Kitabı oku: «The Child Wife», sayfa 27
Chapter Eighty Three.
Both Pre-engaged
Scarce a week had elapsed since that somewhat lugubrious interview between Count Roseveldt and Captain Maynard in the room of the latter, when the two men once more met in the same apartment.
This time under changed circumstances, as indicated in the countenances of both.
Both seemed as jolly and joyous as if all Europe had become republican!
And not only seemed it, but were so; for both of them had reason.
The Count had come in. The Captain was just going out.
“What luck!” cried the latter. “I was starting in search of you!”
“And I’ve come in search of you! Captain, I might have missed you! I wouldn’t for fifty pounds.”
“I wouldn’t have missed you for a hundred, Count! I want you in a most important matter.”
“I want you in one more important.”
“You’ve been quarrelling, Count? I’m sorry for it I’m afraid I shall not be able to serve you.”
“Reserve your regrets for yourself. It’s more like you to be getting into a scrape of that kind. Pardieu! I suppose you’re in one?”
“Quite the reverse! At all events, if I’m in a scrape, as you call it, it’s one of a more genial nature. I’m going to be married.”
“Mein Gott! so am I!”
“She’s consented, then?”
“She has. And yours? I needn’t ask who it is. It’s the yellow-haired child, I suppose?”
“I once told you, Count, that child would yet be my wife. I have now the felicity to tell you she will.”
“Mère de Dieu! it is wonderful. I shall henceforth believe in presentiments. I had the same when I first saw her!”
“Her? You mean the future Countess de Roseveldt? You have not told me who is destined for your honour?”
“I tell you now, cher capitaine, that she is the prettiest, dearest, sweetest little pet you ever set eyes on. She’ll give you a surprise when you do. But you shan’t have it till you’re introduced to her right in front of the altar; where you must go with me. I’ve come to bespeak you for that purpose.”
“How very odd! It was for that I was going to you.”
“To engage me for best man?”
“Of course; you once consented to be my second. I know you won’t refuse me now?”
“It would be ungrateful if I did – requiring from you a similar service. I suppose you consent to reciprocate?”
“By all means. You may count upon me.”
“And you upon me. But when are you to be ‘turned off’ as these Britishers term it?”
“Next Thursday, at eleven o’clock.”
“Thursday at eleven o’clock?” repeated the Count in surprise. “Why, that’s the very day and hour I am myself to be made a benedict of! Sacré Dieu! We’ll both be engaged in the same business then at the same time! We won’t be able to assist one another!”
“A strange coincidence!” remarked Maynard; “very awkward too!”
“Peste! isn’t it? What a pity we couldn’t pull together?”
Of the hundreds of churches contained in the great city of London, it never occurred to either, that they might be married in the same.
“What’s to be done, cher capitaine?” asked the Austrian. “I’m a stranger here, and don’t know a soul – that is, enough for this! And you – although speaking the language – appear to be not much better befriended! What’s to be done for both of us?”
Maynard was amused at the Count’s perplexity. Stranger as he was, he had no fears for himself. In the great world of London he knew of more than one who would be willing to act as his groomsman – especially with a baronet’s daughter for the bride!
“Stay!” cried Roseveldt, after reflecting. “I have it! There’s Count Ladislaus Teleky. He’ll do for me. And there’s – there’s his cousin, Count Francis! Why shouldn’t he stand up for you? I know you are friends. I’ve seen you together.”
“Quite true,” said Maynard, remembering; “Though I didn’t think of him, Count Francis is the very man. I know he’ll consent to see me bestowed. It’s not ten days since I assisted in making him a citizen of this proud British Empire, in order that he might do as I intend doing – marry a lady who ranks among the proudest of its aristocracy. Thank you, my dear Count, for suggesting him. He is in every way suitable; and I shall avail myself of his services.”
The two parted; one to seek Count Ladislaus Teleky, the other Francis, to stand sponsors for them in that ceremony of pleasant anticipation – the most important either had ever gone through in his life.
Chapter Eighty Four.
The Meet at Church
For Maynard a happy morn!
It was that of the day on which Blanche Vernon was to become his bride!
His presentiment was upon the point of being fulfilled; the child was to be his wife!
Not by abduction; not by clandestine marriage; but openly, in the face of the world, and with the consent of her father!
Sir George had conceded – arranged everything, even to the details of the marriage ceremony.
It was to be soon – at once.
Before dying, he desired to see his daughter bestowed and under protection.
If he had not chosen the arms that were to protect her, he no longer opposed her choice.
He had now sanctified it by a free formal approval. His future son-in-law was no more a stranger-guest in the mansion at Sevenoaks, Kent.
The nuptials were not to be celebrated there. Not that Sir George would have felt any shame in such celebration; but because he did not deem it opportune.
He knew that ere long sable plumes would be seen waving there, with a black hatchment upon the wall. He wished not that these funereal emblems should so soon fling their blighting shadow over the orange blossoms of the bridal.
It could be conveniently avoided. He had a sister living in Kensington Gore; and from her house his daughter could be married.
