Amongst his friends--for of a few associates he had many--the friend
George fixed upon as the one to aid him in his rescue from the
commission of what he considered the damning crime of ingratitude, was
the surgeon of his own regiment--a man of sense and shrewdness, and one
who was professionally taciturn upon subjects not intended for general
conversation:--to him, after mature deliberation, George proceeded, and
having begged his private ear, told him he wanted his immediate aid.
“What!--a duel?” said Dr. Short.
“No, my dear doctor,” said George, “I am ill--seriously ill. I have
a constant pain in my side. I ought not to stay here. I must resign
my assistant-secretaryship and go home for my health. I want a sick
certificate.”
“Umph!” said Short--“I see--yes--on which side is the
pain--left--right?”
“Intensely severe on the right side,” said George. “I cannot lift my
arm perpendicularly without feeling the most excruciating torture.”
“Umph!” said the doctor. “You know what Abernethy said upon that point
to the old woman who said the same thing to _him_--eh!--What a fool you
must be to try!--eh!”
“I assure you, doctor, mine is no laughing matter,” said George.
“Let’s see your tongue. Umph!--clean as a whistle, and red as
beet-root. Won’t do--eh! No tricks upon travellers--no case of liver.
Can’t do what you want--or what you don’t want. Did Sir Cadwallader
send you to me?”
“No, indeed,” said George, “no human being is aware of my visit to you.”
“Why did you make a secret of it, eh?” said Short. “Every man has a
liver; every liver is subject to disease. What’s the use of mystery?”
“I know of no mystery,” said George.
“Won’t do, Mr. Assistant-secretary,” said Short. “A surgeon ought to
have an eagle’s eye, a lion’s heart, and a lady’s hand. Cannot say I
have all those qualities; but as far as the eye goes, I think, I can
see as far as my neighbours--eh!”
“I don’t know what you should make a merit of seeing,” said George. “I
have no disguises--I wish to be candid with you.”
“Ah!” said Short, “now I see. You want to tell me you have nothing
the matter with you: and yet you want me to give you a sick
certificate--eh!--that’s it--umph!”
“My dear doctor,” said George, “I believe you _do_ know something of my
feelings, for you certainly have guessed my wishes. I am _not_ ill,--at
least in body; but I may be saved from being ill in body, in mind, in
reputation, and in conscience, if you will but grant your fiat for
shipping me to England.”
“_I_ know,” said Short, “you are as safe in _my_ care as a baby on her
mother’s bosom:--but I say--those grey eyes and black eyelashes are
the devil!--aren’t they?--umph!--sweet creature! Come, no nonsense, or
you get no certificate. You know it is all mighty fine your coming to
me, looking as mysterious as a playhouse conspirator: everybody here,
except your two selves, and perhaps Sir Cad. knows the whole story.”
“What story?” said George:--“no word has ever passed my lips--”
“No: but a great many have passed the lips of other people,” said
Short. “As for your own words, they are what we call superfluous--the
eyes have it--eh!--umph!”
“What you say, doctor,” said George, “makes me miserable.”
“Very!” said Short. “I know--it makes every man miserable to have
gained the affections of a charming, amiable girl, with a hundred
and fifty thousand pounds:--it is quite a calamity! Poor Mr.
Assistant-secretary!--you can’t think how I pity you!”
“Doctor, this is no joking matter,” said George. “It is useless, I
perceive, to attempt disguise with _you_: you have seen or heard
what I never suspected could have been even remarkable. If I wished
your assistance upon this point when I came into this room, it is ten
thousand times more desirable to me now.”
“Umph!” said Short. “Why?”
“Why!” exclaimed George:--“we have so suddenly and deeply plunged into
this discussion; you assume so much, and I have such perfect faith and
confidence in you, that--”
“You are good enough to propose telling me what I know already,”
interrupted Short.
“No, not what you know already,” said George, “but what my resolution
is. The general, in the outset of my career here, befriended me,
espoused my cause, restored me to society, and made me what I am. I am
admitted into his family, and I evince my gratitude to him for all his
kindnesses by--”
“--By permitting his daughter to fall in love with you!” said
Short:--“how can _you_ help that?”
“If such should be the case,” said George, “it is my duty instantly to
quit this place.”
“To be sure!” said Short--“and add to all the other marks of your
sense of the General’s obligations by leaving his only darling child to
break her heart.”
“Do not talk in this way, doctor,” said the assistant secretary, “it is
I”--
“Pshaw!” said Short. “No nonsense: stay where you are--I’ll give you no
certificate.”
“Then I must go without one,” said George. “Private business in
England”--
“Very private, indeed!” said Short. “I say, stay where you are.”
“My dear friend,” said George, “it is impossible! What you have told me
now, in addition to a remark which I accidentally overheard, renders it
imperatively necessary that I should go. It is the only favour I have
ventured to ask of you, or of any man since I have been here: grant me
the certificate, let me show it to Sir Cadwallader, and tear myself
away from the only place in the world where I care to live.”
“Oh!” said Short, putting his finger to his nose--“mutual, I see. Umph!”
“I did not say--”
“Yes, you did,” said Short. “How do you know Sir Cad. will let you go?”
