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diff --git a/22013.txt b/22013.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f53dc4 --- /dev/null +++ b/22013.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10763 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lady of the Ice, by James De Mille + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Lady of the Ice + A Novel + +Author: James De Mille + +Release Date: July 7, 2007 [EBook #22013] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADY OF THE ICE *** + + + + +Produced by Marlo Dianne + + + + +The LADY OF THE ICE + +A NOVEL. + +by JAMES DE MILLE, +AUTHOR OF +"THE DODGE CLUB ABROAD," "CORD AND CREESE," ETC + + +NEW YORK: +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY +90, 92, & 94 GRAND STREET +1870 + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER + + +I. Consisting merely of Introductory Matter. + +II. My Quarters, where you will become acquainted with Old Jack Randolph, +my most Intimate Friend, and one who divides with me the Honor of being +the Hero of my Story. + +III. "Macrorie--old Chap--I'm--going--to--be--married!!!" + +IV. "It's--the--the Widow! It's Mrs.--Finnimore!!!" + +V. "Fact, my Boy--it is as I say.--There's another Lady in the Case, and +this last is the Worst Scrape of all!" + +VI. "I implored her to run away with me, and have a Private Marriage, +leaving the rest to Fate. And I Solemnly assured her that, if she +refused, I would blow my Brains out on her Door-steps.--There, now! +what do you think of that?" + +VII. Crossing the St. Lawrence.--The Storm and the Break-up.--A Wonderful +Adventure.--A Struggle for Life.--Who is she?--The Ice-ridge.--Fly for +your Life! + +VIII. I fly back, and send the Doctor to the Rescue.--Return to the Spot. +--Flight of the Bird.--Perplexity, Astonishment, Wonder, and Despair. +--"Pas un Mot, Monsieur!" + +IX. By one's own Fireside.--The Comforts of a Bachelor.--Chewing the Cud +of Sweet and Bitter Fancy.--A Discovery full of Mortification and +Embarrassment.--Jack Randolph again.--News from the Seat of War. + +X. "Berton's?--Best Place in the Town.--Girls always glad to see a +Fellow.--Plenty of Chat, and Lots of Fun.--No End of Larks, you know, +and all that Sort of Thing." + +XI. "Macrorie, my Boy, have you been to Anderson's yet?"--"No."--"Well, +then, I want you to attend to that Business of the Stone to-morrow. Don't +forget the Size--Four Feet by Eighteen Inches; and nothing but the Name +and Date. The Time's come at last. There's no Place for me but the Cold +Grave, where the Pensive Passer-by may drop a Tear over the Mournful +Fate of Jack Randolph. Amen. R. I. P." + +XII. My Adventures Rehearsed to Jack Randolph.--"My dear Fellow, you don't +say so!"--"'Pon my Life, yes."--"By Jove! Old Chap, how close you've +been! You just have no End of Secrets. And what's become of the Lady? +Who is She?" + +XIII. "Advertising!!!" + +XIV. A Concert.--A Singular Character.--"God Save the Queen."--A Fenian.--A +General Row.--Macrorie to the Rescue!--Macrorie's Maiden Speech, and +its effectiveness.--O'Halloran.--A Strange Companion.--Invited to +partake of Hospitality. + +XV. The O'Halloran Ladies.--Their Appearance.--Their Ages.--Their Dress.-- +Their Demeanor.--Their Culture, Polish, Education, Rank, Style, +Attainments, and all about them. + +XVI. The Daily Paper. + +XVII. "Somethin' Warrum." + +XVIII. The Following Morning.--Appearance of Jack Randolph.--A New +Complication.--The Three Oranges.--Desperate Efforts of the Juggler. +--How to make full, ample, complete, and most satisfactory +Explanations.--Miss Phillips!--The Widow!!--Number Three!!!--Louie +rapidly rising into greater prominence on the Mental and Sentimental +horizon of Jack Randolph. + +XIX. O'Halloran's again.--A Startling Revelation.--The Lady of the Ice. +--Found at Last.--Confusion, Embarrassment, Reticence, and Shyness, +succeeded by Wit, Fascination, Laughter, and Witching Smiles. + +XX. "Our Symposium," as O'Halloran called it.--High and mighty Discourse. +--General inspection of Antiquity by a Learned Eye.--A Discourse upon +the "Oioneesoizin" of the English language.--Homeric Translations. +--O'Halloran And Burns.--A new Epoch for the Brogue.--The Dinner of +Achilles and the Palace of Antinous. + +XXI. Jack once more.--The Woes of a Lover.--Not Wisely but too Many.--While +Jack is telling his Little Story, the ones whom he thus entertains have +a Separate Meeting.--The Bursting of the Storm.--The Letter of "Number +Three."--The Widow and Miss Phillips.--Jack has to avail himself of the +aid of a Chaplain of Her Majesty's Forces.--Jack an Injured Man. + +XXII. I Reveal my Secret.--Tremendous effects of the Revelation.--Mutual +Explanations, which are by no means Satisfactory. Jack Stands Up for +what he calls His Rights.--Remonstrances and Reasonings, ending in a +General Row.--Jack makes a Declaration of War, and takes his Departure +in a state of Unparalleled Huffiness. + +XXIII. A Friend becomes an Enemy.--Meditations on the Ancient and Venerable +Fable of the Dog in the Manger.--The Corruption of the Human Heart. +--Consideration of the Whole Situation.--Attempts to Countermine Jack, +and Final Resolve. + +XXIV. Tremendous Excitement.--The Hour Approaches, and with it the Man. +--The Lady of the Ice.--A Tumultuous Meeting.--Outpouring of Tender +Emotions.--Agitation of the Lady.--A Sudden Interruption.--An Injured +Man, an Awful, Fearful, Direful, and Utterly-crushing Revelation.--Who +is the Lady of the Ice? + +XXV. Recovery from the last Great Shock.--Geniality of mine Host.--Off +again among Antiquities.--The Fenians.--A Startling Revelation by one of +the Inner Circle.--Politics, Poetry, and Pathos.--Far-reaching Plans and +Deep-seated Purposes. + +XXVI. A few Parting Words with O'Halloran.--His touching Parental +Tenderness, High Chivalric Sentiment, and lofty sense of Honor.--Pistols +for Two.--Pleasant and Harmonious Arrangement.--"Me Boy, Ye're and Honor +to Yer Sex!" + +XXVII. Sensational!--Terrific!--Tremendous!--I leave the house in Strange +Whirl.--A Storm.--The Driving Sleet.--I Wander About.--The voices of +the Storm, and of the River.--The clangor of the Bells.--The Shadow in +the Doorway.--The Mysterious Companion.--A Terrible Walk.--Familiar +Voices.--Sinking into Senselessness.--The Lady of the Ice is Revealed +At Last amid the Storm! + +XXVIII. My Lady of the Ice.--Snow and Sleet.--Reawakening.--A Desperate +Situation.--Saved a Second Time.--Snatched from a Worse Fate.--Borne in +My Arms Once More.--The Open Door. + +XXIX. Puzzling Questions which cannot be Answered as yet.--A Step toward +Reconcilation.--Reunion of a Broken Friendship.--Pieces all Collected +and Joined.--Joy of Jack.--Solemn Debates over the Great Puzzle of the +period.--Friendly Conferences and Confidences.--An Important +Communication. + +XXX. A Letter!--Strange Hesitation.--Gloomy Forebodings.--Jack down deep in +the Dumps.--Fresh Confessions.--Why he Missed the Tryst.--Remorse and +Revenge.--Jack's Vows of Vengeance.--A very Singular and Unaccountable +Character.--Jack's Gloomy Menaces. + +XXXI. A Friendly Call.--Preliminaries of the Duel Neatly Arranged.--A Damp +Journey, and Depressed Spirits.--A Secluded Spot.--Difficulties +which attend a Duel in a Canadian Spring.--A Masterly Decision. +--Debates about the niceties of the Code of Honor.--Who shall have the +First Shot, Struggle for Precedence.--A very Singular and Obstinate +Dispute.--I save O'Halloran from Death by Rheumatism. + +XXXII. Home again.--The Growls of a Confirmed Growler.--Hospitality.--The +well-known Room.--Vision of a Lady.--Alone with Marion.--Interchange of +Thought and Sentiment.--Two Beautiful Women.--An Evening to be +Remembered.--The Conviviality of O'Halloran.--The Humors of +O'Halloran, and his Bacchic Joy. + +XXXIII. From April to June.--Tempora Mutantur, et nos Mutamur in Illis. +--Startling Change in Marion!--And Why?--Jack and his Woes.--The +Vengeance of Miss Phillips.--Ladies who refuse to allow their Hearts to +be Broken.--Noble Attitude of the Widow.--Consolations of Louie. + +XXXIV. Jack's Tribulations.--They Rise Up in the very face of the Most +Astonishing Good Fortunes.--For, what is like a Legacy?--And this comes +to Jack!--Seven Thousand Pounds Sterling per Annum!--But what's the use +of it all?--Jack comes to Grief!--Woe! Sorrow! Despair! All the Widow! +--Infatuation.--A mad proposal.--A Madman, a Lunatic, an Idiot, a March +Hare, and a Hatter, all rolled into one, an that one the Lucky yet +Unfortunate Jack. + +XXXV. "Louis!"--Platonic Friendship.--Its results.--Advice may be given too +Freely, and Consolation may be sought for too Eagerly.--Two Inflammable +Hearts should not be allowed to Come Together.--The Old, Old Story.--A +Breakdown, and the results all around.--The Condemned Criminal.--The +slow yet sure approach of the Hour of Execution. + +XXXVI. A Friend's Apology for a Friend.--Jack down at the bottom of Deep +Abyss of Woe.--His Despair.--The Hour and the Man!--Where is the Woman!--A +Sacred Spot.--Old Fletcher.--The Toll of the Bell.--Meditations on each +Successive Stroke.--A wild search.--The Pretty Servant-maid, and her +Pretty Story.--Throwing Gold About. + +XXXVII. My own affairs.--A Drive and how it came off.--Varying Moods.--The +Excited, the Gloomy, and the Gentlemanly.--Straying about +Montmorency.--Revisiting a memorable Scene.--Effect of said Scene.--A +Mute Appeal and an Appeal in Words.--Result of the Appeals.--"Will You +Turn Away?"--Grand Result.--Climax.--Finale.--A General Understanding +all round, and a Universal Explanation of Numerous Puzzles. + +XXXVIII. Grand Conclusion.--Wedding-rings and Ball-rings.--St. Malachi's. +--Old Fletcher in his glory.--No Humbug this time.--Messages sent +everywhere.--All the town Agog.--Quebec on the Rampage.--St. Malachi's +Crammed.--Galleries Crowded.--White Favors Everywhere.--The Widow happy +with the Chaplain.--The Double Wedding.--First couple--JACK AND LOUIE! +--Second ditto--MACRORIE AND MARION!--Colonel Berton and O'Halloran +giving away the brides.--Strange Association of the British Officer and +the Fenian.--Jack and Macrorie, Louie and Marion.--Brides and +Bridegrooms.--Epithalamicm.--Wedding in high life.--Six Officiating +Clergymen.--All the elite of Quebec take part.--All the Clergy, all the +Military, and Everybody who amounts to any thing.--The Band of the +Bobtails Discourse Sweet Music, and all that sort of thing, You Know. + + + + +THE LADY OF THE ICE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +CONSISTING MERELY OF INTRODUCTORY MATTER. + + +This is a story of Quebec. Quebec is a wonderful city. + +I am given to understand that the ridge on which the city is built is +Laurentian; and the river that flows past it is the same. On this (not +the river, you know) are strata of schist, shale, old red sand-stone, +trap, granite, clay, and mud. The upper stratum is ligneous, and is +found to be very convenient for pavements. + +It must not be supposed from this introduction that I am a geologist. I +am not. I am a lieutenant in her Majesty's 129th Bobtails. The Bobtails +are a gay and gallant set, and I have reason to know that we are well +remembered in every place we have been quartered. + +Into the vortex of Quebeccian society I threw myself with all the +generous ardor of youth, and was keenly alive to those charms which the +Canadian ladies possess and use so fatally. It is a singular fact, for +which I will not attempt to account, that in Quebeccian society one +comes in contact with ladies only. Where the male element is I never +could imagine. I never saw a civilian. There are no young men in +Quebec; if there are any, we officers are not aware of it. I've often +been anxious to see one, but never could make it out. Now, of these +Canadian ladies I cannot trust myself to speak with calmness. An +allusion to them will of itself be eloquent to every brother officer. I +will simply remark that, at a time when the tendencies of the Canadians +generally are a subject of interest both in England and America, and +when it is a matter of doubt whether they lean to annexation or British +connection, their fair young daughters show an unmistakable tendency +not to one, but to both, and make two apparently incompatible +principles really inseparable. + +You must understand that this is my roundabout way of hinting that the +unmarried British officer who goes to Canada generally finds his +destiny tenderly folding itself around a Canadian bride. It is the +common lot. Some of these take their wives with them around the world, +but many more retire from the service, buy farms, and practise love in +a cottage. Thus the fair and loyal Canadiennes are responsible for the +loss of many and many a gallant officer to her majesty's service. +Throughout these colonial stations there has been, and there will be, a +fearful depletion, among the numbers of these brave but too impressible +men. I make this statement solemnly, as a mournful fact. I have nothing +to say against it; and it is not for one who has had an experience like +mine to hint at a remedy. But to my story: + +Every one who was in Quebec during the winter of 18--, if he went into +society at all, must have been struck by the appearance of a young +Bobtail officer, who was a joyous and a welcome guest at every house +where it was desirable to be. Tall, straight as an arrow, and +singularly well-proportioned, the picturesque costume of the 129th +Bobtails could add but little to the effect already produced by so +martial a figure. His face was whiskerless; his eyes gray; his +cheek-bones a little higher than the average; his hair auburn; his nose +not Grecian--or Roman--but still impressive: his air one of quiet dignity, +mingled with youthful joyance and mirthfulness. Try--O reader!--to +bring before you such a figure. Well--that's me. + +Such was my exterior; what was my character? A few words will suffice +to explain:--bold, yet cautious; brave, yet tender; constant, yet +highly impressible; tenacious of affection, yet quick to kindle into +admiration at every new form of beauty; many times smitten, yet +surviving the wound; vanquished, yet rescued by that very +impressibility of temper--such was the man over whose singular +adventures you will shortly be called to smile or to weep. + +Here is my card: + + +Lieut. Alexander Macrorie +129th Bobtails. + + +And now, my friend, having introduced you to myself, having shown you +my photograph, having explained my character, and handed you my card, +allow me to lead you to + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +MY QUARTERS, WHERE YOU WILL BECOME ACQUAINTED WITH OLD JACK RANDOLPH, +MY MOST INTIMATE FRIEND, AND ONE WHO DIVIDES WITH ME THE HONOR OF BEING +THE HERO OF MY STORY. + + +I'll never forget the time. It was a day in April. + +But an April day in Canada is a very different thing from an April day +in England. In England all Nature is robed in vivid green, the air is +balmy; and all those beauties abound which usually set poets +rhapsodizing, and young men sentimentalizing, and young girls +tantalizing. Now, in Canada there is nothing of the kind. No Canadian +poet, for instance, would ever affirm that in the spring a livelier +iris blooms upon the burnished dove; in the spring a young man's fancy +lightly turns to thoughts of love. No. For that sort of thing--the +thoughts of love I mean--winter is the time of day in Canada. The fact +is, the Canadians haven't any spring. The months which Englishmen +include under that pleasant name are here partly taken up with +prolonging the winter, and partly with the formation of a new and +nondescript season. In that period Nature, instead of being darkly, +deeply, beautifully green, has rather the shade of a dingy, dirty, +melancholy gray. Snow covers the ground--not by any means the +glistening white robe of Winter--but a rugged substitute, damp, and +discolored. It is snow, but snow far gone into decay and decrepitude-- +snow that seems ashamed of itself for lingering so long after wearing +out its welcome, and presenting itself in so revolting a dress--snow, +in fact, which is like a man sinking into irremediable ruin and +changing its former glorious state for that condition which is +expressed by the unpleasant word "slush." There is no an object, not a +circumstance, in visible Nature which does not heighten the contrast. +In England there is the luxuriant foliage, the fragrant blossom, the +gay flower; in Canada, black twigs--bare, scraggy, and altogether +wretched--thrust their repulsive forms forth into the bleak air--there, +the soft rain-shower falls; here, the fierce snow-squall, or maddening +sleet!--there, the field is traversed by the cheerful plough; here, it +is covered with ice-heaps or thawing snow; there, the rivers run +babbling onward under the green trees; here, they groan and chafe under +heaps of dingy and slowly-disintegrating ice-hummocks; there, one's +only weapon against the rigor of the season is the peaceful umbrella; +here, one must defend one's self with caps and coats of fur and +india-rubber, with clumsy leggings, ponderous boots, steel-creepers, +gauntlets of skin, iron-pointed alpenstocks, and forty or fifty other +articles which the exigencies of space and time will not permit me to +mention. On one of the darkest and most dismal of these April days, I +was trying to kill time in my quarters, when Jack Randolph burst in +upon my meditations. Jack Randolph was one of Ours--an intimate friend +of mine, and of everybody else who had the pleasure of his +acquaintance. Jack was in every respect a remarkable man--physically, +intellectually, and morally. Present company excepted, he was certainly +by all odds the finest-looking fellow in a regiment notoriously filled +with handsome men; and to this rare advantage he added all the +accomplishments of life, and the most genial nature in the world. It +was difficult to say whether he was a greater favorite with men or with +women. He was noisy, rattling, reckless, good-hearted, generous, +mirthful, witty, jovial, daring, open-handed, irrepressible, +enthusiastic, and confoundedly clever. He was good at every thing, from +tracking a moose or caribou, on through all the gamut of rinking, +skating, ice-boating, and tobogganing, up to the lightest +accomplishments of the drawing-room. He was one of those lucky dogs who +are able to break horses or hearts with equal buoyancy of soul. And it +was this twofold capacity which made him equally dear to either sex. + +A lucky dog? Yea, verily, that is what he was. He was welcomed at every +mess, and he had the _entree_ of every house in Quebec. He could drink +harder than any man in the regiment, and dance down a whole regiment of +drawing-room knights. He could sing better than any amateur I ever +heard; and was the best judge of a meerschaum-pipe I ever saw. Lucky? +Yes, he was--and especially so, and more than all else--on account of +the joyousness of his soul. There was a contagious and a godlike +hilarity in his broad, open brow, his frank, laughing eyes, and his +mobile lips. He seemed to carry about with him a bracing moral +atmosphere. The sight of him had the same effect on the dull man of +ordinary life that the Himalayan air has on an Indian invalid; and yet +Jack was head-over-heels in debt. Not a tradesman would trust him. +Shoals of little bills were sent him every day. Duns without number +plagued him from morning to night. The Quebec attorneys were sharpening +their bills, and preparing, like birds of prey, to swoop down upon him. +In fact, taking it altogether, Jack had full before him the sure and +certain prospect of some dismal explosion. + +On this occasion, Jack--for the first time in our acquaintance--seemed +to have not a vestige of his ordinary flow of spirits. He entered +without a word, took up a pipe, crammed some tobacco into the bowl, +flung himself into an easy-chair, and began--with fixed eyes and set +lips--to pour forth enormous volumes of smoke. + +My own pipe was very well under way, and I sat opposite, watching him +in wonder. I studied his face, and marked there what I had never before +seen upon it--a preoccupied and troubled expression. Now, Jack's +features, by long indulgence in the gayer emotions, had immovably +moulded themselves into an expression of joyousness and hilarity. +Unnatural was it for the merry twinkle to be extinguished in his eyes; +for the corners of the mouth, which usually curled upward, to settle +downward; for the general shape of feature, cut-line of muscle, set of +lips, to undertake to become the exponents of feelings to which they +were totally unaccustomed. On this occasion, therefore, Jack's face did +not appear so much mournful as dismal; and, where another face might +have elicited sympathy, Jack's face had such a grewsomeness, such an +utter incongruity between feature and expression, that it seemed only +droll. + +I bore this inexplicable conduct as long as I could, but at length I +could stand it no longer. + +"My dear Jack," said I, "would it be too much to ask, in the mildest +manner in the world, and with all possible regard for your feelings, +what, in the name of the Old Boy, happens to be up just now?" + +Jack took the pipe from his mouth, sent a long cloud of smoke forward +in a straight line, then looked at me, then heaved a deep sigh, and +then--replaced the pipe, and began smoking once more. + +Under such circumstances I did not know what to do next, so I took up +again the study of his face. + +"Heard no bad news, I hope," I said at length, making another venture +between the puffs of my pipe. + +A shake of the head. + +Silence again. + +"Duns?" + +Another shake. + +Silence. + +"Writs?" + +Another shake. + +Silence. + +"Liver?" + +Another shake, together with a contemptuous smile. + +"Then I give it up," said I, and betook myself once more to my pipe. + +After a time, Jack gave a long sigh, and regarded me fixedly for some +minutes, with a very doleful face. Then he slowly ejaculated: + +"Macrorie!" + +"Well?" + +"It's a woman!" + +"A woman? Well. What's that? Why need that make any particular +difference to you, my boy?" + +He sighed again, more dolefully than before. + +"I'm in for it, old chap," said he. + +"How's that?" + +"It's all over." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Done up, sir--dead and gone!" + +"I'll be hanged if I understand you." + +"_Hic jacet_ Johannes Randolph." + +"You're taking to Latin by way of making yourself more intelligible, I +suppose." + +"Macrorie, my boy--" + +"Well?" + +"Will you be going anywhere near Anderson's to-day--the stone-cutter, I +mean?" + +"Why?" + +"If you should, let me ask you to do a particular favor for me. Will +you?" + +"Why, of course. What is it?" + +"Well--it's only to order a tombstone for me--plain, neat--four feet by +sixteen inches--with nothing on it but my name and date. The sale of my +effects will bring enough to pay for it. Don't you fellows go and put +up a tablet about me. I tell you plainly, I don't want it, and, what's +more, I won't stand it." + +"By Jove!" I cried; "my dear fellow, one would think you were raving. +Are you thinking of shuffling off the mortal coil? Are you going to +blow your precious brains out for a woman? Is it because some fair one +is cruel that you are thinking of your latter end? Will you, wasting +with despair, die because a woman's fair?" + +"No, old chap. I'm going to do something worse." + +"Something worse than suicide! What's that? A clean breast, my boy." + +"A species of moral suicide." + +"What's that? Your style of expression to-day is a kind of secret +cipher. I haven't the key. Please explain." + +Jack resumed his pipe, and bent down his head; then he rubbed his broad +brow with his unoccupied hand; then he raised himself up, and looked at +me for a few moments in solemn silence; then he said, in a low voice, +speaking each, word separately and with thrilling emphasis: + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +"MACRORIE--OLD CHAP--I'M--GOING--TO--BE--MARRIED!!!" + + +At that astounding piece of intelligence, I sat dumb and stared fixedly +at Jack for the space of half an hour, he regarded me with a mournful +smile. At last my feelings found expression in a long, solemn, +thoughtful, anxious, troubled, and perplexed whistle. + +I could think of only one thing. It was a circumstance which Jack had +confided to me as his bosom-friend. Although he had confided the same +thing to at least a hundred other bosom-friends, and I knew it, yet, at +the same time, the knowledge of this did not make the secret any the +less a confidential one; and I had accordingly guarded it like my +heart's blood, and all that sort of thing, you know. Nor would I even +now divulge that secret, were it not for the fact that the cause for +secrecy is removed. The circumstance was this: About a year before, we +had been stationed at Fredericton, in the Province of New Brunswick. +Jack had met there a young lady from St. Andrews, named Miss Phillips, +to whom he had devoted himself with his usual ardor. During a +sentimental sleigh-ride he had confessed his love, and had engaged +himself to her; and, since his arrival at Quebec, he had corresponded +with her very faithfully. He considered himself as destined by Fate to +become the husband of Miss Phillips at some time in the dim future, and +the only marriage before him that I could think of was this. Still I +could not understand why it had come upon him so suddenly, or why, if +it did come, he should so collapse under the pressure of his doom. + +"Well," said I, after I had rallied somewhat, "I didn't think it was to +come off so soon. Some luck has turned up, I suppose." + +"Luck!" repeated Jack, with an indescribable accent. + +"I assure you, though I've never had the pleasure of seeing Miss +Phillips, yet, from your description, I admire her quite fervently, and +congratulate you from the bottom of my heart." + +"Miss Phillips!" repeated Jack, with a groan. + +"What's the matter, old chap?" + +"It isn't--_her_!" faltered Jack. + +"What!" + +"She'll have to wear the willow." + +"You haven't broken with her--have you?" I asked. + +"She'll have to forgive and forget, and all that sort of thing. If it +was Miss Phillips, I wouldn't be so confoundedly cut up about it." + +"Why--what is it? who is it? and what do you mean?" + +Jack looked at me. Then he looked down, and frowned. Then he looked at +me again; and then he said, slowly, and with powerful effort: + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +"IT'S--THE--THE WIDOW! IT'S MRS.--FINNIMORE!!!" + + +Had a bombshell burst--but I forbear. That comparison is, I believe, +somewhat hackneyed. The reader will therefore be good enough to +appropriate the point of it, and understand that the shock of this +intelligence was so overpowering, that I was again rendered speechless. + +"You see," said Jack, after a long and painful silence, "it all +originated out of an infernal mistake. Not that I ought to be sorry for +it, though. Mrs. Finnimore, of course, is a deuced fine woman. I've +been round there ever so long, and seen ever so much of her; and all +that sort of thing, you know. Oh, yes," he added, dismally; "I ought to +be glad, and, of course, I'm a deuced lucky fellow, and all that; +but--" + +He paused, and an expressive silence followed that "but." + +"Well, how about the mistake?" I asked. + +"Why, I'll tell you. It was that confounded party at Doane's. You know +what a favorite of mine little Louie Berton is--the best little thing +that ever breathed, the prettiest, the--full of fun, too. Well, we're +awfully thick, you know; and she chaffed me all the evening about my +engagement with Miss Phillips. She had heard all about it, and is crazy +to find out whether it's going on yet or not. We had great fun--she +chaffing and questioning, and I trying to fight her off. Well; the +dancing was going on, and I'd been separated from her for some time, +and was trying to find her again, and I saw some one standing in a +recess of one of the windows, with a dress that was exactly like +Louie's. Her back was turned to me, and the curtains half concealed +her. I felt sure that it was Louie. So I sauntered up, and stood for a +moment or two behind her. She was looking out of the window; one hand +was on the ledge, and the other was by her side, half behind her. I +don't know what got into me; but I seized her hand, and gave it a +gentle squeeze. + +"Well, you know, I expected that it would be snatched away at once. I +felt immediately an awful horror at my indiscretion, and would have +given the world not to have done it. I expected to see Louie's flashing +eyes hurling indignant fire at me, and all that. But the hand didn't +move from mine at all!" + +Jack uttered this last sentence with the doleful accents of a +deeply-injured man--such an accent as one would employ in telling of a +shameful trick practised upon his innocence. "It lay in mine," he +continued. "There it was; I had seized it; I had it; I held it; I had +squeezed it; and--good Lord!