Beatrice Boville and Other Stories Part 46

"You are right," answered Fane, with unusual earnestness. "That used to be _my_ dream once, and I think even now I have the stuff in me for it; but then," he continued, sinking his voice, "I must have an end, an aim, and, above all, some one who will sorrow in my sorrow, and glory in my glory; who will be----"

"Quite ready for luncheon, I should think; hope you've enjoyed your boating!" cried Mr. Aspeden's hearty voice from the sh.o.r.e, where, having come by land, he now stood to welcome us, surrounded by a crowd of anxious mammas, wondering if the boating had achieved the desirable end of a proposal from Captain A----; hoping Mr. B----, who had nothing but his pay, had not been paying too much attention to Adelina; and that Honoria had given sufficient encouragement to Mr. C----, who, on the strength of 1000_l._ a year, and a coronet in prospect, was considered an eligible _parti_ (his being a consummate scamp and inveterate gambler is nothing); and that D---- has too much "consideration for his family"

to have any "serious intentions" to Miss E----, whom he is a.s.sisting to land. However, whatever proposals have been accepted or rejected, here we all were ready for luncheon, which was laid out on the gra.s.s, and Fane will be obliged to finish his speech another time, for little now is heard but _bons mots_, laughter, and champagne corks. The captain is more brilliant than ever, and I make Mary laugh if I cannot make her sigh. Luncheon over, what was to be done? See the castle, of course, as we were in duty bound, since it was what we came to do; and the _tete-a-tete_ of the boats are resumed, as ladies and gentlemen ascended the gra.s.sy slopes on which the fine old ruins stood. I looked for Mary Aspeden, feeling sure that I should conquer her in time (though I did not _want_ to in the least!), but she had gone off somewhere, I dare say with Tom Cleaveland; so I offered my arm to that same sentimental Miss Chesney who had bored me into a _valse a deux temps_ the night of the theatricals, and I have no doubt her mamma contemplated her as Mrs.

Wilmot, of Wilmot Park, with very great gratification and security.

Becoming rather tired of the young lady's hackneyed style of conversation, which consisted, as usual, of large notes of exclamation about "the _sweet_ nightingales!" "the _dear_ ruins!" "the _darling_ flowers!" &c. &c., I managed to exchange with another sub, and strolled off by myself.

As I was leaning against an old wall in no very amiable frame of mind, consigning all young ladies to no very delightful place, and returning to my old conclusion that they were all tarlatan and coquetry, soft musical voices on the other side of the wall fell almost unconsciously on my ear.

"Oh! Florence, I am so unhappy!"

"Are you, darling? I wish I could help you. Is it about Cyril Graham?"

"Yes!" with a tremendous sigh. "I am afraid papa, and I am sure mamma, will never consent. I know poor dear Cyril is not rich, but then he is so clever, he will soon make himself known. But if that tiresome Fred Wilmot should propose, I know they will want me to accept him." (There is one thing, I never, _never will_!) "I do snub him as much as ever I can, but he is such a puppy, I believe he thinks I am in love with him--as if Cyril, were not worth twenty such as he, for all he is the owner of Wilmot Park!"

Very pleasant this was! What a fool I must have made of myself to Mary Aspeden, and how nice it was to hear one's self called "a puppy!"

"Of course, dear," resumed Florence, "as you love Cyril, it is impossible for you to love any one ever again; but I do not think Mr.

Wilmot a puppy. He is conceited, to be sure, but I do not believe he would be so much liked by--by those who are his friends, if he were not rather nice. Come, dear, cheer up. I am sure uncle Aspeden is too kind not to let you marry Cyril when he knows how much you love one another.

_I_ will talk to him, Mary dear, and bring him round, see if I do not!

But--but--will you think me _very_ selfish if I tell you"--(a long pause)--"he has asked me--I mean--he wishes--he told me--he says he does love me!"

"Who, darling? Let me think--Lord Athum?--Mr. Grant?"

"No, Mary--Drummond--that is, Captain Fane--he said----Oh, Mary, I am so happy!"