“If he could,” said George, “which for worlds I would not he should,
even fancy what is passing in this room, he would--”
“What!” said Short--“do you think he does not know what is passing in
your mind and that of Miss Ellen’s?”
“What _is_ passing in our minds?” asked George.
“_Our_ minds!” said Short--“umph!--that’s it--_our_ minds! The glorious
_we_ of literature is not more commanding than the ‘our’ of you two.
Why, you are over head and ears in love with each other, and you
cannot help showing it wherever you are. I know the symptoms, Mr.
Assistant-secretary--have had the complaint myself: so has Sir Cad.--a
great practitioner in _that_ way:--d’ye think he is blind?”
“I know he is everything that is kind and good,” said George.
“Well, then, perhaps his goodness and kindness may go the length of
wishing you to be his son-in-law,” said Short.
“Impossible!” said George--“a creature he has made--”
“Umph!” said Short,--“don’t see how that interferes--eh! You had better
talk to _her_ of your heart than to _me_ of your liver. See what _he_
says--or, if you don’t like that, _I_ will.”
“Doctor!” said George, looking extremely fierce.
“I will,” said Short;--“that is to say, I shall tell his Excellency
officially that you have applied for a sick certificate; and, if you’ll
trust to me, I’ll work it to the best advantage. If Sir Cad. is crusty,
you shall have it. A pain in the side makes no show:--I can’t tell
whether you have a pain in your side or not. If he demur to your going,
you shall be in excellent health; if he frown, and expresses a wish
that way, you shall be shipped for Cheltenham in a fortnight.”
“I knew,” said George, “you would be my friend.”
“I _am_ your friend,” said the doctor, “therefore I want you to stop.
You have enemies here as well as your betters. Your going would be
a triumph to some half-dozen of the fellows who have been dangling
after Miss Ellen for the last two years, and who have never got
so much as a smile from her for their pains. No, no: mark me, Mr.
Assistant-secretary;--put the affair into my hands, and you shall have
the sick certificate when _I_ think you want it, and not before.”
George, it must be confessed, was incalculably surprised at the evident
notoriety of an attachment of which he even fancied himself unconscious
only a few days before. That the lookers-on see more than the players,
is generally said, and here was a proof of the correctness of the
saying: the very circumstance, however, of its having become a topic of
general conversation strengthened, as we have seen, his determination
to put an end to the scandal through the aid of his friend Short.
Had he not been bound to his military duty by military law, his retreat
could have been easily managed; but it was absolutely necessary that
the very man from whom he wished to keep his motives for going, secret,
should be the person, and the only person, who could dispense with
his services, and grant him leave to put his plan into execution.
As it was, he had only to trust to the doctor, whose proceedings he
endeavoured to accelerate by pointing out to him the dangers of delay.
That he was not slow to act, George soon discovered. At dinner the
next day Sir Cadwallader began to throw out hints that he was aware
of George’s intention of applying for the certificate, and in general
terms censured the conduct of commanding officers who, by permitting
themselves to be parties to a deception practised under the connivance
of medical officers, committed themselves as accomplices to what, after
all, however strong the phrase might sound, was little better than a
deliberate fraud.
“There’s jobbing all over the world,” said his Excellency. “One is
never safe. Any fellow that wants to shirk duty, makes friends with the
doctor, and out comes a sick certificate.--What’s the matter?--liver,
to be sure! As Short says, ‘Who can see a pain in the side?’”
Nobody spoke, because nobody exactly comprehended what his Excellency
meant by this gratuitous observation, except George, who felt himself
get extremely red in the face,--a very natural consequence of being
talked _at_ by a commander-in-chief. Ellen did not know to whom the
observation referred, and looked round the table to see if any of the
half-dozen guests were affected. Her look rested on George: their
eyes met: they both became suddenly embarrassed, and Sir Cadwallader,
who was good at a long shot, saw the glance and the response, which
confirmed his suspicions, and decided his course of conduct.
The evening of this day was passed as agreeably as the evening before,
but Ellen felt a difference in George’s manner towards her: she could
scarcely define what it was, or how to account for it, and yet it
somehow connected itself in her mind with her father’s hypothetical
observation at dinner. The guests departed, unregretted by either of
the lovers, for so, unconsciously they were; and the party was reduced
to a trio, composed of Sir Cadwallader, Ellen, and the assistant
military secretary, who always lingered last of the throng, were it
never so late.
“So,” said Sir Cadwallader, after a short pause, “I suppose, Mr.
Brown, you felt the force of my little remark at dinner about sick
certificates--eh! I hope you did--it was meant expressly for _you_.”
“Sir!” faltered George, anticipating the burst of displeasure which he
was assured would follow this announcement.
“Yes, sir,” said his Excellency, “I understand you have been applying
to Short for one of those melancholy testimonials of ill health, with a
liver as sound as a roach, and the constitution of a ploughman.”
“I assure your Excellency,” said George, “that--I am not capable of
deception upon any point:--I”--
“I don’t know what you call deception, Mr. Brown,” said Sir
Cadwallader; “you are in good health, and you want the doctor to say
you are sick, in order to quit your duty, and leave those who wish you
well.”
Ellen, who began to feel extremely uneasy, and think her presence at
such a scene was scarcely necessary, rose to depart.
