
surely: Nathalie had told him the picnic day of Mrs. Leroy's growing
dislike to visitors, and the hint had been taken. Perhaps it was only
for a constitutional, or to kill time; but there he was, lounging in the
teeth of the gale, and whistling an opera air as he went. The Nettleby
cottage, fairly overrun with its luxuriance of sweetbrier, and climbing
roses, and honeysuckle, was a pretty sight, and well worth looking at,
and perhaps that was the reason Captain Cavendish stood still to admire
it. The windows, all wreathed with crimson and pink roses, were open;
and at one sat Cherrie, in all her beauty, like a picture in a frame.
The crimson July roses about her were not brighter than her cheeks at
the sight of him, and her starry eyes flashed a welcome few men would
not have coveted. How prettily she was dressed, too--knowing well he
would come, the gypsy!--in pink muslin; her bare neck and arms rising
plump and rounded out of the gauziness; all her shining jetty curls
flashing about, and sprays of rosebuds twisted through them. How the
pale, blue-eyed, snowy-skinned, fair-haired prettiness of Nathalie
dimmed in the young officer's ardent imagination beside this tropical,
gorgeous loveliness of the sunny South. He opened the little gate, and
was at the window before she arose.
"My black-eyed fairy? You look perfectly dazzling this morning. Who is
in?"
"No one," said Cherrie, showing her pearl-white teeth in her deepening
smile. "The boys are off fishing; father's up working in Lady Leroy's
garden, and Ann's gone to town for groceries."
"Allah be praised! I may come in, then, my darling, may I not?"
Cherrie's answer was to throw the door wide open; and the young officer
entered and took a seat, screened from the view of passers-by by the
green gloom of the vines. That green twilight of roses and honeysuckles
was just the thing for lovers to talk in; and Captain Cavendish had a
great deal to say to Cherrie, and to all he said Cherrie had nothing to
give but rapturous assents, and was altogether in the seventh heaven,
not to say a few miles beyond that lofty elysium. It was all arranged at
last as the young gentleman wished, and, lolling easily on the sofa, he
went off on another tack.
"Are you often up in Redmon House, Cherrie?" he asked, stringing the
black ringlets about his fingers.
Cherrie, seated on a low stool beside his couch, nestled luxuriously,
with her head on his knee.
"Pretty often, George." It had come to that, you see. "Why?"
"Because--because I think you might find out something for me. I have a
fancy, do you know, that the old lady doesn't over and above like me."
"I know she don't," said Cherrie, decidedly. "She can't bear you, nor
Midge either. They scold Miss Natty like sixty every time you go there."
"The deuce they do? Suppose she fancied--mind, I only say fancied--I
wanted to marry Miss Natty, do you suppose she would consent?"
"Consent! She'd pack Miss Natty bag and baggage out of the house, more
likely. She'd die before she'd give in, would Mrs. Leroy."
Captain Cavendish fell to musing, and mused so long that Cherrie glanced
up from under her black lashes, wondering what made his handsome face
look so grave.
"What are you thinking about?" she pouted; "Miss Natty, I suppose."
"No, my little black-eye. I was thinking how you could do something for
me."
"What is it?"
"Couldn't you listen; couldn't you manage to hear sometimes what Mrs.
Leroy says to Natty, when they are talking of me?"
Miss Nettleby was not at all shocked at this proposal; but I suppose the
reader is. I know very well it is disgraceful in one calling himself a
gentleman, and altogether dishonorable; but Captain Cavendish's ideas of
honor, and yours and mine, are rather different. Had any one called him
a liar or a swindler, or thrown a decanter at his head, or a tumbler of
wine in his face, at the mess-table, or elsewhere, he would have
considered his honor forfeited forever, if he did not stand up to shoot
and be shot at by the offending party, as soon as possible afterward. In
one word, not to mince matters, Captain Cavendish, handsome and elegant
as he was, was an infidel and a villain, and you may as well know it
first as last.
"I dare say I can," was Cherrie's reply to his proposal. "I am up there
often enough, and I know all the ins and outs of the place. I'll do what
I can."
