II.
WHY MEN DON'T MARRY.
We were sitting around the fire at Colonel Holborow's. Dinner
was over--had, in fact, been over for some time--the hour of
smoke, whisky, and confidence had arrived, and we had been
telling one another the various reasons which accounted for our
being unmarried, for we were all bachelors except the colonel,
and he had, as a variety, told the reasons why he wished he was
unmarried (his wife was away). Jack Dexter, however, had not
spoken, and it was only in response to a direct appeal that he
related the following story. The story may be true or untrue,
but I must remark that Jack always had rather a weakness for
representing himself on terms of condescending intimacy with
the nobility and even greater folk.
Jack sighed deeply. There was a sympathetic silence. Then he
began:
"For some reason best known to herself," said Jack, with a
patient shrug of his shoulders, "the Duchess of Medmenham (I
don't know whether any of you fellows know her) chose to object
to me as a suitor for the hand of her daughter, Mary Fitzmoine.
The woman was so ignorant that she may really have thought that
my birth was not equal to her daughter's; but all the world knows
that the Munns were yeomen two hundred years ago, and that her
Grace's family hails from a stucco villa in the neighborhood of
Cardiff. However, the duchess did object; and when the season
(in the course of which I had met Lady Mary many times) ended,
instead of allowing her daughter to pay a series of visits at
houses where I had arranged to be, she sent her off to
Switzerland, under the care of a dragon whom she had engaged to
keep me and other dangerous fellows at a proper distance. On
hearing of what had happened from George Fitzmoine (an intimate
friend of mine), I at once threw up my visits and started in
pursuit. I felt confident that Lady Mary was favorably inclined
(in fact, I had certain proofs which--but no matter), and that if
I won her heart I could break down the old lady's opposition. I
should certainly have succeeded in my enterprise, and been at
this moment the husband of one of the most beautiful girls in
England, but for a very curious and unfortunate circumstance,
which placed me in an unfavorable light in Mary's eyes. I was
not to blame; it was just a bit of bad luck.
"I ranged over most of Switzerland in search of Lady Mary.
Wherever I went I asked about her, and at last I got upon the
track. At Interlaken I found her name in the visitors' book,
together with that of a Miss Dibbs, whom I took to be the dragon.
I questioned the porter and found that the two ladies had, the
afternoon before, hired a carriage and driven to a quiet
little village some fifteen miles off, where there was a small
but good inn. Here they evidently meant to stay, for letters
were to be sent after them there for the next week. The place
was described to me as pretty and retired; it seemed, therefore,
an ideal spot for my purpose. I made up my mind at once. I
started the next day after luncheon, took the journey easily, and
came in sight of the little inn about seven o'clock in the
evening. All went well. The only question was as to the
disposition of Miss Dibbs toward me. I prayed that she might
turn out to be a romantic dragon; but, in case she should prove
obstinate, I made my approaches with all possible caution. When
my carriage stopped at the door I jumped out. The head waiter, a
big fellow in a white waistcoat, was on the steps. I drew him
aside, and took a ten-franc piece from my pocket.
"`Is there a young lady staying here?' I asked. `Tall, fair,
handsome?' and I slid the piece of gold into his palm.
"`Well, yes, sir,' he said, `there is a young lady, and she is
all that you say, sir. Pardon me, Monsieur is English?'
"`Yes,' said I.
"`Ah,' said he, smiling mysteriously. `And it is Wednesday.'
"`It is certainly Wednesday,' I admitted, though I did not see
that the day of the week mattered much.
"He came close to me and whispered:
"`The lady thought you might come, sir. I think she expects you,
sir. Oh, you can rely on my discretion, sir.'
"I was rather surprised, but not very much, for I had hinted to
George Fitzmoine that I meant to try my luck, and I supposed that
he had passed my hint on to his sister. My predominant feeling
was one of gratification. Mary loved me! Mary expected me!
There was complete mental sympathy between Mary and myself!
"I went up to my room in a state of great contentment. I had
been there about half an hour when my friend the waiter came
in. Advancing toward me with a mysterious air, he took a blank
envelope out of his pocket and held it up before me with a
roguish smile.
"`Monsieur will know the handwriting inside,' he said cunningly.
