OF THE MEETING BETWEEN THE GENERAL AND HIS SECRETARY, WHO RELATES AN
AFFAIR OF GALLANTRY THAT HAD WELL-NIGH COST HIM HIS LIFE; ALSO, OF
THE DEPARTURE FOR KALORAMA.
"TICKLER! my faithful secretary, the friend and companion of my
future fortunes!" exclaimed the general, embracing the trembling
Tickler as he entered the room somewhat timidly. And after shaking
him warmly by the hand he ordered two punches, over which he
promised to give him an account of the anxiety he had suffered at
his absence, and which might have proved a serious affair to the
nation.
"By my honor, general," replied Tickler, fingering his beard, and
looking somewhat confused, "your kindness is as unexpected as I know
it is sincere. And if you say the punches, it is as you say. It is
to ask your forgiveness I came, and here you offer me proofs that I
have not even incurred your displeasure."
"Mercy and courtesy, friend Tickler, belong to our profession,"
interrupted the general, elongating his body, placing his thumbs in
the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and striding twice or thrice across
the room. "I feared you were dead, friend Tickler. And it might look
suspicious," he resumed. "But you are alive, and I am glad enough of
it." The punches now smoked upon the table; and as the general drew
up his chair beside the secretary, that functionary began to relate
the cause of his absence. "I got safe into Baltimore, you see, and
having no more fears of the finger-taps of sheriffs, was quietly
wending my way for the Gilmore House, and had reached a fine old
mansion that stood a little from the street, when my attention was
attracted by a voice singing so sweetly that I became like one
transfixed, for the strains seemed melting my very heart. And you
know, general, that it's no hard matter to melt the heart of an
Irish gentleman. The voice sounded like one I had heard before, and
I paused, and listened, and wondered whose it could be, and suddenly
it ceased. I turned to gaze in the direction from whence the music
came, and there saw, through an open window, a girl of such
exquisite beauty that I felt like getting upon my knees and
worshipping her as the idol of love. During the pause she sat at a
piano motioning her fan, and with so much grace and delicacy that
even a Castilian could not have excelled it. Her complexion was like
alabaster, her features of Grecian cast, and as regular as if they
had been chiseled. And these charms were made more bewitching by the
luxuriant tresses of black hair that hung carelessly down upon her
broad, white shoulders. The thought that I had seen her before
almost crazed me. Then suddenly her delicate fingers tripped over
the keys of the piano, and she struck up a song, the words of which
I have not now at my tongue's end, but which I remember said a deal
about hope, anguish, and hearts that were true. Something also was
said about the cold marble, and withered hopes. I may say, sir, that
it bore a strong resemblance to songs I have heard sung by lovers in
my own country,-"
"Pray proceed with what came of the lady," interrupted the general,
impatiently.
"Why, sir, she sang this song so sweetly that the very air seemed
filled with melody, and I fancied myself either in Limerick or
Paradise. After gazing in admiration of her for several minutes, she
turned her eyes toward me; and as she did so, 'Heavens!' says I,
'there's Linda Mortimor!' And if you would know who this Linda
Mortimor is, listen and I will tell you. Her father was a merchant
of New York, of princely fortune and good ancestry. And this
fortune, together with his pride, he was resolved never to let get
beyond the narrow limits of a circle of distant but equally
fortunate relatives. But Linda, who was just budding into her
seventeenth summer, let her affections fall upon an opera singer, a
tenor of the name of Leon Benoni, who had some fame in his
profession, and was likewise a man of good morals, which is rare
with such gentlemen. I had known Leon for many years, and between us
there existed a strong friendship. And as he returned Linda's
affections with a love so impassioned that he swore death only could
separate them, I promised to render him such service as he might
need in an emergency. The possession of a girl so pure, so tender in
years, and yet so beautiful, was a prize Leon would have braved
death to gain."
The general, more impatient than ever, again interrupted by
enjoining Mr. Tickler to stick to Linda, and omit what Leon said.
"When you have two lovers in a story," returned the critic, "you
cannot well get along with what one said: you must fetch them along
together."
"That may be your New York fashion," interpolated the general; "but
I know one Joe Doane, of Barnstable, who had a whole year of love
stories in his head, and got along well enough with one lover to a
story."
These remarks somewhat displeased the secretary, who gave vent to
his feelings in certain upward turns of his short nose. In truth, he
was well-nigh ending the love story on the spot; for he cursed in
his heart the stupidity of a gentleman of such shallow tastes that
he would only have one lover in so good a story. But he bethought
himself that now they were both high officials, he must show proper
deference to his superior. "If you would have love stories," pursued
the critic, with an air of regained pride, "pray take them in their
natural state, and not as they are made by popular novelists, who
get all sorts of murders into them. As to this young couple, seeing
that Heaven (which forms destinies,) had ordered their love to run
one way, I arranged their interviews, and so managed the exchange of
their communications that they had pledged their affections in
eternal constancy for months before the affair reached the ears of
Linda's parents. And when it did, a great excitement was got up
against Leon, who was charged with various crimes against the
dignity of the family; indeed, so far was their indignation carried
that several ambitious members of the family threatened him with no
few ounces of cold lead. Opera singing was, at best, they said, but
a shabby occupation, followed only by such trifling foreigners as
had nothing else to do, and were wisely kept outside the pale of
society.