Captain Cavendish rewarded her, as lovers do reward one another, I am
told, and shortly after arose to take his leave. Miss Nettleby escorted
him to the gate.
"You won't forget Tuesday night, Cherrie," he said, turning to go.
"It's not very likely," said Cherrie; "but I'll see you again before
that--won't I, George?"
"Of course, my darling! Take care of yourself, and good-bye."
He sauntered up the road at an easy pace; and Cherrie lingered at the
gate, admiring his tall and elegant figure, and thinking, with an
exultant heart beating, what a happy and lucky girl she was. Forget
Tuesday night! the night that was to make her his bride. She quite
laughed aloud at the thought, in the glee of her heart. He was still in
sight, this Adonis of hers, and she still lingered at the gate watching
him. Lingering there, she saw something not quite so pleasant as she
could wish. Miss Nathalie Marsh, in a dress of blue barege, a black silk
mantle, and a pretty white hat trimmed with azure ribbon, its long white
plume tipped with blue, and set jauntily on her flowing sunny curls;
came down the avenue from the house, opened the gate, and stepped into
the road, and confronted her (Cherrie's) beloved. Cherrie saw him start
eagerly forward, but could not hear what he said, and perhaps for her
peace of mind it was just as well.
"My darling Nathalie! the fortunate chance I have been wishing for has
come then! Are you going to town?"
Nathalie, smiling and blushing, shyly held out her hand.
"Good morning, Captain Cavendish! I----" but he interposed
reproachfully.
"Captain Cavendish, from you, Nathalie; I thought you knew my name."
"Perhaps I have forgotten it," she laughed. "What are you doing up here,
George," a little hesitatingly, though, and with a vivid flush, not half
so glibly as Miss Nettleby had uttered it ten minutes before. "Were you
going to call?"
"Hardly--remembering the hint you gave me the other day. But though I
could not storm the castle of my fairy-princess, it was pleasant, at
least, to reconnoiter the outside, and I hoped, too, for the lucky
chance that has arrived. Am I to have the happy privilege of escorting
you into town?"
Nathalie cast a half-apprehensive glance behind, but Midge was not on
the watch. Had she known how dearly she was to pay for that walk--for
that escort, rather--she had hardly answered with that happy, careless
laugh.
"Yes, you may have that happy privilege! What did you do with yourself
all day yesterday in the fog?" Cavendish thought of what he had been
doing in Val's office, but he did not tell Miss Marsh. Cherrie was still
standing by the cottage gate, and they were passing it now, looking like
a black-eyed queen, under the arches of scarlet runners and
morning-glories.
"A pretty place," said Captain Cavendish, "and that girl at the gate has
a beautiful face. They tell me she has turned half the heads in
Speckport."
Nathalie's fair brow contracted; not in jealousy, she never thought of
that, but at the recollection of Charley. She made no answer. Her
attention was attracted by a lady who was coming toward them. A young
lady, nicely dressed, who stepped mincingly along, with a sweet smile on
her sullen face.
"What brings Catty Clowrie up this way, I wonder?" exclaimed Nathalie,
bowing as she passed, while the captain lifted his hat. "It is ever so
long since I have seen her on this road before. I hope she is not going
to Redmon."
But Miss Clowrie was going to Redmon. She had not started with that
idea; it had never entered her head until she met the lovers; but she
turned and looked after them with a smile of evil menace on her face.
"I hate her!" was her thought. "I hate her! But for her I might have had
him once. Now he is that Nettleby girl's beyond hope. I wish Miss Marsh
joy of her sister-in-law."
"That Nettleby girl" still stood at the gate. Miss Clowrie bestowed the
light of her smile upon her in passing, still deep in thought. "They say
in Speckport Lady Leroy has forbidden Captain Cavendish the house, and
threatens to disinherit Natty if she keeps his company. Perhaps she does
not know of this. I think I'll go up and tell her. One good turn
deserves another."
Midge answered the young lady's knock, and admitted her to the presence
of Lady Leroy. That mummy she found in her usual state of wrappings, and
very ready for a little gossip.
"Why don't you go out more, Mrs. Leroy," insinuated Catty; "it would do
you good, I am sure."
