"Now, first of all, Mary Anne," said he, "do you love this Baron von
Wolfenschafer?"
Who ever could answer such a question in one word, Kitty? How seldom
does it occur in life that all the circumstances of any man's position
respond to the ambitious imaginings of a girl's heart! He may be
handsome, and yet poor; he may be rich, and yet low-born; intellectual,
and yet his great gifts may be alloyed with infirmities of temper;
he may be coldly natured, secret, self-contained, uncommunicative,--a
hundred things that one does not like,--and yet, with all these
drawbacks, what the world calls an "excellent match."
I believe very few people marry the person they wish to marry. I fancy
that such instances are the rarest things imaginable. It is a question
of compensation throughout,--you accept this, notwithstanding that;
you put up with _that_, for the sake of this! Of course, dearest, I am
rejecting here all belief in the "greatest happiness principle" as a
stupid fallacy, that only imposes upon elderly gentlemen when they marry
their housekeeper. I speak of the considerations which weigh with a
young girl who has moved in society, who knows its requirements, and can
estimate all that contributes to what is called a "position."
This little digression of mine will give you to understand what was
passing in my mind as James sat waiting for my reply.
"So, then," said he, at last, "the question is not so easily answered
as I suspected; and we will now pass to another one. Are your affections
already engaged elsewhere?"
What could I say, Kitty, but "No! decidedly not." The embarrassment,
however, so natural to an inquiry like this, made me blush and seem
confused; and James, perceiving it, said,--
"Poor fellow, it will be a sad blow to _him_, for I know he loved you."
I tried to look astonished, angry, unconscious,--anything, in fact,
which should convey displeasure and surprise together; but with that
want of tact so essentially fraternal, he went on,--
"It was almost the last thing he said to me at parting, 'Don't let her
forget me!'"
"May I venture to inquire," said I, haughtily, "of whom you are
speaking?"
Simple and inoffensive as the words were, Kitty, they threw him into an
ungovernable passion; he stamped, and stormed, and swore fearfully. He
called me "a heartless coquette," "an unfeeling flirt," and a variety of
epithets equally mellifluous as well merited.
I drew my embroidery-frame before me quite calmly under this torrent of
abuse, and worked away at my pattern of the "Faithful Shepherd," singing
to myself all the time.
"Are you really as devoid of feeling as this, Mary Anne?" asked he.
"My dear brother," said I, "don't you wish excessively for a commission
in a regiment of Hussars or Lancers? Well, as your great merits have
not been recognized at the Horse Guards, would you feel justified in
refusing an appointment to the Rifle Brigade?"
"What has all this to say to what we are discussing?" cried he, angrily.
"Just everything," replied I; "but as you cannot make the application,
you must excuse _me_ if I decline the task also."
"And so you mean to be a baroness?" said he, rudely.
I courtesied profoundly to him, and he flung out of the room with a bang
that nearly brought the door down. In a moment after, mamma was in my
arms, overcome with tenderness and emotion.
"I have carried the day, my dearest child," said she. "We are to accept
the invitation, at all events, and we set out to-morrow."
I have no time for more, Kitty, for all our preparations for departure
have yet to be made. What fate awaits me I know not, nor can I even
fancy what may be the future of your ever attached and devoted friend,
Mary Anne Dodd.