--Macrorie, what was I to do? I'll tell you +what I did--I squeezed it again. I thought that now it would go; but it +wouldn't. Well, I tried it again. No go. Once more--and once again. On +my soul, Macrorie, it still lay in mine. I cannot tell you what +thoughts I had. It seemed like indelicacy. It was a bitter thing to +associate indelicacy with one like little Louie; but--hang it!--there +was the awful fact. Suddenly, the thought struck me that the hand was +larger than Louie's. At that thought, a ghastly sensation came over me; +and, just at that moment, the lady herself turned her face, blushing, +arch, with a mischievous smile. To my consternation, and to my--well, +yes--to my horror, I saw Mrs. Finnimore!" + +"Good Lord!" I exclaimed. + +"A stronger expression would fail to do justice to the occasion," said +Jack, helping himself to a glass of beer. "For my part, the thrill of +unspeakable horror that was imparted by that shock is still strong +within me. There, my boy, you have my story. I leave the rest to your +imagination." + +"The rest? Why, do you mean to say that this is all?" + +"All!" cried Jack, with a wild laugh. "All? My dear boy, it is only the +faint beginning; but it implies all the rest." + +"What did she say?" I asked, meekly. + +"Say--say? What! After--well, never mind. Hang it! Don't drive me into +particulars. Don't you see? Why, there I was. I had made an assault, +broken through the enemy's lines, thought I was carrying every thing +before me, when suddenly I found myself confronted, not by an inferior +force, but by an overwhelming superiority of numbers--horse, foot, and +artillery, marines, and masked batteries--yes, and baggage-wagons--all +assaulting me in front, in flank, and in the rear. Pooh!" + +"Don't talk shop, Jack." + +"Shop? Will you be kind enough to suggest some ordinary figure of +speech that will give an idea of my situation? Plain language is quite +useless. At least, I find it so." + +"But, at any rate, what did she say?" + +"Why," answered Jack, in a more dismal voice than ever, "she said, 'Ah, +Jack!'--she called me Jack!--'Ah, Jack! I saw you looking for me. I +knew you would come after me.'" + +"Good Heavens!" I cried; "and what did you say?" + +"Say? Heavens and earth, man! what could I say? Wasn't I a gentleman? +Wasn't she a lady? Hadn't I forced her to commit herself? Didn't I have +to assume the responsibility and pocket the consequences? Say! Oh, +Macrorie! what is the use of imagination, if a man will not exercise +it?" + +"And so you're in for it?" said I, after a pause. + +"To the depth of several miles," said Jack, relighting his pipe, which +in the energy of his narrative had gone out. + +"And you don't think of trying to back out?" + +"I don't see my way. Then, again, you must know that I've been trying +to see if it wouldn't be the wisest thing for me to make the best of my +situation." + +"Certainly it would, if you cannot possibly get out of it." + +"But, you see, for a fellow like me it may be best not to get out of +it. You see, after all, I like her very well. She's an awfully fine +woman--splendid action. I've been round there ever so much; we've +always been deuced thick; and she's got a kind of way with her that a +fellow like me can't resist. And, then, it's time for me to begin to +think of settling down. I'm getting awfully old. I'll be twenty-three +next August. And then, you know, I'm so deuced hard up. I've got to the +end of my rope, and you are aware that the sheriff is beginning to be +familiar with my name. Yes, I think for the credit of the regiment I'd +better take the widow. She's got thirty thousand pounds, at least." + +"And a very nice face and figure along with it," said I, encouragingly. + +"That's a fact, or else I could never have mistaken her for poor little +Louie, and this wouldn't have happened. But, if it had only been little +Louie--well, well; I suppose it must be, and perhaps it's the best +thing." + +"If it had been Louie," said I, with new efforts at encouragement, "it +wouldn't have been any better for you." + +"No; that's a fact. You see, I was never so much bothered in my life. I +don't mind an ordinary scrape; but I can't exactly see my way out of +this." + +"You'll have to break the news to Miss Phillips." + +"And that's not the worst," said Jack, with a sigh that was like a +groan. + +"Not the worst? What can be worse than that?" + +"My dear boy, you have not begun to see even the outside of the +peculiarly complicated nature of my present situation. There are other +circumstances to which all these may be playfully represented as a +joke." + +"Well, that is certainly a strong way of putting it." + +"Couldn't draw it mild--such a situation can only be painted in strong +colors. I'll tell you in general terms what it is. I can't go into +particulars. You know all about my engagement to Miss Phillips. I'm +awfully fond of her--give my right hand to win hers, and all that sort +of thing, you know. Well, this is going to be hard on her, of course, +poor thing! especially as my last letters have been more tender than +common. But, old chap, that's all nothing. There's another lady in the +case!" + +"What!" I cried, more astonished than ever. + +Jack looked at me earnestly, and said, slowly and solemnly: + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"FACT, MY BOY--IT IS AS I SAY.--THERE'S ANOTHER LADY IN THE CASE, AND +THIS LAST IS THE WORST SCRAPE OF ALL!" + + +"Another lady?" I faltered. + +"Another lady!" said Jack. + +"Oh!" said I. + +"Yes," said he. + +"An engagement, too!" + +"An engagement? I should think so--and a double-barrelled one, too. An +engagement--why, my dear fellow, an engagement's nothing at all +compared with this. This is something infinitely worse than the affair +with Louie, or Miss Phillips, or even the widow. It's a bad case--yes-- +an infernally bad case--and I don't see but that I'll have to throw up +the widow after all." + +"It must be a bad case, if it's infinitely worse than an engagement, as +you say it is. Why, man, it must be nothing less than actual marriage. +Is that what you're driving at? It must be. So you're a married man, +are you?" + +"No, not just that, not quite--as yet--but the very next thing to it?" + +"Well, Jack, I'm sorry for you, and all that I can say is, that it is a +pity that this isn't Utah. Being Canada, however, and a civilized +country, I can't see for the life of me how you'll ever manage to pull +through." + +Jack sighed dolefully. + +"To tell the truth," said he, "it's this last one that gives me my only +trouble. I'd marry the widow, settle up some way with Miss Phillips, +smother my shame, and pass the remainder of my life in peaceful +obscurity, if it were not for _her_." + +"You mean by _her_, the lady whose name you don't mention." + +"Whose name I don't mention, nor intend to," said Jack, gravely. "Her +case is so peculiar that it cannot be classed with the others. I never +breathed a word about it to anybody, though it's been going on for six +or eight months." + +Jack spoke with such earnestness, that I perceived the subject to be +too grave a one in his estimation to be trifled with. A frown came over +his face, and he once more eased his mind by sending forth heavy clouds +of smoke, as though he would thus throw off the clouds of melancholy +that had gathered deep and dark over his soul. + +"I'll make a clean breast of it, old chap," said he, at length, with a +very heavy sigh. "It's a bad business from beginning to end." + +"You see," said he, after a long pause, in which he seemed to be +collecting his thoughts--"it began last year--the time I went to New +York, you know. She went on at the same time. She had nobody with her +but a deaf old party, and got into some row at the station about her +luggage. I helped her out of it, and sat by her side all the way. At +New York I kept up the acquaintance. I came back with them, that is to +say, with her, and the deaf old party, you know, and by the time we +reached Quebec again we understood one another. + +"I couldn't help it--I'll be hanged if I could! You see, Macrorie, it +wasn't an ordinary case. She was the loveliest little girl I ever saw, +and I found myself awfully fond of her in no time. I soon saw that she +was fond of me too. All my other affairs were a joke to this. I wanted +to marry her in New York, but the thought of my debts frightened me out +of that, and so I put it off. I half wish now I hadn't been so +confoundedly prudent. Perhaps it is best, though. Still I don't know. +Better be the wife of a poor devil, than have one's heart broken by a +mean devil. Heigho!" + +H E I G H O are the letters which are usually employed to represent a +sigh. I use them in accordance with the customs of the literary world. + +"Well," resumed Jack, "after my return I called on her, and repeated my +call several times. She was all that could be desired, but her father +was different. I found him rather chilly, and not at all inclined to +receive me with that joyous hospitality which my various merits +deserved. The young lady herself seemed sad. I found out, at last, that +the old gentleman amused himself with badgering her about me; and +finally she told me, with tears, that her father requested me to visit +that house no more. Well, at that I was somewhat taken aback; but, +nevertheless, I determined to wait till the old gentleman himself +should speak. You know my peculiar coolness, old chap, that which you +and the rest call my happy audacity; and you may believe that it was +all needed under such circumstances as these. I went to the house twice +after that. Each time my little girl was half laughing with joy, half +crying with fear at seeing me; and each time she urged me to keep away. +She said we could write to one another. But letter-writing wasn't in my +line. So after trying in vain to obey her, I went once more in +desperation to explain matters. + +"Instead of seeing her, I found the old fellow himself. He was simply +white, hot with rage--not at all noisy, or declamatory, or vulgar--but +cool, cutting, and altogether terrific. He alluded to my gentlemanly +conduct in forcing myself where I had been ordered off; and informed me +that if I came again he would be under the unpleasant necessity of +using a horsewhip. That, of course, made me savage. I pitched into him +pretty well, and gave it to him hot and heavy, but, hang it! I'm no +match for fellows of that sort; he kept so cool, you know, while I was +furious--and the long and the short of it is, that I had to retire in +disorder, rowing on him some mysterious vengeance or other, which I +have never been able to carry out. + +"The next day I got a letter from her. It was awfully sad, blotted with +tears, and all that. She implored me to write her, told me she couldn't +see me, spoke about her father's cruelty and persecution--and ever so +many other things not necessary to mention. Well, I wrote back, and she +answered my letter, and so we got into the way of a correspondence +which we kept up at a perfectly furious rate. It came hard on me, of +course, for I'm not much at a pen; my letters were short, as you may +suppose, but then they were full of point, and what matters quantity so +long as you have quality, you know? Her letters, however, poor little +darling, were long and eloquent, and full of a kind of mixture of love, +hope, and despair. At first I thought that I should grow reconciled to +my situation in the course of time, but, instead of that, it grew worse +every day. I tried to forget all about her, but without success. The +fact is, I chafed under the restraint that was on me, and perhaps it +was that which was the worst of all. I dare say now if I'd only been in +some other place--in Montreal, for instance--I wouldn't have had such a +tough time of it, and might gradually have forgotten about her; but the +mischief of it was, I was here--in Quebec--close by her, you may say, +and yet I was forbidden the house. I had been insulted and threatened. +This, of course, only made matters worse, and the end of it was, I +thought of nothing else. My very efforts to get rid of the bother only +made it a dozen times worse. I flung myself into ladies' society with +my usual ardor, only worse; committed myself right and left, and seemed +to be a model of a gay Lothario. Little did they suspect that under a +smiling face I concealed a heart of ashes--yes, old boy--ashes! as I'm +a living sinner. You see, all the time, I was maddened at that +miserable old scoundrel who wouldn't let me visit his daughter--me, +Jack Randolph, an officer, and a gentleman, and, what is more, a +Bobtail! Why, my very uniform should have been a guarantee for my +honorable conduct. Then, again, in addition to this, I hankered after +her, you know, most awfully. At last I couldn't stand it any longer, so +I wrote her a letter. It was only yesterday. And now, old chap, what do +you think I wrote?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure," said I, mistily; "a declaration of love, +perhaps--" + +"A declaration of love? pooh!" said Jack; "as if I had ever written any +thing else than that. Why, all my letters were nothing else. No, my +boy--this letter was very different. In the first place, I told her +that I was desperate--then I assured her that I couldn't live this way +any longer, and I concluded with a proposal as desperate as my +situation. And what do you think my proposal was?" + +"Proposal? Why, marriage, of course; there is only one kind of proposal +possible under such circumstances. But still that's not much more than +an engagement, dear boy, for an engagement means only the same thing, +namely, marriage." + +"Oh, but this was far stronger--it was different, I can tell you, from +any mere proposal of marriage. What do you think it was? Guess." + +"Can't. Haven't an idea." + +"Well," said Jack-- + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +"I IMPLORED HER TO RUN AWAY WITH ME, AND HAVE A PRIVATE MARRIAGE, +LEAVING THE REST TO FATE. AND I SOLEMNLY ASSURED HER THAT, IF SHE +REFUSED, I WOULD BLOW MY BRAINS OUT ON HER DOOR-STEPS.--THERE, NOW! +WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT?" + + +Saying the above words, Jack leaned back, and surveyed me with the +stern complacency of despair. After staring at me for some time, and +evidently taking some sort of grim comfort out of the speechlessness to +which he had reduced me by his unparalleled narrative, he continued his +confessions: + +"Last night, I made that infernal blunder with the widow--confound +her!--that is, I mean of course, bless her! It's all the same, you +know. To-day you behold the miserable state to which I am reduced. +To-morrow I will get a reply from _her_. Of course, she will consent to +fly. I know very well how it will be. She will hint at some feasible +mode, and some convenient time. She will, of course, expect me to +settle it all up, from her timid little hints; and I must settle it up, +and not break my faith with her. And now, Macrorie, I ask you, not +merely as an officer and a gentleman, but as a man, a fellow-Christian, +and a sympathizing friend, what under Heaven am I to do?" + +He stopped, leaned back in his chair, lighted once more his +extinguished pipe, and I could see through the dense volumes of smoke +which he blew forth, his eyes fixed earnestly upon me, gleaming like +two stars from behind gloomy storm-clouds. + +I sat in silence, and thought long and painfully over the situation. I +could come to no conclusion, but I had to say something, and I said it. + +"Put it off," said I at last, in a general state of daze. + +"Put what off?" + +"What? Why, the widow--no, the--the elopement, of course. Yes," I +continued, firmly, "put off the elopement." + +"Put off the elopement!" ejaculated Jack. "What! after proposing it so +desperately--after threatening to blow my brains out in front of her +door?" + +"That certainly is a consideration," said I, thoughtfully; "but can't +you have--well, brain-fever--yes, that's it, and can't you get some +friend to send word to her?" + +"That's all very well; but, you see, I'd have to keep my room. If I +went out, she'd hear of it. She's got a wonderful way of hearing about +my movements. She'll find out about the widow before the week's over. +Oh, no! that's not to be done." + +"Well, then," said I, desperately, "let her find it out. The blow would +then fall a little more gently." + +"You seem to me," said Jack, rather huffily, "to propose that I should +quietly proceed to break her heart. No! Hang it, man, if it comes to +that I'll do it openly, and make a clean breast of it, without shamming +or keeping her in suspense." + +"Well, then," I responded, "why not break off with the widow?" + +"Break off with the widow!" cried Jack, with the wondering accent of a +man who has heard some impossible proposal. + +"Certainly; why not?" + +"Will you be kind enough to inform me what thing short of death could +ever deliver me out of her hands?" asked Jack, mildly. + +"Elope, as you proposed." + +"That's the very thing I thought of; but the trouble is, in that case +she would devote the rest of her life to vengeance. 'Hell hath no fury +like a woman wronged,' you know. She'd move heaven and earth, and never +end, till I was drummed out of the regiment. No, my boy. To do that +would be to walk with open eyes to disgrace, and shame, and infamy, +with a whole community, a whole regiment, and the Horse-Guards at the +back of them, all banded together to crush me. Such a fate as this +would hardly be the proper thing to give to a wife that a fellow +loves." + +"Can't you manage to make the widow disgusted with you?" + +"No, I can't," said Jack, peevishly. "What do you mean?" + +"Why, make it appear as though you only wanted to marry her for her +money." + +"Oh, hang it, man! how could I do that? I can't play a part, under any +circumstances, and that particular part would be so infernally mean, +that it would be impossible. I'm such an ass that, if she were even to +hint at that, I'd resent it furiously. + +"Can't you make her afraid about your numerous gallantries?" + +"Afraid? why she glories in them. So many feathers in her cap, and all +that, you know." + +"Can't you frighten her about your debts and general extravagance--hint +that you're a gambler, and so on?" + +"And then she'd inform me, very affectionately, that she intends to be +my guardian angel, and save me from evil for all the rest of my life." + +"Can't you tell her all about your solemn engagement to Miss Phillips?" + +"My engagement to Miss Phillips? Why, man alive, she knows that as well +as you do." + +"Knows it! How did she find it out?" + +"How? Why I told her myself." + +"The deuce you did!" + +Jack was silent. + +"Well, then," said I, after some further thought, "why not tell her +every thing?" + +"Tell her every thing?" + +"Yes--exactly what you've been telling me. Make a clean breast of it." + +Jack looked at me for some time with a curious expression. + +"My dear boy," said he, at length, "do you mean to say that you are +really in earnest in making that proposition?" + +"Most solemnly in earnest," said I. + +"Well," said Jack, "it shows how mistaken I was in leaving any thing to +your imagination. You do not seem to understand," he continued, +dolefully, "or you will not understand that, when a fellow has +committed himself to a lady as I did, and squeezed her hand with such +peculiar ardor, in his efforts to save himself and do what's right, he +often overdoes it. You don't seem to suspect that I might have overdone +it with the widow. Now, unfortunately, that is the very thing that I +did. I did happen to overdo it most confoundedly. And so the melancholy +fact remains that, if I were to repeat to her, verbatim, all that I've +been telling you, she would find an extraordinary discrepancy between +such statements and those abominably tender confessions in which I +indulged on that other occasion. Nothing would ever convince her that I +was not sincere at that time; and how can I go to her now and confess +that I am a humbug and an idiot? I don't see it. Come, now, old fellow, +what do you think of that? Don't you call it rather a tough situation? +Do you think a man can see his way out of it? Own up, now. Don't you +think it's about the worst scrape you ever heard of? Come, now, no +humbug." + +The fellow seemed actually to begin to feel a dismal kind of pride in +the very hopelessness of his situation, and looked at me with a gloomy +enjoyment of my discomfiture. + +For my part, I said nothing, and for the best of reasons: I had nothing +to say. So I took refuge in shaking my head. + +"You see," Jack persisted, "there's no help for it. Nobody can do any +thing. There's only one thing, and that you haven't suggested." + +"What's that?" I asked, feebly. + +Jack put the tip of his forefinger to his forehead, and snapped his +thumb against his third. + +"I haven't much, brains to speak of," said he, "but if I did happen to +blow out what little I may have, it would be the easiest settlement of +the difficulty. It would be cutting the knot, instead of attempting the +impossible task of untying it. Nobody would blame me. Everybody would +mourn for me, and, above all, four tender female hearts would feel a +pang of sorrow for my untimely fate. By all four I should be not +cursed, but canonized. Only one class would suffer, and those would be +welcome to their agonies. I allude, of course, to my friends the Duns." + +To this eccentric proposal, I made no reply whatever. + +"Well," said Jack, thoughtfully, "it isn't a bad idea. Not a bad idea," +he repeated, rising from his chair and putting down his pipe, which had +again gone out owing to his persistent loquacity. "I'll think it over," +he continued, seriously. "You bear in mind my little directions about +the head-stone, Macrorie, four feet by eighteen inches, old fellow, +very plain, and, mark me, only the name and date. Not a word about the +virtues of the deceased, etc. I can stand a great deal, but that I will +not stand. And now, old chap, I must be off; you can't do me any good, +I see." + +"At any rate, you'll wait till to-morrow," said I, carelessly. + +"Oh, there's no hurry," said he. "Of course, I must wait till then. +I'll let you know if any thing new turns up." + +And saying this, he took his departure. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +CROSSING THE ST. LAWRENCE.--THE STORM AND THE BREAK-UP.--A WONDERFUL +ADVENTURE.--A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.--WHO IS SHE?--THE ICE-RIDGE.--FLY FOR +YOUR LIFE! + + +On the following day I found myself compelled to go on some routine +duty cross the river to Point Levy. The weather was the most abominable +of that abominable season. It was winter, and yet not Winter's self. +The old gentleman had lost all that bright and hilarious nature; all +that sparkling and exciting stimulus which he owns and holds here so +joyously in January, February, and even March. He was decrepit, yet +spiteful; a hoary, old, tottering, palsied villain, hurling curses +at all who ventured into his evil presence. One look outside showed me +the full nature of all that was before me, and revealed the old tyrant +in the full power of his malignancy. The air was raw and chill. There +blew a fierce, blighting wind, which brought with it showers of +stinging sleet. The wooden pavements were overspread with a thin layer +of ice, so glassy that walking could only be attempted at extreme +hazard; the houses were incrusted with the same cheerful coating; and, +of all the beastly weather that I had ever seen, there had never +been any equal to this. However, there was no escape from it; and so, +wrapping myself up as well as I could, I took a stout stick with a +sharp iron ferrule, and plunged forth into the storm. + +On reaching the river, the view was any thing but satisfactory. The +wind here was tremendous, and the sleet blew down in long, horizontal +lines, every separate particle giving its separate sting, while the +accumulated stings amounted to perfect torment. I paused for a while to +get a little shelter, and take breath before venturing across. + +There were other reasons for pausing. The season was well advanced, and +the ice was not considered particularly safe. Many things conspired to +give indications of a break-up. The ice on the surface was soft, +honey-combed, and crumbling. Near the shore was a channel of open +water. Farther out, where the current ran strongest, the ice was heaped +up in hillocks and mounds, while in different directions appeared +crevices of greater or less width. Looking over that broad surface as +well as I could through the driving storm, where not long before I +had seen crowds passing and repassing, not a soul was now visible. + +This might have been owing to the insecurity of the ice; but it might +also have been owing to the severity of the weather. Black enough, at +any rate, the scene appeared; and I looked forth upon it from my +temporary shelter with the certainty that this river before me was a +particularly hard road to travel. + +"Ye'll no be gangin' ower the day, sew-erly?" said a voice near me. + +I turned and saw a brawny figure in a reefing-jacket and "sou'-wester." +He might have been a sailor, or a scowman, or a hibernating raftsman. + +"Why?" said I. + +He said nothing, but shook his head with solemn emphasis. + +I looked for a few moments longer, and hesitated. Yet there was no +remedy for it, bad as it looked. After being ordered forward, I did not +like to turn back with an excuse about the weather. Besides, the ice +thus far had lasted well. Only the day before, sleds had crossed. There +was no reason why I should not cross now. Why should I in particular be +doomed to a catastrophe more than any other man? And, finally, was not +McGoggin there? Was he not always ready with his warmest welcome? On a +stormy day, did he not always keep his water up to the boiling-point, +and did not the very best whiskey in Quebec diffuse about his chamber +its aromatic odor? + +I moved forward. The die was cast. + +The channel near the shore was from six to twelve feet in width, filled +with floating fragments. Over this I scrambled in safety. As I +advanced, I could see that in one day a great change had taken place. +The surface-ice was soft and disintegrated, crushing readily under the +feet. All around me extended wide pools of water. From beneath these +arose occasional groaning sounds--dull, heavy crunches, which seemed to +indicate a speedy break-up. The progress of the season, with its thaws +and rains, had been gradually weakening the ice; along the shore its +hold had in some places at least been relaxed; and the gale of wind +that was now blowing was precisely of that description which most +frequently sweeps away resistlessly the icy fetters of the river, and +sets all the imprisoned waters free. At every step new signs of this +approaching break-up became visible. From time to time I encountered +gaps in the ice, of a foot or two in width, which did not of themselves +amount to much, but which nevertheless served to show plainly the state +of things. + +My progress was excessively difficult. The walking was laborious on +account of the ice itself and the pools through which I had to wade. +Then there were frequent gaps, which sometimes could only be traversed +by a long detour. Above all, there was the furious sleet, which drove +down the river, borne on by the tempest, with a fury and unrelaxing +pertinacity that I never saw equalled. However, I managed to toil +onward, and at length reached the centre of the river. Here I found a +new and more serious obstacle. At this point the ice had divided; and +in the channel thus formed there was a vast accumulation of ice-cakes, +heaped up one above the other in a long ridge, which extended as far as +the eye could reach. There were great gaps in it, however, and to cross +it needed so much caution, and so much effort, that I paused for a +while, and, setting my back to the wind, looked around to examine the +situation. + +Wild enough that scene appeared. On one side was my destination, but +dimly visible through the storm; on the other rose the dark cliff of +Cape Diamond, frowning gloomily over the river, crowned with the +citadel, where the flag of Old England was streaming straight out at +the impulse of the blast, with a stiffness that made it seem as though +it had been frozen in the air rigid in that situation. Up the river all +was black and gloomy; and the storm which burst from that quarter +obscured the view; down the river the prospect was as gloomy, but one +thing was plainly visible--a wide, black surface, terminating the gray +of the ice, and showing that there at least the break-up had begun, and +the river had resumed its sway. + +A brief survey showed me all this, and for a moment created a strong +desire