A Hungarian Nabob Part 29

"Mamma wants to go away," said f.a.n.n.y, with the utmost composure; "would you be so good, daddy, as to take her along with you?"

Mrs. Meyer stared with all her eyes, and all her mouth too; she had never said that she wanted to go away.

"Very happy!" replied Boltay. "Where does she want to go?"

"She wants to go home to her daughters (Mrs. Meyer looked frightened).

There are some embroideries of mine there which I do not want my sisters to throw away or sell in the rag-market; bring them back to me."

(Ah, what a sage damsel! what a golden-minded damsel!)

"I am thinking especially of a sofa that is there. Mamma knows which it is, for I embroidered the cover; it has two doves worked upon it. I would not let my sisters have that on any account; do you understand?"

Why, of course she understood! This was the girl's way of showing that she accepted the offer of the gentleman who was so fond of sitting on the sofa, and how delicately she conveyed her consent--that blockhead of a Boltay did not suspect anything. Oh, a sage damsel! a golden-minded damsel!

Boltay went out for a moment to tell the coachman to prepare a seat for a lady, and taking advantage of this moment, Mrs. Meyer whispered in her daughter's ear--

"When may I come back for you?"

"The day after to-morrow."

"And what answer shall I give?"

"The day after to-morrow," repeated f.a.n.n.y.

Here Boltay popped in again.

"Wait a moment, my dear uncle," said f.a.n.n.y; "I want to write a few lines to Aunt Teresa, which you can take with you."

"All right, though it is a pity to ink your fingers, I think, for I can give her the message all the same, if you tell me what it is."

"Very well, daddy, tell aunty to bring me a ball of _cashmir harras_, a yard of _pur de laine_, or _poil-de-chevre_----"

Boltay was frightened at all those foreign words.

"It will be better, after all, if you write it down," said he; "I can never learn all that."

f.a.n.n.y, smiling all the time, produced her writing materials and wrote a short letter, which she folded up, sealed, and gave to Boltay.

Mrs. Meyer cast a significant glance at the girl out of the corner of her eye, allowed herself to be lifted up into the cart; the whip cracked, and off they went.

f.a.n.n.y remained looking after them for some time, and then with a cold, contemptuous expression, returned to her room, watered her flowers, fed her birds, and sang herself back into a good humour again.

On reaching town, Boltay dismounted at the first shop (he pretended he had some indispensable purchase to make), and bade the coachman take Mrs. Meyer to where she wanted to go. He would find his way to his house on foot, he said.

Not very long afterwards Mrs. Meyer found herself once more in the circle of her well-beloved. Abellino had just looked in, and the girls were wild to know how their mother had fared.

It took Mrs. Meyer a good couple of hours to tell them all about her happy adventure: how she had struggled, how much eloquence she had expended till she had compelled the girl to surrender. For the girl was frightfully modest, she said, and she had to make her believe that the gentleman really meant to make her his wife, and had said so all along.

Abellino, in his joy, could scarce restrain himself from embracing the duenna at intervals, during the course of her entertaining narrative, especially when she told him what a splendid picture she had drawn of him to f.a.n.n.y.

Well, let us leave them all making merry together, and accompany Boltay homewards also. Teresa was already awaiting him in the doorway, for the coachman had arrived first, and told her he was coming. His first care was to give her the letter.

"I have brought you a letter," said he, "but its contents are Greek to me. Why, I couldn't even p.r.o.nounce the lingo!"

Teresa broke open the letter, read it through, and looked at Boltay.

Then she read it through again. She read it through a third time, and again she looked at Boltay.

"It is Greek, indeed," said she. "I don't understand it. You have a look at it."

And she handed the letter to Boltay.

"Hum!" growled the old gentleman, fancying that the letter was full of stupid foreign terms, and, to his amazement, he read these words--

"MY DEAR AUNT,

"I know everything. Don't let that woman, whom I cannot call mother without a feeling of horror, come to our house again. Send word to Mr. John Karpathy, and tell him to come to me at once. I have something very serious to say to him, which admits of no delay.

Send immediately.

"Your affectionate kinswoman,

"f.a.n.n.y."

What was the meaning of it? What had happened? When had there been time for anything to happen? They had had their coffee so nicely and quietly together, whispering so confidentially all the time, and kissed each other's hands at parting. Mr. Boltay did not understand it at all.

But Teresa began to understand.

So they had to send at once to John Karpathy. Who was to go? Boltay resolved to go himself. He had good legs, and would be there in a moment. So he went and gave the message to old Palko, who communicated it to his master forthwith. The bridegroom understood it in a moment, and lost no time in getting into his carriage and setting out. Boltay and Teresa sat beside him in the carriage. n.o.body saw them through the closed windows, and five fiery steeds carried them along the king's high-road at a gallop, taking but a couple of hours to accomplish the journey, whereas Master Boltay at his more leisurely pace would have taken four at least.

f.a.n.n.y herself received her distinguished guest with a face even paler than usual; but this pallor rather became her. Squire John was beside himself for rapture. He would not give his fair bride time to approach him, but, putting his hand solemnly upon his breast, addressed her in language very unusual for him--

"My dear young lady, so help me G.o.d, the one object of my life will be how to make you happy!"

"And I, sir," said f.a.n.n.y, in a calm and resolute voice, "shall consider it my highest duty to do honour to your name. And now I would ask you all three, my friends, to grant me a few hours' private interview where we shall not be disturbed."

These words were spoken in such a calm and resolute voice that they felt bound to obey, and all four withdrew into the innermost chamber, locking the door behind them.

A few hours later the door was reopened, and they all four appeared again.

But how every face had changed!

f.a.n.n.y's face was no longer pale, but as red as the dawn, serene, and open as a half-blown rose.

Master Boltay was twisting his moustache as if he meditated something terrible; but for an occasional chuckle, one would have said that he was very angry indeed.

Even honest Teresa's eyes sparkled, but the sparks of triumphant revenge were in them after all.

And then the bridegroom, Squire John! Where was he, and what had become of the old Nabob? Could any one have recognized him? Was this merry, sprightly, leaping, smiling, triumphant creature the same man? Why, he had grown twenty years younger at the very least! It was a changeling, surely!

"To-morrow, then, in the afternoon," said he, with a voice that trembled for joy.