“Stay, Miss,” said the General--“wait to hear what the gentleman has to
say for himself.”
“Really, papa,” said Ellen--
“Really, Miss,” said the General--“recollect I am commanding officer
here: obey orders--sit you down, Miss. If you wished for leave of
absence, Mr. Brown, why not have applied to me upon any fair ground? I
hate shamming--eh!”
“It is impossible,” said George, “for me either to extenuate or explain
my fault. It is now known to you, sir:--there can be no difficulty in
my going _now_.”
“Why so, sir?” said his Excellency.
“You have exhibited my thoughtless--my ungrateful conduct, in its
proper light,” said George: “I cannot--indeed, I cannot remain longer
with you.”
“Suppose, sir, I cannot spare you,” said the General.
“_My_ services, sir,” said, or rather sobbed, George, “are of no
importance. I--”
“That’s matter of opinion,” said the General. “But suppose _I_ could
manage without you--look at that young lady there--d’ye think _she_
could spare you?”
“Oh, father!” said Ellen, who had sat trembling, and cold, and pale,
during the conversation--“I--don’t wish to interfere.”
“You don’t!” said Sir Cadwallader--“not interfere!--you _do_ wish to
interfere, Miss. Lord bless your heart! Elly,--haven’t I been young
myself--eh? No, no, you can’t cheat _me_, cunning as you are:--you
love this fellow, and he loves _you_.”
“Father!” said Ellen.
Brown said nothing, but looked as if the world was on the point of
annihilation.
“Don’t contradict me, Elly,” said the General: “where’s the
harm?--where’s the wrong? When I heard George’s story, I was resolved
to restore him to his proper place in society. I brought him into
my house--into my family--and you have fallen in love with each
other:--that’s _my_ affair. What then? When I first knew your poor dear
mother--the best of women and of wives!--what was I?--a subaltern--the
second son of a grocer at Gloucester. That was it, George--her mother
was an heiress.--It sounds vain now--she fell in love with me, as
I did with _her_. Well, I became possessed of her fortune; _that_
enabled me to purchase up in my profession: and if it had not been
for that, I might have been now a hoary-headed lieutenant, or at best
a captain of sixty-two, going through my daily ‘Halt--left wheel,’
till my legs ached, instead of being here a titled and decorated
commander-in-chief. What has that dear woman to whom, under Providence,
I owe everything, left me?--this girl--this child of my heart--the
dearest--the only object of my affections! Half a glance tells me the
state of the case.”
Ellen sat with her eyes fixed upon her father--George’s filled with
tears--and what gem is brighter than a soldier’s tear so shed?
“Your conduct, sir,” said the General, “has done you the greatest
honour. I appreciate it in the highest degree. But it won’t do--go
you do not. If my Elly here is foolish enough to sympathize with her
father in his predilections, and chooses to give her heart to an
ensign without a shilling, what am I to do?--why, I’ll tell you, Mr.
Brown,--religiously to realize whatever wishes she may entertain, for
the sake of her beloved mother, and to take care that she does not make
a foolish match with somebody not half so worthy of her.”
“My dear father,” said Ellen--
“_Tace, tace!_ daughter of mine,” said Sir Cadwallader:--“don’t
coquet,--don’t try to deceive me. George, come here:--I am
serious--take her hand, my good, excellent fellow! You, who have been
so admirable a son, cannot fail to make a good husband. This is my firm
conviction.”
“But, sir,” said Miss Adamthwaite, rising, “I”--
“Oh!” said the general, “you don’t like him! Oh! that, indeed, is a
different affair:--then I am out in my reckoning, and there’s an end of
the business.”
“I didn’t say,” said Ellen,--and bursting into tears, she caught her
father round the neck, and her head dropped upon his shoulder.
“Come here, George,” said Sir Cadwallader--“come here!--take her from
me! I know what she means:--she is your’s!”--“I have neither chick nor
child but this beloved one!” continued the General, who seemed to have
caught the infection of weeping--“I have nobody to please but her and
myself. I think I have taken the surest method of doing both. I hate
fine speeches--I don’t want thanks--so, my dear souls, God bless you
both! I’m off--a syllable more from me would spoil it all. Talk over
your own matters. Let these be the last tears I ever see you shed;
and to-morrow the babblers, and tattlers, and scandal-mongers, shall
have the pleasure of hearing how the old general has been fool enough
to give his only daughter to a penniless subaltern! Good night! my
children--good night!”
Saying which, away went Sir Cadwallader, leaving the affianced lovers
in a state of doubt whether they were awake or in a dream. George gazed
on the blushing girl, even yet doubting whether she would fulfil her
father’s intentions. Their eyes met:--those doubts vanished. Words were
inadequate to the expression of their feelings:--he caught her in his
arms and pressed her to his panting heart:--at which particular moment,
Major Mopes, military secretary to his Excellency Sir Cadwallader
Adamthwaite, and Captain Narcissus Fripps, his Excellency’s senior
aide-du-camp, passed along the varhandah, into which all the doors and
windows of his Excellency’s drawing-room opened.
