"Pert Poppet!"
On a Sunday morning,--while Lord Silverbridge was alone in a certain
apartment in the house in Carlton Terrace which was called his own
sitting-room, the name was brought him of a gentleman who was anxious
to see him. He had seen his father and had used all the eloquence
of which he was master,--but not quite with the effect which
he had desired. His father had been very kind, but he, too,
had been eloquent;--and had, as is often the case with orators,
been apparently more moved by his own words than by those of his
adversary. If he had not absolutely declared himself as irrevocably
hostile to Miss Boncassen he had not said a word that might be
supposed to give token of assent.
Silverbridge, therefore, was moody, contemplative, and desirous of
solitude. Nothing that the Duke had said had shaken him. He was
still sure of his pearl, and quite determined that he would wear it.
Various thoughts were running through his brain. What if he were to
abdicate the title and become a republican? He was inclined to think
that he could not abdicate, but he was quite sure that no one could
prevent him from going to America and calling himself Mr. Palliser.
That his father would forgive him and accept the daughter-in-law
brought to him, were he in the first place to marry without sanction,
he felt quite sure. What was there that his father would not forgive?
But then Isabel would not assent to this. He was turning it all in
his head and ever and anon trying to relieve his mind by "Clarissa,"
which he was reading in conformity with his father's advice, when the
gentleman's card was put into his hand. "Whatever does he want here?"
he said to himself; and then he ordered that the gentleman might
be shown up. The gentleman in question was our old friend Dolly
Longstaff. Dolly Longstaff and Silverbridge had been intimate as
young men are. But they were not friends, nor, as far as Silverbridge
knew, had Dolly ever set his foot in that house before. "Well,
Dolly," said he, "what's the matter now?"
"I suppose you are surprised to see me?"
"I didn't think that you were ever up so early." It was at this time
almost noon.
"Oh, come now, that's nonsense. I can get up as early as anybody
else. I have changed all that for the last four months. I was at
breakfast this morning very soon after ten."
"What a miracle! Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Well yes,--there is. Of course you are surprised to see me?"
"You never were here before; and therefore it is odd."
"It is odd; I felt that myself. And when I tell you what I have come
about you will think it more odd. I know I can trust you with a
secret."
"That depends, Dolly."
"What I mean is, I know you are good-natured. There are ever so many
fellows that are one's most intimate friends, that would say anything
on earth they could that was ill-natured."
"I hope they are not my friends."
"Oh yes, they are. Think of Glasslough, or Popplecourt, or Hindes!
If they knew anything about you that you didn't want to have
known,--about a young lady or anything of that kind,--don't you think
they'd tell everybody?"
"A man can't tell anything he doesn't know."
"That's true. I had thought of that myself. But then there's a
particular reason for my telling you this. It is about a young lady!
You won't tell; will you?"
"No, I won't. But I can't see why on earth you should come to me. You
are ever so many years older than I am."
"I had thought of that too. But you are just the person I must tell.
I want you to help me."
These last words were said in a whisper, and Dolly as he said them
had drawn nearer to his friend. Silverbridge remained in suspense,
saying nothing by way of encouragement. Dolly, either in love
with his own mystery or doubtful of his own purpose, sat still,
looking eagerly at his companion. "What the mischief is it?" asked
Silverbridge impatiently.
"I have quite made up my own mind."
"That's a good thing at any rate."
"I am not what you would have called a marrying sort of man."
"I should have said,--no. But I suppose most men do marry sooner or
later."
"That's just what I said to myself. It has to be done, you know.
There are three different properties coming to me. At least one has
come already."
"You're a lucky fellow."
"I've made up my mind; and when I say a thing I mean to do it."
"But what can I do?"
"That's just what I'm coming to. If a man does marry I think he ought
to be attached to her." To this, as a broad proposition, Silverbridge
was ready to accede. But, regarding Dolly as a middle-aged sort of
fellow, one of those men who marry because it is convenient to have
a house kept for them, he simply nodded his head. "I am awfully
attached to her," Dolly went on to say.
"That's all right."
"Of course there are fellows who marry girls for their money. I've
known men who have married their grandmothers."
"Not really!"
"That kind of thing. When a woman is old it does not much matter who
she is. But my one! She's not old!"
"Nor rich?"
"Well; I don't know about that. But I'm not after her money. Pray
understand that. It's because I'm downright fond of her. She's an
American."
"A what!" said Silverbridge, startled.
"You know her. That's the reason I've come to you. It's Miss
Boncassen." A dark frown came across the young man's face. That all
this should be said to him was disgusting. That an owl like that
should dare to talk of loving Miss Boncassen was offensive to him.
"It's because you know her that I've come to you. She thinks that
you're after her." Dolly as he said this lifted himself quickly up
in his seat, and nodded his head mysteriously as he looked into his
companion's face. It was as much as though he should say, "I see you
are surprised, but so it is." Then he went on. "She does, the pert
poppet!" This was almost too much for Silverbridge; but still he
contained himself. "She won't look at me because she has got it into
her head that perhaps some day she may be Duchess of Omnium! That of
course is out of the question."
"Upon my word all this seems to me to be so very--very,--distasteful
that I think you had better say nothing more about it."
"It is distasteful," said Dolly; "but the truth is I am so
downright,--what you may call enamoured--"
"Don't talk such stuff as that here," said Silverbridge, jumping up.