to go back. Another moment, however, showed that to go forward +was quite as wise and as safe. I did not care to traverse again what I +had gone over, and the natural reluctance to turn back from the +half-way house, joined to the hope of better things for the rest of the +way, decided me to go forward. + +After some examination, I found a place on which to cross the central +channel. It was a point where the heaps of ice seemed at once more easy +to the foot, and more secure. At extreme risk, and by violent efforts, +I succeeded in crossing, and, on reaching the other side, I found the +ice more promising. Then, hoping that the chief danger had been +successfully encountered, I gathered up my energies, and stepped out +briskly toward the opposite shore. + +It was not without the greatest difficulty and the utmost discomfort +that I had come thus far. My clothes were coated with frozen sleet; my +hair was a mass of ice; and my boots were filled with water. Wretched +as all this was, there was no remedy for it, so I footed it as best I +could, trying to console myself by thinking over the peaceful pleasures +which were awaiting me at the end of my journey in the chambers of the +hospitable McGoggin. + +Suddenly, as I walked along, peering with half-closed eyes through the +stormy sleet before me, I saw at some distance a dark object +approaching. After a time, the object drew nearer, and resolved itself +into a sleigh. It came onward toward the centre of the river, which it +reached at about a hundred yards below the point where I had crossed. +There were two occupants in the sleigh, one crouching low and muffled +in wraps; the other the driver, who looked like one of the common +_habitans_. Knowing the nature of the river there, and wondering what +might bring a sleigh out at such a time, I stopped, and watched them +with a vague idea of shouting to them to go back. Their progress thus +far from the opposite shore, so far at least as I could judge, made me +conclude that the ice on this side must be comparatively good, while my +own journey had proved that on the Quebec side it was utterly +impossible for a horse to go. + +As they reached the channel where the crumbled ice-blocks lay floating, +heaped up as I have described, the sleigh stopped, and the driver +looked anxiously around. At that very instant there came one of those +low, dull, grinding sounds I have already mentioned, but very much +louder than any that I had hitherto heard. Deep, angry thuds followed, +and crunching sounds, while beneath all there arose a solemn murmur +like the "voice of many waters." I felt the ice heave under my feet, +and sway in long, slow undulations, and one thought, quick as +lightning, flashed horribly into my mind. Instinctively I leaped +forward toward my destination, while the ice rolled and heaved beneath +me, and the dread sounds grew louder at every step. + +Scarcely had I gone a dozen paces when a piercing scream arrested me. I +stopped and looked back. For a few moments only had I turned away, yet +in that short interval a fearful change had taken place. The long ridge +of ice which had been heaped up in the mid-channel had increased to +thrice its former height, and the crunching and grinding of the vast +masses arose above the roaring of the storm. Far up the river there +came a deeper and fuller sound of the same kind, which, brought down by +the wind, burst with increasing terrors upon the ear. The ridge of ice +was in constant motion, being pressed and heaped up in ever-increasing +masses, and, as it heaped itself up, toppling over and falling with a +noise like thunder. There could be but one cause for all this, and the +fear which had already flashed through my brain was now confirmed to my +sight. The ice on which I stood was breaking up! + +As all this burst upon my sight, I saw the sleigh. The horse had +stopped in front of the ridge of ice in the mid-channel, and was +rearing and plunging violently. The driver was lashing furiously and +trying to turn the animal, which, frenzied by terror, and maddened by +the stinging sleet, refused to obey, and would only rear and kick. +Suddenly the ice under the sleigh sank down, and a flood of water +rolled over it, followed by an avalanche of ice-blocks which had +tumbled from the ridge. With a wild snort of terror, the horse turned, +whirling round the sleigh, and with the speed of the wind dashed back +toward the shore. As the sleigh came near, I saw the driver upright and +trying to regain his command of the horse, and at that instant the +other passenger started erect. The cloak fell back. I saw a face pale, +overhung with dishevelled hair, and filled with an anguish of fear. But +the pallor and the fear could not conceal the exquisite loveliness of +that woman-face, which was thus so suddenly revealed in the midst of +the storm and in the presence of death; and which now, beautiful beyond +all that I had ever dreamed of, arose before my astonished eyes. It was +from her that the cry had come but a few moments before. As she passed +she saw me, and another cry escaped her. In another moment she was far +ahead. + +And now I forgot all about the dangers around me, and the lessening +chances of an interview with McGoggin. I hurried on, less to secure my +own safety than to assist the lady. And thus as I rushed onward I +became aware of a new danger which arose darkly between me and the +shore. It was a long, black channel, gradually opening itself up, and +showing in its gloomy surface a dividing line between me and life. To +go back seemed now impossible--to go forward was to meet these black +waters. + +Toward this gulf the frightened horse ran at headlong speed. Soon he +reached the margin of the ice. The water was before him and headed him +off. Terrified again at this, he swerved aside, and bounded up the +river. The driver pulled frantically at the reins. The lady, who had +fallen back again in her seat, was motionless. On went the horse, and, +at every successive leap in his mad career, the sleigh swung wildly +first to one side and then to the other. At last there occurred a curve +in the line of ice, and reaching this the horse turned once more to +avoid it. In doing so, the sleigh was swung toward the water. The +shafts broke. The harness was torn asunder. The off-runner of the +sleigh slid from the ice--it tilted over; the driver jerked at the +reins and made a wild leap. In vain. His feet were entangled in the fur +robes which dragged him back. A shriek, louder, wilder, and far more +fearful than before, rang out through the storm; and the next instant +down went the sleigh, with its occupants into the water, the driver +falling out, while the horse, though free from the sleigh, was yet +jerked aside by the reins, and before he could recover himself fell +with the rest into the icy stream. + +All this seemed to have taken place in an instant. I hurried on, with +all my thoughts on this lady who was thus doomed to so sudden and so +terrible a fate. I could see the sleigh floating for a time, and the +head of the horse, that was swimming. I sprang to a place which seemed +to give a chance of assisting them, and looked eagerly to see what had +become of the lady. The sleigh drifted steadily along, one of that +box-shaped kind called _pungs_, which are sometimes made so tight that +they can resist the action of water, and float either in crossing a +swollen stream, or in case of breaking through the ice. Such boat-like +sleighs are not uncommon; and this one was quite buoyant. I nothing of +the driver. He had probably sunk at once, or had been drawn under the +ice. The horse, entangled in the shafts, had regained the ice, and had +raised one foreleg to its surface, with which he was making furious +struggles to emerge from the water, while snorts of terror escaped him. +But where was the lady? I hurried farther up, and, as I approached, I +could see something crouched in a heap at the bottom of the floating +sleigh. Was it she--or was it only the heap of buffalo-robes? I could +not tell. + +The sleigh drifted on, and soon. I came near enough to see that the +bundle had life. I came close to where it floated. It was not more that +six yards off, and was drifting steadily nearer, I walked on by the +edge of the ice, and shouted. There was no answer. At length I saw a +white hand clutching the side of the sleigh. A thrill of exultant hope +passed through me. I shouted again and again, but my voice was lost in +the roar of the crashing ice and the howling gale. Yet, though my voice +had not been heard, I was free from suspense, for I saw that the lady +thus far was safe, and I could wait a little longer for the chance of +affording her assistance. I walked on, then, in silence, watching the +sleigh which continued to float. We travelled thus a long distance--I, +and the woman who had thus been so strangely wrecked in so strange a +bark. Looking back, I could no longer see any signs of the horse. All +this time the sleigh was gradually drifted nearer the edge of the ice +on which I walked, until at last it came so near that I reached out my +stick, and, catching it with the crooked handle, drew it toward me. The +shock, as the sleigh struck against the ice, roused its occupant. She +started up, stood upright, stared for a moment at me, and then, at the +scene around. Then she sprang out, and, clasping her hands, fell upon +her knees, and seemed to mutter words of prayer. Then she rose to her +feet, and looked around with a face of horror. There was such an +anguish of fear in her face, that I tried to comfort her. But my +efforts were useless. + +"Oh! there a no hope! The river is breaking up!" she moaned. "They told +me it would. How mad I was to try to cross!" + +Finding that I could do nothing to quell her fears, I began to think +what was best to be done. First of all, I determined to secure the +sleigh. It might be the means of saving us, or, if not, it would at any +rate do for a place of rest. It was better than the wet ice for the +lady. So I proceeded to pull it on the ice. The lady tried to help me, +and, after a desperate effort, the heavy pung was dragged from the +water upon the frozen surface. I then made her sit in it, and wrapped +the furs around her as well as I could. + +She submitted without a word. Her white face was turned toward mine; +and once or twice she threw upon me, from her dark, expressive eyes, a +look of speechless gratitude. I tried to promise safety, and encouraged +her as well as I could, and she seemed to make an effort to regain her +self-control. + +In spite of my efforts at consolation, her despair affected me. I +looked all around to see what the chances of escape might be. As I took +that survey, I perceived that those chances were indeed small. The +first thing that struck me was, that Cape Diamond was far behind the +point where I at present stood. While the sleigh had drifted, and I had +walked beside it, our progress had been down the river; and since then +the ice, which itself had all this time been drifting, had borne us on +without ceasing. We were still drifting at the very moment that I +looked around. We had also moved farther away from the shore which I +wished to reach, and nearer to the Quebec side. When the sleigh had +first gone over, there had not been more than twenty yards between the +ice and the shore; but now that shore was full two hundred yards away. +All this tune the fury of the wind, and the torment of the blinding, +stinging sleet, had not in the least abated; the grinding and roaring +of the ice had increased; the long ridge had heaped itself up to a +greater height, and opposite us it towered up in formidable masses. + +I thought at one time of intrusting myself with my companion to the +sleigh, in the hope of using it as a boat to gain the shore. But I +could not believe that it would float with both of us, and, if it +would, there were no means of moving or guiding it. Better to remain on +the ice than to attempt that. Such a refuge would only do as a last +resort. After giving up this idea, I watched to see if there was any +chance of drifting back to the shore, but soon saw that there was +none. Every moment drew us farther off. Then I thought of a score of +desperate undertakings, but all of them were given up almost as soon as +they suggested themselves. + +All this time the lady had sat in silence--deathly pale, looking around +with that same anguish of fear which I had noticed from the first, like +one who awaits an inevitable doom. The storm beat about her pitilessly; +occasional shudders passed through her; and the dread scene around +affected me far less than those eyes of agony, that pallid face, and +those tremulous white lips that seemed to murmur prayers. She saw, as +well as I, the widening sheet of water between us and the shore on the +one side, and on the other the ever-increasing masses of crumbling ice. + +At last I suddenly offered to go to Quebec, and bring back help for +her. So wild a proposal was in the highest degree impracticable; but I +thought that it might lead her to suggest something. As soon as she +heard it, she evinced fresh terror. + +"Oh, sir!" she moaned, "if you have a human heart, do not leave me! For +God's sake, stay a little longer." + +"Leave you!" I cried; "never while I have breath. I will stay with you +to the last." + +But this, instead of reassuring her, merely had the effect of changing +her feelings. She grew calmer. + +"No," said she, "you must not. I was mad with fear. No--go. You at +least can save yourself. Go--fly--leave me!" + +"Never!" I repeated. "I only made that proposal--not thinking to save +you, but merely supposing that you would feel better at the simple +suggestion of something." + +"I implore you," she reiterated. "Go--there is yet time. You only risk +your life by delay. Don't waste your time on me." + +"I could not go if I would," I said, "and I swear I would not go if I +could," I cried, impetuously. "I hope you do not take me for any thing +else than a gentleman." + +"Oh, sir, pardon me. Can you think that?--But you have already risked +your life once by waiting to save mine--and, oh, do not risk it by +waiting again." + +"Madame," said I, "you must not only not say such a thing, but you must +not even think it. I am here with you, and, being a gentleman, I am +here by your side either for life or death. But come--rouse yourself. +Don't give up. I'll save you, or die with you. At the same time, let me +assure you that I haven't the remotest idea of dying." + +She threw at me, from her eloquent eyes, a look of unutterable +gratitude, and said not a word. + +I looked at my watch. It was three o'clock. There was no time to lose. +The day was passing swiftly, and at this rate evening would come on +before one might be aware. The thought of standing idle any longer, +while the precious hours were passing, was intolerable. Once more I +made a hasty survey, and now, pressed and stimulated by the dire +exigencies of the hour, I determined to make an effort toward the +Quebec side. On that side, it seemed as though the ice which drifted +from the other shore was being packed in an unbroken mass. If so, a way +over it might be found to a resolute spirit. + +I hastily told my companion my plan. She listened with a faint smile. + +"I will do all that I can," said she, and I saw with delight that the +mere prospect of doing something had aroused her. + +My first act was to push the sleigh with its occupant toward the +ice-ridge in the centre of the river. The lady strongly objected, and +insisted on getting out and helping me. This I positively forbade. I +assured her that my strength was quite sufficient for the undertaking, +but that hers was not; and if she would save herself, and me, too, she +must husband all her resources and obey implicitly. She submitted under +protest, and, as I pushed her along, she murmured the most touching +expressions of sympathy and of gratitude. But pushing a sleigh over the +smooth ice is no very difficult work, and the load that it contained +did not increase the labor in my estimation. Thus we soon approached +that long ice-ridge which I have so frequently mentioned. Here I +stopped, and began to seek a place which might afford a chance for +crossing to the ice-field on the opposite side. + +The huge ice-blocks gathered here, where the fields on either side were +forced against one another, grinding and breaking up. Each piece was +forced up, and, as the grinding process continued, the heap rose +higher. At times, the loftiest parts of the ridge toppled over with a +tremendous crash, while many other piles seemed about to do the same. +To attempt to pass that ridge would be to encounter the greatest peril. +In the first place, it would be to invite an avalanche; and then, +again, wherever the piles fell, the force of that fall broke the +field-ice below, and the water rushed up, making a passage through it +quite as hazardous as the former. For a long time I examined without +seeing any place which was at all practicable. There was no time, +however, to be discouraged; an effort had to be made, and that without +delay; so I determined to try for myself, and test one or more places. +One place appeared less dangerous than others--a place where a pile of +uncommon size had recently fallen. The blocks were of unusual size, and +were raised up but a little above the level of the ice on which I +stood. These blocks, though swaying slowly up and down, seemed yet to +be strong enough for my purpose. I sprang toward the place, and found +it practicable. Then I returned to the lady. She was eager to go. Here +we had to give up the sleigh, since to transport that also was not to +be thought of. + +"Now," said I, "is the time for you to exert all your strength." + +"I am ready," said she. + +"Hurry, then." + +At that moment there burst a thunder-shock. A huge pile farther down +had fallen, and bore down the surface-ice. The water rushed boiling and +seething upward, and spread far over. There was not a moment to lose. +It was now or never; so, snatching her hand, I rushed forward. The +water was up to my knees, and sweeping past and whirling back with a +furious impetuosity. Through that flood I dragged her, and she followed +bravely and quickly. I pulled her up to the first block, then onward to +another. Leaping over a third, I had to relinquish her hand for a +moment, and then, extending mine once more, I caught hers, and she +sprang after me. All these blocks were firm, and our weight did not +move their massive forms. One huge piece formed the last stage in our +hazardous path. It overlapped the ice on the opposite side. I sprang +down, and the next instant the lady was by my side. Thank Heaven! we +were over. + +Onward then we hurried for our lives, seeking to get as far as possible +from that dangerous channel of ice-avalanches and seething waters; and +it was not till a safe distance intervened, that I dared to slacken my +pace so as to allow my companion to take breath. All this time she had +not spoken a word, and had shown a calmness and an energy which +contrasted strongly with her previous lethargy and terror. + +I saw that the ice in this place was rougher than it had been on the +other side. Lumps were upheaved in many places. This was a good sign, +for it indicated a close packing in this direction, and less danger of +open water, which was the only thing now to be feared. The hope of +reaching the shore was now strong within me. That shore, I could +perceive, must be some distance below Quebec; but how far I could not +tell. I could see the dark outline of the land, but Quebec was now no +longer perceptible through the thick storm of sleet. + +For a long time, my companion held out nobly, and sustained the rapid +progress which I was trying to keep up; but, at length, she began to +show evident signs of exhaustion. I saw this with pain, for I was +fearful every moment of some new circumstance which might call for +fresh exertion from both of us. I would have given any thing to have +had the sleigh--which we were forced to relinquish. I feared that her +strength would fail at the trying moment. The distance before us was +yet so great that we seemed to have traversed but little. I insisted on +her taking my arm and leaning on me for support, and tried to cheer her +by making her look back and see how far we had gone. She tried to +smile; but the smile was a failure. In her weakness, she began to feel +more sensibly the storm from which she had been sheltered to some +extent before she left the sleigh. She cowered under the fierce pelt of +the pitiless sleet, and clung to me, trembling and shivering with cold. + +On and on we walked. The distance seemed interminable. The lady kept up +well, considering her increasing exhaustion, saying nothing whatever; +but her quick, short breathing was audible, as she panted with fatigue. +I felt every shudder that ran through her delicate frame. And yet I did +not dare to stop and give her rest; for, aside from the imminent danger +of losing our hope of reaching land, a delay, even to take breath, +would only expose her the more surely to the effect of the cold. At +last, I stopped for a moment, and drew off my overcoat. This, in spite +of her protestations, I forced her to put on. She threatened, at one +time, to sit down on the ice and die, rather than do it. + +"Very well, madame," said I. "Then, out of a punctilio, you will +destroy, not only yourself, but me. Do I deserve this?" + +At this, tears started to her eyes. She submitted. + +"Oh, sir," she murmured, "what can I say? It's for your sake that I +refuse. I will submit. God bless you--who sent you to my help! God +forever bless you!" + +I said nothing. + +On and on! + +Then her steps grew feebler--then her weight rested on me more heavily. + +On and on! + +She staggered, and low moans succeeded to her heavy panting. At last, +with a cry of despair, she fell forward. + +I caught her in my arms, and held her up. + +"Leave me!" she said, in a faint voice. "I cannot walk any farther." + +"No; I will wait for a while." + +"Oh, leave me! Save yourself! Or go ashore, and bring help!" + +"No; I will go ashore with you, or not at all." + +She sighed, and clung to me. + +After a time, she revived a little, and insisted on going onward. This +time she walked for some distance. She did this with a stolid, heavy +step, and mechanically, like an automaton moved by machinery. Then she +stopped again. + +"I am dizzy," said she, faintly. + +I made her sit down on the ice, and put myself between her and the +wind. That rest did much for her. But I was afraid to let her sit more +than five minutes. Her feet were saturated, and, in spite of my +overcoat, she was still shivering. + +"Come," said I; "if we stay any longer, you will die." + +She staggered up. She clung to me, and I dragged her on. Then, again, +she stopped. + +I now tried a last resort, and gave her some brandy from my flask. I +had thought of it often, but did not wish to give this until other +things were exhausted; for, though the stimulus is an immediate remedy +for weakness, yet on the ice and in the snow the reaction is dangerous +to the last degree. The draught revived her wonderfully. + +Starting once more, with new life, she was able to traverse a very +great distance; and at length, to my delight, the shore began to appear +very near. But now the reaction from the stimulant appeared. She sank +down without a word; and another draught, and yet another, was needed +to infuse some false strength into her. At length, the shore seemed +close by us. Here she gave out utterly. + +"I can go no farther," she moaned, as she fell straight down heavily +and suddenly on the ice. + +"Only one more effort," I said, imploringly. "Take some more brandy." + +"It is of no use. Leave me! Get help!" + +"See--the shore is near. It is not more than a few rods away." + +"I cannot." + +I supported her in my arms, for she was leaning on her hand, and slowly +sinking downward. Once more I pressed the brandy upon her lips, as her +head lay on my shoulder. Her eyes were closed. Down on her marble face +the wild storm beat savagely; her lips were bloodless, and her teeth +were fixed convulsively. It was only by an effort that I could force +the brandy into her mouth. Once more, and for the last time, the fiery +liquid gave her a momentary strength. She roused herself from the +stupor into which she was sinking, and, springing to her feet with a +wild, spasmodic effort, she ran with outstretched hands toward the +shore. For about twenty or thirty paces she ran, and, before I could +overtake her, she fell once more. + +I raised her up, and again supported her. She could move no farther. I +sat by her side for a little while, and looked toward the shore. It was +close by us now; but, as I looked, I saw a sight which made any further +delay impossible. + +Directly in front, and only a few feet away, was a dark chasm lying +between us and that shore for which we had been striving so earnestly. +It was a fathom wide; and there flowed the dark waters of the river, +gloomily, warningly, menacingly! To me, that chasm was nothing; but how +could she cross it? Besides, there was no doubt that it was widening +every moment. + +I started up. + +"Wait here for a moment," said I, hurriedly. + +I left her half reclining on the ice, and ran hastily up and down the +chasm. I could see that my fears were true. The whole body of ice was +beginning to break away, and drift from this shore also, as it had done +from the other. I saw a place not more than five feet wide. Back I +rushed to my companion. I seized her, and, lifting her in my arms, +without a word, I carried her to that place where the channel was +narrowest; and then, without stopping to consider, but impelled by the +one fierce desire for safety, I leaped forward, and my feet touched the +opposite side. + +With a horrible crash, the ice broke beneath me, and I went down. That +sound, and the awful sensation of sinking, I shall never forget. But +the cake of ice which had given way beneath my feet, though it went +down under me, still prevented my sinking rapidly. I flung myself +forward, and held up my almost senseless burden as I best could with +one arm, while with the other I dug my sharp-pointed stick into the ice +and held on for a moment. Then, summoning up my strength, I passed my +left arm under my companion, and raised her out of the water upon the +ice. My feet seemed sucked by the water underneath the shelf of ice +against which I rested; but the iron-pointed stick never slipped, and I +succeeded. Then, with a spring, I raised myself up from the water, and +clambered out. + +My companion had struggled up to her knees, and grasped me feebly, as +though to assist me. Then she started to her feet The horror of sudden +death had done this, and had given her a convulsive energy of recoil +from a hideous fate. Thus she sprang forward, and ran for some +distance. I hastened after her, and, seizing her arm, drew it in mine. +But at that moment her short-lived strength failed her, and she sank +once more. I looked all around--the shore was only a few yards off. A +short distance away was a high, cone-shaped mass of ice, whose white +sheen was distinct amid the gloom. I recognized it at once. + +"Courage, courage!" I cried. "We are at Montmorency. There is a house +not far away. Only one more effort." + +She raised her head feebly. + +"Do you see it? Montmorency! the ice-cone of the Falls!" I cried, +eagerly. + +Her head sank back again. + +"Look! look! We are saved! we are near houses!" + +The only answer was a moan. She sank down lower. I grasped her so as to +sustain her, and she lay senseless in my arms. + +There was now no more hope of any further exertion from her. Strength +and sense had deserted her. There was only one thing to be done. + +I took her in my arms, and carried her toward the shore. How I +clambered up that steep bank, I do not remember. At any rate, I +succeeded in reaching the top, and sank exhausted there, holding my +burden under the dark, sighing evergreens. + +Rising once mere. I raised her up, and made my way to a house. The +inmates were kind, and full of sympathy. I committed the lady to their +care, and fell exhausted on a settee in front of the huge fireplace. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +I FLY BACK, AND SEND THE DOCTOR TO THE RESCUE.--RETURN TO THE SPOT. +--FLIGHT OF THE BIRD.