This exhibition of mutual tenderness was, it must be admitted,
something likely to make a commotion in a small circle. It, however,
produced effects upon the military secretary and the aide-du-camp
of a totally different character. Major Mopes, who had the highest
opinion of George, and whose praises of his conduct had mainly
conduced to create the interest which the general took in him, was
horror-stricken. The idea that _he_ had been chiefly instrumental in
bringing him into Sir Cadwallader’s family, the happiness of which he
was now so evidently attempting to destroy, filled him with regret and
indignation: all he hoped was, that his companion, Captain Fripps,
might not have seen all that _he_ had witnessed. He felt that if the
secret were confined to himself, George might yet be saved; that an
appeal to his sense of honour and right feeling would induce him
immediately to withdraw himself from a sphere so dangerous as that in
which he now was moving,--little thinking that George had decided upon
doing so a week before.
The aide-du-camp, however, _had_ seen the sight--which so startled him,
that he, like the major, but from very different motives, did not speak
a word. At the end of the varhandah they parted for the night, during
which, while Major Mopes lay considering how he might best save George
and Ellen, and smother the whole affair, the captain was arranging the
manner in which it would be best to communicate the circumstance to the
general so as to obtain the greatest possible credit for himself, and
secure the immediate dismissal of his apparently favoured rival in the
general’s consideration. For which purpose, the ingenuous and ingenious
gentleman, instead of going to bed, as was his original intention,
returned to the barracks and to the quarters of his bosom friend,
Ensign Honeyman, whom he had just left, in order to avail himself of
his advice: thus, in the very first instance, himself doing all the
mischief to Ellen’s character and reputation, the preservation of which
from injury was to be made the ostensible ground of his communication
of the fact to her father.
Honeyman, who was the inseparable companion of Fripps, agreed entirely
with his friend on the course to be pursued in order to overthrow
Brown; and it was accordingly settled that the captain should, the
very first thing in the morning, make a confidential report to his
Excellency of what had occurred.
Meanwhile the unconscious lovers, whose parting kiss formed the subject
of contemplation for both the gallant heroes, were thinking of each
other and of the happiness which had taken them so completely by
surprise, that they could scarcely think what had passed during the
evening anything but a bright, yet baseless vision. The old general was
the only one of the inmates of the house who slept soundly. He went to
bed to rest upon the consciousness of having made two people happy--of
having realised his intentions of providing for George--and gratified
his wish of giving Ellen the man to whom, insensibly and unconsciously,
she had become devotedly attached:--and, above all this, he revelled
in the pleasure of having found out their secret, and anticipated any
communication on the subject from either of themselves:--add to this,
his just appreciation of George’s anxiety to quit the only place in the
world which was dear to him--to surrender all the worldly advantages it
afforded, to preserve the being he loved from the anger of her parent,
the malice of her _friends_--or, putting it as an extreme case, the
ills of a marriage with a man who would have nothing but an ensign’s
half-pay, even if, under the circumstances, he could secure that--and
the amount of Sir Cadwallader’s self-gratulation may be in some degree
ascertained.
The gun had scarcely announced the dawn of day when Captain Narcissus
Fripps was up and stirring; there was no time to be lost. It was his
turn to ride with the general before breakfast; the opportunity would
be favourable; the success of the disclosure was unquestionable. The
getting rid of George was his great object; for the captain’s jealousy
of the interloper, as he considered him, was not so much excited by his
evident success with the young lady, as by the favourable estimation
in which the young lady’s father held him and his character: and when
jealousy takes possession of the mind, it leaves room for no other
passions but such as may be made subservient to its own ends, and which
may be called into action for its own revengeful gratification.
Lavater says, that “he, who being master of the fittest moment to crush
his enemy, magnanimously neglects it, is born to be a conqueror.”
Captain Narcissus Fripps, whatever heroic deeds he might have been
destined to do in other days, did by no means display this evidence
of future success; and although George was neither his, nor any other
man’s enemy, he resolved that two hours should not elapse before he was
irrecoverably ruined in Sir Cadwallader’s estimation.
The captain was a fair, sickly-looking man, always extremely well
dressed, his hair assiduously ringleted on his cheeks and over his
forehead. He wore divers rings upon his fingers, and sundry chains
around his neck; his clothes fitted him as if they were his skin. His
voice was drawling, and he lisped a little. When he talked, he pawed
the air with his hands flappingly, something after the fashion of a
kangaroo; and when he wished to be particularly lively, playfully
patted the arm of the person with whom he was conversing, affecting
himself always to be excessively shocked at everything that everybody
said to him: in short, nobody could exactly make him out. He was
considered excessively fine--evidently fancied himself a beauty, and
was not quite free from a suspicion of aiding nature in the getting up
of his complexion, by borrowing a tinge from art.
To have been treated neglectfully by a young lady of Ellen’s
qualifications, and that she should so readily have permitted such
marked advances on the part of one so unquestionably his inferior in
rank and station, (for the Fripps’ blood had been ennobled in a remote
degree from Narcissus,) was galling beyond measure; although his
attentions to Miss Adamthwaite had never gone much farther than singing
to her by moonlight, accompanying himself on the guitar, or making her
a pair of card-racks, or painting a couple of rose-buds on the top
of a cotton box. If she sometimes worked at those often-mentioned,
indescribable strips of muslin which engage the attention of modern
fine ladies, he would thread her needle for her; and in winding off
silk on his thumbs he was most assiduous and skilful. It was therefore
the indignity which he considered the circumstance to involve, rather
than the jealousy of a lover, which urged him on to ruin George. _His_
fate, however, was sealed, and when the horses were at the door,
Captain Narcissus felt his heart beat with anxiety for the discovery.