"Now I had never corresponded with Lady Mary, and of course did
not know her handwriting, but I saw no use in telling the waiter
that. In truth, I thought the fellow quite familiar enough. So
I said shortly and with some hauteur:
"`Give me the note;' and I took another piece of gold out of my
pocket. We exchanged our possessions, the waiter withdrew with a
wink, and I tore open the precious note.
"`Whatever you do,' it ran, `don't recognize me. I am WATCHED.
As soon as I can I will tell you where to meet me. I knew you
would come.--M.'
"`The darling!' I exclaimed. `She's a girl of spirit. I'll take
good care not to betray her. Oh, we'll circumvent old Dibbs
between us.'
"At eight o'clock I went down to the salle a manger. It was
quite empty. Mary and Miss Dibbs no doubt dined in their own
sitting room, and there appeared to be no one else in the hotel.
However, when I was halfway through my meal, a stylishly dressed
young woman came in and sat down at a table at the end of the
room farthest from where I was. I should have noticed her more,
but I was in a reverie about Mary's admirable charms, and I only
just looked at her; she was frowning and drumming angrily with
her fingers on the table. The head waiter hurried up to her; his
face was covered with smiles, and he gave me a confidential nod
en passant. Nothing else occurred except that a villainous
looking fellow--something, to judge by his appearance, between a
valet and a secretary--thrust his ugly head through the door
three or four times. Whenever he did so the waiter smiled
blandly at him. He did it the last time just as the lady was
walking down the room. Seeing her coming he drew back and held
the door open for her with a clumsy, apologetic bow. She smiled
scornfully and passed through. The waiter stood grinning in the
middle of the room, and when I, in my turn, rose, he whispered to
me, `It's all right, sir.' I went to bed and dreamed of Mary.
"On entering the room next morning the first person I saw was
Mary. She was looking adorably fresh and pretty. She sat
opposite a stout, severe-looking dame in black. Directly my eyes
alighted on her I schooled them into a studiously vacant
expression. She, poor girl, was no diplomatist. She started;
she glanced anxiously at Miss Dibbs; I saw her lips move; she
blushed; she seemed almost to smile. Of course this behavior (I
loved Mary the more that she could not conceal her delightful
embarrassment!) excited the dragon's curiosity; she turned round
and favored me with a searching gaze. I was equal to the
occasion. I comprehended them both in a long, cool,
deliberate, empty stare. The strain on my self-control was
immense, but I supported it. Mary blushed crimson, and her eyes
sank to her plate. Poor girl! She had sadly overrated her
powers of deception. I was not surprised that Miss Dibbs frowned
severely and sniffed audibly.
"At that moment the other girl came in. She walked up, took the
table next to mine, and, to my confusion, bestowed upon me a look
of evident interest, though of the utmost shortness--one of those
looks, you know, that seem to be repented of in an instant, and
are generally the most deliberate. I took no notice at all,
assuming an air of entire unconsciousness. A few minutes later
Mary got up and made for the door, with Miss Dibbs in close
attendance. The imprudent child could not forbear to glance at
me; but I, seeing the dragon's watchful eye upon me, remained
absolutely irresponsive. Nay, to throw Miss Dibbs off the scent,
I fixed my eyes on my neighbor with assumed preoccupation.
Flushing painfully, Mary hurried out, and I heard Miss Dibbs
sniff again. I chuckled over her obvious disapproval of my
neighbor and myself. The excellent woman evidently thought us no
better than we ought to be! But I felt that I should go mad if I
could not speak to Mary soon.
"I went out and sat down in the veranda. It was then about half-
past ten. The ugly fellow whom I had noticed the evening before
was hanging about, but presently a waiter came and spoke to him,
and he got up with a grumble and went into the house. Ten
minutes afterward my neighbor of the salle a manger came
out. She looked very discontented. She rang a handbell that
stood on the table, and a waiter ran up.
"`Where's the head waiter?' she asked sharply.
"`Pardon, ma'mselle, but he is waiting on some ladies
upstairs.'
"`What a nuisance!' said she. `But you'll do. I want to give
him an order. Stay; come indoors and I'll write it down.'
