Her letters!
I could almost see, as I read them, the dear, earnest, soul-lit grey
eyes, gazing once more into mine; the loving little hand that penned
each darling sentence. In fancy, I could mark the changing expressions
that swept across the sweet Madonna face, whose every line I knew so
well, as, down-bent on the rustling paper, some sad or happy
recollection filled her mind for awhile, in detailing those little
events of her daily life which she related to please me. She wrote to
me easily and naturally, just as if she were talking to me--the greatest
charm a letter can have. The written words appeared to speak out to me
in silvery intonations and musical rhythm:--the very violet ink seemed
scented with her breath!
Dear little Miss Pimpernell had endeavoured to satisfy, as far as she
was able, the longing cravings of my heart for any intelligence about
Min--how she was looking, if she saw her often, did she think of me, if
she was happy or miserable at my absence; but, how little could her
budgets compare with the letters I now got regularly, once a fortnight
at least, from Min herself--the fountain-head of all my desires!
She told me everything--where she went, what she did, even what she
thought--in simple, artless language that made me know her better, in
the thorough workings of her nature, than during those long months of
our intimacy at home.
I had plenty of news, too; besides information, on sundry little points,
which was only of interest to us two.
Nothing passed in Saint Canon's with which I was not made acquainted;
and, I now learnt much that Miss Pimpernell had not told, or which I had
been unable to make out and understand, through the difficulties I met
with in the dear old lady's penmanship.
Her writing resembled more the intricate movements of a particularly
sharp-legged and frisky spider, previously dipped in very pale ink, over
the pages she laboured at so painstakingly for my benefit, than any
ordinary calligraphy! _She_, however, believed it especially neat and
intelligible; and, I would not have undeceived the dear old soul for the
world!
In one instance, she had mentioned--so I deciphered the intelligence--
something about Horner marrying, as I thought, Lizzie Dangler; but, I
now found out from Min, that my Downing Street friend was _engaged_
only, not married; and, that the object of his choice was Seraphine
Dasher, instead of the former young lady--the error being easily
explainable in the fact, that all of Miss Pimpernell's capital letters,
with the exception of her "B's" and "H's," bore a close family
resemblance to each other; while, the remaining components of her words
were composed of a single dash, and besides that, nothing. Hence, arose
the mistake of my confounding the two names, both of which commenced
with a "D"--which it was a wonder that I saw at all, it being Miss
Pimpernell's weakest capital!
But, I knew now who had really got the handkerchief thrown by the Sultan
of Downing Street; while Lizzie Dangler was yet free to bless some more
sagacious swain. So, also, was lisping, little, flaxen-haired Baby
Blake, whom I had believed much more likely to capture Horner than the
Seraph, as she was always chaffing him and making light of his
attentions.
However, girls are so deceptive, that, unless you are let into the
secret, you can never find out the happy individuals whom they really
favour. We men folk, on the contrary, soon contrive to exhibit the
state of our feelings to unsympathising outsiders, who laugh at us and
deride us thereanent! We are "creatures of impulse:"--they, the most
barefaced little dissimulators possible!
Fancy, Horner being married, though!
"Bai-ey Je-ove!" It would be, to me, well-nigh incredible!
Fancy his "popping the question" to Seraphine--who, I'm positive, must
have giggled in his face when that interesting operation was gone
through; and, then, his subsequent interview with Lady Dasher, who
probably detailed for his instruction, how her "poor dear papa" had
acted on a similar memorable occasion!
I should only like to learn how many times his eye-glass was really
appealed to, to help him out of a sentence; and, how frequently he said
"Ba-iey Je-ove!" before the whole thing was arranged and his mind set at
ease!
The marriage was to take place very soon--really, all of our
acquaintances were getting married, and having their courses of true
love to run smoothly for them, unlike Min and I!
After the ceremony was over between these twain, I was told that Lady
Dasher--who, now that her two daughters would be "off her hands," no
longer had any necessity to keep up a separate establishment--was to
move from The Terrace, with her fuchsias and other belongings, and take
up her residence for the future with her first son-in-law, Mr Mawley;
the curate being now ensconced in that villa, whose furnishing by old
Shuffler, lang syne, had caused me so much jealousy and grief!
Ah! This _was_ news.
I chuckled immensely over the idea of the relict of the gin distiller
settling down like a wet blanket on the connubial couch of the curate!
Whenever the ghost of "poor dear papa," in a reminiscential form, was
made to walk the earth again, I would be avenged for all the quips and
jibes which Mawley had formerly selected me to receive! He would meet
with an antagonist now, worthy of his carping, critical metal! I wished
him joy of the situation!
Mawley and Lady Dasher together in one house, permanently!