THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING.
"On the 23d instant, Alfred Dinks, Esq., of Boston, to Fanny, oldest
daughter of Boniface Newt, Esq., of this city."
Fanny wrote the notice with her own hands, and made Alfred take it to the
papers. In this manner she was before her mother-in-law in spreading the
news. In this manner, also, as Boniface Newt, Esq., sat at breakfast, he
learned of his daughter's marriage. His face grew purple. He looked
apoplectic as he said to his wife,
"Nancy, what in God's name does this mean?"
His frightened wife asked what, and he read the announcement aloud.
He rose from table, and walked up and down the room.
"Did you know any thing of this?" inquired he. "What does it mean?"
"Dear me! I thought he was engaged to Hope Wayne," replied Mrs. Newt,
crying.
There was a moment's silence. Then Mr. Newt said, with a sneer,
"It seems to me that a mother whose, daughter gets married without her
knowledge is a very curious kind of mother--an extremely competent kind
of mother."
He resumed his walking. Mrs. Newt went on with her weeping. But Boniface
Newt was aware of the possibilities in the case of Alfred, and therefore
tried to recover himself and consider the chances.
"What do you know about this fellow?" said he, petulantly, to his wife.
"I don't know any thing in particular," she sobbed.
"Do you know whether he has money, or whether his father has?"
"No; but old Mr. Burt is his grandfather."
"What! his mother's father?"
"I believe so. I know Fanny always said he was Hope Wayne's cousin."
Mr. Newt pondered for a little while. His brow contracted.
"Why on earth have they run away? Did Mr. Burt's grandson suppose he
would be unwelcome to me? Has he been in the habit of coming here,
Nancy?"
"No, not much."
"Have you seen them since this thing?"
"No, indeed," replied the mother, bursting into tears afresh.
Her husband looked at her darkly.
"Don't blubber. What good does crying do? G--! if any thing happens in
this world, a woman falls to crying her eyes out, as if that would help
it."
Boniface Newt was not usually affectionate. But there was almost a
ferocity in his address at this moment which startled his wife into
silence. His daughter May turned pale as she saw and heard her father.
"I thought Abel was trial enough!" said he, bitterly; "and now the girl
must fall to cutting up shines. I tell you plainly, Nancy, if Fanny has
married a beggar, a beggar she shall be. There is some reason for a
private marriage that we don't understand. It can't be any good reason;
and, daughter or no daughter, she shall lie in the bed she has made."
He scowled and set his teeth as he said it. His wife did not dare to cry
any more. May went to her mother and took her hand, while the father of
the family walked rapidly up and down.
"Every thing comes at once," said he. "Just as I am most bothered and
driven down town, this infernal business of Fanny's must needs happen.
One thing I'm sure of--if it was all right it would not be a private
wedding. What fools women are! And Fanny, whom I always thought so
entirely able to take care of herself, turns out to be the greatest
fool of all! This fellow's a booby, I believe, Mrs. Newt. I think I have
heard even you make fun of him. But to be poor, too! To run away with a
pauper-booby, by Heavens, it's too absurd!"
Mr. Newt laughed mockingly, while the tears flowed fast from the eyes of
his wife, who said at intervals, "I vow," and "I declare," with such
utter weakness of tone and movement that her husband suddenly exclaimed,
in an exasperated tone,
"Nancy, if you don't stop rocking your body in that inane way, and
shaking your hand and your handkerchief, and saying those imbecile
things, I shall go mad. I suppose this is the kind of sympathy a man
gets from a woman in his misfortunes!"
May Newt looked shocked and indignant. "Mother, I am sorry for poor
Fanny," said she.
She said it quietly and tenderly, and without the remotest reference in
look, or tone, or gesture to her father.
He turned toward her suddenly.
"Hold your tongue, Miss!"
"Mamma, I shall go and see Fanny to-day," May continued, as if her
father had not spoken. Her mother looked frightened, and turned to her
deprecatingly with a look that said, "For Heaven's sake, don't!" Her
father regarded her for a moment in amazement.
"What do you mean, you little vixen? Let me catch you disobeying me and
going to see that ungrateful wicked girl, if you think fit!"
There was a moment in which May Newt turned pale, but she said, in a very
low voice,
"I must go."
"May, I forbid your going," said Mr. Newt, severely and loudly.
"Father, you have no right to forbid me."
