Читать книгу: «The Gypsy Queen's Vow», страница 30

“It’s all very well to say, ‘take things easy,’ Master Ranty,” said Mr. Toosypegs, wiping his eyes with the cuff of his coat-sleeve; “but if you were in my place – in love – a – I mean going to part with Miss Minnie, and never see her again, I don’t see how you could take it easy either. I dare say you mean real well in telling me so, Master Ranty, but I can’t do it at all. Good-by, Miss Minnie,” said poor Mr. Toosypegs, sobbing outright. “I don’t expect ever to see you again in this world – my feelings are in that state that I will soon be a melancholy corpse. I know very well I will.”

“Oh, Mr. Toosypegs, I hope not; you only think so. Give my love to Miss Priscilla, and tell her I’ll send her a new shawl from Baltimore. Good-by.” And with a smile, Erminie fell back, and the carriage drove on, unhappy O. C. Toosypegs wiping his eyes, and snuffling, in the middle of the road.

Nothing of any importance occurred during the remainder of the journey. The whole party arrived safely in the city, and were domesticated with the friend in whose house the earl and countess were staying.

The duty of informing Rita of her new-found parentage devolved upon Lady Maude. In the gentlest and kindest manner possible, she performed her task; and great was the astonishment and greater the mortification of the supercilious little lady on learning who she really was. “Some natural tears she shed;” but when the countess informed her she was still to reside with them as before, and not being completely selfish after all, she consented at last to wipe them, and met her mother with quite a decent show of affection. Poor Marguerite! she clasped the little gilded, glittering butterfly to her breast, and wept over her with a passionate love that touched every heart. There was a perceptible coldness and jealousy in the dainty little lady’s greeting of Erminie, whom she looked upon as a rival and natural enemy; but the gentleness and sweetness of the new-found heiress were not to be resisted; and before they all separated for the night Lady Rita made up her mind that matters were, after all, by no means so bad as she had at first supposed.

Ray passed a week with the family in Baltimore, and then returned to Judestown – on business, he said, but as more than one of the party shrewdly guessed, to see Pet. He found her worthy father at home, and unbounded was the astonishment of that most upright gentleman upon learning all that had transpired during his absence. Inwardly he rejoiced at the annihilation of the gang of smugglers, and fervently thanked his stars that his own connection with them had not been discovered.

But another surprise was in store for him when Ray appeared before him and formally solicited the hand of his daughter. Ray Germaine, the gipsy’s grandson, and Ray Germaine, Lady De Courcy’s son, were two very different personages; and his worship, the judge, was graciously pleased to give a prompt assent. The first would have been, in no very choice terms, shown the door; the latter was taken by the hand and cordially told, after the manner of fathers in the play, to “take her and be happy,” which Pet assured him he would find some difficulty in being, once she was his wife.

And so our Pet was engaged at last; and Ray returned to Baltimore to inform his friends of his success and make arrangements for their marriage, which the judge, who thought it would be something added to his already overwhelming dignity to be father-in-law of the son of a peeress, desired might take place as soon as possible.

Erminie clapped her hands with delight when she heard of it, and Lady Maude, whose heart the wild elf had taken by storm, expressed her heartfelt pleasure.

“And you must return with us to England as soon as you are married,” said Lord De Courcy, to the bridegroom-elect.

“And we will all live together. Oh, it will be so nice to be near Pet!” said Erminie delightedly.

Ray laughed and shook his head.

“We may accompany you to England, as both Pet and I desire to visit it, but our future home must be here.”

“Why not in England as well as here?” asked his lordship.

“Oh, well, for many reasons. One is, Petronilla would never consent; another is that I am too much attached to this land of my adoption to wish to leave it for any other; and thirdly and lastly, I have already attained some slight degree of fame in my profession here, and I do not wish to lose it now by going to another land.”

“But, my dearest boy, I do not like the idea of being so far separated from you,” said Lady Maude, anxiously.