"Leon then was cruelly separated from Linda, whose hard-hearted
parents had her locked up in her chamber, where she remained seven
months writing her grief in verses of such rare sentiment and purity
of style that I doubt if Byron has anything to excel them. But
finding that her love for Leon was incurable, and that the
confinement was producing insanity of mind, her father thought to
affect a remedy by offering Leon ten thousand dollars to quit the
country. This he spurned, bidding the father give his money to him
who measured the soul of man by its value.
"Linda's only companion during the confinement, was a pet canary,
which she had trained to convey messages across the street, and into
the window of a chamber occupied by one Minnie Rush, a companion and
schoolmate, and one to whom she could intrust the secrets of her
heart with explicit confidence. Through this medium then she
discovered the place of her confinement to Leon, for whom I arranged
a plan of scaling her prison and carrying her away. And this plan we
undertook to execute of a dark night in November, when a pelting
storm drenched the earth with rain, and the wind howled, and all the
adverse elements seemed to have combined to complete the fury of the
tempest. Linda was prepared, and paced her room with curious hopes
and anticipations swelling her heart, and even filling her eyes with
tears. When the clock struck twelve, we had, by dint of great
exertion, got the ladder to Linda's window in the third story. And
as Leon commenced ascending, Linda slowly opened the window. Fiercer
and fiercer their throbbing hearts began beating; each second seemed
an hour; and although the storm howled piteously, anxiety had so
sharpened their senses that they distinctly heard the slightest
movement. Quickening his pace as he advanced, and thinking only of
the prize he would rescue from its prison, he was well nigh the top
of the ladder. Another minute and the two lovers would have been
clasped in each other's arms. Not a thought would have been wasted
on the hard-hearted father; Leon would have borne the darling of
his heart away in triumph! But lo! a crash was heard; the ladder
yielded to the gale, and Leon, who was a man of much weight and
circumference, fell to the ground with a broken leg. 'A pretty
pickle you'r in now, Orlando Tickler,' says I to myself. But to make
the matter worse, the ladder fell also, and so great was the noise
that the father of Linda and two friends rushed out of the house in
their night clothes, and with pistols in their hands. Seeing the
cause of the disturbance, they at once gave chase after me; and
though I would have stood by Leon until death separated us, it came
into my mind that getting away as fast as possible would be the best
service I could render him, seeing that it would afford him an
opportunity to creep away into some hiding-place.
"I must not forget to tell you, general, that although I am a
fleet-footed man, so closely was I pursued that I received not less
than three shots in the skirts of my coat, and had been a dead man,
but that two good-natured policemen came up, and stopping the
enraged father, bid him give an account of himself; for they were
unaccustomed to seeing gentlemen run naked in such a storm, armed
with pistols. This enabled me to reach a place of safety. But the
thought struck me that they would return and make search for Leon. I
therefore followed them at a stealthy pace and at a safe distance
for myself. Leon had crawled through a little gate and into a garden
close by, where he found a shelter beneath some larch bushes, and
was safe from the vengeance of his pursuers, who several times
passed and re-passed within a few feet of him. The wreck of the
ladder was all that greeted their eyes.
"When then the father and his friends returned disappointed to the
house, I approached the policemen, and giving them an account of the
affair and a few dollars, soon secured their good services. In
truth, sir, they declared by their truncheons that if they had been
let into the secret a little earlier the hard-hearted old parent had
been locked up in the station house, and made to give an account of
himself, and, perhaps, to pay dearly for being caught in a plight so
dangerous to the peace of the neighborhood. They, however, kindly
assisted in getting a carriage, in which Leon was got to his home,
where he remained seven weeks without singing a note, and suffering
much in mind, as well as body. And when he recovered, it was only to
find that Linda was gone-had been carried away, and no one could
tell him the place of her concealment. Thus forlorn, he gave himself
up in despair, and came near dying of a broken heart, though he was
attended by three physicians. But the post-man brought him a letter
one day, and a timely letter it was; for by it Linda informed Leon
that she was in Madrid with her father, which caused him so much joy
that I had fears lest it derange his understanding. But a cloud came
over his joy when she told him that such was the surveillance she
was under that her life seemed a mere continuation of wretchedness.