"No, it wouldn't!" snapped the old lady. "It does me harm. I hain't got
over that picnic yet."
"But I should think you would find it very lonely here, with Nathalie
away so much. I hear she spends most of her time in town of late."
"So she does," Lady Leroy screamed. "She will go in spite of me. If it
ain't the school, it's a party or a picnic--something or other; but
she's gallivanting all the time."
"I met her just now," remarked Catty, in a careless way, "with Captain
Cavendish. He had been waiting for her, I think, at the gate."
"What?" shrieked Lady Leroy, "who with, or who did you say?"
"Captain Cavendish," repeated Miss Clowrie, looking surprised. "I
thought you said they were engaged! At least, every one says they are."
Lady Leroy fell back, gasping, clawing the air in her struggle with her
ten talon-like fingers. Catty, quite alarmed, started up to assist her.
Lady Leroy grasped her by the wrist with a fierce grip.
"You're sure of this? You're sure of this?" she huskily whispered, still
gasping. "You're sure she was walking with him? You're sure she is
engaged to him?"
"I am sure she was walking with him," said Catty; "and every one says
she is engaged to him; and what every one says must be true. It's very
strange you did not know it."
Lady Leroy "grinned horribly a ghastly smile." "I do know it now! I told
her not to go with him--I told her not to go with him--and this is the
way she obeys me!"
She fell to clawing the air again, in a manner so very uncomfortable to
look at, that Miss Clowrie arose, with some precipitation, to go.
"They say he is a fortune-hunter and very extravagant, and goes after
her because she is your heiress; but I'm sure I don't know. Good
morning, Mrs. Leroy. I am glad to see you looking so well."
With which the fair Miss Clowrie bowed herself out, smiling more than
Midge had ever seen her before, and quite laughing, in fact, when she
got out of doors.
"I think I have paid a little of my debt, Miss Natty," she thought.
"I'll pay it all, my dear, I hope, before either of us die."
In the silent solitude of her lonely room, Lady Leroy had ample time to
nurse her wrath before the return of her ward. It was nearly noon before
that young lady reached home, her pretty face glowing with her rapid
walk.
"Midge," was her first breathless question, "has Catty Clowrie been here
this morning?"
Midge answered in the affirmative, and Nathalie's heart sank. All the
way up-stairs she was preparing herself for a violent outburst of wrath;
but, to her astonishment, Lady Leroy was quite tranquil. She glanced
very hard at her, it is true, and her fingers were clawing empty air
very viciously, but her voice was not loud nor angry.
"You're very late, aren't you?" she said. "What kept you?"
"I ran down to see mamma. Miss Rose told me she was not very well; but I
hurried home as fast as I could. I'll make out those bills now."
"Let the bills wait awhile," said the old lady. "I have something to
tell you."
This was an ominous commencement, and Nathalie looked at her in some
dread.
"Who was it you walked into town with this morning?" she asked, glaring
harder than ever.
Catty had told, then. All the blood in Nathalie's body seemed blazing in
her face, as she answered:
"It was Captain Cavendish. I chanced to meet him near the gate, and I
could not very well help his walking back to town with me."
"Didn't you promise me," said Lady Leroy, still speaking with
astonishing calmness, but clawing the air fiercely with both hands,
"when I forbade you going with him, that you would walk with him no
more?"
"No," said Nathalie. "I said he would come here no more, and neither he
shall."
"Until I am dead, I suppose," said the old woman, with a laugh that was
very unpleasant to hear, "and you have all my money. Answer me one
question, Natty. Are you engaged to him? Don't tell a lie."
"No," said Nathalie, proudly, "I am not in the habit of telling
deliberate lies. I am!"
Lady Leroy gave a shrill gasp, her fingers working convulsively, but the
spasm was over in a moment. She sat up again; and Nathalie, hurriedly
and imploringly, went on:
"Dear Mrs. Leroy, don't be angry! Indeed, you misjudge Captain
Cavendish; he is a good and honorable man, and respects you much. Dear
Mrs. Leroy, consent to our engagement and I will be the happiest girl in
the world!"