"She disappeared, and I sat on, wondering how I was to get a
sight of Mary. At last, in weariness, I went indoors to the
smoking room. It looked out to the back and was a dreary little
room; but I lit my cigar and began on a three days' old copy of
the Times. Thus I spent a tedious hour. Then my friend the
head waiter appeared, looking more roguish than ever. I dived
into my pocket, he produced a note, I seized it.
"`Why have you been so long?' (Charmingly unreasonable! what
could I have done?) `Directly you get this, come to the wood
behind the hotel. Take the path to the right and go straight
till you find me. I have thrown the SPY [poor old Dibbs!] off
the scent.--M.'
"I caught up my hat and rushed into the hall. I cannoned into a
young man who had just got out of a carriage and was standing in
the veranda. With a hasty apology I dashed on. Beyond doubt
she loved me! And she was honest enough not to conceal it. I
hate mock modesty. I longed to show her how truly I returned her
love, and I rejoiced that there need be no tedious preliminaries.
Mary and I understood one another. A kiss would be the seal of
our love--and the most suitable beginning of our conversation.
"In five minutes I was in the wood. Just before I disappeared
among its trees I heard someone calling `Monsieur, monsieur!'
It sounded like the voice of the head waiter, but I wouldn't have
stopped for fifty head waiters. I took the path Mary had
indicated and ran along it at the top of my speed. Suddenly, to
my joy, I caught sight of the figure of a girl; she was seated on
a mound of grass, and, though her face was from me, I made no
doubt it was Mary. She wore the most charming blue cloak (it was
a chilly morning) which completely enveloped her. I determined
not to shilly-shally. She loved me--I loved her. I ran forward,
plumped down on my knees behind her, took her head between my
hands dodged round, and kissed her cheek.
"`At last, my darling!' I cried in passionate tones.
"By Jupiter, it was the other girl, though!
"I sprang back in horror. The girl looked at me for a moment.
Then she blushed; then she frowned; then--why, then she began to
laugh consumedly. I was amazed.
"`"At last," you call it,' she gasped. `I call it "at first"';
and she laughed merrily and melodiously. She certainly had a
nice laugh, that girl.
"Now, concerning what follows, I have, since then, entertained
some doubts whether I behaved in all respects discreetly. You
will allow that the position was a difficult one, but it is, I
admit, very possible that my wisest course would have been to
make an apology and turn tail as quickly as I could. Well, I
didn't. I thought that I owed the lady a full explanation.
Besides, I wanted a full explanation myself. Finally (oh,
yes, I see you fellows grinning and winking), Mary was not there,
and this young lady rather interested me. I decided that I would
have five minutes' talk with her; then I would run back and find
Mary.
"`I must beg a thousand pardons,' I began, `but I took you for
somebody else."
"`Oh, of course,' said she, with a shrug, `it's always that.'
"`You appear incredulous,' said I, rather offended.
"`Well, and if I am?' said she.
"My feelings were hurt. I produced Mary's second note.
"`If I can trust to your discretion, I'll prove what I say,' I
remarked in a nettled tone.
"`I shall be very curious to hear the proof, sir, and I will be
most discreet,' she said. She was pouting, but her eyes danced.
Really, she looked very pretty--although, of course, I would not
for a moment compare her with Lady Mary.
"`A lady,' said I, `was so kind as to tell me to seek her
here this morning.'
"`Oh, as if I believed that!'
"I was piqued.
"`There's the proof,' I cried, flinging the note into her lap.
"She took it up, glanced at it, and gave a little shriek.
"`Where did you get this?'
"`Why, from the head waiter.'
"`Oh, the fool!' she cried. `It's mine.'
"`Yours? nonsense! He gave me that and another last night.'
"`Oh, the stupidity! They were for--they were not for you. They
were for--someone who is to arrive.'
"I pointed at the signature and gasped, `M.! Do you sign M.?'
"`Yes; my name's--my name begins with M. Oh, if I'd only seen
that waiter this morning! Oh, the idiot!'
"Then I believe I swore.
"`Madame,' said I, `I'm ruined! No harm is done to you--I'm a
man of honor--but I'm ruined. On the strength of your wretched
notes, madame, I've cut the girl I love best in the world--
cut her dead--dead--dead!'