--PERPLEXITY, ASTONISHMENT, WONDER, AND DESPAIR. +--"PAS UN MOT, MONSIEUR!" + + +A long time passed, and I waited in great anxiety. Meanwhile, I had +changed my clothes, and sat by the fire robed in the picturesque +costume of a French _habitant_, while my own saturated garments were +drying elsewhere. I tried to find out if there was a doctor anywhere in +the neighborhood, but learned that there was cone nearer than Quebec. +The people were such dolts, that I determined to set out myself for the +city, and either send a doctor or fetch one. After immense trouble, I +succeeded in getting a horse; and, just before starting, I was +encouraged by hearing that the lady had recovered from her swoon, and +was much better, though somewhat feverish. + +It was a wild journey. + +The storm was still raging; the road was abominable, and was all one +glare of frozen sleet, which had covered it with a slippery surface, +except where there rose disintegrated ice-hummocks and heaps of +slush--the _debris_ of giant drifts. Moreover, it was as dark as Egypt. +My progress, therefore, was slow. A boy went with me as far as the main +road, and, after seeing me under way, he left me to my own devices. The +horse was very aged, and, I fear, a little rheumatic. Besides, I have +reason to believe that he was blind. That did not make any particular +difference, though; for the darkness was so intense, that eyes were as +useless as they would be to the eyeless fishes of the Mammoth Cave. I +don't intend to prolong my description of this midnight ride. Suffice +it to say that the horse walked all the way, and, although it was +midnight when I started, it was near morning when I reached my +quarters. + +I hurried at once to the doctor, and, to his intense disgust, roused +him and implored his services. I made it a personal matter, and put it +in such an affecting light, that he consented to go; but he assured me +that it was the greatest sacrifice to friendship that he had ever made +in his life. I gave him the most explicit directions, and did not leave +him till I saw him on horseback, and trotting, half asleep, down the +street. + +Then I went to my room, completely used up after such unparalleled +exertions. I got a roaring fire made, established myself on my sofa +immediately in front of it, and sought to restore my exhausted frame by +hot potations. My intention was to rest for a while, till I felt +thoroughly warmed, and then start for Montmorency to see about the +lady. With this in my mind, and a pipe in my mouth, and a tumbler of +toddy at my elbow, I reclined on my deep, soft, old-fashioned, and +luxurious sofa; and, thus situated, I fell off before I knew it into an +exceedingly profound sleep. + +When I awoke, it was broad day. I started up, looked at my watch, and, +to my horror, found that it was half-past twelve. In a short time, I +had flung off my _habitant_ clothes, dressed myself, got my own horse, +and galloped off as fast as possible. + +I was deeply vexed at myself for sleeping so long; but I found comfort +in the thought that the doctor had gone on before. The storm had gone +down, and the sky was clear. The sun was shining brightly. The roads +were abominable, but not so bad as they had been, and my progress was +rapid. So I went on at a rattling pace, not sparing my horse, and +occupying my mind with thoughts of the lady whom I had saved, when +suddenly, about three miles from Quebec, I saw a familiar figure +advancing toward me. + +It was the doctor! + +He moved along slowly, and, as I drew nearer, I saw that he looked very +much worn out, very peevish, and very discontented. + +"Well, old man," said I, "how did you find her?" + +"Find her?" growled the doctor--"I didn't find her at all. If this is a +hoax," he continued, "all I can say, Macrorie, is this, that it's a +devilish stupid one." + +"A hoax? What--didn't find her?" I gasped. + +"Find her? Of course not. There's no such a person. Why, I could not +even find the house." + +"What--do you mean? I--I don't understand--" I faltered. + +"Why," said the doctor, who saw my deep distress and disappointment, "I +mean simply this: I've been riding about this infernal country all day, +been to Montmorency, called at fifty houses, and couldn't find anybody +that knew any thing at all about any lady whatever." + +At this, my consternation was so great that I couldn't say one single +word. This news almost took my breath away. The doctor looked sternly +at me for some time, and then was about to more on. + +This roused me. + +"What!" I cried; "you're not thinking of going back?" + +"Back? Of course, I am. That's the very thing I'm going to do." + +"For God's sake, doctor," I cried, earnestly, "don't go just yet! I +tell you, the lady is there, and her condition is a most perilous one. +I told you before how I saved her, I left there at midnight, last +night, in spite of my fatigue, and travelled all night to get you. I +promised her that you would be there early this morning. It's now +nearly two in the afternoon. Good Heavens! doctor, you won't leave a +fellow in such a fix?" + +"Macrorie," said the doctor, "I'm half dead with fatigue. I did it for +your sake, and I wouldn't have done it for another soul--no, not even +for Jack Randolph. So be considerate, my boy." + +"Doctor," I cried, earnestly, "it's a case of life and death!" + +A long altercation now followed; but the end of it was that the doctor +yielded, and, in spite of his fatigue, turned back, grumbling and +growling. + +So we rode back together--the doctor, groaning and making peevish +remarks; I, oblivious of all this, and careless of my friend's +discomfort. My mind was full of visions of the lady--the fair unknown. +I was exceeding anxious and troubled at the thought that all this time +she had been alone, without any medical assistance. I pictured her to +myself as sinking rapidly into fever and delirium. Stimulated by all +these thoughts, I hurried on, while the doctor with difficulty +followed. At length, we arrived within half a mile of the Falls; but I +could not see any signs of the house which I wished to find, or of the +road that led to it. I looked into all the roads that led to the river; +but none seemed like that one which I had traversed. + +The doctor grew every moment more vexed. + +"Look here now, Macrorie," said he, at last--"I'll go no farther--no, +not a step. I'm used up. I'll go into the nearest house, and wait." + +Saying this, he turned abruptly, and went to a house that was close by +I then dismounted, went to the upper bank of the Montmorency, where it +joins the St. Lawrence below the Falls, and looked down. + +The ice was all out. The place which yesterday had been the scene of my +struggle for life was now one vast sheet of dark-blue water. As I +looked at it, an involuntary shudder passed through me; for now I saw +the full peril of my situation. + +Looking along the river, I saw the place where I must have landed, and +on the top of the steep bank I saw a house which seemed to be the one +where I had found refuge. Upon this, I went back, and, getting the +doctor, we went across the fields to this house. I knocked eagerly at +the door. It was opened, and in the person of the _habitant_ before me +I recognized my host of the evening before. + +"How is madame?" I asked, hurriedly and anxiously. + +"Madame?" + +"Tea, madame--the lady, you know." + +"Madame? She is not here." + +"Not here!" I cried. + +"Non, monsieur." + +"Not here? What! Not here?" I cried again. "But she must be here. +Didn't I bring her here last night?" + +"Certainly, monsieur; but she's gone home." + +At this, there burst from the doctor a peal of laughter--so loud, so +long, so savage, and so brutal, that I forgot in a moment all that he +had been doing for my sake, and felt an almost irresistible inclination +to punch his head. Only I didn't; and, perhaps, it was just as well. +The sudden inclination passed, and there remained nothing but an +overwhelming sense of disappointment, by which I was crushed for a few +minutes, while still the doctor's mocking laughter sounded in my ears. + +"How was it?" I asked, at length--"how did she get off? When I left, +she was in a fever, and wanted a doctor." + +"After you left, monsieur, she slept, and awoke, toward morning, very +much better. She dressed, and then wanted us to get a conveyance to +take her to Quebec. We told her that you had gone for a doctor, and +that she had better wait. But this, she said, was impossible. She +would not think of it. She had to go to Quebec as soon as possible, and +entreated us to find some conveyance. So we found a wagon at a +neighbor's, threw some straw in it and some skins over it, and she went +away." + +"She went!" I repeated, in an imbecile way. + +"Oui, monsieur." + +"And didn't she leave any word?" + +"Monsieur?" + +"Didn't she leave any message for--for me?" + +"Non, monsieur." + +"Not a word?" I asked, mournfully and despairingly. + +The reply of the _habitant_ was a crushing one: + +"_Pas un mot_, _monsieur_!" + +The doctor burst into a shriek of sardonic laughter. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +BY ONE'S OWN FIRESIDE.--THE COMFORTS OF A BACHELOR.--CHEWING THE CUD +OF SWEET AND BITTER FANCY.--A DISCOVERY FULL OF MORTIFICATION AND +EMBARRASSMENT.--JACK RANDOLPH AGAIN.--NEWS FROM THE SEAT OF WAR. + + +By six o'clock in the evening I was back in my room again. The doctor +had chaffed me so villanously all the way back that my disappointment +and mortification had vanished, and had given place to a feeling of +resentment. I felt that I had been ill-treated. After saving a girl's +life, to be dropped so quietly and so completely, was more than flesh +and blood could stand. And then there was that confounded doctor. He +fairly revelled in my situation, and forgot all about his fatigue. +However, before I left him, I extorted from him a promise to say +nothing about it, swearing if he didn't I'd sell out and quit the +service. This promise he gave, with the remark that he would reserve +the subject for his own special use. + +Once within my own room, I made myself comfortable in my own quiet way, +viz.: + + +1. A roaring, red-hot fire. +2. Curtains close drawn. +3. Sofa pulled up beside said fire. +4. Table beside sofa. +5. Hot water. +6. Whiskey. +7. Tobacco. +8. Pipes. +9. Fragrant aromatic steam. +10. Sugar. +11. Tumblers. +12. Various other things not necessary to mention, all of which +contributed to throw over my perturbed spirit a certain divine calm. + +Under such circumstances, while every moment brought forward some new +sense of rest and tranquillity, my mind wandered back in a kind of lazy +reverie over the events of the past two days. + +Once more I wandered over the crumbling ice; once more I floundered +through the deep pools of water; once more I halted in front of that +perilous ice-ridge, with my back to the driving storm and my eyes +searching anxiously for a way of progress. The frowning cliff, with its +flag floating out stiff in the tempest, the dim shore opposite, the +dark horizon, the low moan of the river as it struggled against its icy +burden, all these came back again. Then, through all this, I rushed +forward, scrambling over the ice-ridge, reaching the opposite plain to +hurry forward to the shore. Then came the rushing sleigh, the recoiling +horse, the swift retreat, the mad race along the brink of the icy edge, +the terrible plunge into the deep, dark water. Then came the wild, +half-human shriek of the drowning horse, and the sleigh with its +despairing freight drifting down toward me. Through all this there +broke forth amid the clouds of that reverie, the vision of that pale, +agonized face, with its white lips and imploring eyes--the face of her +whom I had saved. + +So I had saved her, had I? Yes, there was no doubt of that. Never +would I lose the memory of that unparalleled journey to Montmorency +Fall, as I toiled on, dragging with me that frail, fainting, despairing +companion. I had sustained her; I had cheered her; I had stimulated +her; and, finally, at that supreme moment, when, she fell down in sight +of the goal, I had put forth the last vestige of my own strength in +bearing her to a place of safety. + +And so she had left me. + +Left me--without a word--without a hint--without the remotest sign of +any thing like recognition, not to speak of gratitude! + +_Pas un mot_! + +Should I ever see her again? + +This question, which was very natural under the circumstances, caused +me to make an effort to recall the features of my late companion. +Strange to say, my effort was not particularly successful. A white, +agonized face was all that I remembered, and afterward a white, +senseless face, belonging to a prostrate figure, which I was trying to +raise. This was all. What that face might look like in repose, I found +it impossible to conjecture. + +And now here was a ridiculous and mortifying fact. I found myself +haunted by this white face and these despairing eyes, yet for the life +of me I could not reduce that face to a natural expression so as to +learn what it might look like in common life. Should I know her again +if I met her? I could not say. Would she know me? I could not answer +that. Should I ever be able to find her? How could I tell? + +Baffled and utterly at a loss what to do toward getting the identity of +the subject of my thoughts, I wandered off into various moods. First I +became cynical, but, as I was altogether too comfortable to be morose, +my cynicism was of a good-natured character. Then I made merry over my +own mishaps and misadventures. Then I reflected, in a lofty, +philosophic frame of mind, upon the faithlessness of woman, and, +passing from this into metaphysics, I soon boozed off into a gentle, a +peaceful, and a very consoling doze. When I awoke, it was morning, and +I concluded to go to bed. + +On the morrow, at no matter what o'clock, I had just finished +breakfast, when I heard a well-known footstep, and Jack Randolph burst +in upon me in his usual style. + +"Well, old chap," he cried, "where the mischief have you been for the +last two days, and what have you been doing with yourself? I heard that +you got back from Point Levi--though how the deuce you did it I can't +imagine--and that you'd gone off on horseback nobody knew where. I've +been here fifty times since I saw you last. Tell you what, Macrorie, it +wasn't fair to me to give me the slip this way, when you knew my +delicate position, and all that. I can't spare you for a single day. I +need your advice. Look here, old fellow, I've got a letter." + +And saying this, Jack drew a letter from his pocket, with a grave face, +and opened it. + +So taken up was Jack with his own affairs, that he did not think of +inquiring into the reasons of my prolonged absence. For my part, I +listened to him in a dreamy way, and, when he drew out the letter, it +was only with a strong effort that I was able to conjecture what it +might be. So much had passed since I had seen him, that our last +conversation had become very dim and indistinct in my memory. + +"Oh," said I, at last, as I began to recall the past, "the letter-- +h'm--ah--the--the widow. Oh, yes, I understand." + +Jack looked at me in surprise. + +"The widow?" said he. "Pooh, man! what are you talking about? Are you +crazy? This is from _her_--from Miss--that is--from the other one, +you know." + +"Oh, yes," said I, confusedly. "True--I remember. Oh, yes--Miss +Phillips." + +"Miss Phillips!" cried Jack. "Hang it, man, what's the matter with you +to-day? Haven't I told you all about it? Didn't I tell you what I +wouldn't breathe to another soul--that is, excepting two or three?--and +now, when I come to you at the crisis of my fate, you forget all about +it." + +"Nonsense!" said I, "The fact is, I went to bed very late, and am +scarcely awake yet. Go on, old boy, I'm all right. Well, what does she +say?" + +"I'll be hanged if you know what you're talking about," said Jack, +pettishly. + +"Nonsense! I'm all right now; go on." + +"You don't know who this letter is from." + +"Yes, I do." + +"Who is it?" said Jack, watching me with jealous scrutiny. + +"Why," said I, "it's that other one--the--hang it! I don't know her +name, so I'll call her Number Three, or Number Four, whichever you +like." + +"You're a cool hand, any way," said Jack, sulkily. "Is this the way you +take a matter of life and death?" + +"Life and death?" I repeated. + +"Life and death!" said Jack. "Yes, life and death. Why, see here, +Macrorie, I'll be hanged if I don't believe that you've forgotten every +word I told you about my scrape. If that's the case, all I can say is, +that I'm not the man to force my confidences where they are so very +unimportant." And Jack made a move toward the door. + +"Stop, Jack," said I. "The fact is, I've been queer for a couple of +days. I had a beastly time on the river. Talk about life and death! +Why, man, it was the narrowest scratch with me you ever saw. I didn't +go to Point Levi at all." + +"The deuce you didn't!" + +"No; I pulled up at Montmorency." + +"The deuce you did! How's that?" + +"Oh, never mind; I'll tell you some other time. At any rate, if I seem +dazed or confused, don't notice it. I'm coming round. I'll only say +this, that I've lost a little of my memory, and am glad I didn't lose +my life. But go on. I'm up to it now, Jack. You wrote to Number Three, +proposing to elope, and were staking your existence on her answer. You +wished me to order a head-stone for you at Anderson's, Four feet by +eighteen inches, with nothing on it but the name and date, and not a +word about the virtues, et cetera. There, you see, my memory is all +right at last. And now, old boy, what does she say? When did you get it?" + +"I got it this morning," said Jack. "It was a long delay. She is always +prompt. Something must have happened to delay her. I was getting quite +wild, and would have put an end to myself if it hadn't been for Louie. +And then, you know, the widow's getting to be a bit of a bore. Look +here--what do you think of my selling out, buying a farm in Minnesota, +and taking little Louie there?" + +"What!" I cried. "Look here, Jack, whatever you do, don't, for Heaven's +sake, get poor little Louie entangled in your affairs." + +"Oh, don't you fret," said Jack, dolefully. "No fear about her. She's +all right, so far.--But, see here, there's the letter." + +And saying this, he tossed over to me the letter from "Number Three," +and, filling a pipe, began smoking vigorously. + +The letter was a singular one. It was highly romantic, and full of +devotion. The writer, however, declined to accept of Jack's +proposition. She pleaded her father; she couldn't leave him. She +implored Jack to wait, and finally subscribed herself his till death. +But the name which she signed was "Stella," and nothing more; and this +being evidently a pet name or a _nom de plume_, threw no light whatever +upon her real personality. + +"Well," said Jack, after I had read it over about nine times, "what do +you think of that?" + +"It gives you some reprieve, at any rate," said I. + +"Reprieve?" said Jack. "I don't think it's the sort of letter that a +girl should write to a man who told her that he was going to blow his +brains out on her doorstep. It doesn't seem to be altogether the right +sort of thing under the circumstances." + +"Why, confound it, man, isn't this the very letter that you wanted to +get? You didn't really want to run away with her? You said so +yourself." + +"Oh, that's all right; but a fellow likes to be appreciated." + +"So, after all, you wanted her to elope with you?" + +"Well, not that, exactly. At the same time, I didn't want a point-blank +refusal." + +"You ought to be glad she showed so much sense. It's all the better for +you. It is an additional help to you in your difficulties." + +"I don't see how it helps me," said Jack, in a kind of growl. "I don't +see why she refused to run off with a fellow." + +Now such was the perversity of Jack that he actually felt ill-natured +about this letter, although it was the very thing that he knew was best +for him. He was certainly relieved from one of his many difficulties, +but at the same time he was vexed and mortified at this rejection of +his proposal. And he dwelt upon his disappointment until at length he +brought himself to believe that "Number Three's" letter was something +like a personal slight, if not an insult. + +He dropped in again toward evening. + +"Macrorie," said he, "there's one place where I always find sympathy. +What do you say, old fellow, to going this evening to-- + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +"BERTON'S?--BEST PLACE IN THE TOWN.--GIRLS ALWAYS GLAD TO SEE A +FELLOW.--PLENTY OF CHAT, AND LOTS OF FUN.--NO END OF LARKS, YOU KNOW, +AND ALL THAT SORT OF THING." + + +In order to get rid of my vexation, mortification, humiliation, and +general aggravation, I allowed Jack to persuade me to go that evening +to Colonel Berton's. Not that it needed much persuasion. On the +contrary, it was a favorite resort of mine. Both of us were greatly +addicted to dropping in upon that hospitable and fascinating household. +The girls were among the most lively and genial good fellows that girls +could ever be. Old Berton had retired from the army with enough fortune +of his own to live in good style, and his girls had it all their own +way. They were essentially of the military order. They had all been +brought up, so to speak, in the army, and their world did not extend +beyond it. There were three of them--Laura, the eldest, beautiful, +intelligent, and accomplished, with a strong leaning toward Ritualism; +Juna, innocent, childish, and kitten-like; and Louie, the universal +favorite, absurd, whimsical, fantastic, a desperate tease, and as +pretty and graceful as it is possible for any girl to be. An aunt did +the maternal for them, kept house, chaperoned, duennaed, and generally +overlooked them. The colonel himself was a fine specimen of the _vieux +militaire_. He loved to talk of the life which he had left behind, and +fight his battles over again, and all his thoughts were in the army. +But the girls were, of course, the one attraction in his hospitable +house. The best of it was, they were all so accustomed to homage, that +even the most desperate attentions left them heart-whole, in maiden +mediation, fancy free. No danger of overflown sentiment with them. No +danger of blighted affections or broken hearts. No nonsense there, my +boy. All fair, and pleasant, and open, and above-board, you know. +Clear, honest eyes, that looked frankly into yours; fresh, youthful +faces; lithe, elastic figures; merry laughs; sweet smiles; soft, +kindly voices, and all that sort of thing. In short, three as kind, +gentle, honest, sound, pure, and healthy hearts as ever beat. + +The very atmosphere of this delightful house was soothing, and the +presence of these congenial spirits brought a balm to each of us, which +healed our wounded hearts. In five minutes Jack was far away out of +sight of all his troubles--and in five minutes more I had forgotten all +about my late adventure, and the sorrows that had resulted from it. + +After a time, Jack gravitated toward Louie, leaving me with Laura, +talking mediaevalism. Louie was evidently taking Jack to task, and very +energetically too. Fragments of their conversation reached my ears from +time to time. She had heard something about Mrs. Finnimore, but what it +was, and whether she believed it or not, could not be perceived from +what she said. Jack fought her off skilfully, and, at last, she made an +attack from another quarter. "Oh, Captain Randolph," said she, "what a +delightful addition we're going to have to our Quebec society!" + +"Ah!" said Jack, "what is that?" + +"How very innocent! Just as if you are not the one who is most +concerned." + +"I?" + +"Of course. You. Next to me." + +"I don't understand." + +"Come, now, Captain Randolph, how very ridiculous to pretend to be so +ignorant!" + +"Ignorant?" said Jack; "ignorant is not the word. I am in Egyptian +darkness, I assure you." + +"Egyptian darkness--Egyptian nonsense! Will it help you any if I tell +you her name?" + +"Her name! Whose name? What 'her'?" + +Louie laughed long and merrily. + +"Well," said she, at length, "for pure, perfect, utter, childlike +innocence, commend me to Captain Randolph! And now, sir," she resumed, +"will you answer me one question?" + +"Certainly--or one hundred thousand." + +"Well, what do you think of Miss Phillips?" + +"I think she is a very delightful person," said Jack fluently--"the +most delightful I have ever met with, present company excepted." + +"That is to be understood, of course; but what do you think of her +coming to live here?" + +"Coming to live here!" + +"Yes, coming to live here," repeated Louie, playfully imitating the +tone of evident consternation with which Jack spoke. + +"What? Miss Phillips?" + +"Yes, Miss Phillips." + +"Here?" + +"Certainly." + +"Not here in Quebec?" + +"Yes, here in Quebec--but I _must_ say that you have missed your +calling in life. Why do you not go to New York and make your fortune as +an actor? You must take part in our private theatricals the next time +we have any." + +"I assure you," said Jack, "I never was so astonished in my life." + +"How well you counterfeit!" said Louie; "never mind. Allow me to +congratulate you. We'll overlook the little piece of acting, and regard +rather the delightful fact. Joined once more--ne'er to part--hand to +hand--heart to heart--memories sweet--ne'er to fade--all my own-- +fairest maid! And then your delicious remembrances of Sissiboo." + +"Sissiboo?" gasped Jack. + +"Sissiboo," repeated Louie, with admirable gravity. "_Her_ birth-place, +and hence a sacred spot. She used to be called 'the maid of Sissiboo'. +But, in choosing a place to live in, let me warn you against Sissiboo. +Take some other place. You've been all over New Brunswick and Nova +Scotia. Take Petitcodiac, or Washe Aemoak, or Shubenacadie, or +Memramcook, or Rechebucto, or Chiputnecticook, or the Kennebecasis +Valley. At the same time, I have my preferences for Piserinco, or Quaco." + +At all this, Jack seemed for a time completely overwhelmed, and sat +listening to Louie with a sort of imbecile smile. Her allusion to Miss +Phillips evidently troubled him, and, as to her coming to Quebec, he +did not know what to say. Louie twitted him for some time longer, but +at length he got her away into a corner, where he began a conversation +in a low but very earnest tone, which, however, was sufficiently +audible to make his remarks understood by all in the room. + +And what was he saying? + +He was disclaiming all intentions with regard to Miss Phillips. + +And Louie was listening quietly! + +Perhaps believing him!! + +The scamp!!! + +And now I noticed that Jack's unhappy tendency to--well, to +_conciliate_ ladies--was in full swing. + +Didn't I see him, then and there, slyly try to take poor little Louie's +hand, utterly forgetful of the disastrous result of a former attempt on +what he believed to be that same hand? Didn't I see Louie civilly draw +it away, and move her chair farther off from his? Didn't I see him +flush up and begin to utter apologies? Didn't I hear Louie begin to +talk of operas, and things in general; and soon after, didn't I see her +rise and come over to Laura, and Nina, and me, as we were playing +dummy? Methinks I did. Oh, Louie! Oh, Jack! Is she destined to be +Number Four! or, good Heavens! Number Forty? Why, the man's mad! He +engages himself to every girl he sees! + +Home again. + +Jack was full of Louie. + +"Such fun! such life! Did you ever see any thing like her?" + +"But the widow, Jack?" + +"Hang the widow!" + +"Miss Phillips?" + +"Bother Miss Phillips!" + +"And Number Three?" + +Jack's face grew sombre, and he was silent for a time. At length a +sudden thought seized him. + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I got a letter to-day, which I haven't +opened. Excuse me a moment, old chap." + +So saying, he pulled a letter from his pocket, opened it, and read it. + +He told me the contents. + +It was from Miss Phillips, and she told her dearest Jack that her +father was about moving to Quebec to live. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +"MACRORIE, MY BOY, HAVE YOU BEEN TO ANDERSON'S YET?"--"NO."