Besides, the old parish church of Kensington was that before whose altar he had himself stood, some twenty years ago, with Blanche’s mother by his side.
The arrangement would be altogether appropriate.
It was determined upon; and Captain Maynard was requested to present himself upon a certain day, at a certain hour, in the church of Saint Mary’s, Kensington.
He came, accompanied by Count Francis Teleky; and there met his bride attended by her maids.
They were not many, for Blanche had expressed a desire to shun ostentation. She only wanted to be wed to the man who had won her heart!
But few as were her bridesmaids, they were among the noblest of the land, each of them bearing a title.
And they were of its loveliest too; every one of them entitled to the appellation of “belle.”
The bridegroom saw them not. Having saluted each with a simple bow, his eyes became bent upon his bride; and there stayed they.
No colours blend more harmoniously than those of the sunbeam and the rose. Over none drapes the bridal veil more becomingly.
Blanche Vernon needed not to blush. She had colour enough without that.
But as her gaze met his, and his voice, like the challenge to some beleaguered citadel, seemed to sound the death-knell of her maiden days, she felt a strange sweet trembling in her heart, while the tint deepened upon her cheeks.
She was but too happy to surrender.
Never in Maynard’s eyes had she looked so lovely. He stood as if spell-bound, gazing upon her beauty, with but one thought in his mind – a longing to embrace her!
He who has worshipped only in churches of modern structure can have but little idea of the interior of one such as that of Saint Mary’s, Kensington. Its deep pews and heavy overhanging galleries, its shadowy aisles flanked by pillars and pilasters, make it the type of the sacred antique; and on Maynard’s mind it produced this impression.
And he thought of the thousands of thousands who had worshipped within its walls, of knights and noble dames, who had knelt before its altar, and whose escutcheons were recorded in the stained glass of its windows, as in brass palimpsests set in the flags beneath his feet. How suggestive these records of high chivalric thought, penetrating the far past, and flinging their mystic influence over the present!
It was upon Maynard, as he stood regarding them.
Chapter Eighty Five.
The Climax of a Criminal Scheme
Despite the archaeological attractions of Saint Mary’s Church, the bridegroom began to grow impatient With such a bride before him, no wonder he wished quick conduct to the altar!
And there was reason too, on account of the long detention. At such a crisis the shortest delay was difficult to be endured.
It mattered but little that he knew the cause; for he did know it.
Summoned at eleven o’clock, he had been there at the appointed time; but to find that he and his bride were not the only couple to be made happy on that same day, and at the same hour! There was a party that had precedence of his!
On first coming into the church, he had seen signs of it – women in white dresses and drooping veils, with flower fillets upon their hair.
He had only glanced at them in passing. His own bride was not among them; and his eyes were only for her!
While registering his name in the vestry, he had learned incidentally, that not one, but two couples were to be married before him, both together! He was told that the parties were friends.
This information was imparted by the officiating curate; who, after giving it, hurried off to perform the ceremony of making four hearts happy at one and the same time.
As Maynard and his groomsman returned into the church, they saw standing before the altar, in crescent shape, a row of ladies and gentlemen. There were in all eight of them – two brides, two bridegrooms, with a like number of “maids” and “men.”
It was only after again saluting his own bride, and feasting his eyes upon her beauty, that it occurred to him to take a look at those whose happiness was by some ten minutes to take precedence of his.
His first glance caused him a singular impression. It was almost ludicrous from the coincidence that declared itself.
Count Roseveldt was standing before the shrine, with Ladislaus Teleky by his side, at the same instant recognised by the man at Maynard’s side – his cousin!
But who was the lady on Roseveldt’s left, holding him by the hand? Cornelia Inskip!
Another coincidence; still another was in store for him; equally strange and far more startling!
Following the crescent curvature, he scrutinised the couple on Count Roseveldt’s right. They were the other two standing up to be married.
It was with difficulty he could restrain an ejaculation, on recognising Julia Girdwood as the bride, and Richard Swinton the bridegroom!
With an effort he controlled himself. It was no business of his; and he only made the muttered remark: – “Poor girl! there’s something noble about her. What a pity she should throw herself away on such a scamp as Dick Swinton!”
Maynard knew only some of Dick Swinton’s antecedents. He had no suspicion that the ex-guardsman was at that moment in the act of committing bigamy!
It had not yet reached fulfilment. It was upon the verge of it. As Maynard stood in speechless contemplation, the clergyman came to that solemn question, proceeding from his lips in the form of a demand: —
“I require and charge of you in the… if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it.”
There was the usual interval of silence, but not so long as is usual. It was shortened by a response, a thing altogether unusual! This came not from bride or bridegroom, but a third party, who suddenly appeared upon the scene!
A woman, young and beautiful, well-dressed, but with a wild look in her eye, and anger in her every movement, shot out from behind one of the supporting columns, and hastily approached the altar! She was followed by two men, who appeared to act under her orders.
“If they don’t know any impediment, I do,” cried she; “one that will hinder them from being joined in matrimony. I mean these two!” she added, pointing to Swinton and Julia!
“On what ground do you interfere?” gasped the clergyman, as soon as he had recovered from the shock of surprise. “Speak, woman!”