“Lie still, little flutterer,” said he, as he pressed his hand to his
bosom; and mounting his steed, rode slowly off with his Excellency the
Commander of the forces, to make their accustomed matutinal excursion.
Horseback, it must be confessed, whether the pace be a walk, trot,
amble, canter, or gallop, is not altogether suitable or convenient for
confidential communication; and when the captain found the general
resolved upon adopting the penultimate pace of those enumerated, he
felt the difficulty of breaking the business to him insuperable.
Indeed, Sir Cadwallader was not particularly partial to his
aide-du-camp’s society, and preferred, when circumstances permitted,
the company of Major Mopes, who, upon the morning in question,
stayed at home to counteract, if possible, the ill effects of the
representation which the captain went abroad expressly to make.
After a start of a mile or so, Sir Cadwallader pulled up, and suggested
to the captain that they should dismount, and walk up to a rising
ground on the other side of a fordable nullah, in order to get a view
of the town at a point from which Miss Adamthwaite had made a drawing,
but which the general had himself never happened to visit. This was
more fortunate for Narcissus than even _he_ could have hoped; the
place--the subject--all naturally tended to the point he had in view.
The “little flutterer” would lie still no longer: the aptness of the
opportunity delighted him, and he was decided to avail himself of it
forthwith.
“Were you here with Ellen when she made the sketch?” said Sir
Cadwallader.
“Oh! dear, no, general,” said Fripps, “I never come out upon sketching
parties with ladies: I shouldn’t think of doing such a thing.”
“I don’t see the harm of it,” said his Excellency. “In Italy, Ellen
used to pass the greatest part of the day in drawing from Nature: it
would have been dull work if she had thought it necessary to have
remained always alone.”
“Oh, dear Italy!” said Narcissus, sighing and turning up his eyes--“the
climate is so charming there.”
“Climate makes no great difference in conduct,” said Sir Cadwallader.
“No, to be sure,” said the captain, “but--I am so very particular, I
never presume on the good-nature of the dear ladies. Indeed what I see
going on with other people sometimes shocks me--not only on account of
my own feelings as they regard delicacy, but as far as the honour and
happiness of those I esteem and respect are concerned.”
“Honour and happiness!” said the General,--“what the deuce have honour
and happiness to do with a water-colour drawing?”
“Oh! dear no, general,” said the captain, pawing the air, “I did not
say they had; but--perhaps to the artist they may be something.”
“I hope, if you mean Ellen,” said Sir Cadwallader, “they have a great
deal to do with her.”
“Really, general,” said Fripps, “I don’t know what to say; but I have
something to tell you which you ought to know.”
“Why, then, out with it, Fripps,” said Sir Cadwallader.
“Oh! I can’t tell you all at once,” said the captain. “I know you will
be very angry--but I’m sure I ought to tell you: and yet I don’t know
how I shall ever be able to do such a thing!”
“What! is there a plot brewing, or a mutiny hatching?” said the General.
“Oh! no sir,” said Fripps, “it is nothing public; it is----oh, I can’t
tell you!”
“Why,” said the General, “I am not very particular as to time; only as
you have begun, you may as well go on.”
“Oh, it’s so very fie-fie! Sir Cadwallader,” said Narcissus.
“Very what?” said his Excellency.
“Very naughty, sir,” replied the aide-du-camp.
“Who is it about?” asked his Excellency.
“That is what I’m almost afraid to say,” continued Fripps. “I never
was so shocked in my life!--I declare I did not recover myself for two
hours after.”
“After what?” said the General:--“do speak out.”
“I don’t know how to explain,” said Fripps, wringing his hands like
“Some sad widow o’er her babe deploring”--
“but I’ll endeavour.”
“Is it anything about my daughter?” said Sir Cadwallader, who,
although unaware that any scene had taken place, had long remarked the
aide-du-camp’s growing dislike of George.
“La, General!--you are such a man,” said Fripps, “I declare, you seem
to know everything by intuition.”
“Well,” said his Excellency, “what has she been doing?”
“I know I shall never be able to explain it quite,” said Fripps;
“but--I--think I may mention that--people think--I--that is, Mr.
Brown--is--rather too free--and particular--and--”
“Umph!” said Sir Cadwallader. “If _I_ don’t find fault, and _she_
does not find fault with his attentions,--that is, if he does pay
her particular attention,--there is no great harm in _that_, Captain
Fripps.”
“No, sir,” said the captain; “but I’m sure you cannot guess. It is no
fault of Miss Ellen’s--that I am certain of:--but--you have no idea.
Oh! upon my word--that Mr. Brown--I speak, you know, in confidence to
you, sir--but--he is such a rude man.”
“Rude!” said Sir Cadwallader--“do you think so? As far--”
“Ah! that’s where it is,” said Fripps, pawing and ambling about--“I
can’t--it is something so very fie-fie--only you ought to know it:
but, I declare, I don’t know how to say it out.”
“When did all this occur?” said Sir Cadwallader.