--"WELL, +THEN, I WANT YOU ATTEND TO THAT BUSINESS OF THE STONE TO-MORROW. DON'T +FORGET THE SIZE--FOUR FEET BY EIGHTEEN INCHES; AND NOTHING BUT THE NAME +AND DATE. THE TIME'S COME AT LAST. THERE'S NO PLACE FOR ME BUT THE COLD +GRAVE, WHERE THE PENSIVE PASSER-BY MAY DROP A TEAR OVER THE MOURNFUL +FATE OF JACK RANDOLPH. AMEN. R. I. P." + + +Such was the remarkable manner in which Jack Randolph accosted me, as +he entered my room on the following day at about midnight. His face was +more rueful than ever, and, what was more striking, his clothes and +hair seemed neglected. This convinced me more than any thing that he +had received some new blow, and that it had struck home. + +"You seem hard hit, old man," said I. "Where is it? Who is it?" + +Jack groaned. + +"Has Miss Phillips come?" + +"No." + +"Is it the widow?" + +"No." + +"Number Three?" + +Jack shook his head. + +"Not duns?" + +"No." + +"Then I give up." + +"It's Louie," said Jack, with an expression of face that was as near an +approximation to what is called sheepishness as any thing I ever saw. + +"Louie?" I repeated. + +"Yes--" + +"What of her? What has she been doing? How is it possible? Good +Heavens! you haven't--" I stopped at the fearful suspicion that came to +me. + +"Yes, I have!" said Jack, sulkily. "I know what you mean. I've proposed +to her." + +I started up from the sofa on which I was lounging--my pipe dropped to +the ground--a tumbler followed. I struck my clinched fist on the table. + +"Randolph!" said I, "this is too much. Confound it, man! Are you mad, +or are you a villain? What the devil do you mean by trifling with the +affections of that little girl? By Heavens! Jack Randolph, if you carry +on this game with her, there's not a man in the regiment that won't +join to crush you." + +"Pitch in," said Jack quietly, looking at me at the same time with +something like approval. "That's the right sort of thing. That's just +what I've been saying to myself. I've been swearing like a trooper at +myself all the way here. If there's any one on earth that every fellow +ought to stand up for, it's little Louie. And now you see the reason +why I want you to attend to that little affair of the gravestone." + +At Jack's quiet tone, my excitement subsided. I picked up my pipe +again, and thought it over. + +"The fact is, Jack," said I, after about ten minutes of profound +smoking, "I think you'll have to carry out that little plan of yours. +Sell out as soon as you can, and take Louie with you to a farm in +Minnesota." + +"Easier said than done," said Jack, sententiously. + +"Done? why, man, it's easy enough. You can drop the other three, and +retire from the scene. That'll save Louie from coming to grief." + +"Yes; but it won't make her come to Minnesota." + +"Why not? She's just the girl to go anywhere with a fellow." + +"But not with Jack Randolph." + +"What humbug are you up to now? I don't understand you." + +"So I see," said Jack, dryly. "You take it for granted that because I +proposed, Louie accepted. Whereas, that didn't happen to be the case. I +proposed, but Louie disposed of me pretty effectually." + +"Mittened?" cried I. + +"Mittened!" said Jack, solemnly. "Hence the gravestone." + +"But how, in the name of wonder, did that happen?" + +"Easily enough. Louie happens to have brains. That's the shortest way +to account for her refusal of my very valuable devotions. But I'll tell +you all about it, and, after that, we'll decide about the headstone. + +"You see, I went up there this evening, and the other girls were off +somewhere, and so Louie and I were alone. The aunt was in the room, but +she soon dozed off. Well, we had great larks, no end of fun--she +chaffing and twitting me about no end of things, and especially the +widow; so, do you know, I told her I had a great mind to tell her how +it happened; and excited her curiosity by saying it all originated in a +mistake. This, of course, made her wild to know all about it, and so I +at last told her the whole thing--the mistake, you know, about the +hand, and all that--and my horror. Well, hang me, if I didn't think +she'd go into fits. I never saw her laugh so much before. As soon as +she could speak, she began to remind me of the approaching advent of +Miss Phillips, and asked me what I was going to do. She didn't appear +to be at all struck by the fact that lay at the bottom of my +disclosures; that it was her own hand that had caused the mischief, but +went on at a wild rate about my approaching 'sentimental seesaw,' as +she called it, when my whole time would have to be divided between my +two _fiancees_. She remarked that the old proverb called man a pendulum +between a smile and a tear, but that I was the first true case of a +human pendulum which she had ever seen. + +"Now the little scamp was so perfectly fascinating while she was +teasing me, that I felt myself overcome with a desperate fondness for +her; so, seeing that the old aunt was sound asleep, I blurted out all +my feelings. I swore that she was the only--" + +"Oh, omit all that. I know--but what bosh to say to a sensible girl!" + +"Well, you know, Louie held her handkerchief to her face, while I was +speaking, and I--ass, dolt, and idiot that I was--felt convinced that +she was crying. Her frame shook with convulsive shivers, that I took +for repressed sobs. I saw the little hand that held the little white +handkerchief to her face--the same slender little hand that was the +cause of my scrape with Mrs. Finnimore--and, still continuing the +confession of my love, I thought I would soothe her grief. I couldn't +help it. I was fairly carried away. I reached forward my hand, and +tried to take hers, all the time saying no end of spooney things. + +"But the moment I touched her baud, she rolled her chair back, and +snatched it away-- + +"And then she threw back her head-- + +"And then there came such a peal of musical laughter, that I swear it's +ringing in my ears yet. + +"What made it worse was, not merely what she considered the fun of my +proposal, but the additional thought that suddenly flashed upon her, +that I had just now so absurdly mistaken her emotion. For, confound it +all! as I reached out my hand, I said a lot of rubbish, and, among +other things, implored her to let me wipe her tears. This was +altogether too much. Wipe her tears! And, Heavens and earth, she was +shaking to pieces all the time with nothing but laughter. Wipe her +tears! Oh, Macrorie! Did you _ever_ hear of such an ass? + +"Well, you know she couldn't get over it for ever so long, but laughed +no end, while I sat utterly amazed at the extent to which I had made an +ass of myself. However, she got over it at last. + +"'Well,' said I, 'I hope you feel better.' + +"'Thanks, yea; but don't get into a temper. Will you promise to answer +me one question?' + +"'Certainly; most happy. If you think it worth while to do any thing +else but laugh at me, I ought to feel flattered.' + +"'Now, that's what I call temper, and you must be above such a thing. +After all, I'm only a simple little girl, and you--that is, _it_ was so +awfully absurd.' + +"And here she seemed about to burst forth afresh. But she didn't. + +"'What I was going to ask,' she began, in a very grave way, 'what I was +going to ask is this, If it is a fair question, how many of these +little entanglements do you happen to have just now?' + +"'Oh, Louie!' I began, in mournful and reproachful tones. + +"'Oh don't, don't,' she cried, covering her face, 'don't begin; I can't +stand it. If you only knew how absurd you look when you are +sentimental. You are always so funny, you know; and, when you try to be +solemn, it looks so awfully ridiculous! Now, don't--I really cannot +stand it. Please-ple-e-e-e-e-ease don't, like a good Captain Randolph.' + +"At this she clasped her hands and looked at me with such a grotesque +expression of mock entreaty, that I knocked under, and burst out +laughing. + +"She at once settled herself comfortably in her easy-chair. + +"'Now that's what I call,' said she, placidly, 'a nice, good, sensible, +old-fashioned Captain Randolph, that everybody loves, and in whose +affairs all his innumerable friends take a deep interest. And now let +me ask my question again: How many?' + +"'How many what?' said I. + +"'Oh, you know very well.' + +"'How can I know, when you won't say what you mean?' + +"'How many entanglements?' + +"'Entanglements?' + +"'Yes. Engagements, if you wish me to be so very explicit.' + +"'What nonsense! Why you know all about it, and the cause--' + +"'Ah, now, that is not frank; it isn't friendly or honest,' said the +little witch. 'Come, now. Are there as many as--as--fifty?' + +"'Nonsense!' + +"'Twenty, then?' + +"'How absurd!' + +"'Ten?' + +"'Of course not.' + +"'Five?' + +"'No.' + +"'Four?' + +"'Why, haven't I told you all?' + +"'Four,' she persisted. + +"'No--' + +"'Three, then--' + +"'It isn't fair,' said I,' to press a fellow this way.' + +"'Three?' she repeated. + +"I was silent. I'm not very quick, and was trying, in a dazed way, to +turn it off. + +"'Three!' she cried. 'Three! I knew it. Oh, tell me all about it. Oh, +do tell me! Oh, do--please tell me all. Oh, do, ple-e-e-ease tell me.' + +"And then she began, and she teased and she coaxed, and coaxed and +teased, until at last--" + +Jack hesitated. + +"Well," said I. + +"Well," said he. + +"You didn't really tell her," said I. + +"Yes, but I did," said he. + +"You didn't--you couldn't." + +"I'll be hanged if I didn't!" + +"Not about Number Three?" + +"Yes, Number Three," said Jack, looking at me with a fixed and slightly +stony stare. + +Words were useless, and I sought expression for my feelings in the more +emphatic whistle, which now was largely protracted. + +"And how did she take it?" I asked, at length, as soon as I found voice +to speak. + +"As usual. Teased me, no end. Alluded to my recent proposal. Asked me +if I had intended her to be Number Four, and declared her belief that I +had thirty rather than three. Finally, the aunt waked up, and wanted to +know what we were laughing at. Whereupon Louie said that she was +laughing at a ridiculous story of mine, about an Indian juggler who +could jeep three oranges in the air at the same time. + +"'Captain Randolph,' said she 'you know all about Frederick the Great, +of course?' + +"'Of course," I said, 'and Alexander the Great also, and Julius Caesar, +and Nebuchadnezzar, as the poet says.' + +'"Perhaps you remember,' said Louie, in a grave tone, for her aunt was +wide awake now, 'that the peculiar excellence of the genius of that +great monarch consisted in his successful efforts to encounter the +coalition raised against him. Though subject to the attacks of the +three united powers of France, Austria, and Russia, he was still able +to repel them, and finally rescued himself from destruction. Three +assailants could not overpower him, and surely others may take courage +from his example.' + +"And after that little speech I came away, and here I am." + +For some time we sat in silence. Jack did not seem to expect any +remarks from me, but appeared to be rapt in his own thoughts. For my +part, I had nothing whatever to say, and soon became equally rapt in my +meditations. + +And what were they about? + +What? Why, the usual subject which had filled my mind for the past few +days--my adventure on the river, and my mysterious companion. +Mysterious though she was, she was evidently a lady, and, though I +could not be sure about her face, I yet could feel sure that she was +beautiful. So very romantic an adventure had an unusual charm, and this +charm was heightened to a wonderful degree by the mystery of her sudden +and utter disappearance. + +And now, since Jack had been so very confidential with me, I determined +to return that confidence, and impart my secret to him. Perhaps he +could help me. At any rate, he was the only person to whom I could +think of telling it. So you see-- + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +MY ADVENTURES REHEARSED TO JACK RANDOLPH.--"MY DEAR FELLOW, YOU DON'T +SAY SO!"--"'PON MY LIFE, YES."--"BY JOVE! OLD CHAP, HOW CLOSE YOU'VE +BEEN! YOU JUST HAVE NO END OF SECRETS. AND WHAT'S BECOME OF THE LADY? +WHO IS SHE?" + + +Who is she? Ay. Who, indeed? Hadn't I been torturing my brain for +seventy-nine hours, sleeping as well as waking, with that one +unanswered and apparently unanswerable question? + +"Who is she?" repeated Jack. + +"Well," said I, "that's the very thing that I wish to find out, and I +want you to help me in it. I told you that she didn't leave any +message--" + +"But, didn't you find out her name?" + +"No." + +"By Jove! You're a queer lot. Why, I'd have found out her name the +first thing." + +"But I didn't--and now I want your help to find out not only her name, +but herself." + +At this Jack rose, loaded his pipe solemnly, and, with the air of one +who is making preparations for a work of no common kind, lighted it, +flung himself back in the easy-chair, and sent forth vast volumes of +smoke, which might have been considered as admirably symbolical of the +state of our minds. + +"Well, Macrorie," said he, at last, "I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd go +round to all the hotels, and examine the lists." + +"Pooh!" + +"Well, then, take the directory and hunt up all the names." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Why 'nonsense?'" + +"Because I don't know her name. Didn't I impress that upon your mind?" + +"By Jove!" cried Jack Randolph, after which he again relapsed into +silence. + +"See here, Macrorie," said he, at length. + +"I have it." + +"What?" + +"Go round next Sunday to all the churches." + +"What's the use of that?" + +"Go round to the churches," repeated Jack, "scan every bonnet--and +then, if you don't see her, why then, why--go to the photographic +saloons. You'll be sure to find her picture there. By Jove! Why, +Macrorie, the game's all in your own hands. These photographic saloons +are better than a whole force of detective police. There's your chance, +old man. You'll find her. Do that, and you're all right. Oh, +yes--you'll find her, as sure as my name's Jack Randolph." + +"No go, Jack," said I. "You see I couldn't recognize her even if I were +to see her." + +"Couldn't what?" + +"Couldn't recognize her." + +"You surely would know her if you saw her." + +"I don't think I should." + +"Well, of all the confounded fixes that ever I met with, this is the +greatest!" + +"That's the peculiarity of my present situation." + +Jack relapsed into smoky silence. + +"The fact is," said Jack, after a brief pause, "we've got to go to work +systematically. Now, first of all, I want to know what she looks +like." + +"Well, that's the very thing I don't know." + +"Nonsense! You must know something about it. Is she a blonde or a +brunette? You can answer that, at least." + +"I'm not sure that I can." + +"What! don't you know even the color of her complexion?" + +"When I saw her, she was as white as a sheet. Even her lips were +bloodless. You see, she was frightened out of her wits." + +"Well, then, her hair--her hair, man! Was that dark or light?" + +"I didn't see it." + +"Didn't see it?" + +"No. You see it was covered by her hood. Think of that driving sleet. +She had to cover herself up as much as she could from the terrible +pelting of the storm." + +"Well, then, I'll ask only one question more," said Jack, dryly. "I +hope you'll be able to answer it. A great deal depends upon it. In +fact, upon a true answer to this question the whole thing rests. Gather +up all your faculties now, old chap, and try to answer me correctly. No +shirking now--no humbug, for I won't stand it. On your life, Macrorie, +and, by all your future hopes, answer me this--was your friend--a woman +or a man?" + +At the beginning of this solemn question, I had roused myself and sat +upright, but at its close I flung myself down in disgust. + +"Well," said Jack, "why don't you answer?" + +"Jack," said I, severely, "I'm not in the humor for chaff." + +"Chaff! my dear fellow, I only want to get a basis of action--a base of +operations. Are you sure your friend was a woman? I'm in +earnest--really." + +"That's all rubbish--of course she was a woman--a lady--young-- +beautiful--but the anguish which she felt made her face seem like that +of Niobe, or--or--well like some marble statue representing woe or +despair, and all that sort of thing. What's the use of humbugging a +fellow? Why not talk sense, or at least hold your tongue?" + +"Don't row, old boy. You were so utterly in the dark about your friend +that I wanted to see how far your knowledge extended. I consider now +that a great point is settled, and we have something to start from. +Very well. She was really a woman!" + +"A lady," said I. + +"And a lady," repeated Jack. + +"Young?" + +"Young." + +"And beautiful as an angel," I interposed, enthusiastically. + +"And beautiful as an angel," chimed in Jack. "By-the-by, Macrorie, do +you think you would know her by her voice?" + +"Well, n--no, I don't think I would. You see, she didn't say much, and +what she did say was wrung out of her by terror or despair. The tones +of that voice might be very different if she were talking about--well, +the weather, for instance. The voice of a woman in a storm, and in the +face of death, is not exactly the same in tone or modulation as it is +when she is quietly speaking the commonplaces of the drawing-room." + +"There's an immense amount of truth in that," said Jack, "and I begin +to understand and appreciate your position." + +"Never, while I live," said I, earnestly, "will I forget the face of +that woman as I held her fainting form in my arms, and cheered her, and +dragged her back to life; never will I forget the thrilling tones of +her voice, as she implored me to leave her and save myself; but yet, as +I live, I don't think that I could recognize her face or her voice if I +were to encounter her now, under ordinary circumstances, in any +drawing-room. Do you understand?" + +"Dimly," said Jack; "yes, in fact, I may say thoroughly. You have an +uncommonly forcible way of putting it too. I say, Macrorie, you talk +just like our chaplain." + +"Oh, bother the chaplain!" + +"That's the very thing I intend to do before long." + +"Well, it'll be the best thing for you. Married and done for, you +know." + +"Nonsense! I don't mean that. It's something else--the opposite of +matrimony." + +"What is it?" + +"Oh, never mind, I'll let you know when the time comes. It's a little +idea of my own to countermine the widow. But come--don't let's wander +off. Your business is the thing to be considered now--not mine. Now +listen to me." + +"Well." + +"Let's put your case in a plain, simple, matter-of-fact way. You want +to find a person whose name you don't know, whose face you can't +recognize, and whose voice even is equally unknown. You can't give any +clew to her at all. You don't know whether she lives in Quebec or in +New York. You only know she is a woman?" + +"A lady," said I. + +"Oh, of course--a lady." + +"And an English lady," I added. "I could tell that by the tone of her +voice." + +"She may have been Canadian." + +"Yes. Many of the Canadian ladies have the English tone." + +"Well, that may be all very true," said Jack, after some moments' +thought; "but at the same time it isn't any guide at all. Macrorie, my +boy, it's evident that in this instance all the ordinary modes of +investigation are no good. Streets, churches, drawing-rooms, +photographic saloons, hotel registers, directories, and all that sort +of thing are utterly useless. We must try some other plan." + +"That's a fact," said I, "but what other plan can be thought of?" + +Jack said nothing for some time. + +He sat blowing and puffing, and puffing and blowing, apparently +bringing all the resources of his intellect to bear upon this great +problem. At last he seemed to hit upon an idea. + +"I have it!" he exclaimed. "I have it. It's the only thing left." + +"What's that?" + +"Macrorie, my boy," said Jack, with an indescribable solemnity, "I'll +tell you what we must do. Let's try-- + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +"A D V E R T I S I N G!!!" + + +"Advertising?" said I, dubiously. + +"Yes, advertising," repeated Jack. "Try it. Put a notice in all the +papers. Begin with the Quebec papers, and then send to Montreal, +Ottawa, Toronto, Hamilton, Kingston, London, and all the other towns. +After that, send notices to the leading papers of New York, +Philadelphia, Baltimore, Richmond, St. Louis, New Orleans, Cincinnati, +Portland, Chicago, Boston, and all the other towns of the United +States." + +"And while I'm about it," I added, "I may as well insert them in the +English, Irish, Scotch, French, German, Spanish, Italian, Turkish, and +Indian journals." + +"Oh, bosh!" said Jack, "I'm in earnest. What's the use of nonsense? +Really, my dear fellow, why not advertise in the Quebec papers? She'll +be sure to see it." + +"Well," said I, after some thought, "on the whole it isn't a bad idea. It +can't do any harm at any rate." + +"Harm? Why, my dear boy, it's your only chance." + +"All right, then; let's try advertising." + +And saying this, I brought out my entire writing-apparatus and +displayed it on the table. + +"Will you try your fist at it, Jack?" I asked. + +"I? nonsense! I'm no good at writing. It's as much as I can do to write +an 'I. O. U.,' though I've had no end of practice. And then, as to my +letters--you ought to see them! No, go ahead, old boy. You write, and +I'll be critic. That's about the style of thing, I fancy." + +At this I sat down and commenced the laborious task of composing an +advertisement. In a short time I had written out the following: + + +"_A gentleman who accompanied a lady across the ice on the 3d of April, +was separated from her, and since then has been anxious to find out +what became of her. Any information will console a distracted breast. +The gentleman implores the lady to communicate with him. Address Box +3,333_." + + +I wrote this out, and was so very well satisfied with it, that I read +it to Jack. To my surprise end disgust, he burst out into roars of +laughter. + +"Why, man alive!" he cried, "that will never do. You must never put out +that sort of thing, you know. You'll have the whole city in a state of +frantic excitement. It's too rubbishy sentimental. No go. Try again, +old man, but don't write any more of that sort of thing." + +I said nothing. I felt wounded; but I had a dim idea that Jack's +criticism was just. It _was_ rather sentimental. So I tried again, and +this time I wrote out something very different. + +With the following result: + + +"_If the party who crossed the ice on the 3d of April with A. Z. will +give her address, she will confer an unspeakable favor. Write to Box +No. 3,333_." + + +"Oh, that'll never do at all!" cried Jack, as I read it to him. "In +the first place, your 'A. Z.' is too mysterious; and, in the second +place, you are still too sentimental with your 'unspeakable favor.' Try +again." + +I tried again, and wrote the following: + + +"_A gentleman is anxious to learn the address of a party who +accompanied him over the ice on the 3d of April. Address Box No. +3,333_." + + +"Oh, that'll never do!" said Jack. + +"Why not?" + +"Why, man, it's too cold and formal." + +"Hang it all! What will suit you? One is too warm; another is too +cold." + +Saying this, I tried once more, and wrote the following: + + +"A. B. has been trying in vain to find the address of the party who +accompanied him over the ice on the 3d of April. Will she have the +kindness to communicate with him to Box No. 3,333?" + + +"No go," said Jack. + +"Why not?" + +"Well, you see, you call her a 'party,' and then announce that this +'party' is a woman. It won't do. I wouldn't like to call any lady a +'party.' You'll have to drop that word, old boy." + +At this I flung down the pen in despair. + +"Well, hang it!" said I. "What will do? You try it, Jack." + +"Nonsense!" said he. "I can't write; I can only criticise. Both +faculties are very good in their way. You'll have to start from another +direction. I'll tell you what to do--try a roundabout way." + +"A roundabout way?" I repeated, doubtfully. + +"Yes." + +"What's that?" + +"Why, advertise for--let me see--oh, yes--advertise for the French +driver. He was drowned--wasn't he?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, if you advertise for him, she will respond, and thus you will +come into contact with her without making a fool of yourself." + +"By Jove, Jack," said I, "that's not a bad idea! I think I get your +meaning. Of course, if she has any soul, she'll sympathize with the +lost driver. But what name shall I put?" + +"Was he a common driver? I gathered this from your story." + +"Oh, yes. It was a sleigh from the country-hired, you know, not a +private sleigh." + +"She couldn't have known his name, then?" + +"I suppose not. It looked like a sleigh picked up hap-hazard to take +her across." + +"Well, risk it, and put in an assumed name. Make up something. Any name +will do. The lady, I dare say, hasn't the smallest idea of the driver's +name. Trot out something--Napoleon Bonaparte Gris, or any thing else +you like." + +"How would Lavoisier do?" + +"Too long." + +"Well, Noir, then." + +"I don't altogether like that." + +"Rollin." + +"Literary associations," objected Jack. + +"Well, then, Le Verrier," said I, after a moment's thought. + +"Le Verrier--" repeated Jack. "Well, leave out the article, and make +it plain Verrier. That'll do. It sounds natural." + +"Verrier," said I. "And for the Christian name what?" + +"Paul," suggested Jack. + +"Paul--very well. Paul Verrier--a very good name for a Canadian. All +right. I'll insert an advertisement from his distracted parent." + +And I wrote out this: + +_Paul Verrier, of Chaudiere, left his home on the 3d of April last, to +convey a lady to Quebec across the ice. He has not since been heard of. +As the river broke up on that day, his friends are anxious to know his +fate. Any one who can give any information about those who crossed on +that date will confer a great favor on his afflicted father. Address +Pierre Verrier, Box 3,333_. + +"That's about the thing," said Jack, after I had read it to him. +"That'll fetch her down. Of course, she don't know the name of the +_habitant_ that drove her; and, of course, she'll think that this is a +notice published by the afflicted father. What then? Why, down she +comes to the rescue. Afflicted father suddenly reveals himself in the +person of the gallant Macrorie. Grand excitement--mutual explanations-- +tableau--and the curtain falls to the sound of light and joyous music." + +"Bravo, Jack! But I don't like to settle my affairs this way, and leave +yours in disorder." + +"Oh, I'm all right," said Jack. "There's no immediate danger. I'm +settling down into a state of stolid despair, you know. If it wasn't +for that last business with Louie, I could be quite calm. That's the +only thing that bothers me now." + +"I should think the widow would bother you more." + +"Well, to tell the truth, she's getting to be a bit of a bore. She's +too affectionate and _exigeante_, and all that, you know. But, then, I +always leave early. I dine with her at seven, and get away before nine. +Then I go to Louie's--or, at least, that's the way I intend to do." + +"You're going to Louie's again, then?" + +"Going to Louie's again? Why, man alive, what do you take me for? Going +again? I should think I was. Why, Louie's the only comfort I have left +on earth." + +"But Number Three?" + +Jack sighed. + +"Poor little thing!" said he. "She seems to be rather down just now. I +think she's regretting that she didn't take my offer. But I wrote her a +note to-day, telling her to cheer up, and all that." + +"But Miss Phillips? What'll you do when she comes? When will she be +here?" + +"She's expected daily." + +"That will rather complicate matters--won't it?" + +"Sufficient for the day," said Jack. + +"I tell you what it is, my boy. I feel very much struck by Louie's idea +about the three oranges. You'll find it precious hard to keep your +three affairs in motion. You must drop one or two." + +"Come, now, Macrorie--no croaking. You've got me into a placid state of +mind by telling me of your little affair. It gave me something to think +of besides my own scrapes. So don't you go to work and destroy the good +effect that you've produced. For that matter, I won't let you. I'm off, +old chap. It's fifteen minutes to three. You'd better seek your balmy +couch. No--don't stop me. You'll croak me into despair again. +Good-night, old man!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +A CONCERT.--A SINGULAR CHARACTER.--"GOD SAVE THE QUEEN."--A FENIAN.--A +GENERAL ROW.--MACRORIE TO THE RESCUE!--MACRORIE'S MAIDEN SPEECH, AND +ITS EFFECTIVENESS.--O'HALLORAN.--A STRANGE COMPANION.