“On the ground that this man is married already. He is my husband, and would have been my murderer, but for – Here, men!” she commanded, dropping the explanatory tone as she turned to the two plain-clothes policemen who attended her, “take this gentleman in charge, and see that you keep him in safe custody. This is your warrant.”
The two representatives of the executive did not stay to examine the piece of stamped paper. They were already acquainted with its character; and before the bigamous bridegroom could speak a word of protest, their horny hands were laid upon his shoulder, ready, at resistance, to clutch him by the collar!
He made none – not even a show of it. He looked like a man suddenly thunderstruck – trembling from head to foot; and, trembling, he was conducted out of the church! It is not in the power of the pen to describe the scene he had so unwillingly forsaken. The tableau, of which he had formed part, was broken up by his involuntary departure. It became transformed into a crowd – a confusion of talking men and shrieking women.
Julia Girdwood was not among them. At the first interruption of the ceremony, by that excited intruder, she had comprehended all. Some instinct seemed to warn her of her woe; and guided by it, she glided out of the church, and took solitary shelter in a carriage that was to have borne her home a bride, with a husband by her side!
A new tableau, with characters all changed, was soon after formed in front of the altar.
It was not disturbed, till after Captain Maynard had placed the ring on Blanche Vernon’s finger, saluted her as his wedded wife, and listened to the prayer that sanctified their union!
Then there was a hand-shaking all round, a kissing on the part of pretty bridesmaids, a rustling of silk dresses as they filed out of the church, a getting into grand carriages, and then off to the aunt’s residence in Kensington Gore!
That same evening a gentleman travelled to Tunbridge Wells, with a lady by his side, on whose finger glittered a plain gold ring newly placed there. It was not lonely for them, having a whole carriage to themselves. They were the most contented couple in the train!
Chapter Eighty Six.
Still Later
With mingled emotions do we bring our tale to a close. Some of its scenes may have given pain; while others, it is to be hoped, have been suggestive of pleasure.
And with like mingled emotions, must we part from its conspicuous characters: leaving some with regret, others with gladness.
There are those of them whose after fate cannot fail to cause pain. Perhaps more than all that of Julia Girdwood.
It is told in three words: a disgust with all mankind – a determination never to marry – and its consequence, a life of old maid-hood!
She still lives it, and who knows that she may not like it? If not now, when her mother takes departure from the world, leaving her to the enjoyment of a million dollars.
But Mrs Girdwood has not done so yet; and says she don’t intend to for a score of years to come!
She would herself get married, but for that crooked clause in the deceased storekeeper’s will, which is all-powerful to prevent her!
“Poor Fan Swinton!”
So a moralist might have said, who saw her, six months after, driving through the Park, with a parasol upon her whip, and a pair of high-steppers in the traces – both whip and steppers paid for by one who is not her husband.
Perhaps there were but few moralists in the Park to make the reflection!
“And poor Dick Swinton!”
There were still fewer to say that, as the ex-guardsman stood in the dock of a criminal court, charged not only with an attempt at bigamy, but murder!
Fewer still, after both charges had been proved; and with hair close cropped he took forced departure for a far-distant land!
The “other count” went in the same ship with him, into a like involuntary exile, and from causes somewhat similar!
And the Honourable Geraldine Courtney in time followed suit: she losing her luxuriant tresses for having changed from the profession of “horse coper” to the less reputable calling of coiner!
She had a long “innings,” however, before it came to that: time enough to bring to ruin more than one young swell – among others Frank Scudamore, the “spooney” of the Haymarket supper.
Sir Robert Cottrell still lives; and still continues to make grand conquests at the cheapest possible price.
And alive, too, are Messrs Lucas and Spiller, both returned to America from their European tour, and both yet bachelors.
The former may be seen any day sauntering along the streets of New York, and frequently flitting around that Fifth Avenue House, where dwells the disconsolate Julia.
Notwithstanding repeated repulses, he has not lost hope of consoling her, by effecting a change in her name!
His shadow, Spiller, is not so much seen along with him – at least upon the flags of the Fifth Avenue.
Cornelia Inskip, the star that should have attracted him thither, is no longer there. The daughter of the Poughkeepsie retailer has long since changed, not only her name, but place of abode. She can be found in the capital of Austria, by any one inquiring for the Countess von Roseveldt.
More fortunate than her ambitious cousin, who sought a title without finding it, Cornelia found one without seeking it!
It seems like dealing out dramatic justice, but the story is true. Not much of a tragedy, since we have but one death to record. That, too, expected, though painful.
Sir George Vernon died; but not till after having seen his daughter married to the man of her choice, and given his blessing both to the Child Wife and her chosen husband.
It has long made them happy in their English home; and, now, in a far foreign land – the land where they first saw one another – that blessing still clings to them.
Maynard believes in Blanche, and she in him, as at that hour when she saw him lifted in the arms of big-bearded men, and carried on board the Cunard steamer!
That proud triumph over the people has made an impression upon her heart, never to be effaced! And to win such a wife, who would not be true to the people!