“I haven’t lost a moment in telling your Excellency,” said Fripps:
“what I saw happened last night.”
“Oh!” said the General--(every doubt of George’s honourable conduct
having been released by learning the date of the affair, whatever it
was, which had shocked the delicacy of the exquisite Narcissus)--“was
it very bad?”
“I never did such a thing myself in all my life, Sir Cadwallader,” said
Fripps; “and, upon my honour! I am sorry to have seen it: it has quite
upset me.”
“You didn’t catch them in what the book-makers call ‘an interesting
situation,’ Captain Fripps, did you?” said Sir Cadwallader.
“La! General, you are such a man,” said Fripps. “I declare, how you
guessed it I cannot think--but you are right: so the moment I saw it,
I said to myself--well! if ever--Oh! gracious--to think of the man that
his Excellency has raised to his present station!--to think of--”
“That will do, captain,” said the General. “I am quite aware of the
excellence of your intentions, and I thank you for your excessive care
of Ellen’s interest and prospects:--now let us look at the prospect
before us.”
“Well!” said Fripps to himself, “if ever I saw such a man!”--“To think,
you know, of that nasty, great, coarse creature, Brown--well, if ever
I--”
“I think she has done it remarkably well,” said the general, putting
his hand varhandah-wise over his eyes, to look at the beautiful
panorama before them.
“What, sir?” said Fripps, ambling about and twiddling his curls.
“The view,” replied the General. “That bungalow in the foreground is a
beautiful object, and she has made the most of it. It is odd enough,
often as I have been on the Mulligopatemy road, I never was here
before.”
Fripps looked at his Excellency with amazement, and almost began to
repent not having himself been more lively with Miss Ellen, to whose
reputed fortune Narcissus would have had no earthly objection, even
encumbered with the lady herself.
“And so,” said Sir Cadwallader, returning to the subject, “you
surprised _my_ daughter and my assistant military secretary in an
interesting situation--eh?”
“Upon my word, General, it was not intentional on my part,” said
Fripps. “I had just been taking some of Hoffman’s capillaire and water,
and a sponge biscuit with Ensign Honeyman at his quarters, where we had
been singing some little Sicilian duets to the guitar by moonlight, and
time flew so quickly, that it was near eleven o’clock before we thought
of separating. When I came home I met Major Mopes at the gate, and we
went together through the varhandah, and there--I really--I assure you
it is the first time I ever saw such a thing--but there--there--Oh! how
shall I describe the scene?”
“You saw Mr. Brown kiss my daughter, perhaps:--I understand perfectly,”
said the General:--“that’s enough, Captain Fripps; we will settle
_that_ gentleman’s affair after breakfast. So, come, let us take to our
horses, and finish our ride.”
It must be admitted that Captain Fripps felt disagreeably disappointed
by the manner in which his Excellency received his account of the
glaring indecorum which he had overseen; but he knew that he was a
man of few words, with great promptitude and decision of action, and
he still encouraged the hope of seeing his antipathy--the assistant
military secretary, most unceremoniously expelled the house in the
course of the morning.
Differently, indeed, had the friendly Major Mopes been engaged during
the same period. He had seen and conversed with George, who, it must be
admitted, elated as he was by the wonderful piece of good-fortune which
had befallen him, indulged his playfulness of disposition by leading
the major by a very circuitous route to the real state of the case;
indeed he dexterously avoided coming to the point till he perceived,
by his worthy friend’s manner and countenance, that he must not carry
the joke much further. When he had explained all, and, to establish
the certainty of his statement, presented the military secretary to
Ellen Adamthwaite herself, in the character of her affianced lover, the
major’s gratification and joy were complete.
The breakfast, it must be owned, was a trial to the principal
performers. Ellen, of course, had been informed by George of the
discovery of their parting embrace by the two staff-officers--Mopes
still thinking that Narcissus, who was generally occupied by thoughts
of himself, had not seen equally clear with himself.
The moment arrived; the general entered the breakfast-room. Curries,
rice, Bombay ducks, Java red fish, eggs, European ham, hump and kabobs,
were thickly intermingled with grapes, strawberries, mangoes, and
plantains. The grateful fumes of coffee filled the atmosphere; and the
tea, unchilled by the waving Punkah, sparkled in its cups. Ellen took
her seat with downcast eyes, after having received a certain number
of paternal kisses from his Excellency; and Captain Narcissus Fripps,
after having shaken hands with George Brown, deposited himself at the
end of the table, directly opposite the gallant yet melancholy Mopes,
major and military secretary.
As the meal proceeded, Fripps could not help noticing certain looks
which were passing between his four companions, especially as even
the countenance of the major was every now and then illuminated by a
cursory expression more nearly approaching to a smile than he had ever
seen them before. The General looked at George; George looked at Ellen;
and Ellen, affecting to repress his intelligent glances by a half-comic
seriousness, was blushing crimson.
Captain Narcissus Fripps began to feel exceedingly awkward and
embarrassed. It was clear that his companions were in a confederacy,
and that he was, by general consent, “basketed.” Very few words were
spoken, and nobody seemed inclined to break the silence. Narcissus
felt assured that the General had availed himself of the first moment
after their return home to lecture his daughter upon the dreadful
impropriety which he had witnessed; but this he could hardly reconcile
with the fact that Brown was placed next her at table, and permitted
to look and talk to her, little or much, as suited his fancy; while
the eyes of Ellen plainly exhibited the existence of an intelligence
between them--which eyes _will_ exhibit in the just degree to which
such intelligence extends.