--INVITED TO +PARTAKE OF HOSPITALITY. + + +On the following day I sent my notice to the papers. + +On the evening of that day there was to be a concert. Everybody was +going. It was under the patronage of the military, and of course +everybody had to go. For you must know that, in a garrison-town like +Quebec, we of the military order have it all our own way. If we smile +on an undertaking, it succeeds. If we don't, it languishes. If we +frown, the only result is ruin. But, as we are generally a good-natured +lot, we smile approvingly on almost every thing. It gets to be an awful +bore; but what can we do? Societies wish our countenance at their +public gatherings, and we have to give it. Benevolent associations ask +our subscriptions; joint-stock companies wish our names; missionaries +and musicians, lawyers and lecturers, printers and preachers, tailors +and teachers, operas and oratorios, balls and Bible-meetings, funerals +and festivities, churches and concerts--in short, every thing that +lives and moves and has its being awaits the military smile. And the +smile is smiled. And so, I tell you what it is, my dear fellow, it +amounts to this, that the life of an officer isn't by any means the +butterfly existence that you imagine it to be. What with patronizing +Tom, Dick, and Harry, inspecting militia, spouting at volunteers, +subscribing to charities, buying at bazaars, assisting at concerts, +presiding at public dinners, and all that sort of thing no end, it gets +to be a pretty difficult matter to keep body and soul together. + +The concert under consideration happened to be a popular one. The best +of the regimental bands had been kindly lent to assist, and there were +songs by amateurs who belonged to the first circles in Quebec, both +civil and military. It was quite a medley, and the proceeds were +intended for some charitable purpose or other. The house was crowded, +and I could not get a seat without extreme difficulty. + +The concert went on. They sang "Annie Laurie," of course. Then followed +"La ci darem;" then "D'un Pescator Ignobile;" then "Come gentil;" then +"Auld Lang-syne;" then "Ah, mon Fils!" then "Roy's Wife of +Aldivalloch;" then "The Last Rose of Summer;" then "Allister +MacAllister;" then "The Harp that once through Tara's Halls." + +As this last song was being sung, I became aware of an old gentleman +near me who seemed to be profoundly affected. "The Last Rose of Summer" +had evidently touched him, but Tara had an overpowering effect on him. +It was sung confoundedly well, too. The band came in with a wild, +trailing strain, that was positively heart-breaking. The party just +mentioned was, as I said, old, and a gentleman, but he was tall, +robust, broad-shouldered, with eagle-like beak, and keen gray eyes that +were fitting accompaniments to so distinguished a feature. His dress +was rather careless, but his air and the expression of his face evinced +a mixture of eccentricity and a sense of superiority. At least, it had +evinced this until the singing of Tara. Then he broke down. First he +bowed his head down, resting his forehead upon his hands, which were +supported by his cane, and several deep-drawn sighs escaped him. Then +he raised his head again, and looked up at the ceiling with an evident +effort to assume a careless expression. Then he again hid his face. But +the song went on, and the melancholy frail of the accompaniment +continued, and at last the old gentleman ceased to struggle, and gave +himself up to the influence of that wonderful music. He sat erect and +rigid; his hands in front of him clasped tightly round his stick; and +his eyes fixed on vacancy; and as I looked at him I saw big tears +slowly coursing down his cheeks. + +At length the song ceased, and he impatiently dashed his tears away, +and looked furtively and suspiciously around, as though trying to see +if any one had detected his weakness. I, of course, looked away, so +that he had not the smallest reason for supposing that I had seen him. + +After this the concert went on through a varied collection of pieces, +and all the time I wondered who the old gentleman with the eagle face +and tender sensibilities might be. And in this state of wonder I +continued until the close. + +At last came the usual concluding piece--"God save the Queen." + +Of course, as everybody knows, when the national anthem is sung, it is +the fashion all over the British empire for the whole audience to rise, +and any one who remains seated is guilty of a deliberate insult to the +majesty of that empire. On this occasion, as a matter of course, +everybody got up, but I was surprised to see that the old gentleman +remained seated, with his hands clinched tightly about his cane. + +I was not the only one who bad noticed this. + +The fact is, I had got into a part of the hall which was not altogether +congenial to my taste. I had got my ticket at the door, and found that +all the reserved seats were taken up. Consequently I had to take my +chance among the general public. Now this general public happened to be +an awfully loyal public, and the moment they found that a man was among +them who deliberately kept his seat while the national anthem was being +sung, they began to get into a furious state of excitement. + +Let me say also that there was very sufficient reason for this +excitement. All Canada was agog about the Fenians. Blood had been shed. +An invasion had taken place. There was no joke about it. The Fenians +were net an imaginary danger, but a real one. All the newspapers were +full of the subject. By the Fenians every Canadian understood an +indefinite number of the disbanded veteran soldiers of the late +American war, who, having their hand in, were not willing to go back to +the monotony of a peaceful life, but preferred rather a career of +excitement. Whether this suspicion were well founded or not doesn't +make the slightest difference. The effect on the Canadian mind was the +same as if it were true. Now, since the Canadian mind was thus roused +up to this pitch of universal excitement, there existed a very general +watch for Fenian emissaries, and any of that brotherhood who showed +himself too openly in certain quarters ran a very serious risk. It was +not at all safe to defy popular opinion. And popular opinion ran +strongly toward the sentiment of loyalty. And anybody who defied that +sentiment of loyalty did it at his peril. A serious peril, too, mind +you. A mob won't stand nonsense. It won't listen to reason. It has a +weakness for summary vengeance and broken bones. + +Now, some such sort of a mob as this began to gather quickly and +menacingly round my elderly friend, who had thus so rashly shocked +their common sentiment. In a few moments a wild uproar began. + +"Put him out!" + +"Knock him down!" + +"Hustle him!" + +"He's a Fenian!" + +"Down with him!" + +"Punch his head!" + +"Hold him up, and make him stand up!" + +"Stand up, you fool!" + +"Get up!" + +"Up with him! Let's pass him out over our heads!" + +"A Fenian!" + +"We'll show him he's in bad company!" +"He's a spy!" + +"A Fenian spy!" + +"Up with him!" "Down with him!" "Pitch into him!" "Out with him!" "Toss +him!" "Hustle him!" "Punch his head!" "Throttle him!" "Level him!" +"Give it to him!" "Turn him inside out!" "Hold up his boots!" "Walk him +off!" + +All these, and about fifty thousand more shouts of a similar character, +burst forth from the maddened mob around. All mobs are alike. Any one +who has ever seen a mob in a row can understand the action of this +particular one. They gathered thick and fast around him. They yelled. +They howled. The music of the national anthem was drowned in that wild +uproar. They pressed close to him, and the savage eyes that glared on +him menaced him with something little less than death itself. + +And what did he do? + +He? + +Why he bore himself splendidly. + +As the row began, he rose slowly, holding his stick, which I now saw to +be a knotted staff of formidable proportions, and at length reared his +figure to its full height. It was a tall and majestic figure which he +revealed--thin, yet sinewy, and towering over the heads of the roaring +mob around him. + +He confronted them all with a dark frown on his brow, and blazing eyes. + +"Ye beggars!" he cried. "Come on--the whole pack of ye! A Fenian, ye +say? That's thrue for you. Ye've got one, an' ye'll find him a tough +customer! Come on--the whole thousand of ye!" + +And saying this, he swung his big, formidable knotted stick about his +head. + +Those nearest him started back, but the crowd behind rushed forward. +The row increased. The people in the reserved seats in front looked +around with anxious eyes, not knowing what was going on. + +The crowd yelled and hooted. It surged nearer. A moment more and the +tall figure would go down. + +Now, I'm a loyal man. None more so. I'm an officer and a gentleman. I'm +ready at any moment to lay down my life for the queen and the rest of +the royal family. I'm ready to pitch into the Fenians on any proper +occasion, and all that. + +But somehow this didn't seem to me to be the proper occasion. It was +not a Fenian that I saw. It was an elderly gentleman; so sensitive, +that but a few minutes before he had been struggling with his tears; so +lion-hearted, that now he drew himself up and faced a roaring, howling +mob of enemies--calmly, unflinchingly--hurling desperate defiance at +them. And was that the sort of thing that I could stand? What! to see +one man attacked by hundreds--a man like that, too--an old man, alone, +with nothing to sustain him but his own invincible pluck? Pooh! what's +the use of talking? I am an officer and a gentleman, and as such it +would have been a foul disgrace to me if I had been capable of standing +there quietly and looking at the old man at the mercies of the mob. + +But, as it happened, I did nothing of the kind. + +On the contrary, I sprang forward and stood by the side of the old man. + +"Now, look here--you fellows!" I roared--"this is all very fine, and +very loyal, but, damn it! don't it strike you that it's an infernally +cowardly thing to pitch into an old man in this style? He may be a +Fenian, and he may be Old Nick himself, but he's never done you fellows +any harm. What the devil do you mean by kicking up such a row as this? +You touch him, if you dare, that's all! You see my uniform, and you +know what I am. I'm a Bobtail. This man is my friend. He's going out +with me, and I'd like to see the fellow that will stop us." + +That's the first speech I ever made in my life, and all that I can say +is, that it was wonderfully successful. Demosthenes, and Cicero, and +the Earl of Chatham, and Burke, and Mirabeau, all rolled into one, +couldn't have been more successful. The mob rolled back. They looked +ashamed. It was a word of sense spoken in a forcible manner. And that I +take it is the essence of true oratory. + +The mob rolled back. I gave my new friend my arm. He took it. The door +was not far away. We started to go out. The people fell back, and made +way for us. After all, they were a good enough lot, and had only +yielded to a kind of panic. All mobs, I suppose, are insane. The very +fact of a mob involves a kind of temporary insanity. But these fellows +had come to their senses, and so I had no difficulty in making my way +through them along with my companion. We got out into the street +without any difficulty. My new friend held my arm, and involuntarily +made a turn to the right on leaving the door of the hall. Thus we +walked along, and for some time we walked in silence. + +At length the silence was broken by my companion. + +"Well--well--well!" he ejaculated--"to think of me, walking with a +British officer-arrum-in-arrum!" + +"Why not?" said I. + +"Why not?" said he, "why there's ivlry reason in loife. I'm a Fenian." + +"Pooh!" said I, "what's the use of bothering about politics? You're a +man, and a confoundedly plucky fellow too. Do you think that I could +stand there and see those asses pitching into you? Don't bother about +politics." + +"An' I won't," said he. "But at any reet, I feeced them. An Oirishman +niver sirrinders to an inimy. I feeced them, I did--an' I expressed +meself in shootable sintimints." + +The rich Leinster accent of my companion showed his nationality more +plainly than even his own explicit statement. But this did not at all +lessen the interest that I took in him. His sensitiveness which had +been so conspicuous, his courage which had shone so brightly, and his +impressive features, all combined to create a feeling of mingled regard +and respect for my new acquaintance. + +"By Jove!" I cried, "I never saw a pluckier fellow in my life. There +you were, alone, with a mad mob howling at you." + +"It's meself," said he, "that'll nivir be intimidected. Don't I know +what a mob is? An' if I didn't, wouldn't I feece thim all the seeme? +An' afther all I don't moind tellin' _you_ that it wasn't disrispict. +It was only a kind of abstraction, an' I wasn't conscious that it was +the national anthim, so I wasn't. I'd have stood up, if I'd knowed it. +But whin those divils began reelin' at me, I had to trait thim with +scarrun and contimpt. An' for me--I haven't much toime to live, but +what I have ye've seeved for me." + +"Oh, nonsense, don't talk about that," said I, modestly. + +"Sorr," said he, "I'm very well aware that I'm under deep +obleegeetions, an' I owe ye a debt of grateechood. Consequintly, I +insist on bein' greetful. I hold iviry British officer as me personal +inimy; but, in you, sorr, I'm sinsible of a ginirous frind. Te've +seeved me loife, so ye have, an' there's no doubt about it. We'll weeve +politics. I won't spake of the Finians. Phaylim O'Halloran isn't the +man that'll mintion onsaisonable politics, or dwell upon uncongainal +thames, so he isn't." + +"Well," said I, "Mr. O'Halloran, since you've introduced yourself, I +must give you my humble address. I'm Lieutenant Macrorie." + +"Macrorie?" said he. + +"Macrorie," said I, "of the Bobtails, and I assure you I'm very happy +to make your acquaintance." + +We walked along arm-in-arm in the most friendly manner, chatting about +things in general. I found my companion to be very intelligent and very +well informed. He had travelled much. He expressed himself fluently on +every subject, and though his brogue was conspicuous, he was evidently +a gentleman, and very well educated too. I gathered from his +conversation that he had studied at Trinity College, Dublin, and that +he had been leading a desultory sort of life in the United States for +twenty years or so. Ho had been in Canada for something less than a +year, and was anxious to get back to a more southern clime. + +Chatting thus, and arm-in-arm, we walked along. I had nothing to do, +and so I went with my new-found friend, with a vague idea of seeing him +safe home. Of course such an idea was preposterous, for he could have +got home just as well without me, but I had taken a fancy to my new +acquaintance, and found a strange charm in his conversation. He talked +incessantly and on many subjects. He discoursed on theology, +literature, science, the weather, the army, the navy, music, painting, +sculpture, photography, engraving, geology, chemistry, and on a +thousand other arts and sciences, in all of which he showed himself +deeply versed, and far beyond my depth. He had a brogue, and I had +none, but as for intellectual attainments I was only a child in +comparison with him. + +At length we reached a house where he stopped. + +"I'm infeenetely obloiged to ye," said he. "And now, won't ye koindly +condiscind to step in and parteek of me hospitalitee? It'll give me +shuprame deloight." + +After such an invitation what could I say? I had nothing to do. +Accordingly, I accepted it in a proper spirit, and, thanking him for +his kind invitation, I went in along with him. + +O'Halloran led the way in. It was a comfortable house. The parlor which +we entered was large, and a huge grate filled with blazing coals +diffused a cheerful glow. Magazines and periodicals lay on the table. +Pictures illustrative of classical scenes hung round the walls, done in +the old-fashioned style of line engraving, and representing such +subjects as Mutius Scaevola before Porsenna; Belisarius begging for an +obolus; Aeneas carrying his father from Troy; Leonidas at Thermopylae; +Coriolanus quitting Rome; Hamilcar making the boy Hannibal swear his +oath of hate against Home; and others of a similar character. + +O'Halloran made me sit in a "sleepy-hollow" easy-chair by the fire. +Beside me were two huge book-shelves crammed with books. A glance at +them showed me that they were largely of a classical order. Longinus, +Aeschylus, Demosthenes, Dindorf, Plato, Stallbaum--such were the names +that I saw in gilt letters on the backs of the volumes. + +About the room there was that air of mingled comfort and refinement +that is always suggestive of the presence of ladies. A work-basket +stood beside the table. And on a little Chinese table in a corner lay +some crochet-work. I took in all these things at a glance and while my +host was talking to me. After a time he excused himself and said that +he would call the "leedies." He retired, leaving me alone, and striving +to picture to myself-- + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +THE O'HALLORAN LADIES.--THEIR APPEARANCE.--THEIR AGES.--THEIR DRESS.-- +THEIR DEMEANOR.--THEIR CULTURE, POLISH, EDUCATION, RANK, STYLE, +ATTAINMENTS, AND ALL ABOUT THEM. + + +"Leedies," said O'Halloran, "allow me to inthrojuice to ye Captain +Macrorie, an officer on' a gintlemin, an' when I steet that he seeved +me life about a half an hour ago, ye'll see what sintimints of +grateechood are his jew." + +With these words O'Halloran entered the room, followed by two ladies +whom he thus introduced, giving my name to them, but in the abstraction +of the moment not mentioning their names to me. + +The ladies greeted me with smiles, which at once threw a new charm over +this very comfortable room, and seated themselves opposite on the other +side of the fire, so that I had the best view of them possible. + +And now the very first glance that I obtained of these ladies showed me +that I had hit upon a wonderful piece of good luck when I went to that +concert and met my new friend O'Halloran. For in beauty of face, grace +of figure, refinement of manner; in every thing that affects an +impressible man--and what man is not impressible?--these ladies were so +far beyond all others in Quebec, that no comparison could be made. The +Burton girls were nowhere. + +The elder of the two might have been--no matter--not over twenty-three +or four at any rate; while the younger was certainly not over eighteen +or nineteen. There was a good deal of similarity in their styles; both +were brunettes; both had abundance of dark, lustrous hair; both had +those dark, hazel eyes which can send such a thrill to the soul of the +impressible. For my part I thrilled, I glowed, I exulted, I rejoiced +and triumphed in the adventure which had led to such a discovery as +this. Were there any other women in Canada, in America, or in the +world, equal to them? I did not believe there were. And then their +voices--low--sweet--musical--voices which spoke of the exquisite +refinement of perfect breeding; those voices would have been enough to +make a man do or dare any thing. + +Between them, however, there were some differences. The elder had an +expression of good-natured content, and there was in her a vein of fun +which was manifest, while the younger seemed to have a nature which was +more intense and more earnest, and there was around her a certain +indefinable reserve and _hauteur_. + +Which did I admire most? + +I declare it's simply impossible to say. I was overwhelmed. I was +crushed with equal admiration. My whole soul became instinct with the +immortal sentiment--How happy could I be with either! while the +cordiality of my reception, which made me at once a friend of this +jewel of a family, caused my situation to assume so delicious an aspect +that it was positively bewildering. + +O'Halloran hadn't mentioned their names, but the names soon came out. +They were evidently his daughters. The name of the eldest I found was +Nora, and the name of the younger was Marion. The old gentleman was +lively, and gave a highly-dramatic account of the affair at the +concert, in which he represented my conduct in the most glowing light. +The ladies listened to all this with undisguised agitation, +interrupting him frequently with anxious questions, and regarding my +humble self as a sort of a hero. All this was in the highest degree +encouraging to a susceptible mind; and I soon found myself sliding off +into an easy, a frank, an eloquent, and a very delightful conversation. +Of the two ladies, the elder Miss O'Halloran took the chief share in +that lively yet intellectual intercourse. Marion only put in a word +occasionally; and, though very amiable, still did not show so much +cordiality as her sister. But Miss O'Halloran! what wit! what sparkle! +what mirth! what fun! what repartee! what culture! what refinement! +what an acquaintance with the world! what a knowledge of men and +things! what a faultless accent! what indescribable grace of manner! +what a generous and yet ladylike humor! what a merry, musical laugh! +what quickness of apprehension! what acuteness of perception! what-- +words fail. Imagine every thing that is delightful in a first-rate +conversationalist, and every thing that is fascinating in a lady, and +even then you will fail to have a correct idea of Miss O'Halloran. To +have such an idea it would be necessary to see her. + +Marion on the other hand was quiet, as I have said. Perhaps this arose +from a reticence of disposition; or perhaps it was merely the result of +her position as a younger sister. Her beautiful face, with its calm, +self-poised expression, was turned toward us, and she listened to all +that was said, and at times a smile like a sunbeam would flash over her +lovely features; but it was only at times, when a direct appeal was +made to her, that she would speak, and then her words were few, though +quite to the point. I had not, therefore, a fair chance of comparing +her with Miss O'Halloran. + +In their accent there was not the slightest sign of that rich Leinster +brogue which was so apparent in their father. This, however, may have +arisen from an English mother, or an English education. Suffice it to +say that in no respect could they be distinguished from English ladies, +except in a certain vivacity of manner, which in the latter is not +common. O'Halloran was evidently a gentleman, and his house showed that +he was at least in comfortable circumstances. What his business now +might be I could not tell. What his past had been was equally +uncertain. Was he an exiled Young Irelander? Had he been driven from +his home, or had he left it voluntarily? Whatever he was, his +surroundings and his belongings showed unmistakable signs of culture +and refinement; and as to his daughters, why, hang it! a peer of the +realm couldn't have shown more glorious specimens of perfect womanhood +than these which smiled on me in that pleasant parlor. + +Meanwhile, as I flung myself headlong into a lively conversation with +Miss O'Halloran, the old gentleman listened for a time and made +occasional remarks, but at length relapsed into himself, and after some +minutes of thought he reached out his hand and drew from among the +periodicals lying on the table-- + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +THE DAILY PAPER. + + +"By the powers!" suddenly interrupted the deep voice of O'Halloran, +breaking in upon our lively and delightful conversation. + +At which we all started as though we had been shot. + +"By the pipers!" continued O'Halloran, after some hesitation. "To think +of anybody thryin' to cross the river on the 3d! Why, that was the dee +of the breek-up." + +At these words I started in new astonishment, and for a moment didn't +know what in the world to make of it all. As for the ladies, they +didn't say a word. I didn't notice them, in fact; I had turned and was +looking at O'Halloran. + +"See here," said he. "Did you ever hear the loikes of this? '_Paul +Verrier of Chaudiere lift his homne on the 3d of Eepril last, to convee +a leedy to Quebec across the oice_;'" and he read straight through the +very advertisement which I had written and inserted in that very paper. + +What my emotions were at that moment it is difficult to describe. At +first I felt surprise, then I experienced a sense of triumph at this +striking proof of the success which my advertisement had met with, but +finally I had occasion to feel emotions which were very different from +either of these. I had turned as O'Halloran began to read those +familiar words, and after he had finished I mechanically settled myself +into my former position, partly because of the comfort of the thing, +and partly to see how perfectly impartial hearers like these ladies +would listen to this composition of mine. My chief feeling was +precisely the same as animates the artist who stands _incognito_ beside +his picture, to listen to the remarks of spectators; or the author who +hunts through papers to read the criticism on his first book. This, it +is true, was neither a picture nor a book, nor was I either an artist +or an author, yet, after all, this advertisement was a literary effort +of mine, and, what is more, it was the first one that had appeared in +print. Was it any wonder, then, that for those reasons I felt curious +to see the effect of that advertisement? + +Now, as I turned, I was in expectation of some sign of feeling on the +part of the ladies--call it surprise; call it sympathy; call it what +you will--but I certainly was not prepared for that very peculiar and +very marked effect which my humble effort at composition produced on +them. + +For there they sat--Marion erect and rigid, with her eyes fixed on her +sister, and her hand raised in attitude of warning; and Miss +O'Halloran, in the same fixed attitude, looked eagerly at Marion, her +eyes wide open, her lips parted, and one of her hands also half raised +in the involuntary expression of amazement, or the mechanical +suggestion of secrecy, Miss O'Halloran's emotion was not so strong as +that of Marion, but then her nature was more placid, and the attitude +of each was in full accordance with their respective characters. They +sat there in that attitude, altogether unconscious of me and of my +gaze, with deep emotion visible on their faces, and unmistakable, yet +why that emotion should be caused by that advertisement I could not for +the life of me imagine. + +"Well," said O'Halloran, "what do ye think of that now? Isn't that a +spicimin of thrue Canajin grade? The man threw his loife away for a +few pince." + +As O'Halloran spoke, the ladies recovered their presence of mind. They +started. Hiss O'Halloran saw my eyes fixed on her, flushed up a little, +and looked away. As for Marion, she too saw my look, but, instead of +turning her eyes away, she fixed them on me for an instant with a +strange and most intense gaze, which seemed to spring from her dark, +solemn, lustrous eyes, and pierce me through and through. But it was +only for an instant. Then her eyes fell, and there remained not a trace +of their past excitement in either of them. + +I confess I was utterly confounded at this. These two ladies perceived +in that advertisement of mine a certain meaning which showed that they +must have some idea of the cause of the fate of the imaginary Verrier. +And what was this that they knew; and how much did they know? Was it +possible that they could know the lady herself? It seemed probable. + +The idea filled me with intense excitement, and made me determine here +on the spot, and at once, to pursue my search after the unknown lady. +But how? One way alone seemed possible, and that was by telling a +simple, unvarnished tale of my own actual adventure. + +This decision I reached in little more than a minute, and, before +either of the ladies had made a reply to O'Halloran's last remark, I +answered him in as easy a tone as I could assume. + +"Oh," I said, "I can tell you all about that." + +"You!" cried O'Halloran. + +"You!" cried Miss O'Halloran. + +"You!" cried Marion, and she and her sister fixed their eyes upon me +with unmistakable excitement, and seemed to anticipate all that I might +be going to say. + +This, of course, was all the more favorable to my design, and, seeing +such immediate success, I went on headlong. + +"You see," said I, "I put that notice in myself." + +"_You_!" cried O'Halloran, Miss O'Halloran, Marion, +this time in greater surprise than before. + +"Yes," said I. "I did it because I was very anxious to trace some one, +and this appeared to be the way that was at once the most certain, and +at the same time the least likely to excite suspicion." + +"Suspicion?" + +"Yes--for the one whom I wished to trace was a lady." + +"A lady!" said O'Halloran. "Aha! you rogue, so that's what ye'er up to, +is it? An' there isn't a word of truth in this about Verrier?" + +"Yes, there is," said I, "He was really drowned, but I don't know his +name, and Paul Terrier, and the disconsolate father, Pierre, are +altogether imaginary names. But I'll tell you all about it." + +"Be dad, an' I'd be glad if ye would, for this exorjium sthrikes me as +the most schupindous bit of schamin that I've encounthered for a month +of Sundays." + +While I was saying this, the ladies did not utter a single syllable. +But if they were silent, it was not from want of interest. Their eyes +were fixed on mine as though they were bound to me by some powerful +spell; their lips parted, and, in their intense eagerness to hear what +it was that I had to say, they did not pretend to conceal their +feelings. Miss O'Halloran was seated in an arm-chair. Her left arm +leaned upon it, and her hand mechanically pressed her forehead as she +devoured me with her gaze. Marion was seated on a common chair, and sat +with one elbow on the table, her hands clasped tight, her body thrown +slightly forward, and her eyes fixed on mine with an intensity of gaze +that was really