"I forbid your going," roared her father, planting himself in front of
her, and quite white with wrath.
May said no more.
"A pretty family you have brought up, Mrs. Nancy Newt," said he, at
length, looking at his wife with all the contempt which his voice
expressed. "A son who ruins me by his extravagance, a daughter who runs
away with--with"--he hesitated to remember the exact expression--"with a
pauper-booby, and another daughter who defies and disobeys her father.
I congratulate you upon your charming family, upon your distinguished
success, Mrs. Newt. Is there no younger brother of your son-in-law whom
you might introduce to Miss May Newt? I beg your pardon, she is Miss
Newt, now that her sister is so happily married," said Boniface Newt,
bowing ceremoniously to his daughter.
Mrs. Newt clasped her hands in an utterly helpless despair, and
unconsciously raised them in a beseeching attitude before her.
"The husband's duty takes him away from home," continued Mr. Newt.
"While he is struggling for the maintenance of his family he supposes
that his wife is caring for his children, and that she has, at least, the
smallest speck of an idea of what is necessary to be done to make them
tolerably well behaved. Some husbands are doomed to be mistaken."
Boniface Newt bowed, and smiled sarcastically.
"Yes, and as if it were not enough to have my wife such a model
trainer--and my son so careful--and my daughter so obedient--and my
younger daughter so affectionate--I must also have trials in my business.
I expected a great loan from Van Boozenberg's bank, and I haven't got it.
He's an old driveling fool. Mrs. Newt, you must curtail expenses. There's
one mouth less, and one Stewart's bill less, at any rate."
"Father," said May, as if she could not bear the cool cutting adrift of
her sister from the family, "Fanny is not dead."
"No," replied her father, sullenly. "No, the more's the--"
He stopped, for he caught May's eye, and he could not finish the
sentence.
"Mr. Newt," said his wife, at length, "perhaps Alfred Dinks is not poor."
That was the chance, but Mr. Newt was skeptical. He had an instinctive
suspicion that no rich young man, however much a booby, would have
married Fanny clandestinely. Men are forced to know something of their
reputations, and Boniface Newt was perfectly aware that it was generally
understood he had no aversion to money. He knew also that he was reputed
rich, that his family were known to live expensively, and he was quite
shrewd enough to believe that any youth in her own set who ran off with
his daughter did so because he depended upon her father's money. He was
satisfied that the Newt family was not to be a gainer by the new
alliance. The more he thought of it the more he was convinced, and the
more angry he became. He was still storming, when the door was thrown
open and Mrs. Dagon rushed in.
"What does it all mean?" asked she.
Mr. Newt stopped in his walk, smiled contemptuously, and pointed to his
wife, who sat with her handkerchief over her eyes.
"Pooh!" said Mrs. Dagon, "I knew 'twould come to this. I've seen her
hugging him the whole winter, and so has every body else who has eyes."
And she shook her plumage as she settled into a seat.
"Mrs. Boniface Newt is unfortunately blind; that is to say, she sees
every body's affairs but her own," said Mr. Newt, tauntingly.
Mrs. Dagon, without heeding him, talked on.
"But why did they run away to be married? What does it mean? Fanny's not
romantic, and Dinks is a fool. He's rich, and a proper match enough, for
a woman can't expect to have every thing. I can't see why he didn't
propose regularly, and behave like other people. Do you suppose he was
actually engaged to his cousin Hope Wayne, and that our darling Fanny has
outwitted the Boston beauty, and the Boston beau too, for that matter? It
looks like it, really. I think that must be it. It's a pity a Newt should
marry a fool--"
"It is not the first time," interrupted her nephew, making a low bow to
his wife.
Mrs. Dagon looked a little surprised. She had seen little jars and rubs
before in the family, but this morning she seemed to have happened in
upon an earthquake. She continued:
"But we must make the best of it. Are they in the house?"
"No, Aunt Dagon," said Mr. Newt. "I knew nothing of it until, half an
hour ago, I read it in the paper with all the rest of the world. It seems
it was a family secret." And he bowed again to his wife,
"Don't, don't," sobbed she. "You know I didn't know any thing about it.
Oh! Aunt Dagon, I never knew him so unjust and wicked as he is to-day. He
treats me cruelly." And the poor woman covered her red eyes again with
her handkerchief, and rocked herself feebly. Mr. Newt went out, and
slammed the door behind him.