SIR FRANCIS' ESCAPE.
When she had told the Dean's family, and Mrs. Green, and Cecilia,
Miss Altifiorla began to feel that there was no longer a secret worth
the keeping. And indeed it became necessary to her happiness to
divulge this great step in life which she was about to take. She had
written very freely, and very frequently to Sir Francis, and Sir
Francis, to tell the truth, had not responded in the same spirit. She
had received but two answers to six letters, and each answer had been
conveyed in about three lines. There had been no expressions from
him of confiding love, nor any pressing demands for an immediate
marriage. They had all been commenced without even naming her, and
had been finished by the simple signature of his initials. But to
Miss Altifiorla they had been satisfactory. She knew how silly she
would be to expect from such an one as her intended husband long
epistles such as a school girl would require, and, in order to keep
him true to her, had determined to let him know how little exacting
she was inclined to be. She would willingly do all the preliminary
writing if only she could secure her position as Lady Geraldine. She
wrote such letters, letters so full of mingled wit and love and fun,
that she was sure that he must take delight in reading them. "Easy
reading requires hard writing," she said to herself as she copied
for the third time one of her epistles, and copied it studiously
in such handwriting that it should look to have been the very work
of negligence. In all this she had been successful as she thought,
and told herself over and over again how easy it was for a clever
woman to make captive a man of mark, provided that she set herself
assiduously to the task.
She soon descended from her friends to the shopkeepers, and found
that her news was received very graciously by the mercantile
interests of the city. The milliners, the haberdashers, the furriers
and the bootmakers of Exeter received her communication and her
orders with pleased alacrity. With each of them she held a little
secret conference, telling each with a smiling whisper what fate
was about to do for her. To even the upholsterers, the bankers, the
hotel-keepers and the owners of post-horses she was communicative,
making every one the gratified recipient of her tidings. Thus in
a short time all Exeter knew that Sir Francis Geraldine was about
to lead to the hymeneal altar Miss Altifiorla, and it must be
acknowledged that all Exeter expressed various opinions on the
subject. They who understood that Miss Altifiorla was to pay for the
supplies ordered out of her own pocket declared for the most part how
happy a man was Sir Francis. But those who could only look to Sir
Francis for possible future custom were surprised that the Baronet
should have allowed himself to be so easily caught. And then the
aristocracy expressed its opinion which it must be acknowledged was
for the most part hostile to Miss Altifiorla. It was well known
through the city that the Dean had declared that he would never again
see his brother-in-law at the deanery. And it was whispered that the
Reverend Dr. Pigrum, one of the canons, had stated "that no one in
the least knew where Miss Altifiorla had come from." This hit Miss
Altifiorla very hard,--so much so, that she felt herself obliged to
write an indignant letter to Dr. Pigrum, giving at length her entire
pedigree. To this Dr. Pigrum made a reply as follows: "Dr. Pigrum's
compliments to Miss Altifiorla, and is happy to learn the name of
her great grandmother." Dr. Pigrum was supposed to be a wag, and the
letter soon became the joint property of all the ladies in the Close.
This interfered much with Miss Altifiorla's happiness. She even went
across to Cecilia, complaining of the great injustice done to her by
the Cathedral clergymen generally. "Men from whom one should expect
charity instead of scandal, but that their provincial ignorance is so
narrow!" Then she went on to remind Cecilia how much older was the
Roman branch of her family than even the blood of the Geraldines.
"You oughtn't to have talked about it," said Cecilia, who in her
present state of joy did not much mind Miss Altifiorla and her
husband. "Do you suppose that I intend to be married under a bushel?"
said Miss Altifiorla grandly. But this little episode only tended to
renew the feeling of enmity between the ladies.
But there appeared a paragraph in the "Western Telegraph" which
drove Miss Altifiorla nearly mad: "It is understood that one of the
aristocracy in this county is soon about to be married to a lady who
has long lived among us in Exeter. Sir Francis Geraldine is the happy
man, and Miss Altifiorla is the lady about to become Lady Geraldine.
Miss Altifiorla is descended from an Italian family of considerable
note in its own country. Her great grandmother was a Fiasco, and her
great great grandmother a Disgrazia. We are delighted to find that
Sir Francis is to ally himself to a lady of such high birth." Now
Miss Altifiorla was well aware that there was an old feud between Sir
Francis and the "Western Telegraph," and she observed also that the
paper made allusion to the very same relatives whom she had named in
her unfortunate letter to Dr. Pigrum. "The vulgarity of the people
of this town is quite unbearable," she exclaimed to Mrs. Green. But
when she was left alone she at once wrote a funnier letter than ever
to Sir Francis. It might be that Sir Francis should not see the
paragraph. At any rate she did not mention it.