“Oh, to cross the Atlantic is a mere pleasure-trip now, my dear mother,” laughed Ray; “so we will meet at intervals, after all. As I intend to be a great man one of these days – ”

“You can be that, easily, by growing fat,” interrupted Ranty. “You can’t be reached now with anything less than a ten-foot pole; and if you only grow stout with years, I’ll back you against any man in the community for greatness. You’ll make Daniel Lambert himself look to his laurels.”

“By the way, Erminie, I have a message for you from your old admirer, Mr. Toosypegs,” said Ray. “He says he can’t bear the idea of letting you go without seeing you again: so he is coming here, and the admiral with him.”

“Miss Priscilla ought to come, too, and make the party complete,” said Ranty. “I wonder she is so imprudent as to let that innocent youth journey so far alone. There is no telling what may happen to him in a depraved place like this.”

“I am sure I shall be glad to see Mr. Toosypegs again, and the dear old admiral. Oh, I do love him,” exclaimed Erminie.

“I wish I could get you to say that about his nephew,” said Ranty, with an appealing look.

Lord De Courcy smiled encouragingly on the youth as, together with Lady Maude, he left the room.

CHAPTER XL.
CHIEFLY MATRIMONIAL

 
“There is a love which, born
In early days, lives on through silent years.”
 

 
“Love is life’s end.”
 

– Spenser.

Erminie – Lady Erminie now – sat in an elegantly-furnished library, pulling a costly bouquet wantonly to pieces, and looking excessively lovely in her dress of pale-blue silk and white lace.

Pacing up and down the room, as if for a wager, was Master Ranty Lawless, with a look as nearly approaching the intensely gloomy as was possible for his handsome, happy face to wear.

“Why, Ranty, what in the world is the matter with you this morning?” said Erminie, at last, opening her sweet blue eyes very wide in innocent wonder.

“Lady Erminie, I’m going away, this very morning; and what’s more, I’m never going to come back! I’ll be swung to the yard-arm if I do!” was the unexpected answer, delivered with a savage, jerking abruptness that made Erminie drop her flowers and half rise from her seat in consternation.

“Why, Ranty – why, Ranty! How can you talk so? What has happened? What is the matter? Are you going crazy?”

“What’s happened? Everything’s happened, everything’s the matter, and I am going crazy, if it’s any consolation to you to learn it. Yes, you may look surprised, Lady Erminie Germaine, or De Courcy, or whatever your name may be, but you are the cause of it all; and you know it too, for all you sit up there looking as innocent and unconscious as it is possible for any young woman to look. Never mind though; I don’t care! Just go on, Lady Erminie! You’ll find what a nice young man you’ve lost, when it’s too late!” said Ranty, striding up and down, and looking ferociously at poor Erminie.

“Oh, Ranty! how can you go on so? What have I done?” said Erminie, twisting her fingers, and looking up with shining, tearful eyes, looking so pretty and innocent in her distress that Ranty’s better angel prompted him to go over and caress away her tears on the spot.

But Ranty was angry and didn’t do anything of the kind. On the contrary, he grew twice as fierce as before, and strode up and down twice as rapidly, bursting out with:

“What have you done? There’s a question! What haven’t you done, I want to know? You knew very well I loved you, and paid attention to you since you were the size of a well-grown doughnut, and when you hadn’t a cent to bless yourself with. You know I did, Lady Erminie, and you needn’t deny it. Well, your father and mother turn up, and you find yourself a fine lady, and after that you grow stiff and dignified, and keep me at a distance, as Paddy did the moon, and flirt with every bescented, behair-oiled jackanapes that squirms, and bows, and simpers, and makes fools of themselves, and talk with all sorts of soft nonsense to you! You know you do, Lady Erminie, and I repeat it, you needn’t deny it! Here was last night, at that concert, soiree, or tea-party, or whatever it was, didn’t you let that contemptible fool, the Honorable Augustus Ahringfeldt, make the strongest sort of love to you the whole blessed evening. Honorable, indeed! A pretty honorable, he is, all hair and conceit, like a scented orang-outang!” sneered Ranty, elevating his Roman nose to the loftiest angle of scorn.