At this juncture it occurred suddenly to me that I was playing the part of a listener. (But may not much be forgiven a man who has heard himself called "a puppy"?) So I moved away, leaving the fair Florence to her blushes and her happiness, unshared by any but her friend. Between my astonishment at Fane and my indignation at Mary, I was fairly bewildered. Fane actually had proposed! _He_, the Honorable Drummond Fane, who had always declaimed against matrimony--who had been proof-hardened against half the best matches in the country--that desperate flirt who we thought would never fall in love, to have tumbled in headlong like this!

Well, there was some satisfaction, I would chaff him delightfully about it; and I was really glad, for if Florence had given her heart to Fane, she was not the sort of girl to forget, nor he the sort of man to be forgotten, in a hurry. But in what an awfully foolish light I must have appeared to Mary Aspeden! There was one thing, she would never know I had overheard her. I would get leave, and go off somewhere--I would marry the first pretty girl I met with--she should _not_ think I cared for _her_. No, I would go on flirting as if nothing had happened, and then announce, in a natural manner, that I was going into the Highlands, and then _she_ would be the one to feel small, as she had made so _very_ sure of my proposal. And yet, if I went away, that was the thing to please her. _Hang_ it! I did not know _what_ to do! My vanity was most considerably touched, though my heart was not; but after cooling down a little, I saw how foolishly I should look if I behaved otherwise than quietly and naturally, and that after all _that_ would be the best way to make Mary reverse her judgment.

So, when I met her again, which was not until we were going to return, I offered her my arm to the boat where Fane and his _belle fiancee_ were sitting, looking most absurdly happy; and the idea of my adamantine friend being actually caught seemed so ridiculous, that it almost restored me to my good humor, which, sooth to say, the appellation of "puppy" had somewhat disturbed.

And so the moon rose and shed her silver light over the young lady who had sentimentalized upon her, and a romantic cornet produced a concertina, and sent forth dulcet strains into the evening air, and Florence and her captain talked away in whispers, and Mary Aspeden sat with tears in her eyes, thinking, I suppose, of "Cyril" and I mused on my "puppyism;" and thus, wrapped each in our own little sphere, we floated down the river to Woodlands, and, it being late, with many a soft good night, and many a gentle "_Au revoir_," we parted, and Mr.

Aspeden's castle picnic was over!

I did not see Fane the next day, except at parade, until I was dressing for mess, when he stalked into my room, and stretching himself on a sofa, said, after a pause,

"Well, old boy, I've been and gone and done it."

"Been and gone and done what?" I asked, for, by the laws of retaliation, I was bound to tease him a little.

"Confound you, what an idiot you are!" was the complimentary rejoinder.

"Why, my dear fellow, the truth is, that, like most of my unfortunate s.e.x, I have at last turned into that most tortuous path called love, and surrendered myself to the machinations of beautiful woman. The long and the short of it is--I am engaged to be married!"

"Good Heavens! Fane!" I exclaimed, "what next? _You_ married! Who on earth is she? I know of no heiress down here!"

"She is no heiress," said the captain; "but she is what is much better--the sweetest, dearest, most lovable----"

"Of _course_!" I said, "but no heiress! My dear Fane, you cannot mean what you say?"

"I should be sorry if I did not," was the cool reply; "and you must be more of a fool, Fred, than I took you for, if you cannot see that Florence Aspeden is worth all the heiresses upon earth, and is the embodiment of all that is lovely and winning in woman----"

"No doubt of it, _tout cela saute aux yeux_," I answered. "But reflect, Fane; it would be utter madness in _you_ to marry anything but an heiress. Love in a cottage is not _your_ style. _You_ were not made for a small house, one maid-servant, and dinner----"

"Ah!" laughed Fane, "you are bringing my former nonsense against me.

Some would say I was committing worse folly now, but believe me, Fred, the folly even of the heart is better than the calculating wisdom of the world. I do not hesitate to say that if Florence had fortune I should prefer it, for such a _vaurien_ as I was made to spend money; but as she has not, I love her too dearly to think about it, and my father, I have no doubt, will soon get me my majority, and we shall get on stunningly.

So marry for _love_, Fred, if you take my advice."