But unfortunately Sir Francis did see the paragraph; and,
unfortunately also, he had not appreciated the wit of Miss
Altifiorla's letters. "Oh, laws!" he had been heard to ejaculate on
receipt of a former letter.
"It's the kind of thing a man has to put up with when he gets
married," said Captain McCollop, a gentleman who had already in some
sort succeeded Dick Ross.
"I don't suppose you think a man ever ought to be married."
"Quite the contrary. When a man has a property he must be married. I
suppose I shall have the McCollop acres some of these days myself."
The McCollop acres were said to lie somewhere in Caithness, but no
one knew their exact locality. "But a man will naturally put off the
evil day as long as he can. I should have thought that you might have
allowed yourself to run another five years yet." The flattery did
touch Sir Francis, and he began to ask himself whether he had gone
too far with Miss Altifiorla. Then came the "Western Telegraph," and
he told himself that he had gone too far.
"By G----, she has told everybody in that beastly hole," said he. The
"beastly hole" was intended to represent Exeter.
"Of course she has. You didn't suppose but that she would begin to
wear her honour and glory as soon as they were wearable."
"She pledged herself not to mention it to a single soul," said Sir
Francis. Upon this Captain McCollop merely shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm d----d if I put up with it. Look here! All her filthy
progenitors put into the newspaper to show how grand she is."
"I shouldn't care so very much about that," said the cautious
Captain, who began to perceive that he need not be specially bitter
against the lady.
"You're not going to marry her."
"Well, no; that's true."
"Nor am I," said Sir Francis with an air of great decision. "She
hasn't got a word of mine in writing to show,--not a word that would
go for anything with a jury."
"Hasn't she indeed?"
"Not a word. I have taken precious good care of that. Between you and
me, I don't mind acknowledging it. But it had never come to more than
that."
"Then in fact you are not bound to her."
"No; I am not;--not what I call bound. She's a handsome woman you
know,--very handsome."
"I suppose so."
"And she'd do the drawing-room well, and the sitting at the top of
the table, and all that kind of thing."
"But it's such a deuced heavy price to pay," said Captain McCollop.
"I should not have minded the price," said Sir Francis, not quite
understanding his friend's remark, "if she hadn't made me ridiculous
in this way. The Fiascos and the Disgrazias! What the devil are they
to our old English families? If she had let it remain as it was,
I might have gone through with it. But as she has told all Exeter
and got that stuff put into the newspapers, she must take the
consequences. One is worse than another, as far as I can see." By
this Sir Francis intended to express his opinion that Miss Altifiorla
was at any rate quite as bad as Cecilia Holt.
But the next thing to be decided was the mode of escape. Though Sir
Francis had declared that he was not what he called bound, yet he
knew that he must take some steps in the matter to show that he
considered himself to be free; and as the Captain was a clever man,
and well conversant with such things, he was consulted. "I should
say, take a run abroad for a short time," said the Captain.
"Is that necessary?"
"You'd avoid some of the disagreeables. People will talk, and your
relatives at Exeter might kick up a row."
"Oh, d---- my relatives."
"With all my heart. But people have such a way of making themselves
disgusting. What do you say to taking a run through the States?"
"Would you go with me?" asked the Baronet.
"If you wish it I shouldn't mind," said the Captain considerately.
"Only to do any good we should be off quickly. But you must write to
some one first."
"Before I start, you think?"
"Oh, yes;--certainly. If she didn't hear from you before you went,
you'd be persecuted by her letters."
"There is no end to her letters. I've quite made up my mind what I'll
do about them. I won't open one of them. After all, why should she
write to me when the affair is over? You've heard of Mrs. Western, I
suppose?"
"Yes; I've heard of her."
"I didn't write to her when that affair was over. I didn't pester her
with long-winded scrawls. She changed her mind, and I've changed
mine; and so we're equal. I've paid her, and she can pay me if she
knows how."
"I hope Miss Altifiorla will look at it in the same light," said the
Captain.
"Why shouldn't she? She knew all about it when that other affair
came to an end. I wasn't treated with any particular ceremony. The
truth is, people don't look at these things now as they used to do.
Men and women mostly do as they like till they've absolutely fixed
themselves. There used to be duels and all that kind of nonsense.
There is none of that now."
"No; you won't get shot."
"I don't mind being shot any more than another man; but you must take
the world as you find it. One young woman treated me awfully rough,
to tell the truth. And why am I not to treat another just as roughly?
If you look at it all round, you'll see that I have used them just as
they have used me."
"At any rate," said Captain McCollop, after a pause, "if you have
made up your mind, you'd better write the letter."