It all at once struck the captain, that upon a principle not
unfrequently acted upon,--of doing what in certain circles is called,
“wiping it up, and saying nothing about it,” the General meant to
take no public notice of the event which he had communicated, but
that, instead of kicking the assistant military secretary out of the
house, he would give him some detached appointment, which would have
the effect of removing him from his present sphere of action, and his
nomination to which, would be attributed to the General’s continued
and unchanged regard for him, rather than as a manœuvre to separate
him from his daughter. This idea the gentle Narcissus cherished; and
perfectly conscious that the embarrassment in which they all appeared
involved must have arisen from his solicitude for the peace and honour
of the family, and coupling these effects with the absence of all
remark from the General, touching the matter, he resolved to act upon
the same principle, assimilate his conduct to that of Sir Cadwallader,
and take the first occasion to make him sensible of the caution he
proposed to adopt, and the course he intended to pursue.
It ought to be mentioned that Captain Fripps was not a very great
favourite with anybody at head-quarters. The major indeed called him
“Molly Fripps,” and that too in a sad and solemn tone; and George was
quite aware that he affected to despise _him_. The stiffness of the
breakfast-party would not of itself, therefore, have startled him, but
the character of the stiffness of this particular morning puzzled him
exceedingly; for although little was said, so much more was looked than
usual, that never did captain more greatly rejoice than did this of
ours, when the repast was terminated by the departure of Ellen.
The young lady’s exit was shortly followed by those of the major and
George, and once again the aide-du-camp was alone with the General.
“Well, captain,” said Sir Cadwallader, “I suppose you think my conduct
very strange.”
“No, upon my honour! not, sir,” said Fripps: “I quite appreciate it--so
considerate--and so wise--and so like your Excellency.”
“I am glad you approve of it,” said the General:--“but who told you the
history of my proceedings since our return home?”
“Oh! nobody told me,” said the captain; “I would not talk about it to
anybody for the world.”
“Then how have you acquired the knowledge of what I have done, and what
I propose to do?” said his Excellency.
“I conclude,” said Fripps, “that your Excellency means to take no
notice of what I told you, to the parties themselves, but get rid of
Mr. Brown in some way or other, so as to prevent the _eclat_.”
“Prevent the _eclat_ of an affair known to two or three people!”
exclaimed the General--“no, no.”
“I protest, sir,” said Fripps, “it shall never pass my lips: I have too
much regard for Miss Adamthwaite. It would be very shocking, I know, to
let it spread; but my duty to _you_, as well as my esteem for _her_,
would keep me silent as the tomb upon the subject.”
“You need not restrain yourself, Captain Fripps,” said Sir Cadwallader,
“on _my_ account or hers.”
“I know, sir,” said Fripps, “that you have been so kind and good to Mr.
Brown; and what a shocking vice ingratitude is!--And to think of his
venturing to embrace any young lady, and especially your daughter!”
“Did you ever hear an old song that I used to sing when I was a sub.,”
said the general:--
“‘My mother having heard that Colin he had kiss’d me,
Proposed to the youth that to-morrow we should wed:
To church then we went, paid the parson his fees,
And so got holy licence to kiss when we please.’”
“Oh! dear, no,” said Fripps, shuddering, and pawing, and making
curtseying bows, “I never heard such a song as _that_ in all my life.”
“Well, it may serve to enlighten you then,” said the General. “What
if Ellen Adamthwaite and George Brown are about to do a similar
thing--what should you say _then_?”
“What!” exclaimed the captain--“you _don’t_ mean, sir,--that--”
“I do mean so,” said Sir Cadwallader.
“What! that delicate fair creature,” said Fripps, in a soliloquizing
tone, “to--”
“--Yes, is likely very soon to become _Brown_, Captain Fripps,” said
the General.
“Why, then, the discovery I made--”
“Was nothing very important after all,” said the General. “Your
kindness and consideration for her and me are nevertheless equally
admirable; only if you had not gone back to your friend Mr. Honeyman’s
quarters, and told _him_ what you had seen, before you mentioned it to
_me_, our obligations perhaps would have been somewhat greater.”
“Well, I declare, Sir Cadwallader,” said Fripps, “I only told him
because I--”
“Because you happened to be sure of finding _him_ up,” said the
General, “and you were not so sure of getting hold of anybody else at
that time to whom to give the interesting information.”
“Oh dear, dear!--I shall never be able to look at Miss Ellen again,”
said the captain. “I admit it was--how could you have known it,
sir?--dear me!--what a deceitful toad Honeyman must be to have betrayed
me.”
“We will not discuss the matter any further,” said the General. “I
agree with _you_ that it would be irksome for you to associate with my
daughter and her husband after what has occurred, and therefore you
have my full permission to resign your aide-du-campship, and join your
regiment. I am a plain, blunt man, as you know, and of few words.”
“Oh, dear Sir Cadwallader!” said Fripps, “do not force me to leave you:
everything may be arranged, and I--”
“I wish you good morning, Captain Fripps,” said the General. “My
daughter bids me decline on _her_ part a scene of leave-taking, and
will not in all probability return home until after your departure.