And while she still declared her love was unchanged, she artfully
added that her father had so modified his opinions of foreigners as
to press a suit between her and a Spanish Count, of whom it was said
that he possessed estates in Arragon. This news seriously affected
Leon, who was of an impulsive temper, and quick to give himself up
to grief; for he knew what strange changes time and distance works
in the mind of a young, ardent girl like Linda. He knew, too, how
difficult a thing it was to resist the fascinating manners of the
courtly Spaniard. All these things caused him to sorrow, and this
sorrow so fed upon his heart that he resolved to get to Madrid with
all speed and rescue her from so tyrannical a parent, though it cost
him his life. But he was suddenly taken sick of a fever, which, in
addition to well-nigh carrying him to the grave, left his intellect
in a deranged state, and so reduced him in body that his friends
resolved he had only a month or so more for this world. I had
watched over Leon, and but for my poverty would have remained by his
bedside until death separated us. It was my necessities, sir, that
compelled me to join you.--"
"By my honor, friend Tickler," interrupted the general, approvingly,
"I will now swear you make a good soldier; for such faith is rarely
met outside of the profession to which I belong."
"As to that," resumed Mr. Tickler, "your great experience in these
matters must make you the better judge. It then got (I turn now to
Linda and Leon) into the papers that Leon was dead. And though I
know not by what process this was effected, I can tell you that many
obituaries were written in respect of him. Seeing that he had been
so honorably disposed of by the editors, Leon held it better not to
contradict the report, but as soon as he was in possession of
sufficient strength, to leave in disguise for the scene where he
would welcome death or win the prize for which his heart yearned.
"Judge, then, of my surprise when I recognized Linda in the lovely
creature who played with so much skill, and sang so sweetly. Our
recognition was mutual, for I stood where the shadow of the
moonbeams played over my face. 'Heavens!' says I, 'how can I rescue
her?' I saw she was not free, but rather the victim of a heart
burdened with cares. My next thought was how to communicate with
her. I retired to a little cottage close by, where I wrote a note on
tissue paper, proposing an appointment on the following day, and
secured it to the stem of a rosebud. Then I found a poor woman, a
Savoyard, playing on her harp in the street; and having read that
these women were accustomed to performing such parts for the rich
lovers of their own country, I engaged her to play under the window
until she had so attracted the attention of Linda as to make her
understand by signs what was in the bud. This she engaged to do in a
manner that would make success certain. She then repaired to the
task; and having played several airs from the opera of Linda of
Chamouni with great artistic skill, soon brought Linda to the
window, where she at first listened as if she were taking lessons of
a master, but soon changed her listening to surprise at the singular
signs made by the woman between the airs. The mystery was dissolved
when I again appeared at the front gate and stood in the shadow of
the moonbeams. Linda declared she would not be content until the
poor Savoyard was got into the house, averring that as she had never
before heard such exquisite playing, she was anxious to ask the
woman some questions concerning her history. To please Linda, then,
she was got into the house, where, embracing a favorable moment, she
slipped the bud into Linda's hand. I had suggested a place of
meeting at twelve o'clock on the following day; and I leave to your
conjecture what took place up to that time. Let me tell you, then,
that she escaped from the house through the aid of a faithful
servant, and we met, exchanged our joys as never did brother and
sister; yes, we unburdened our hearts and gave each other accounts
of all that had passed since the night Leon attempted to rescue her
from her chamber.
"Linda had not been to Madrid, but Cuba; and the letter to Leon was
nothing more than a cruel fabrication of her parents, who had
persuaded her that he was dead, and produced papers recording his
death in proof of their declarations. When I discovered to her that
Leon was still alive, she fell upon her knees and beseeched me to
speed with her to him. I knew and felt my duty to the nation; but
the request of this lovely girl was something the gallantry of my
soul could not refuse."
The general, who had listened attentively while sipping his punch,
interrupted, saying, "I reverence your magnanimity, young man, and
am glad to see that you had no thought of appropriating the prize to
yourself. I am glad, too, that you had an eye to how much the nation
might suffer by this love affair."
"Says I to myself," resumed the secretary, "'Orlando Tickler! now
it's between the nation and this fair girl-choose which you will let
go to ruin. Faith, the nation is well enough,' says I, 'and here
goes to do my duty by this distressed damsel. And with nothing but
what she had on her back, and a purse of gold, we turned our backs
upon Baltimore, and like doves chased by sportsmen, proceeded with
all speed to Leon, who had taken up his abode at an airy villa on
the banks of the Hudson. And here again I will leave to your
conjecture what took place when they met; and conclude by saying
that I went mad with joy on seeing them locked in each other's arms.
And while New York was being searched in vain by the friends of her
unyielding parents, I saw them made one twain by the village parson;
then I left them as happy a couple as ever mingled love, and sought
you, intending to ask forgiveness. You have it all, sir; and may
Heaven reward you for the forgiveness you have vouchsafed me."
And now, the time for the general's departure having arrived, old
Battle was got safely on board, when this wonderful politician,
soldier, and diplomatist, and his clever secretary, set sail for the
Kaloramas; and when they had proceeded on their voyage for some
weeks met with so serious an accident that the writer of this
faithful history deems it proper that he should record it in the
next chapter.
It ought also to be mentioned here that the general, out of sheer
respect to his honesty as a critic, appointed Easley guardian to his
gifted pig, whose earnings he promised to transmit to Polly Potter
instead of the unfathomable depths of the "Bleeding Kansas Fund."