“Lady Arabella,” said I, “my wife”--how Daphne’s eyes glowed as I
spoke--“and I are returning immediately to Scarborough; you had best go
with us; and when you have seen and consulted with Sir Peter and Lady
Hawkshaw, it will be time enough to determine upon your course.”
“My course is already determined upon,” she replied; and no one who saw
her could doubt it.
“And so is mine,” said Giles, now in possession of all his usual
manliness. “I return to London, where I shall duly report myself to the
Admiralty, and later to Sir Peter Hawkshaw; and if the lady thirsts for
my blood, begad, she can have it.”
“Giles Vernon,” said I, “you have been unlucky. I can not say more,
because I am in the same boat with you. But you have done nothing
unworthy of a gentleman, and nothing to make either Daphne or me love
you the less, no matter what befalls. So here is my hand upon it.”
We grasped hands, and, turning to Daphne, he removed his hat and
proceeded to kiss her, saying to me, “By your leave.” And Daphne said
to him,--
“Good-by, dear Giles.”
The proceedings seemed to fill Lady Arabella with disgust. She
haughtily refused my hand to assist her into the chaise, and announced
that she would go to the village of Springfield, near by, for rest
and breakfast; and willy-nilly, Daphne and I had to follow in the
post-chaise.
Never shall I forget that dismal wedding journey back to Scarborough.
I began, for the first time, to fear the reproaches of the world in
general, and Sir Peter and Lady Hawkshaw in particular, in regard to
running away with an heiress. I had one comfort, however; Daphne fully
believed in my disinterestedness; and I can sincerely say I wished
Daphne’s fortune at the bottom of the sea, if I could but have wooed
and won her in the ordinary course of events.
Lady Arabella traveled just ahead of us, but took occasion to show her
anger and resentment against us in every way.
About half the distance to Scarborough we met full in the road a
traveling chariot, and in it were Sir Peter and Lady Hawkshaw.
We found that the hostlers had earned their money, and that the
Hawkshaws’ chaise had broken down at least once in every stage.
When we met and stopped, Arabella alighted, and so did we, and so did
the Hawkshaws; and the first word that was spoken was by Daphne.
“Uncle Peter,” she said, “don’t fly at Richard. If you must know it, I
ran away with him; for I am sure, although he is as brave as a lion, it
never would have dawned upon him to run away with me, if I had not put
the idea in his head, and kept it there.”
“Sir,” said I, “and Madam,” turning to Lady Hawkshaw, “I beg you will
not listen to this young lady’s plea. I am wholly responsible for the
circumstances of our marriage. I can, however, and do, call Heaven to
witness, that her fortune had nothing to do with it, and I should have
been happy and proud to take her, with the clothes on her back, and
nothing more.”
Sir Peter began to sputter, but Lady Hawkshaw cut him short.
“Exactly what you said, Sir Peter, within an hour of our marriage.”
Thus were Sir Peter’s guns dismounted.
“And, Richard and Daphne, you are a couple of fools to run away, when,
if you had only had a little patience, I would have had you handsomely
married at St. George’s, Hanover Square. But least said, soonest
mended. Sir Peter, kiss Daphne, and shake hands with Richard.”
And as I am a sinner, she actually forced Sir Peter to do both,
although I saw he mortally hated it.
Arabella’s turn came next. She advanced and said, with a bitterness
that struck a chill to my heart,--
“Sir Peter, as you know, I was carried off by that wretch who disgraces
his uniform, Lieutenant Giles Vernon; but he did not succeed in forcing
me to consent to a marriage. And I call upon you, as my next friend, to
aid me in the prosecution which I shall immediately set on foot against
him for the capital offense of the abduction of an heiress; and I hope
to bring him to the gibbet for it.”