She went over and put her arms round the mummy's neck, kissing the
withered face. The old woman pushed her away with another of her
unpleasant laughs.
"There--there, child! do as you please. I knew you would do it anyway,
only I won't have him here--mind. I won't have him here! Now, get to
work at them bills. What's the matter with your mother?"
"Sick headache," said Nathalie, chilled, she scarcely knew why, by the
old woman's manner. "She wanted me to stay with her this afternoon; but
I told her I was afraid you could not spare me."
Mrs. Leroy mused a few moments, while Nathalie wrote, and then looked
up.
"I'll spare you this afternoon, Natty, since your mother is sick. You
can take the bills in with you and collect them. If you are back by
nine, it will do."
Nathalie was so amazed, she dropped her pen and sat staring, quite
unable to return a word of thanks, and not quite certain she was not
dreaming.
"Get on, get on!" exclaimed Lady Leroy, in her customary testy tone.
"You'll never have the bills done at that rate."
Nathalie finished the bills mechanically, and with a mind far otherwise
absorbed. Then she went to her room, and put on her hat and mantle for
another walk to Speckport; but all the time that uneasy feeling of doubt
and uncertainty remained. Mrs. Leroy had acted so strangely, had been so
ominously quiet and unlike herself, and had not consented. Nathalie came
in dressed for town, and bent over her, until her long bright curls
swept the yellow old face.
"Dear Mrs. Leroy!" she pleadingly said, "I cannot feel satisfied until
you actually say you agree to this engagement. Do--do, if you love your
Natty, for all my happiness depends upon it. Do say you consent, and I
will never offend you again as long as I live?"
Lady Leroy glared up at her with green, and glittering, and wicked old
eyes.
"If I don't consent, will you break off, Natty?"
"You know I cannot. I love him with all my heart. Oh, Mrs. Leroy!
remember you were once young yourself, and don't be hard!"
Looking at that dry and withered old antediluvian, it was hard to
imagine her ever young--harder still to imagine her knowing anything
about the fever called love. She pushed Nathalie impatiently away.
"Get along with you, and don't bother!" was her cry. "I told you to have
your way, and you ought to be satisfied. You won't give in to me, but
you'd like me to give in to you--wouldn't you? Go along, and don't
torment me!"
When Mrs. Leroy's cracked voice grew shrill and piercing, and her little
eyes gleamed greenish flame, Nathalie knew better than to irritate her
by disobedience. She turned to go, with a strange sinking of the heart.
"I will be back by nine," she said, simply, as she quitted the room.
Miss Nettleby, seated at her cottage door, under the roses and
sweetbrier, industriously stitching on some gossamer article to be worn
next Tuesday evening, looked up in some surprise at sight of Miss Marsh
on her way to Speckport, for the second time that day.
"Going back to town, Miss Natty?" she called out, familiarly.
Miss Natty's answer was a cold and formal bow, as she passed on. Cherrie
dropped her work and started up.
"I'll go to the house and have a talk with Granny Grumpy herself before
she comes back. Perhaps I may find out something. I wonder what sort of
humor she is in."
Lady Leroy was in uncommonly serene humor for her. Before Nathalie had
been ten minutes gone, she had shouted for Midge; and that household
treasure appearing, with sleeves rolled up over her elbows, and in a
very soapy and steamy state, had desired her to array herself in other
garments, and go right away into Speckport.
"Go into Speckport!" cried Midge, in shrill indignation. "I'll see you
boiled alive first, ma'am, and that's the long and short of it. Go into
town, wash-day, indeed! What do you want in town, ma'am?"
"I want Mr. Darcy--that's what I want!" vehemently replied her mistress.
"I want Mr. Darcy, you ugly little imp; and if you don't go straight
after him, I'll heave this at your head, I will!"
"This" was a huge black case bottle, which trifle of glass the lady of
Redmon brandished in a manner that made even Midge draw back a few paces
in alarm.
"I want Mr. Darcy on important business, I do!" screamed Lady Leroy.
"And tell him not to let the grass grow under his feet on the way. Be
off, will you?"
"Why didn't you tell Miss Natty?" sulkily said Midge.