Brown’s name will be in orders as aide-du-camp this afternoon; and, as
I am now allowed only one, you will see the necessity of marching in
‘double quick.’ Good morning.” Saying which, his Excellency retired
from the apartment, muttering humourously to himself--
“But never more be officer of mine.”
“Well, if ever!” said Narcissus--“dear me--this is most uncommonly
unpleasant! I declare I could scratch that nasty creature Honeyman’s
eyes out, for such a sly trick. I’ll go to him--tax him with his
conduct:--but I am sure we shall make it up before we part; because I
am quite certain he did not mean to injure me.”
And so Fripps went on murmuring to himself, until, to his utter
dismay, one of Sir Cadwallader’s servants made his appearance with his
Excellency’s compliments--wished to know when his “things would be
ready for moving.” This question was conclusive. The circumstance which
had occurred--the awkward position in which he had placed himself by
his tittle-tattle, and the intentions so evidently displayed in his
conduct, all conspired to induce him to exert himself in fulfilling
his Excellency’s wish for his speedy disappearance. His servant was
directed to make immediate preparations for the start; and the captain
himself proceeded to Honeyman, to reproach and bid him farewell. Their
quarrel was, as the captain had anticipated, soon reconciled; and from
the door of his dear friend’s quarters, Fripps, after eating a tiffin
of fowl-sandwiches, raspberry tarts, and barleysugar-drops, moistened
by some lemonade, took his departure to join his regiment at Bombay.
It is strange how much the loss of one, to a constant association with
whom we have become habituated, affects us. Ellen, who cared no more
for Narcissus than for any other officer in his Majesty’s service,
naval or military, and in all human probability much less, could not
look at his vacant place at tiffin without a feeling of regret. Perhaps
this feeling, considering the consequences his removal involved, as far
as regarded his worldly circumstances, might have been strengthened by
the recollection that, however innocently, unconsciously certainly,
and most unintentionally, she herself had been the cause of his
ejection. Certain it was, she was out of spirits, and George saw she
was. He could not help feeling uneasy at the symptoms he observed, but
his anxiety was considerably relieved when he had ascertained that
his _friend_ was actually gone, and saw that Ellen, when her George
filled his chair at dinner, was as much at her ease as she could be,
knowing that the events which had occurred during the day were most
undoubtedly forming the topic of conversation at every other table in
the presidency.
We must not bestow sufficient space upon the episode of our history, to
dwell at length upon the proceedings at head-quarters until the day of
George’s marriage to Ellen was fixed. When the matrimonial termination
to their acquaintance was announced as decided and inevitable, the
public opinion of the forty or fifty estimable ladies and gentlemen,
who formed the public of the place, turned wonderfully in favour of
George. He was a most agreeable person--so clever; and it was so
judicious of the General to advance merit, and consult the happiness
of his child. And at last the day came, and they were married, and
proceeded to pass the honeymoon in the picturesque bungalow which
formed the effective foreground of Ellen’s last East-Indian view.
The happiness of this most happy pair--for so they were--was not,
however, destined to continue long uninterrupted: a sudden attack,
and short illness, deprived them in the third month of their married
life of the kind-hearted, generous parent, the founder of their
fortunes and felicity. This event, of course, decided them upon
returning to England, and induced George to retire from the army.
Having entered it, as an officer, much too late to expect in peaceable
times promotion, even by purchase, to any valuable extent, he yielded
to the solicitations of his Ellen, who had seen enough of military
life as a soldier’s daughter, not to desire a continuance of it as a
soldier’s wife. Her tastes,--her pursuits,--were those of retirement
and quiet, and the blessing of being so much her own mistress as not
to be destined by a Horse-Guards’ order to pass ten or twelve years of
her life in an East-Indian cantonment or a West-Indian barrack, was too
great to be refused. So implicit was Sir Cadwallader’s reliance upon
George, that, at the old gentleman’s death, he found himself, with some
trifling limitations, in the possession of property, real and personal,
to the amount of upwards of seven thousand a-year.
In this position was George Brown when he returned to England; and
it may easily be imagined that the circumstances detailed in this
narrative, when related by himself to his mother and sister upon the
occasion of his first visit to them, produced in their hearts and minds
sentiments of gratitude to Providence, by which a course of events so
propitious to their beloved, deserving relative, had been ordained.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,
Dorset Street, Fleet Street.
Transcriber’s Notes
p.38, l.15: Removed a redundant (double) that (that he was a choice
spirit).
p.52, l.11: Removed double quotation mark at the end of the sentence
(Brag as Brag thought of himself).
p.53, l.13: Added a hyphen (hand-in-glove).
p.81, l.19: Corrected name (Ilfracombe).
p.124, l.23: Typo corrected (to explain herself).
p.160, l.13: Added a full stop (directed to A. Z.).
p.175, l.1: Typo corrected (we were only anxious).
p.256, l.2 and p.261, l.10: The author (T. Hook) uses the spelling in
Gilbert Gurney: Varhandah.
Throughout the text: keeping aide-du-camp even though it seems wrong.
Except as noted above, original spelling and punctuation have been
retained.