“Indeed – indeed, Ranty, I couldn’t help it! He talked to me, and I had to answer him, and you never came near me all the time,” said Erminie with tears of distress in her gentle blue eyes.

“No; the thumb-screws of the Holy Office wouldn’t have got a word out of me!” said Ranty, fiercely. “Do you think I was going to thrust myself forward where I wasn’t wanted? No, Lady Erminie De Courcy; though you may be above me in rank and wealth, I can have as much pride as you can yet; and if you think fit to cut my acquaintance, you are perfectly welcome to do it. I am going away this afternoon, and I am not likely to trouble you any more; but first I’ll punch the head of that sweet seraph, the Honorable Augustus – hanged if I don’t! Lady Erminie, good-by! I’m off for a voyage to Constantinople; and if you hear that the sultan has had me bow-strung, or bastinadoed, or pitched into the Bosphorus, or that I have committed suicide, or anything, I hope you’ll drop a tear to the memory of the little boy in roundabout-jackets who used to go sailing and making love with you at old Judestown.”

Here Ranty dropped his voice to the deeply-pathetic, and held out his hand mournfully to Erminie. But that young lady’s hands were up before her face, and she seemed in a fair way to comply with his request to drop a tear to his memory; for she was sobbing away convulsively.

“There, now! I’ve went and set you a-crying!” exclaimed Ranty, in a tone, or rather howl, of mingled remorse and distraction. “That’s always the way I go and put my foot in whatever I go to do! I am a brute! a crocodile! a sea-serpent! a monster! an unmitigated bear! and I deserve a sound flogging for speaking to you as I did. Erminie! dear Erminie! dearest Erminie! forgive me, like a good girl. It was all owing to that hairy-faced fool, Ahringfeldt – I swear it was! I was jealous of him! madly jealous! the effeminate little cream-candy puppy! Dear Erminie, forgive me! Dearest Erminie, look up and say I am forgiven, or I will go to the nearest apothecary’s, and put an end to my miserable existence with a gallon or two of Prussic acid. Dear, dearest, darling Erminie! only say you forgive me!” pleaded Ranty, kneeling before her, and gently withdrawing her hands from before her.

Erminie looked up imploringly through her tears.

“Oh, Ranty! how can you say such dreadful things? Oh, you frighten me to death! Promise me you will not kill yourself; it is so wicked, you know!”

“Beside being disagreeable to be sat on by a coroner and a dozen asses of jurymen. Well, I won’t, if you will promise me one thing.”

“Oh, Ranty! I will promise anything if you will not do it.”

“Will you, though? Oh, Erminie! you’re a nice young woman! Well, I want you to be my dear, little blue-eyed wife. Now, then, say yes.”

But Erminie, with a bright blush and a little surprised scream, threw up her hands and covered her face.

“Now, Erminie, that’s no answer at all,” said Ranty, taking down the hands. “You don’t know what a capital husband I’ll make. You can’t begin to have the remotest idea of it, you know. Come, Erminie, say yes – there’s a good girl.”

“Oh, Ranty!”

“Yes, I know; girls always look flustered in cases like this; but, somehow, they manage to say yes, after all. Now, Erminie, if you don’t say yes, I’ll go right straight off for the Prussic acid – mind that!”

“Well, yes, then,” said Erminie, blushing, and laughing, and hiding her face on his shoulder.

“Gloria in excelsis! alleluia! hurrah! Oh, Erminie! my own little darling! you have made me the happiest man from here to the antipodes. Oh, Erminie! I knew you would, all along! I always thought you had too much good sense to reject me for a puppy like the Honorable Augustus!” exclaimed Ranty, in a rapture. “Oh, Erminie! I’ll give you leave to cowhide me within an inch of my life if I ever give you a cross look or word again! Oh, Erminie – ”

The sudden opening of the library-door cut short his interminable string of interjections in which Ranty would have indulged, and the next moment, Lord De Courcy stood looking with grave surprise on the two lovers.