"Because she isn't coming back till nine o'clock, that's why; and I
can't wait. Well, what do you want, young woman?"
This last polite interrogation was addressed to Miss Nettleby, who stood
smiling in the doorway, in all the splendor of her charms.
"I just ran up to see how you were," said Cherrie. "If you want any
errand done in the town, Mrs. Leroy, I'll go. I can walk faster than
Midge, you know."
"So she can," cried Midge; "let her go, ma'am; I won't."
With which Midge waddled off, making the hall quake with her airy tread.
Mrs. Leroy looked with unusual graciousness at the young lady.
"Will you go, Cherrie, and be quick about it. Tell Darcy to hurry; you
can drive back with him, you know."
Cherrie wanted nothing better, and was off like a dart, scenting a
secret, and determined to get at the bottom of it.
"What does she want with her lawyer, I wonder?" soliloquized Cherrie, on
the road. "I'll find out. Miss Natty's out of the way, and Midge will be
down in the kitchen. I'll find out."
Mr. Darcy was one of the best lawyers in the town, and was Lady Leroy's
man of business ever since her advent in Speckport. Cherrie found him in
his office--a handsome and gentlemanly old man, with gray hair,
whiskers, and mustache, and a clear, bright eye.
"What can the old lady want?" he wondered, aloud, putting on his hat;
"she didn't tell you, I suppose? Will you drive back with me, Miss
Cherrie?"
Miss Cherrie consented, and they had a very pleasant drive together, the
old gentleman chaffing her about her beaux, and wanting to know when she
was going to stop breaking hearts, and get married. Cherrie did not say
"next Tuesday," she only laughed, and desired to be set down at her own
gate.
There she watched the lawyer out of sight, and then went deliberately
after him. Not to the front door, however, but to a back window she knew
of, easily lifted, through it, up-stairs on tiptoe, and into Nathalie's
room, which she locked on the inside. Nathalie's room adjoined Lady
Leroy's, and the wall being thin, the conversation of the lawyer and the
old woman was distinctly audible. Cherrie sat down on the floor, with
her ear glued to the wall, and listened. It was a prolonged and excited
talk, the lawyer angrily protesting, Mrs. Leroy angrily determined;
and it ended in Mr. Darcy's yielding, but grumblingly, and
still under protest. Cherrie had fairly held her breath while
listening--astonishment and delight pictured on her face.
There was a long silence; Mr. Darcy was writing. In half an hour his
task was completed, and he read it aloud to the mistress of Redmon.
"That will do," said Lady Leroy, "I'm glad it's over."
"Do you want that paper witnessed? Call Midge."
Mr. Darcy opened the door, and shouted through the darkness for Midge,
as Captain Cavendish had once done before. Midge made her appearance, as
soapy and steamy as ever.
"Write your name here," said Mr. Darcy, abruptly pointing to the place.
"What is it?" inquired Midge.
"That's no affair of yours, is it? Sign it, will you?"
Midge took the pen as if it weighed half a ton or so, set her head very
much on one side, thrust her tongue a little out of one corner of her
mouth, and with much labor and painstaking, affixed a blotted
autograph--Priscilla Short.
"That will do," said Mr. Darcy; "we want another. Call in old
Nettleby--he can write."
Midge, casting a parting look, of much complacence at her performance,
departed on her errand, and old Nettleby coming in shortly after,
affixed another blotted signature. Mr. Darcy dispatched him about his
business, folded the document, put it in his pocket-book, and took his
hat and cane to go. On the threshold he paused.
"This has been done under the influence of anger, Mrs. Leroy," he said;
"and you will think better of it, and send me word to destroy it before
long. I consider it most unjust--exceedingly unjust--altogether
unjustifiable! Good afternoon, ma'am."
Cherrie waited in her hiding-place until she heard the hall door close
after him, then stole noiselessly out, down-stairs, through the window,
and gained her own home, unobserved.
What had she heard? Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her whole
manner strangely excited. She could not keep still--she walked
ceaselessly to and from the gate, straining her eyes in the direction of
Speckport.
"Why don't he come! Why don't he come!" she kept repeating, hurriedly.
"Oh, what will he say to this?"