"I won't have it."
"But I am. There is nothing I wouldn't do to get her. Of course it's
a good match for her. I've got three separate properties; and when
the governor goes off I shall have a clear fifteen thousand a year."
"Oh, bother!"
"Of course that's nothing to you, but it is a very tidy income for a
commoner. And how is she to do better?"
"I don't know how she could do much worse," said Silverbridge in a
transport of rage. Then he pulled his moustache in vexation, angry
with himself that he should have allowed himself to say even a
word on so preposterous a supposition. Isabel Boncassen and Dolly
Longstaff! It was Titania and Bottom over again. It was absolutely
necessary that he should get rid of this intruder, and he began to be
afraid that he could not do this without using language which would
be uncivil. "Upon my word," he said, "I think you had better not talk
about it any more. The young lady is one for whom I have a very great
respect."
"I mean to marry her," said Dolly, thinking thus to vindicate
himself.
"You might as well think of marrying one of the stars."
"One of the stars!"
"Or a royal princess!"
"Well! Perhaps that is your opinion, but I can't say that I agree
with you. I don't see why she shouldn't take me. I can give her a
position which you may call Al out of the Peerage. I can bring her
into society. I can make an English lady of her."
"You can't make anything of her,--except to insult her,--and me too
by talking of her."
"I don't quite understand this," said the unfortunate lover, getting
up from his seat. "Very likely she won't have me. Perhaps she has
told you so."
"She never mentioned your name to me in her life. I don't suppose she
remembers your existence."
"But I say that there can be no insult in such a one as me asking
such a one as her to be my wife. To say that she doesn't remember my
existence is absurd."
"Why should I be troubled with all this?"
"Because I think you're making a fool of her, and because I'm honest.
That's why," said Dolly with much energy. There was something in this
which partly reconciled Silverbridge to his despised rival. There was
a touch of truth about the man, though he was so utterly mistaken in
his ideas. "I want you to give over in order that I may try again. I
don't think you ought to keep a girl from her promotion, merely for
the fun of a flirtation. Perhaps you're fond of her;--but you won't
marry her. I am fond of her, and I shall."
After a minute's pause Silverbridge resolved that he would be
magnanimous. "Miss Boncassen is going to be my wife," he said.
"Your wife!"
"Yes;--my wife. And now I think you will see that nothing further can
be said about this matter."
"Duchess of Omnium!"
"She will be Lady Silverbridge."
"Oh; of course she'll be that first. Then I've got nothing further
to say. I'm not going to enter myself to run against you. Only I
shouldn't have believed it if anybody else had told me."
"Such is my good fortune."
"Oh ah,--yes; of course. That is one way of looking at it. Well;
Silverbridge, I'll tell you what I shall do; I shall hook it."
"No; no, not you."
"Yes, I shall. I dare say you won't believe me, but I've got such a
feeling about me here"--as he said this he laid his hand upon his
heart,--"that if I stayed I should go in for hard drinking. I shall
take the great Asiatic tour. I know a fellow that wants to go, but
he hasn't got any money. I dare say I shall be off before the end of
next month. You don't know any fellow that would buy half-a-dozen
hunters; do you?" Silverbridge shook his head. "Good-bye," said Dolly
in a melancholy tone; "I am sure I am very much obliged to you for
telling me. If I'd known you'd meant it, I shouldn't have meddled, of
course. Duchess of Omnium!"
"Look here, Dolly, I have told you what I should not have told any
one, but I wanted to screen the young lady's name."
"It was so kind of you."
"Do not repeat it. It is a kind of thing that ladies are particular
about. They choose their own time for letting everybody know." Then
Dolly promised to be as mute as a fish, and took his departure.
Silverbridge had felt, towards the end of the interview, that he
had been arrogant to the unfortunate man,--particularly in saying
that the young lady would not remember the existence of such a
suitor,--and had also recognised a certain honesty in the man's
purpose, which had not been the less honest because it was so absurd.
Actuated by the consciousness of this, he had swallowed his anger,
and had told the whole truth. Nevertheless things had been said which
were horrible to him. This buffoon of a man had called his Isabel
a--pert poppet! How was he to get over the remembrance of such an
offence? And then the wretch had declared that he was--enamoured!
There was sacrilege in the term when applied by such a man to Isabel
Boncassen. He had thoughts of days to come, when everything would
be settled, when he might sit close to her, and call her pretty
names,--when he might in sweet familiarity tell her that she was a
little Yankee and a fierce republican, and "chaff" her about the
stars and stripes; and then, as he pictured the scene to himself in
his imagination, she would lean upon him and would give him back
his chaff, and would call him an aristocrat and would laugh at his
titles. As he thought of all this he would be proud with the feeling
that such privileges would be his own. And now this wretched man had
called her a pert poppet!
There was a sanctity about her,--a divinity which made it almost a
profanity to have talked about her at all to such a one as Dolly
Longstaff. She was his Holy of Holies, at which vulgar eyes should
not even be allowed to gaze. It had been a most unfortunate
interview. But this was clear; that, as he had announced his
engagement to such a one as Dolly Longstaff, the matter now would
admit of no delay. He would explain to his father that as tidings of
the engagement had got abroad, honour to the young lady would compel
him to come forward openly as her suitor at once. If this argument
might serve him, then perhaps this intrusion would not have been
altogether a misfortune.