“Ah! beg your pardon,” he said, blandly, as Ranty sprung to his feet. “I was not aware there was any one here. Excuse me for interrupting you.” And with a bow and an almost imperceptible smile, he was turning away, when Ranty stepped forward, and said:

“Hold on, my lord. There’s a little matter to be arranged here, which may as well be done now as any other time. I love your daughter and have told her so, and your daughter loves me, and has told me so; and all we want is your lordship’s consent to our union. I may not be quite her equal in wealth, and rank, and all that sort of thing, in your eyes; but as a free-born American citizen, and an independent ‘sovereign’ in my own right, and possessing a strong arm, a stout heart, and a clear conscience, I feel myself as good as the best lord, duke, or Sir Harry in all Great Britain; and so, my lord, if you will give me your daughter, I will try to prove myself worthy of the gift.”

This plain, straight-forward speech, delivered with head erect, shoulders thrown back, and Master Ranty drawn up to the full extent of his six feet odd inches, evidently did not displease the earl. He turned to Erminie, whose blushing face was hid again, and said, with a smile:

“And what says my little girl? Has she authorized her old friend to say all this?”

“Yes, father,” whispered Erminie, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Well, then, I suppose I shall have to consent,” said the earl, rising. “Right, my boy,” he said, slapping Ranty heartily on the shoulder; “you are as good as any man living, and I like your bold, independent spirit. And now, as I am de trop here, I shall go and tell her ladyship that she is about to lose her new-found daughter again,” said the earl, as he left the room.

And for the next hour, Ranty and Erminie were just as perfectly happy as it is possible for any two denizens of this rather unhappy world to be.

It was arranged that the marriage of Ranty and Erminie should take place on the same day as that of Ray and Pet, and that the whole party should sail for England together.

And three days after, came our whole party from Judestown in a body, consisting of the judge, pompous and important, but inwardly wincing a little at the thought of meeting Erminie; Ray, handsome, and happy, and quite unlike his usual haughty self; Pet, bright, defiant, saucy, and sparkling as ever; the admiral, in a high state of beatitude and a new frock-coat with eye-dazzling brass buttons; Mr. Toosypegs, arrayed in a complete new suit to do honor to the occasion, and looking mildly melancholy; and last, but by no means least, Miss Priscilla, as stiff, grim, sour, rigid and upright as a church steeple.

Erminie flew down to meet them, and rushed into the arms of Pet, who favored her with a crushing hug; and then she kissed Miss Priscilla, who gingerly presented her wrinkled cheek for that operation; and then she shook hands with Mr. Toosypegs, who repressed a groan of despair as she did so; and then she finished her greetings by throwing her arms around the admiral’s neck and kissing him too.

“Stand from under!” roared the admiral, with a tremendous burst of laughter. “So you’re going to get spliced to Ranty, Snowflake? Ho, ho, ho! Who’d ’a’ thought it? Lord! how pretty you are, anyway! And how’s your father and that nice-looking woman, your mother? I hope she’s pretty jolly,” said the admiral, politely.

Erminie laughed, and replied that she was as jolly as could be expected.

“And so you’re going to England, Miss Minnie, and never going to come back?” said Mr. Toosypegs, mournfully. “I’m real sorry – I’m dreadfully sorry, Miss Minnie. I do assure you I am. It’s awfully lonesome now, at the cottage. I can’t bear to go near it at all, it recalls the past so much. Miss Minnie, I don’t know what I shall ever do when you’re gone at all – I just don’t!”

“Horlando, hold your tongue!” snarled Miss Priscilla. And her dutiful nephew shut up like a jack-knife. “You’re foreverlastin’ a-talkin’; and a-talkin’ nonsense at that. Miss Minnie, I want to take hoff my things which is hinconvenient to wear in the ’ouse, besides wanting to be folded up and put away, to keep them from sp’lin’.”