Sir Francis did not see the expediency of writing the letter
immediately, but at last he gave way to his friend's arguments. And
he did so the more readily as his friend was there to write the
letter for him. After some attempts on his own part, he put the
writing of the letter into the hands of the Captain, and left him
alone for an entire morning to perform the task. The letter when it
was sent, after many corrections and revises, ran as follows:--
MY DEAR MISS ALTIFIORLA,--I think that I am bound in
honour without a moment's delay to make you aware of the
condition of my mind in regard to marriage. I ain't quite
sure but what I shall be better without it altogether.--
"I'd rather marry her twice over than let my cousin have the title
and the property," said the Baronet with energy. "You needn't tell
her that," said McCollop. "Of course when you've cleared the ground
in this quarter you can begin again with another lady."
--I think that perhaps I may have expressed myself badly
so as to warrant you in understanding more than I have
meant. If so, I am sure the fault has been mine, and I am
very sorry for it. Things have turned up with which I need
not perhaps trouble you, and compel me to go for a while
to a very distant country. I shall be off almost before
I can receive a reply to this letter. Indeed, I may be
gone before an answer can reach me. But I have thought it
right not to let a post go by without informing you of my
decision.
I have seen that article in the Exeter newspaper
respecting your family in Italy, and think that it must
be very gratifying to you. I did understand, however,
that not a word was to have been spoken as to the matter.
Nothing had escaped from me, at any rate. I fear that
some of your intimate friends at Exeter must have been
indiscreet.
Believe me yours,
With the most sincere admiration,
FRANCIS GERALDINE.
He was not able to start for America immediately after writing this,
but he quitted his Lodge in Scotland, leaving no immediate address,
and hid himself for a while among his London clubs, where he trusted
that the lady might not find him. In a week's time he would be off to
the United States.
Who shall picture the rage of Miss Altifiorla when she received
this letter? This was the very danger which she had feared, but had
hardly thought it worth her while to fear. It was the one possible
break-down in her triumph; but had been, she thought, so unlikely as
to be hardly possible. But now on reading the letter she felt that
no redress was within her reach. To whom should she go for succour?
Though her ancestors had been so noble, she had no one near her to
take up the cudgels on her behalf. With her friends in Exeter she had
become a little proud of late, so that she had turned from her those
who might have assisted her. "The coward!" she said to herself, "the
base coward! He dares to treat me in this way because he knows that
I am alone." Then she became angry in her heart against Cecilia, who
she felt had set a dangerous example in this practice of jilting. Had
Cecilia not treated Sir Francis so unceremoniously he certainly would
not have dared so to treat her. There was truth in this, as in that
case Sir Francis would at this moment have been the husband of Mrs.
Western.
But what should she do? She took out every scrap of letter that she
had received from the man, and read each scrap with the greatest
care. In the one letter there certainly was an offer very plainly
made, as he had intended it; but she doubted whether she could depend
upon it in a court of law. "Don't you think that you and I know each
other well enough to make a match of it?" It was certainly written
as an offer, and her two answers to him would make it plain that it
was so. But she had an idea that she would not be allowed to use her
own letters against him. And then to have her gushing words read as
a reply to so cold a proposition would be death to her. There was
not another syllable in the whole correspondence written by him to
signify that he had in truth intended to become her husband. She felt
sure that he had been wickedly crafty in the whole matter, and had
lured her on to expose herself in her innocence.
But what should she do? Should she write to him an epistle full of
tenderness? She felt sure that it would be altogether ineffectual.
Should she fill sheets with indignation? It would be of no use unless
she could follow up her indignation by strong measures. Should she
let the thing pass by in silence, as though she and Sir Francis had
never known each other? She would certainly do so, but that she
had allowed her matrimonial prospects to become common through all
Exeter. She must also let Exeter know how badly Sir Francis intended
to treat her. To her, too, the idea of a prolonged sojourn in the
United States presented itself. In former days there had come upon
her a great longing to lecture at Chicago, at Saint Paul's, and
Omaha, on the distinctive duties of the female sex. Now again the
idea returned to her. She thought that in one of those large Western
halls, full of gas and intelligence, she could rise to the height of
her subject with a tremendous eloquence. But then would not the name
of Sir Francis travel with her and crush her?
She did resolve upon informing Mrs. Green. She took three days to
think of it, and then she sent for Mrs. Green. "Of all human beings,"
she said, "you, I think, are the truest to me." Mrs. Green of course
expressed herself as much flattered. "And therefore I will tell you.
No false pride shall operate with me to make me hold my tongue. Of
all the false deceivers that have ever broken a woman's heart, that
man is the basest and the falsest."
In this way she let all Exeter know that she was not to be married to
Sir Francis Geraldine; and another paragraph appeared in the "Western
Telegraph," declaring that after all Sir Francis Geraldine was not to
be allied to the Fiascos and Disgrazias of Rome.