embarrassing. + +And now all this convinced me that they must know all about it, and +emboldened me to go on. Now was the time, I felt, to press my search +--now or never. + +So I went on-- + +"Conticuere omnes, intentique ora tenebaut Inde toro Sandy Macrorie +sic orsus ab alto: Infandum, Regina, jubes renovare dolorem." + +That's about it. Rather a hackneyed quotation, of course, but a fellow +like me isn't supposed to know much about Latin, and it is uncommonly +appropriate. And, I tell you what it is, since Aeneas entertained Dido +on that memorable occasion, few fellows have had such an audience as +that which gathered round me, as I sat in that hospitable parlor, and +told about my adventure on the ice. + +Such an audience was enough to stimulate any man. I felt the stimulus. +I'm not generally considered fluent, or good at description, and I'm +not much of a talker; but all that I ever lacked on ordinary occasions +I made amends for on that evening. I began at the beginning, from the +time I was ordered off. Then I led my spellbound audience over the +crumbling ice, till the sleigh came. Then I indulged in a thrilling +description of the runaway horse and the lost driver. Then I portrayed +the lady floating in a sleigh, and my rescue of her. Of course, for +manifest reasons, which every gentleman will appreciate, I didn't bring +myself forward more prominently than I could help. Then followed that +journey over the ice, the passage of the ice-ridge, the long, +interminable march, the fainting lady, the broad channel near the +shore, the-white gleam of the ice-cone at Montmorency, my wild leap, +and my mad dash up the bank to the Frenchman's house. + +Up to this moment my audience sat, as I have before remarked, I think, +simply spellbound. O'Halloran was on one side of me, with his chin on +his breast, and his eyes glaring at me from beneath his bushy eyebrows. +Marion sat rigid and motionless, with her hands clasped, and her eyes +fixed on the floor. Miss O'Halloran never took her eyes off my face, +but kept them on mine as though they were riveted there. At times she +started nervously, and shifted her position, and fidgeted in her chair, +but never did she remove her eyes. Once, when I came to the time when I +led my companion over the ice-ridge, I saw a shudder pass through her. +Once again, when I came to that moment when my companion fainted, +Marion gave a kind of gasp, and I saw Miss O'Halloran reach out her +hand, and clasp the clinched hands of her sister; but with these +exceptions there was no variation in their attitude or manner. + +And now I tuned my harp to a lighter strain, which means that I +proceeded to give an account of my journey after the doctor, his start, +my slumbers, my own start, our meeting, the doctor's wrath, my +pursuasion, our journey, our troubles, our arrival at the house, our +final crushing disappointment, the doctor's brutal raillery, my own +meekness, and our final return home. Then, without mentioning Jack +Randolph, I explained the object of the advertisement-- + +"Sic Sandy Macrorie, intentis omnibus, unus Fata renarrabat Divum, +cursusque docebat, Conticuit taudem--" + +[Hack Latin, of course, but then, you know, if one does quote Latin, +that is the only sort that can be understood by the general reader.] + +The conclusion of my story produced a marked effect. O'Halloran roused +himself and sat erect with a smile on his face and a good natured +twinkle in his eyes. Miss O'Halloran lowered her eyes and held down her +head, and once, when I reached that point in my story where the bird +was flown, she absolutely laughed out. Marion's solemn and beautiful +face also underwent a change. A softer expression came over it; she +raised her eyes and fixed them with burning intensity on mine. Her +hands relaxed the rigid clasp with which they had held one a another, +and she settled herself into an easier position on the chair. + +"Well, be jakers!" exclaimed one O'Halloran when I had concluded, "it +bates the wurruld. What a lucky dog ye are! Advintures come tumblin' +upon ye dee afther dee. But will ye ivor foind the leedee?" + +I shook my head. + +"I'm afraid not," said I, disconsolately. "I put out that advertisement +with a faint hope that the lady's sympathy with the unfortunate driver +might lead her to make herself known." + +At this point the ladies rose. It getting late, and they bade adieu and +retired. Marion went out rather abruptly, Miss O'Halloran rather +slowly, and not without a final smile of bewitching sweetness. I was +going too, but O'Halloran would not think of it. He declared that the +evening had just begun. Now that the ladies were gone we would have the +field to ourselves. He assured me that I had nothing in particular to +do, and might easily wait and join him in "something warrum." + + + + +Chapter XVII. + + +"SOMETHIN' WARRUM." + + +I must say I was grievously disappointed at the departure of the +ladies. It was late enough in all conscience for such a move, but the +time had passed quickly, and I was not aware of how late it was. +Besides, I had hoped that something would fall from them that would +throw light on the great mystery. But nothing of the kind occurred. +They retired without saying any thing more than the commonplaces of +social life. What made it worse was, the fact that my story has +produced such a tremendous effect on both of them. That could not be +concealed. They evidently knew something about the lady whom I had +rescued; and, if they chose, they could put me in the way of discovery. +Then, in Heaven's name, why didn't they? Why did they go off in this +style, without a word, leaving me a prey to suspense of the worst kind? +It was cruel. It was unkind. It was ungenerous. It was unjust. It was +unfair. + +One thing alone remained to comfort and encourage me, and that was the +recollection of Miss O'Halloran's bewitching smile. The sweetness of +that smile lingered in my memory and seemed to give me hope. I would +see her again. I would ask her directly, and she would not have the +heart to refuse. Marion's graver face did not inspire that confident +hope which was caused by the more genial and sympathetic manner of her +sprightly elder sister. + +Such was my thoughts after the ladies had taken their departure. But +these thoughts were soon interrupted and diverted to another channel. +O'Halloran rang for a servant and ordered up what he called "somethin' +warrum." That something soon appeared in the shape of two decanters, a +kettle of hot water, a sugar bowl, tumblers, wine-glasses, spoons, and +several other things, the list of which was closed by pipes and +tobacco. + +O'Halloran was beyond a doubt an Irishman, and a patriotic one at that, +but for "somethin' warrum" he evidently preferred Scotch whiskey to +that which is produced on the Emerald Sod. Beneath the benign +influences of this draught he became more confidential, and I grew more +serene. We sat. We quaffed the fragrant draught. We inhaled the +cheerful nicotic fumes. We became friendly, communicative, sympathetic. + +O'Halloran, however, was more talkative than I, and consequently had +more to say. If I'm not a good talker, I'm at least an excellent +listener, and that was all my new friend wanted. And so he went on +talking, quite indifferent as to any answers of mine; and, as I always +prefer the ease of listening to the drudgery of talking, we were both +well satisfied and mutually delighted. + +First of all, O'Halloran was simply festive. He talked much about my +adventure and criticised it from various points of view, and gayly rallied +me about the lost "gyerrul." + +From a consideration of me circumstances, he wandered gradually away to +his own. He lamented his present position in Quebec, which place he +found insufferably dull. + +"I'd lave it at wanst," he said, "if I wern't deteened here by the +cleems of jewty. But I foind it dull beyond all exprission. Me only +occupeetion is to walk about the sthraits and throy to preserve the +attichood of shuparior baying, But I'm getting overwarrun an' toired +out, an' I'm longing for the toime when I can bid ajoo to the counthry +with its Injins an' Canajians." + +"I don't see what you can find to amuse yourself with," said I, +sympathetically. + +"Oh," said he, "I have veerious pushoots. I've got me books, an' I +foind imploymint an' amusemint with thim." + +And now he began to enlarge on the theme of books, and he went on in +this way till he became eloquent, enthusiastic, and glorious. He +quaffed the limpid and transparent liquid, and its insinuating +influences inspired him every moment to nobler flights of fancy, of +rhetoric, and of eloquence. He began to grow learned. He discoursed +about the Attic drama; the campaigns of Hannibal; the manners and +customs of the Parthians; the doctrines of Zoroaster; the wars of +Hercalius and Chosroes; the Comneni; the Paleologi; the writings of +Snorro Sturlesson; the round towers of Ireland; the Phoenician origins +of the Irish people proved by Illustrations from Plautus, and a hundred +other things of a similar character. + +"And what are you engaged upon now?" I asked, at length, as I found +myself fairly lost amid the multiplicity of subjects which he brought +forward. + +"Engeeged upon?" he exclaimed, "well--a little of iviry thing, but this +dee I've been busy with a rayconsthruction of the scholastic thaories +rilitiv to the jureetion of the diluge of Juceelion. Have ye ivir +persued the thraitises of the Chubingen school about the Noachic +diluge?" + +"No." + +"Well, ye'll find it moighty foine an' insthructive raidin'. But in +addition to this, I've been investigarin' the subject of maydyayvil +jools." + +"Jools?" I repeated, in an imbecile way. + +"Yis, jools," said O'Halloran, "the orjil, ye know, the weeger of +battle." + +"Oh, yes," said I, as light burst in upon me; "duels, I understand." + +"But the chafe subject that I'm engeeged upon is a very different one," +he resumed, talking another swallow of the oft-replenished draught. +"It's a thraitise of moine which I ixplict to upsit the thaories of +the miserable Saxon schaymers that desthort the pleen facts of +antiquetee to shoot their own narrow an' disthortid comprayhinsions. +An' I till ye what--whin my thraitise is published, it'll make a +chumult among thim that'll convulse the litherary wurruld." + +"What is your treatise about?" I asked, dreamily, for I only half +comprehended him, or rather, I didn't comprehend him at all. + +"Oh," said he, "its a foine subject intoirely. It's a thraitise +rilitiv' to the Aydipodayan Ipopaya." + +"What's that?" I asked. "The what?--" + +"The Aydipodayan Ipopaya," said O'Halloran. + +"The Aydipodayan Ipopaya?" I repeated, in a misty, foggy, and utterly +woe-be-gone manner. + +"Tis," said he, "an' I'd like to have your opinion about that same," +saying which, he once more filled his oft-replenished tumbler. + +It was too much. The conversation was getting beyond my depth. I had +followed him in a vague and misty way thus far, but this Aydipodayan +Ipopaya was an obstacle which I could not in any way surmount. I halted +short, full in front of that insurmountable obstacle. So far from +surmounting it, I couldn't even pretend to have the smallest idea what +it was. I could not get over it, and therefore began to think of a +general retreat. + +I rose to my feet. + +"Ye're not going yit?" he said. + +"Yes, but I am," said I. + +"Why, sure it's airly enough," said he. + +"Yes," said I, "it's early enough, but it's early the wrong way. It's +now," said I, taking out my watch, "just twenty minutes of four. I must +be off--really." + +"Well," said O'Halloran, "I'm sorry ye're going, but you know best what +you must do." + +"And I'm sorrier," said I, "for I've spent a most delightful evening." + +"Sure an' I'm glad to hear ye say that. And ye'll come again, won't +ye?" + +"Nothing would give me greater pleasure." + +"Come to-morrow night thin," said he. + +"I shall be only too happy," said I; and with these words I took my +departure. + +I went home, and went to bed at once. But I lay awake, a prey to many +thoughts. Those thoughts did not refer to O'Halloran, or to his +Aydipodayan Ipopaya. On the contrary, they referred altogether to the +ladies, and to the manner in which they had heard my narrative. + +What was the meaning of that? + +And my speculations on this passed on even into my dreams, and thus +carried me away into + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +THE FOLLOWING MORNING.--APPEARANCE OF JACK RANDOLPH.--A NEW +COMPLICATION.--THE THREE ORANGES.--DESPERATE EFFORTS Of THE JUGGLER. +--HOW TO MAKE FULL, AMPLE, COMPLETE, AND MOST SATISFACTORY +EXPLANATIONS.--MISS PHILLIPS!--THE WIDOW!!--NUMBER THREE!!!--LOUIE +RAPIDLY RISING INTO GREATER PROMINENCE ON THE MENTAL AND SENTIMENTAL +HORIZON OF JACK RANDOLPH. + + +"Well, old chap," cried Jack, as he burst into my room on the following +morning, "what the mischief were you doing with yourself all last +night? Come, out with it. No humbug. I was here at twelve, lighted up, +and smoked till--yes--I'll be hanged if it wasn't half-past two. And +you didn't come. What do you mean, my good fellow, by that sort of +thing?" + +"Oh," said I, meekly, "I was passing the evening with a friend." + +"The evening! The night you mean." + +"Well, it was rather late," said I. "The fact is, we got talking, and I +was telling him about my adventure on the ice. We had been at the +concert first, and then I went with him to his quarters. By-the-way, +why weren't you there?" + +In this dexterous way I parried Jack's question, for I did not feel +inclined just yet to return his confidence. I am by nature, as the +reader must by this time have seen, uncommonly reticent and reserved, +and I wasn't going to pour out my story and my feelings to Jack, who +would probably go and tell it everywhere before the close of the day. + +"The concert!" cried Jack, contemptuously--"the concert! My dear boy, +are you mad? What's a concert to me or I to a concert? A concert? My +dear fellow, what kind of an idea have you formed of me, if you think +that I am capable of taking part in any festive scene when my soul is +crushed under such an accumulated burden of fuss and bother?" + +"What, are you bothered still? Haven't you begun to see your way +through the woods?" + +"See my way?" cried Jack. "Why, it's getting worse and worse--" + +"Worse? I thought you had reached the worst when you were repulsed by +Louie. What worse thing can happen than that? Weren't all your thoughts +on death intent? Didn't you repeat your order for a gravestone?" + +"True, old boy; very correct; but then I was just beginning to rally, +you know, and all that, when down comes a new bother, and, if I weren't +so uncommonly fruitful in resource, this day would have seen an end of +Jack Randolph. I see you're rather inclined to chaff me about the +gravestone, but I tell you what it is, Macrorie, if this sort of thing +continues you'll be in for it. I've pulled through this day, but +whether I can pull through to-morrow or not is a very hard thing to +say." + +At this Jack struck a match, and solemnly lighted his pipe, which all +this time he had been filling. + +"'Pon my word, old chap," said I, "you seem bothered again, and +cornered, and all that. What's up? Any thing new? Out with it, and pour +it info this sympathetic ear." + +Jack gave about a dozen solemn puffs. Then he removed his pipe with his +left hand. Then with his right hand he stroked his brow. Then he said, +slowly and impressively: + +"_She's here!_" + +"She!" I repeated. "What she? Which? When? How?" + +"Miss Phillips!" said Jack. + +"Miss Phillips!" I cried. "Miss Phillips! Why, haven't you been +expecting her? Didn't she write, and tell you that she was coming, and +all that?" + +"Yes; but then you know I had half an idea that something or other +would turn up to prevent her actual arrival. There's many a slip, you +know, 'tween cup and lip. How did I know that she was really coming? It +didn't seem at all probable that any thing so abominably embarrassing +should be added to all my other embarrassments." + +"Probable? Why, my dear fellow, it seems to me the most probable thing +in the world. It's always so. Misfortunes never come single. Don't you +know that they always come in clusters? But come, tell me all about it. +In the first place, you've seen her, of course?" + +"Oh, of course. I heard of her arrival yesterday morn, and went off at +once to call on her. Her reception of me was not very flattering. She +was, in fact, most confoundedly cool. But you know my way. I felt +awfully cut up, and insisted on knowing the reason of all this. Then it +all came out." + +Jack paused. + +"Well, what was it?" + +"Why, confound it, it seems that she had been here two days, and had +been expecting me to come every moment. Now, I ask you, Macrorie, as a +friend, wasn't that rather hard on a fellow when he's trying to do the +very best he can, and is over head and ears in all kinds of +difficulties? You know," he continued, more earnestly, "the awful +bothers I've had the last few days. Why, man alive, I had only just got +her letter, and hadn't recovered from the shock of that. And now, while +I was still in a state of bewilderment at such unexpected news, here +she comes herself! And then she begins to pitch into me for not calling +on her before." + +"It was rather hard, I must confess," said I, with my never-failing +sympathy; "and how did it all end?" + +Jack heaved a heavy--a very heavy--sigh. + +"Well," said he, "it ended all right--for the time. I declared that I +had not expected her until the following week; and, when she referred +to certain passages in her letter, I told her that I had misunderstood +her altogether, which was the solemn fact, for I swear, Macrorie, I +really didn't think, even if she did come, that she'd be here two or +three days after her letter came. Two or three days--why, hang it all, +she must have arrived here the very day I got her letter. The letter +must have come through by land, and she came by the way of Portland. +Confound those abominable mails, I say! What business have those +wretched postmasters to send their letters through the woods and snow? +Well, never mind. I made it up all right." + +"All right?" + +"Oh, yes. I explained it all, you know. I cleared up every thing in the +completest way. In fact, I made a full, ample, intelligible, and +perfectly satisfactory explanation of the whole thing. I showed that it +was all a mistake, you know--that I was humbugged by the mails, and all +that sort of thing, you know. So she relented, and we made it all up, +and I took her out driving, and we had a glorious time, though the +roads were awful--perfect lakes, slush no end, universal thaw, and all +that. But we did the drive, and I promised to go there again to-day." + +"And did you call on the widow?" + +"Oh, yes; but before I went there I had to write a letter to Number +Three." + +"Number Three! You must have had your hands full?" + +"Hands full? I should think I had, my boy. You know what agony writing +a letter is to me. It took me two hours to get through it. You see I +had written her before, reproaching her for not running off with me, +and she had answered me. I got her answer yesterday morning. She wrote +back a repetition of her reason for not going, and pleaded her father, +who she said would go mad if she did such a thing. Between you and me, +Macrorie, that's all bosh. The man's as mad as a March hare now. But +this wasn't all. What do you think? She actually undertook to haul me +over the coals about the widow." + +"What! has she heard about it?" + +"Oh, yes. Didn't I tell you before that she kept the run of me pretty +closely? Well, she's evidently heard all about me and the widow, and +accordingly, after a brief explanation about her father, she proceeded +to walk into me about the widow. Now that was another shock. You see, +the fact is, I pitched into her first for this very reason, and +thought, if I began the attack, she'd have to take up a strictly +defensive attitude. But she was too many guns for me. No go, my boy. +Not with Number Three. She dodged my blow, and then sprang at me +herself, and I found myself thrown on my defence. So you see I had to +write to her at once." + +Jack sighed heavily, and quaffed some Bass. + +"But how the mischief could you handle such a subject? Two hours! I +should think so. For my part, I don't see how you managed it at all." + +"Oh, I got through," said Jack. "I explained it all, you know. I +cleared up every thing in the completest way. In fact, I made a full, +perfect, intelligible, ample, and satisfactory explanation--" + +"Oh, that's all downright bosh now, old boy," I interrupted. "How could +you explain it? It can't be explained." + +"But I did though," said Jack. "I don't remember how. I only know the +letter struck me as just the thing, and I dropped it into the +post-office when on my way to the widow's." + +"The widow's?" + +"Yes, as soon as I finished the letter, I hurried off to the widow's." + +"By Jove!" I cried, aghast "So that's the style of thing, is it? Look +here, old man, will you allow me to ask you, in the mildest manner in +the world, how long you consider yourself able to keep up this sort of +thing?" + +"Allow you? Certainly not. No questions, old chap. I don't question +myself, and I'll be hanged if I'll let anybody else. I'm among the +breakers. I'm whirling down-stream. I have a strong sense of the +aptness of Louie's idea about the juggler and the oranges. But the +worst of it is, I'm beginning to lose confidence in myself." + +And Jack leaned his head back, and sent out a long beam of smoke that +flew straight up and hit the ceiling. After which he stared at me in +unutterable solemnity. + +"Well," said I, "go on. What about the widow?" + +"The widow--oh--when I got there I found another row." + +"Another?" + +"Yes, another--the worst of all. But by this time I had grown used to +it, and I was as serene as a mountain-lake." + +"But--the row--what was it about?" + +"Oh, she had heard about my engagement to Miss Phillips, and her +arrival; so she at once began to talk to me like a father. The way she +questioned me--why the Grand Inquisitor is nothing to it. But she +didn't make any thing by it. You see I took up the Fabian tactics and +avoided a direct engagement." + +"How's that?" + +"Why, I wouldn't answer her." + +"How could you avoid it?" + +"Pooh I--easy enough--I sat and chaffed her, and laughed at her, and +called her jealous, and twitted her, no end. Well, you know, at last +she got laughing herself, and we made it all up, and all that sort of +thing, you know; still, she's very pertinacious, and even after we made +up she teased and teased, till she got an explanation out of me." + +"An explanation! What, another?" + +"Oh, yes--easy enough--I explained it all, you know, I cleared up every +thing perfectly. I made an ample, intelligible, full, frank, and +thoroughly satisfactory explanation of the whole thing, and--" + +"What, again? Hang it, Jack, don't repeat yourself. This is the third +time that you've repeated those words _verbatim_." + +"Is it? Did I? Odd, too. Fact is, I believe I made up that sentence for +my letter to Number Three, and I suppose I've got it by heart. At any +rate, it's all right You see I had three explanations to make, and they +all had to be full, frank, ample, satisfactory, and all the rest of +those words, you know. But it's awfully hard work. It's wearing on the +constitution. It destroys the nervous system. I tell you what it is, +old chap--I'm serious--if this sort of thing is to go on, hang it, I'll +die of exhaustion." + +"So that was the end of your troubles for that day?" + +"Well--yes--but not the end of my day. I got away from the widow by +eight o'clock, and then trotted over to Louie." + +"Louie?" + +"Yes, Louie. Why, man--why not?" + +"What, after the late mitten?" + +"Mitten? of course. What do you suppose I care for that? Isn't Louie +the best friend I have? Isn't she my only comfort? Doesn't she give +magnificent advice to a fellow, and all that? Louie? Why, man alive, +it's the only thing I have to look forward to! Of course. Well, you +see, Louie was luckily disengaged. The other girls were at whist with +their father and the aunt. So I had Louie to myself." + +"I hope you didn't do the sentimental again." + +"Sentimental? Good Lord! hadn't I been overwhelmed and choked with +sentiment all day long? Sentiment? Of all the bosh--but, never mind. +Louie at least didn't bother me in that way. Yes, it's a fact, +Macrorie, she's got an awful knack of giving comfort to a fellow." + +"Comfort?" + +"Well, I can't exactly explain it." + +"I suppose she was very sad, and sympathetic, and all that. At any +rate, she didn't know the real trouble that you'd been having?" + +"Didn't she, though?" + +"No, of course not; how could she?" + +"Why, she began questioning me, you know." + +"Questioning you?" + +"Yes--about--the three oranges, you know." + +"Well, and how did you manage to fight her off?" + +"Fight her off?" + +"Yes." + +"Why, I couldn't." + +"Couldn't?" + +"No." + +"Nonsense! A fellow that could baffle the widow, wouldn't have any +trouble in baffling Louie." + +"Oh, that's all very well; but you don't know the peculiar way she goes +to work. She's such an awful tease. And she keeps at it too, like a +good fellow." + +"Still you were safe from her by reason of the very fact that your +daily adventures were things that you _could_ not tell her." + +"Couldn't I, though?" + +"Of course not." + +"I don't see why not." + +"Impossible." + +"But I _did_." + +"You did?" + +"I did." + +"To Louie?" + +"Yes, to Louie." + +Again my thoughts and feelings found expression in a whistle. + +"You see," resumed Jack, "she badgered and questioned, and teased and +teased, till at last she got it all out of me. And the way she took it! +Laughing all the time, the provoking little witch, her eyes dancing +with fun, and her soul in a perfect ecstasy over my sorrows. I was +quiet at first, but at length got huffy. You see if she cared for a +fellow she ought to pity him instead of laughing at him." + +"But she doesn't pretend to care for you--and lucky for her too." + +"That's true," said Jack, dolefully. + +"But what did she say about it?" + +"Say? Oh, she teased and teased, and then when she had pumped me dry +she burst out into one of her fits-and then I got huffy-and she at once +pretended to be very demure, the little sinner, though I saw her eyes +twinkling with fun all the time. And at last she burst out: + +"'Oh, Captain Randolph! You're so awfully absurd. I can't help it, I +must laugh. Now ain't you awfully funny? Confess. Please confess, +Captain Randolph. Ple-e-e-ease do, like a good Captain Randolph. +Ple-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ease!' + +"So my grim features relaxed, and I looked benignly at her, whereupon +she burst out laughing again in my face. + +"'Well, I can't help it, I'm sure,' she said. 'You do look so droll. +You try to make me laugh, and I laugh, and can't help it, and then you +blame me for doing the very thing you make me do, and I think it's a +shame--there, now." + +"Whereupon she began to pout, and look hurt, and so, you know, I had to +go to work and explain to her." + +"What! not another explanation, I hope. A 'full, frank, free, fresh, +ample,' and all that sort of thing, I suppose." + +"Oh, bother, chaff! I'm in earnest. I merely explained that I didn't +take any offence from her laughter, but that I thought that if she +cared for a fellow she wouldn't laugh at him. + +"'But, I never said I cared for you,' said she. + +"'Oh, well--you know what I mean--you're my friend, you know, and my +only comfort,' said I. + +"At this she went off again. + +"'Well, then,' said I, 'what are you?' + +"She sat and thought. + +"'Well,' said she, 'I won't be your friend, for that's too cold; I +won't be your sister, for that's too familiar. Let me see--what ought I +to be? I can't be your guardian, for I'm too volatile--what, then, can +I be? Oh, I see! I'll tell you, Captain Randolph, what I'll be. I'll +pretend that I'm your aunt. There, sir.' + +"'Well, then,' said I, 'my own dear aunt.' + +"'No. That won't do--you are always absurd when you grow affectionate +or sentimental. You may call me aunt--but no sentiment.' + +"'Well, Aunt Louie.' + +"She demurred a little, but finally, I gained my point. After this she +gave me some good advice, and I left and came straight to you, to find +your room empty." + +"Advice? You said she gave you advice? What was it?" + +"Well, the advised me to get immediate leave of absence, and go home +for a time. I could then have a breathing-space to decide on my +future." + +"Capital! Why, what a perfect little trump Louie is! Jack, my boy, +that's the very thing you'll have to do." + +Jack shook his head. + +"Why not?" + +He shook his head again. + +"Well, what did you say to Louie?" + +"Why, I told her that it was impossible. She insisted that it was the +very thing I ought to do, and wanted to know why I wouldn't. I refused +to tell, whereupon she began to coax and tease, and tease and coax, and +so the end of it was, I told her." + +"What was it?" + +"Why, I told her I couldn't think of going away where I couldn't see +her; that I would hare blown my brains out by this time if it weren't +for her; and that I'd blow my brains out when I went home, if it +weren't for the hope of fleeing her to-morrow." + +"The devil you did!" said I, dryly. "What! after being mittened?" + +"Yes," said Jack. "It was on my mind to say it, and I said it." + +"And how did Louie take it?" + +"Not well. She looked coolly at me, and said: + +"'Captain Randolph, I happened to be speaking sensibly. You seemed to +be in earnest when you asked for my opinion, and I gave it.' + +"'And I was in earnest,' I said. + +"'How very absurd!' said she. 