Erminie smilingly rung the bell, and ordered the servant to show Miss Priscilla to her room; and, at the same moment, Lady Rita, impelled perhaps by curiosity, as much as anything else, to see those “rustics,” as she called them, swept majestically in, glittering in silk, and lace, and jewels, until she fairly dazzled the eyes.

Erminie rose, and presented her as her “sister, Lady Rita.” Her little ladyship curled her fastidious lip slightly, made a profoundly formal courtesy, and gracefully and superciliously sunk into the downy depths on a lounge, and thought inwardly what an “absurd set of the lowest people mamma was gathering about her!”

But from the moment Mr. Toosypegs set eyes on the bright little meteor, he was done for! Pet was forgotten; so was Erminie. Both, in his eyes, were eclipsed by this golden-winged, rainbow-tinted, little, sparkling vision. Poor Mr. Toosypegs, for the third time, was deeply and hopelessly in love!

Three days after, the double-marriage took place, privately, by the desire of all parties. None but the friends of the brides were present; and immediately after the ceremony the farewells were spoken, and the bridal cortege drove down to the steamer that was to convey them to the Old World.

Straining their eyes to catch a last glance of the shore they were leaving, our bridal-party stood on the steamer’s deck, Erminie leaning on her husband’s arm, and Pet leaning on hers, both with eyes full of tears. Near them stood Lady Maude and Lord De Courcy, both thinking of him who slept, “after life’s fitful fever,” in his lonely hillside grave. There, too, was Marguerite, calmer and less despairing-looking now, though her wild, dark eyes were deeply mournful still. By her side was her dainty, tossy, brightly-dressed little daughter, inwardly thanking her stars to get home once more. And thus they all stand before you now, dear reader, receding far down in the blue horizon. One more glimpse, and you will see them no more.

At the White Squall still lives Admiral Harry Havenful, who sits in his parlor, gazing on the pink-and-straw-colored man-of-war, and smokes his pipe placidly, as he walks down the serene pathway leading to old age. On fine days Mr. Toosypegs always comes to see him, and there dilates for hours on the manifold beauties and attractions of Lady Rita, to whom he intends to be faithful as long as he lives. Mr. Toosypegs never will get married. He says he intends consecrating his life to the memory of the sparkling little comet that once flashed across his sky, and then disappeared forever. Mr. O. C. Toosypegs’ anguish and despair have subsided now to a calm, serene melancholy, seldom relieved by a smile, but by no means distressing to witness. He and the admiral continue to do good in their own simple, unobtrusive way, and find their chief delight in reading the letters they sometimes receive from Erminie and Pet. Judge Lawless lives in solitary grandeur at Heath Hill, the “Grand Seigneur” of Judestown still. Miss Priscilla resides in gloomy state at Dismal Hollow, and continues to murder the king’s English and scold Orlando severely every day, which castigations he bears with evident meekness. Reader, to our friends in Judestown, you have bidden an eternal farewell. Ray Germaine has risen to rank and wealth in his profession, and his handsome wife is the leader of the ton in the city where she resides, and excites in turn the wonder and admiration and envy of every one who knows her. Marriage has subdued her wildness a little, but not eradicated it; and our Pet is the happiest little lady in existence. There is a miniature Pet there, too – a saucy little limb already, who promises to be a second edition of wild Pet Lawless, in deeds as well as in looks.

Lady Erminie and Mr. Lawless reside in England, for the Countess De Courcy will not part with her daughter.

Little Lady Rita has married a Spanish grandee – a Don John somebody, and gone to live in her own “castle in Spain.” Marguerite has accompanied her to that sunny land.

The Earl and Countess De Courcy, loved and honored, pass happily through life together. Their latter days promise to be as bright with sunshine as their early ones were dark and troubled. Reader, to all these, too, and I fear not unreluctantly, you must bid farewell.