"A _rather_ different opinion to that which you inculcated so strenuously a month ago," I observed, smiling; "but let me congratulate you, old fellow, with all my heart. 'Pon my word, I am very glad, for I always felt afraid you would, like Morvillier's _garcon_, resist all the attractions of a woman until the '_cent mille ecus_,' and then, without hesitation, declare, '_J'epouse_.' But you were too good to be spoiled."

"As for my goodness, there's not much of _that_," replied Fane; "I am afraid I am much better off than I deserve. I wrote to the governor last night: dear old boy! he will do anything _I_ ask him. By the by, Mary will be married soon too. I hope you are not _epris_ in that quarter, Fred?--pray do not faint if you are. _My_ Florence, who can do anything she likes with anybody (do you think any one _could_ be angry with _her_?) coaxed old Aspeden into consenting to Mary's marriage with a fellow she really is in love with--Graham, a barrister. I think she would have had more difficulty with the lady-mother, if a letter had not most opportunely come from Graham this morning, announcing the agreeable fact that he had lots of tin left him unexpectedly. I wish somebody would do the same by me. And so this Graham will fly down on the wings of love--represented in these days by the express train--to-morrow evening."

"And how about the foreign service, Fane?" I could not help asking.

"And do you intend going to London to-morrow?"

"I made those two resolutions under very different circ.u.mstances to the _present_, my dear fellow," laughed Fane: "the first, when I determined to cut away from Florence altogether, as the only chance of forgetting her; sad the second, when I thought poor Mount was an accepted lover, and I confess that I did not feel to have stoicism enough to witness his happiness. But how absurd it seems that _I_ should have fallen in love,"

continued he; "_I_, that defied the charms of all the Venuses upon earth--the last person any one would have taken for a marrying man. I am considerably astonished myself! But I suppose love is like the whooping-cough, one must have it some time or other." And with these words the gallant captain raised himself from the sofa, lighted a cigar, and, strolling out of the room, mounted his horse for Woodlands, where he was engaged of course to dinner that evening.

And now, gentle reader, what more is there to tell? I fear as it is I have written too "much about nothing," and as thou hast, I doubt not, a fine imagination, what need to tell how Lord Avanley and Mr. Aspeden arranged matters, not like the cross papas in books and dramas, but amicably, as gentlemen should; how merrily the bells pealed for the double wedding; how I, as _garcon d'honneur_, flirted with the bridesmaids to my heart's content; how Fane is my friend, _par excellence_, still, and how his love is all the stronger for having "come late," he says. How all the young ladies hated Florence, and all the mammas and chaperones blessed her for having carried off the "fascinating younger son," until his brother Lord Castleton dying at the baths, Fane succeeded of course to the t.i.tle; how she is, if possible, even more charming as Lady Castleton than as Florence Aspeden, and how they were _really_ heart-happy until the Crimean campaign separated them; and how she turns her beautiful eyes ever to the East and heeds not, save to repulse, the crowd of admirers who seek to render her forgetful of her soldier-husband.

True wife as she is, may he live to come back with laurels hardly won, still to hold her his dearest treasure.

_May 1, 1856._--Fane _has_ come back all safe. I hope, dear reader, you are as glad as I am. He has distinguished himself stunningly, and is now lieutenant-colonel of the dear old 110th. You have gloried in the charge of ours at Balaklava, but as I have not whispered to you my name, you cannot possibly divine that a rascally Russian gave me a cut on the sword-arm that very day in question, which laid me _hors de combat_, but got me my majority.

Well may I, as well as Fane, bless the remembrance of Layton Rise, for if I had never made the acquaintance of Mary Aspeden--I mean Graham--I might never have known her _belle-soeur_ (who is now shaking her head at me for writing about her), and whom, either through my interesting appearance when I returned home on the sick-list, and my manifold Crimean adventures, or through the usual perversity of women, who will fall always in love with scamps who do not deserve half their goodness--(Edith, you shall _not_ look over my shoulder)--I prevailed on to accept my n.o.ble self and Lancer uniform, with the "_puppyism_" shaken pretty well out of it! And so here we are _very happy of course_.--"As yet," suggests Edith.

Ah! Fane and I little knew--poor unhappy wretches that we were--what our fate was preparing for us when it led us discontented _blases_ and _ennuyes_ down to our Country Quarters!