Volume Ii Part 15 (1/2)
Resolving that our duel should have no witnesses, I turned the girls out of the room, and for the same reason do I preserve a rigid secrecy as to all the details of our engagement; enough when I say that the sun went down upon our wrath, and it was near nightfall when we drew off our forces. Though I fought vigorously, and with the courage of despair, I couldn't get over the fact that it was my unhappy explosion in French that did all the mischief. I tried hard to make it appear that her sudden departure was rather a boon than otherwise; that our expenses were terrific, and, moreover, that, as I was determined against any fict.i.tious settlement, her flight had only antic.i.p.ated a certain catastrophe; but all these devices availed me little against my real culpability, which no casuistry could get over.
”Well, ma'am,” said I, at last, ”one thing is quite clear,--the Continent does not suit us. All our experience of foreign life and manners neither guides us in difficulty nor warns us when in danger. Let us go back to where we are, at least, as wise as our neighbors,--where we are familiar with the customs, and where, whatever our shortcomings, we meet with the indulgent judgment that comes of old acquaintance.”
”Where 's that?” said she. ”I 'm curious to know where is this elegant garden of paradise?”
”Bruff, ma'am,--our own neighborhood.”
”Where we were always in hot water with every one. Were you ever out of a squabble on the Bench or at the poorhouse? Were n't you always disputing about land with the tenants, and about water with the miller?
Had n't you a row at every a.s.sizes, and a skirmish at every road session? Bruff, indeed; it's a new thing to hear it called the Happy Valley!”
”Faith, I know I 'm not Ra.s.selas,” said I.
”You're restless enough,” said she, mistaking the word; ”but it's your own temper that does it. No, Mr. D., if you want to go back to Ireland, I won't be selfish enough to oppose it; but as for myself, I 'll never set a foot in it.”
”You are determined on that?” said I.
”I am,” said she.
”In that case, ma'am,” said I, ”I 'm only losing valuable time waiting for you to change your mind; so I 'll start at once.”
”A pleasant journey to you, Mr. D.,” said she, flouncing out of the room, and leaving me the field of battle, but scarcely the victory. Now, Tom, I 've too much to do and to think about to discuss the point that I know you 're eager for,--which of us was more in the wrong. Such debates are only casuistry from beginning to end. Besides, at all events, _my_ mind is made up. I 'll go back at once. The little there ever was of anything good about me is fast oozing away in this life of empty parade and vanity. Mary Anne and James are both the worse of it; who knows how long Cary will resist its evil influence? I'll go down to Genoa, and take the Peninsular steamer straight for Southampton. I 'm a bad sailor, but it will save me a few pounds, and some patience besides, in escaping the lying and cheating scoundrels I should meet in a land journey.
To any of the neighbors, you may say that I 'm coming home for a few weeks to look after the tenants; and to any whom you think would believe it, just hint that the Government has sent for me.
I conclude that I 'll be very short of cash when I reach Genoa, so send me anything you can lay hands on, and believe me,
Ever yours faithfully,
Kenny James Dodd.
P. S. I told you this was a cheap place. The bill has just come up, and it beats the ”Clarendon”! It appears that his Serene Highness told them to treat us like princes, and we must pay in the same style. I'm going to settle' part of our debt by parting with our travelling-carriage, which, besides a.s.sisting the exchequer, will be a great shock to Mrs.
D., and a foretaste of what she has to come down to when I 'm gone.
It is seldom that a man can combine the double excellence of a great financier and a great moralist!
LETTER XVIII. MARY ANNE DODD TO MISS DOOLAN, OP BALLYDOOLAN
”Cour de Parme,” Parma.
Dearest Kitty,--So varied have been my emotions of late, and with such whirlwind rapidity have they succeeded each other in my distracted brain, that I am really at a loss to know where I left off in my last epistle to you, and at what particular crisis in our adventures I closed my narrative. Forgive me, dearest, if I impose on you the tiresome task of listening twice to the same tale, or the almost equally unpleasant duty of trying to follow me through gaps of unexplained events.
Have I told you of the Countess's departure,--that most mysterious flight, which has thrown poor James into, I fear, a hopeless melancholy, and made s.h.i.+pwreck of his heart forever? I feel as if I had revealed it to my dearest Kitty; my soul whispers to me that she bears her share in my sorrows, and mingles her tears with mine. Yes, dearest, she is gone!
Some indiscreet revelations papa made to mamma in his room would appear to have disclosed more of our private affairs than ought to have obtained publicity, were overheard by her, and she immediately gave orders to her servants to pack up, leaving a very vague note behind her, plainly intimating, however, that papa might, if he pleased, satisfactorily account for the step she had taken. This, and a few almost flippant acknowledgments of our attentions, concluded an epistle that fell in the midst of us like a rocket.
If I feel deeply wounded at the slight thus shown us, and the still heavier injury inflicted on poor dear James, yet am I constrained to confess that Josephine was quite justified in what she did. Born in the very highest cla.s.s, all her habits, her ways, her very instincts aristocratic, the bare thought of an alliance with a family struggling with dubious circ.u.mstances must have been too shocking! I did not ever believe that she returned James's affection; she liked him, perhaps, well enough,--that is, well enough to marry! She deemed him her equal in rank and fortune, and in that respect regarded the match as a fair one.
To learn that we were neither t.i.tled nor rich, neither great by station nor rolling in wealth, was of course to feel that she had been deceived and imposed upon, and might reasonably warrant even the half-sarcastic spirit of her farewell note.
To tell what misery this has cost us all is quite beyond me; scorned affection,--blasted hopes,--ambitions scattered to the winds,--a glorious future annihilated! Conceive all of these that you can, and then couple them with meaner and more vulgar regrets, as to what enormous extravagance the pursuit has involved us in, the expense of a style of living that even a prince could scarcely have maintained, and all at a little secluded capital where n.o.body comes, n.o.body lives; so that we do not reap even the secondary advantage of that notoriety for which we have to pay so dearly. Mamma and I, who think precisely alike on these subjects, are overwhelmed with misery as we reflect over what the money thus squandered would have done at Rome, Florence, or Vienna!