"`What? That young lady in the---- Oh, you thought they were
from her? Oh, I see? How--how--oh, how very amusing!' And the
heartless little wretch went off into another peal of laughter.
"`You pretended not to know her! Oh, dear! oh, dear!' and her
laughter echoed among the trees again. `I saw her looking at
you, and you ate on like a pig! Oh, dear! oh, dear!'
"`Stop laughing!' said I savagely.
"`Oh, I'm very sorry, but I can't. What a scrape you've go into!
Oh, me!' And she wiped her eyes (they were as blue as her cloak)
with a delicate bit of a handkerchief.
"`You shan't laugh,' said I. `Who were your notes for?'
"`Somebody I expected. He hasn't come. The waiter took you for
him, I suppose. I never thought of his being so stupid. Oh,
what a brute she must have thought you!' And she began to laugh
again.
"I had had enough of it. I hate being laughed at.
"`If you go on laughing,' said I, `I'll kiss you again.'
"The threat was a failure; she did not appear at all alarmed.
"`Not you!' she said, laughing worse than ever.
"I should like you fellows to understand that my heart never
wavered in its allegiance to Lady Mary--my conscience is quite
clear as to that--but I had pledged my word. I caught that
tiresome girl round the waist and I kissed her once--I'm sure of
once, anyhow. She gasped and struggled, laughing still. Then,
with a sudden change of voice, she cried, `Stop', stop!'
"I let her go. I looked round. We had a gallery of spectators.
On one side stood the ugly-headed valet; on the other, in
attitudes of horror, Mary and Miss Dibbs!
"`You've ruined us both now,' said the girl in blue.
"I rose to my feet and was about to explain, when the ugly
fellow rushed at me, brandishing a cane. I had quite enough to
arrange without being bothered by him. I caught the cane in my
left hand, and with my right I knocked him down.
"Then I walked up to Lady Mary. I took no heed of Miss Dibbs'
presence; it was too critical a moment to think of trifles.
"`Lady Mary,' said I, `appearances are so much against me that
you cannot possibly attach the slightest weight to them.'
"`Sir,' said she, `I have no longer the honor of your
acquaintance. I have only to thank you for having had the
consideration not to recognize me when we met so unexpectedly in
the dining room. Pray continue to show me the same favor.'
"With which pleasant little speech she turned on her heel. It
was clear that she suspected me most unjustly. I turned to the
girl in blue, but she was beforehand with me.
"`Ah, I wish I'd never see you,' she cried, `you great,
stupid creature! He [she pointed to the prostrate figure of the
ugly servant] will tell Frederic everything.'
"`Come,' said I, `_I_ was only an accident; it would have been
just as bad if----'
"As I spoke I heard a step behind me. Turning round, I found
myself face to face with the young man with whom I had come in
collision as I rushed through the hall. He gazed at the
servant--at me--at the girl in blue.
"`Margaret!' he exclaimed, `what is the----'
"`Hush, hush!' she whispered, pointing again to the servant.
"I stepped up to him, lifting my hat:
"`Sir,' said I, "kindly inform me if you are the gentleman who
was to come from England.'
"`Certainly I come from England,' he said.
"`And you ought to have arrived on Wednesday?'
"`Yes," he answered.
"`Then,' said I, `all I have to say to you, sir, is--that I wish
to the devil you'd keep your appointments.' And I left them.
"That's why I'm not married, boys. Where's my glass?"
"It is a very curious story," observed the colonel. "And who
were they all--the girl in blue--and the young man--and the ugly
servant--and Frederic?"
"Colonel," said Jack, with an air of deepest mystery, "you would
be astounded to hear."
We all pricked up our ears.
"But," he continued, "I am not at liberty to say."
We sank back in our chairs.
"Do you know?" asked the colonel, and Jack nodded solemnly.
"Out with it!" we cried.
"Impossible!" said Jack. "But I may tell you that the matter
engaged the attention of more than one of the Foreign Offices of
Europe."
"Good Heavens!" cried we in chorus, and Jack drank off his
whisky and water, rose to his feet, and put on his hat.
"Poor dear Mary!" said he, as he opened the door. "She never got
over it."
The colonel shouted after him:
"Then what did she marry Jenkyns of the Blues for?"
"Pique!" said Jack, and he shut the door.