'The fable of the shepherd-boy who cried +wolf, is nothing to you. It seems to be a fixed habit of yours to go +about to all the young ladies of your acquaintance threatening to blow +your brains out. Now, in getting up a sentiment for my benefit, you +ought at least to have been original, and not give to me the same +second-hand one which you had already sent to Number Three.' + +"She looked so cold, that I felt frightened. + +"'You're--you're--not offended?' said I. 'I'm sure--' + +"'Oh, no,' said she, interrupting me; 'I'm not offended. I'm only +disappointed in you. Don't apologize, for you'll only make it worse.' + +"'Well,' said I, 'I'm very much obliged to you for your advice--but +circumstances over which I have no control prevent me from taking it. +There--is that satisfactory?' + +"'Quite, 'said Louie, and her old smile returned. + +"'Do you wish me to tell you what the circumstances are?' + +"'Oh, no--oh, don't--' she cried, with an absurd affectation of +consternation. 'Oh, Captain Randolph--please. Ple-e-e-aase, Captain +Randolph--don't.' + +"So I didn't." + +"Well, Jack," said I, "how in the world did you manage to carry on such +conversations when the rest of the family were there? Wouldn't they +overhear you?" + +"Oh, no. You see they were in one room at their whist, and we were in +the other. Besides, we didn't speak loud enough for them to hear-- +except occasionally." + +"So Louie didn't take offence." + +"Oh, no, we made it up again at once. She gave me a beaming smile as I +left. I'll see her again this evening." + +"And the others through the day?" + +"Oh, yes," said Jack, with a sigh. + +"Miss Phillips?" + +"Of course--and then I get a note from Number Three, requiring an +immediate answer--and then off I go to the widow, who will have a new +grievance; and then, after being used up by all these, I fly to Louie +for comfort and consolation." + +I shook my head. + +"You're in for it, old chap," I said, solemnly, "and all that I can say +is this: Take Louie's advice, and flit." + +"Not just yet, at any rate," said Jack, rising; and with these words he +took his departure. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +O'HALLORAN'S AGAIN.--A STARTLING REVELATION.--THE LADY OF THE ICE. +--FOUND AT LAST.--CONFUSION, EMBARRASSMENT, RETICENCE, AND SHYNESS, +SUCCEEDED BY WIT, FASCINATION, LAUGHTER, AND WITCHING SMILES. + + +After waiting impatiently all day, and beguiling the time in various +ways, the hour at length came when I could go to O'Halloran's. I +confess, my feelings were of rather a tumultuous description. I would +see the ladies again. I would renew my endeavors to find out the great +mystery of the ice. Such were my intentions, and I had firmly resolved +to make direct questions to Nora and Marion, and see if I couldn't +force them, or coax them, or argue them, into an explanation of their +strange agitation. Such an explanation, I felt, would be a discovery of +the object of my search. + +Full of these thoughts, intentions, and determinations, I knocked at +O'Halloran's door, and was ushered by the servant into the comfortable +parlor. O'Halloran stood there in the middle of the room. Nora was +standing not far from him. Marion was not there; but O'Halloran and +Nora were both looking at me, as I entered, with strange expressions. + +O'Halloran advanced quickly, and caught me by the hand. + +"D'ye know what ye've done?" said he, abruptly, without greeting or +salutation of any kind. "D'ye know what ye've done? Ye seeved my loife +at the concert. But are you aweer what you've done be-soides?" + +He looked at me earnestly, and with so strange an expression that for a +moment I thought he must be mad. + +"Well, really," said I, somewhat confusedly, "Mr. O'Halloran, I must +confess I'm not aware of any thing in particular." + +"He doesn't know!" cried O'Halloran. "He doesn't know. 'Tis'n't the +sloightest conception that he has! Will, thin, me boy," said he--and +all this time he held my hand, and kept wringing it hard--"will, thin +--I've another dibt of gratichood, and, what's more, one that I nivir +can raypay. D'ye know what ye've done? D'ye know what re are? No? Will, +thin, I'll tell ye. Ye're the seevior of me Nora, me darlin', me +proide, me own. She was the one that ye seeved on the oice, and riscued +from desthruction. There she stands. Look at her. But for you, she'd be +now lost forivir to the poor owld man whose light an' loife an' trisure +she always was. Nora, jewel, there he is, as sure as a gun, though whoy +he didn't recognoize ye last noight passes moy faible comprayhinsion, +so it docs." + +Saying this, he let go my hand and looked toward Nora. + +At this astounding announcement I stood simply paralyzed. I stared at +each in succession. To give an idea of my feelings is simply +impossible. I must refer every thing to the imagination of the reader; +and, by way of comparison to assist his imagination, I beg leave to +call his attention to our old friend, the thunder-bolt. "Had a +thunder-bolt burst," and all that sort of thing. Fact, sir. +Dumbfounded. By Jove! that word even does not begin to express the +idea. + +Now for about twenty hours, in dreams as well as in waking moments, I +bad been brooding over the identity of the lady of the ice, and had +become convinced that the O'Halloran ladies knew something about it; +yet so obtuse was I that I had not suspected that the lady herself +might be found in this house. In fact, such an event was at once +so romantic and so improbable that it did not even suggest itself. But +now here was the lady herself. Here she stood. Now I could understand +the emotion, the agitation, and all that, of the previous evening. This +would at once account for it all. And here she stood--the lady herself +--and that lady was no other than Miss O'Halloran. + +By Jove! + +Miss O'Halloran looked very much confused, and very much embarrassed. +Her eyes lowered and sought the floor, and in this way she advanced and +took my proffered hand. 'Pon my life, I don't think I ever saw any +thing more beautiful than she was as this confusion covered her lovely +face; and the eyes which thus avoided mine seemed to my imagination +still more lovely than they had been before. + +And this was the one--I thought, as I took her hand--this was the one +--the companion of my perilous trip--the life that I had saved. Yet +this discovery filled me with wonder. This one, so gay, so genial, so +laughter-loving--this one, so glowing with the bloom of health, and the +light of life, and the sparkle of wit--this one! It seemed impossible. +There swept before me on that instant the vision of the ice, that +quivering form clinging to me, that pallid face, those despairing eyes, +that expression of piteous and agonizing entreaty, those wild words of +horror and of anguish. There came before me the phantom of that form +which I had upraised from the ice when it had sunk down in +lifelessness, whose white face rested on my shoulder as I bore it away +from the grasp of death; and that vision, with all its solemn, tragic +awfulness seemed out of keeping with this. Miss O'Halloran? Impossible! +But yet it must be so, since she thus confessed it My own memory had +been at fault. The face on the ice which haunted me was not the face +that I saw before me; but, then, Miss O'Halloran in despair must have a +different face from Miss O'Halloran in her happy and peaceful home. All +these thoughts passed through me as I took her hand; but they left me +with the impression that my vision was a mistake, and that this lady +was in very deed the companion of that fearful journey. + +I pressed her hand in silence. I could not speak. Under the pressure of +thoughts and recollections that came sweeping in upon me, I was dumb; +and so I wandered away, and fell into a seat. Yet, in my stupefaction, +I could see that Hiss O'Halloran showed an emotion equal to mine. She +had not spoken a word. She sat down, with her eyes on the floor, and +much agitation in her manner. + +"Nora, me pet," said O'Halloran, "haven't ye any esprission of +gratichood?" + +Miss O'Halloran raised her face, and looked at me with earnest eyes. + +"Indeed--indeed," she said--"it is not from want of gratitude that I am +silent. My gratitude is too strong for words. Lieutenant Macrorie needs +no assurance of mine, I know, to convince him how I admire his noble +conduct--" + +The sound of her voice roused me from my own abstraction. + +"Oh, of course," said I, "a fellow knows all that sort of thing, you +know; and I feel so glad about the service I was able to render you, +that I'm positively grateful to you for being there. Odd, though +--wasn't it?--that I didn't recognize you. But then, you see, the fact +is, you looked so different then from what you do now. Really, you seem +like another person--you do, by Jove!" + +At this Miss O'Halloran looked down, and seemed embarrassed. + +"But what made you clear out so soon from the Frenchman's?" said I, +suddenly. "You've no idea how it bothered me. By Jove! it didn't seem +altogether fair to me, you know. And then you didn't even leave your +address." + +Miss O'Halloran's confusion seemed to increase. She murmured something +about having to hurry home--pressed for time--fear of her friends being +anxious--and all that. + +Then I asked her anxiously if she had been any the worse for it. + +"Oh, no," she said; "no ill consequences had resulted." + +By this time I had sense enough to perceive that the subject was an +extremely unpleasant one. A moment's further thought showed me that it +couldn't be any thing else. Unpleasant! I should think so. Was it not +suggestive of sorrow and of despair? Had she not witnessed things which +were never to be forgotten? Had she not seen her hapless driver go down +beneath the icy waters? Had she not herself stood face to face with an +awful doom? Had she not twice--yes, and thrice--tasted of the +bitterness of death? + +"I beg pardon," said I, as these thoughts came to me--"it's a painful +subject. I spoke thoughtlessly; but I won't allude to it again. It was +bad enough for me; but it must have been infinitely worse for you. The +fact is, my curiosity got the better of my consideration for your +feelings." + +"That's thrue," said O'Halloran; "it's a peenful subjict." + +At this Miss O'Halloran looked immensely relieved. She raised her head, +and involuntarily cast upon me a touching look of gratitude. Yes; it +must, indeed, have been a painful subject. The consciousness of this +made me eager to make amends for my fault, and so I began to rattle on +in a lively strain about a thousand things; and Miss O'Halloran, +seizing the opportunity thus held out of casting dull care away, at +once rose superior to her embarrassment and confusion, and responded to +my advances with the utmost liveliness and gayety. The change was +instantaneous and marked. A moment ago she had been constrained and +stiff and shy; now she was gay and lively and spirited. This change, +which thus took place before my eyes, served in some measure to explain +that difference which I saw between the Lady of the Ice and Miss +O'Halloran in her own home. + +O'Halloran himself joined in. He was gay, and genial, and jocose. At +about nine o'clock Marion came in. She seemed dull and distrait. She +gave me a cold hand, and then sat down in silence. She did not say any +thing whatever. She did not seem even to listen, but sat, with her head +leaning on her hand, like one whose thoughts are far away. Yet there +was a glory about her sad and melancholy beauty which could not but +arrest my gaze, and often and often I found my eyes wandering to that +face of loveliness. Twice--yes, three times--as my gaze thus wandered, +I found her eyes fixed upon me with a kind of eager scrutiny--a fixed +intensity which actually was startling to encounter. And strange, +vague, wild, unformed memories arose, and odd ideas, and fantastic +suspicions. Her face became thus like one of those which one sees in a +crowd hastily, and then loses, only to rack his brain in vain endeavors +to discover who the owner of the face might be. So it was with me as I +saw the dark face and the lustrous eyes of Marion. + +And now, 'pon my life, I cannot say which, one of these two excited the +most of my admiration. There was Nora, with her good-nature, her wit, +her friendliness, her witchery, her grace, the sparkle of her eye, the +music of her laugh. But there, too, was Marion, whose eyes seemed to +pierce to my soul, as twice or thrice I caught their gaze, and whose +face seemed to have some weird influence over me, puzzling and +bewildering me by suggestions of another face, which I had seen before. +I was fascinated by Nora; I was in love with her; but by Marion I was +thrown under a spell. + +On the whole, Nora seemed to me more sympathetic. With all her +brightness and joyousness, there was also a strange timidity, at times, +and shyness, and furtive glances. An occasional flush, also, gave her a +sweet confusion of manner, which heightened her charms. All these were +signs which I very naturally interpreted in my own favor. What else +should I do? + +I have been calling her indiscriminately Miss O'Halloran and Nora. But +to her face I did not call her by any name. Nora, of course, was not to +be thought of. On the other hand, Miss O'Halloran seemed too distant +For the memory of our past experience made me feel very near to her, +and intimate. Had we not been together on a journey where hours create +the familiarities of years? Was not her life mine? In fact, I felt to +her as a man feels when he meets the old flame of his boyhood. She is +married, and has passed beyond him. But her new name is too cold, and +her old name may not be used. So he calls her nothing. He meets her as +a friend, but does not know how to name her. + +As we talked, O'Halloran sat there, and sometimes listened, and +sometimes chimed in. An uncommonly fine-looking old fellow he was, too. +Although about sixty, his form was as erect as that of a young man, and +his sinewy limbs gave signs of great strength. He sat in an easy-chair +--his iron-gray hair clustering over his broad brow; his eyes keen, +penetrating, but full of fun; his nose slightly curved, and his lips +quivering into smiles; small whiskers of a vanished fashion on either +cheek; and small hands--a right royal, good fellow--witty, +intellectual, and awfully eccentric--at once learned and boyish, but +for all that perhaps all the better adapted for social enjoyment, and +perhaps I may add conviviality. There was a glorious flow of animal +spirits in the man, which could not be repressed, but came rolling +forth, expressed in his rich Leinster brogue. He was evidently proud of +his unparalleled girls; but of these all his tenderness seemed to go +forth toward Nora. To her, and apparently to her alone, he listened, +with a proud affection in his face and in his eyes; while any little +sally of hers was always sure to be received with an outburst of +rollicking laughter, which was itself contagious, and served to +increase the general hilarity. + +But the general hilarity did not extend to Marion. She was like a star, +and sat apart, listening to every thing, but saying nothing. I caught +sometimes, as I have said, the lustrous gleam of her eyes, as they +pierced me with their earnest gaze; and when I was looking at Nora, and +talking, with her, I was conscious, at times, of Marion's eyes. +O'Halloran did not look at her, or speak to her. Was she under a cloud? +Was this her usual character? Or was she sad and serious with the +pressure of some secret purpose? Such were my thoughts; but then I +suddenly decided that by such thoughts I was only making an ass of +myself, and concluded that it was nothing more than her way. If so, it +was an uncommonly impressive way. + +The ladies retired early that evening. Marion, on leaving, gave me a +last searching glance; while Nora took leave with her most bewildering +smile. The glance and the smile both struck home; but, which affected +me most, it is impossible to say. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +"OUR SYMPOSIUM," AS O'HALLORAN CALLED IT.--HIGH AND MIGHTY DISCOURSE. +--GENERAL INSPECTION OF ANTIQUITY BY A LEARNED EYE.--A DISCOURSE UPON +THE "OIONEESOIZIN" OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.--HOMERIC TRANSLATIONS. +--O'HALLORAN AND BURNS.--A NEW EPOCH FOR THE BROGUE.--THE DINNER OF +ACHILLES AND THE PALACE OF ANTINOUS. + + +The servants brought us the generous preparations for the evening +--sugar, spoons, hot water, tumblers, and several other things. + +O'Halloran began by expressing his gratitude, and saying that Nora +could not speak on the subject. He hoped I would see, by that, why it +was that she had not answered my questions. Whereupon I hastened to +apologize for asking questions which so harshly reminded her of a +terrible tragedy. Our mutual explanations were soon exhausted, and we +turned to subjects in general. + +As our symposium proceeded, O'Halloran grew more and more eloquent, +more discursive, more learned, more enthusiastic. He didn't expect me +to take any part in the conversation. He was only anxious that I should +"take it hot," and keep my pipe and my tumbler well in hand. He was +like Coleridge, and Johnson, and other great men who abhor dialogues, +and know nothing but monologues. + +On this occasion he monologued on the following subjects: The +Darwinian hypothesis, the positive philosophy, Protestant missions, +temperance societies, Fichte, Leasing, Hegel, Carlyle, mummies, the +Apocalypse, Maimonides, John Scotus Erigena, the steam-engine of Hero, +the Serapeium, the Dorian Emigration, and the Trojan War. This at last +brought him on the subject of Homer. + +He paused for a moment here. + +"D'ye want to know," said he, "the thrue business of me loife, an' me +sowl occupeetion?" + +I bowed and gave a feeble smile. I thought of Fenian agencies and a +dozen other things, and fancied that in this hour of confidence he +would tell all. I had several times wondered why he lived in a place +which he hated so, and had a vague idea that he was some kind of a +secret emissary, though there was certainly not a single thing in his +character which might warrant such a supposition. + +"Me object," said O'Halloran, looking solemnly at me, "and the whole +eem of me loife is the Oioneesoizin of the language of the Saxon. He's +thrust his language on us, an' my eem is to meek it our oun, to +illivate it--an' by one schtoopindous illusthreetion to give it a +pleece among the letherary doialicts of the wurruld." + +"Oioneesoizin?" said I, slowly. + +"Yis, Oioneesoizin," said O'Halloran. "An' I'm going to do this by +mains of a thransleetion of Homer. For considher. Since Chapman no +thransleetion has been made. Pope and Cowper are contimptible. Darby is +onraydable. Gladstone's attimpt on the fust buk, an' Mat Arnold's on +the seem, an' Worsley's Spinsayrians are all feclures. Ye see, they +think only of maythers, an' don't considher doialicts. Homer wrote in +the Oionic doialict, an' shud be thranslated into the modern +ayquivalint of that same." + +"Oh, I see," said I, "but is there such an equivalent?" + +"Yis," said he, solemnly. "Ye see, the Scotch doialict has been +illivatid into a Doric by the janius of a Burruns; and so loikewise +shall the Oirish be illivatid into an Oioneean dolalict by the janius +of O'Halloran. + +"For Oirish is the natural an' conjayneal ripriseentitive of the +ancient Oioneean. It's vowel-sounds, its diphthongs, its +shuperabundince of leginds, all show this most pleenly. So, too, if we +apploy this modern Oineean to a thransleetion of Homer, we see it has +schtoopindous advantages. The Homeric neems, the ipithets, and the +woild alterneetion of dacthyls an' spondees, may all be riprisinted boy +a neetive and conjayneal mayther. Take for a spicimin _Barny +O'Brallaghan_. "Twas on a windy night about two o'clock in the mornin." +That is the neetive misure of the Oirish bards, an' is iminiutly +adapted to rendher the Homeric swinge. It consists of an Oiambic +pinthimitir followed by a dacthylic thripody; an' in rhythm projuices +the effects of the dacthylic hixamitir. Compeer wid this the ballad +mayther, an' the hayroic mayther, and the Spinserian stanzas, of +Worsley, an' Gladstone's Saxon throchaics, and Darby's dull blank +verse, an' the litheral prose, an' Mat Arnold's attimpts at hixameters, +an' Dain somebody's hindicasyllabics. They're one an' all ayqually +contimptible. But in this neetive Oirish loine we have not only +doialictic advantages, but also an ameezing number of others. It's the +doirict riprisiuteetive of the Homiric loine, fust, in the number of +fate; secindly, in the saysural pause; thirdly, in the capaceetee for a +dactylic an' spondaic inding, an' fowerthly, in the shuperabundince of +sonorous ipithits and rowling syllabeefeeceetions. An' all this I can +prove to ye by spicimins of me oun thransleetion." + +With this he went to a Davenport at one end of the room, and brought +out a pile of manuscript closely written. Then he seated himself again. + +"I'll raid ye passages here an' there," said he. "The fust one is the +reception of the imbassy by Achilles." Saying this, he took the +manuscript and began to read the following in a very rich, broad +brogue, which made me think that he cultivated this brogue of his +purposely, and out of patriotic motives, from a desire to elevate his +loved Irish dialect to an equality with the literary standard English: + + +"'He spake. Pat Rokles heard, an' didn't + dacloine for till do it, +But tuk the mate-thray down, an' into the + foyre he threw it: +A shape's choine an' a goat's he throwed on + top of the platter, +An' wan from a lovely pig, than which there + wor nivir a fatter; +Thase O'Tommedon tuk, O'Kelly devoided + thim nately, +He meed mince-mate av thim all, an' thin he + spitted thim swately; +To sich entoicin' fud they all extinded their + arrams. +Till fud and dhrink loikewise had lost their + jaynial charrums; +Thin Ajax winked at Phaynix, O'Dishes tuke + note of it gayly, +An' powerin' out some woine, he dhrunk till + the health ov O'Kelly.'" + + +After this he read the description of the palace of Antinous in the +"Odyssey:" + + +"'For benchus heights ov brass aich wee wos + firrmlee buildid, +From the front dure till the back, an' a nate + blue corrinis filled it; +An' there was gowldin dures, that tastee + dome securin', +An' silver posts loikewise that slid the breezin' + dure in; +An' lovely gowldin dogs the intherrance wee + stud fast in, +Thim same, H. Phaestus meed, which had a + turrun for castin'. +Widout that speecious hall there grew a gyardin, + be Jakers! +A fince purticts that seeme of fower (I think + it is) acres.'" + + +I have but an indistinct recollection of the rest of the evening. If I +was not sound asleep, I must have been in a semi-doze, retaining just +sufficient consciousness to preserve the air of an absorbed listener. I +had nothing but an innumerable multitude of visions, which assumed +alternately the shape of Nora and of Marion. When at length I rose to +go, O'Halloran begged me to stay longer. But, on looking at my watch, I +found it was half-past three, and so suggested in a general way that +perhaps I'd better be in bed. Whereupon he informed me that he would +not be at home on the following evening, but wouldn't I come the +evening after. I told him I'd be very happy. But suddenly I recollected +an engagement. "Well, will you be at leisure on the next evening?" said +he. I told him I would be, and so I left, with the intention of +returning on the third evening from that time. + +I got home and went to bed; and in my dreams I renewed the events of +that evening. Not the latter part of it, but the former part. There, +before me, floated the forms of Nora and of Marion, the one all smiles, +the other all gloom--the one all jest and laughter, the other silent +and sombre--the one casting at me the glowing light of her soft, +innocent, laughing eyes; the other flinging at me from her dark, +lustrous orbs glances that pierced my soul. I'm an impressible man, I +own it. I can't help it. I was so made. I'm awfully susceptible. And +so, 'pon my honor, for the life of me I couldn't tell which I admired +most of these two fascinating, bewildering, lovely, bewitching, yet +totally different beings. "Oh, Nora!" I cried--and immediately after, +"Oh, Marion!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +JACK ONCE MORE.--THE WOES OF A LOVER.--NOT WISELY BUT TOO MANY.--WHILE +JACK IS TELLING HIS LITTLE STORY, THE ONES WHOM HE THUS ENTERTAINS HAVE +A SEPARATE MEETING.--THE BURSTING OF THE STORM.--THE LETTER OF "NUMBER +THREE."--THE WIDOW AND MISS PHILLIPS.--JACK HAS TO AVAIL HIMSELF OF THE +AID OF A CHAPLAIN Of HER MAJESTY'S FORCES.--JACK AN INJURED MAN. + + +It was late on the following morning when I rose. I expected to see +Jack bouncing in, but there were no signs of him. I went about on my +usual round, but he didn't turn up. I asked some of the other fellows, +but none of them had seen him. I began to be anxious. Duns were abroad. +Jack was in peril. The sheriff was near. There was no joke in it. +Perhaps he was nabbed, or perhaps he was in hiding. The fact that no +one had seen him was a very solemn and a very portentous one. I said +nothing about my feelings, but, as the day wore on without bringing any +sign of him, I began to be more anxious; and as the evening came I +retired to my den, and there thoughts of Jack intermingled themselves +with visions of Nora and Marion. + +The hours of that evening passed very slowly. If I could have gone to +O'Halloran's, I might have forgotten my anxiety; but, as I couldn't go +to O'Halloran's, I could not get rid of my anxiety. What had become of +him? Was he in limbo? Had he taken Louie's advice and flitted? Was he +now gnashing his splendid set of teeth in drear confinement; or was he +making a fool of himself, and an ass, by persisting in indulging in +sentiment with Louie? + +In the midst of these cogitations, eleven o'clock came, and a few +moments after in bounced Jack himself. + +I met him as the prodigal son was met by his father. + +He was gloomy. There was a cloud on his broad, Jovian, hilarious, +Olympian brow, with its clustering ambrosial locks. + +"Jack, old fellow! You come like sunshine through a fog. I've been +bothering about you all day. Have you been nabbed? Are the duns abroad? +Has the sheriff invited you to a friendly and very confidential +conversation? You haven't been here for two days." + +"Yes, I have," said Jack, "I was here last night, and waited till +three, and then walked off to sleep on it. You're up to something +yourself, old man, but look out. Take warning by me. Don't plunge in +too deep. For my part, I haven't the heart to pursue the subject. I've +got beyond the head-stone even. The river's the place for me. But, +Macrorie, promise me one thing." + +"Oh, of course--all right--go ahead." + +"Well, if I jump into the river, don't let them drag for me. Let me +calmly drift away, and be borne off into the Atlantic Ocean. I want +oblivion. Hang headstones! Let Anderson slide." + +Saying this, Jack crammed some tobacco into his pipe, lighted it, flung +himself into a chair, and began smoking most vigorously. I watched him +for some time in silence. There was a dark cloud on his sunny brow; he +looked woe-begone and dismal, and, though such expressions were +altogether out of harmony with the style of his face, yet to a friendly +eye they were sufficiently visible. I saw that something new had +occurred. So I waited for a time, thinking that he would volunteer his +confidence; but, as he did not, I thought I would ask for it. + +"By Jove!" said I, at last "Hang it, Jack, do you know, old man, you +seem to be awfully cut up about something--hit hard--and all that sort +of thing. What's up? Any thing new? Out with it--clean breast, and all +that. 'Pon my life, I never saw you so cut up before. What is it?" + +Jack took his pipe from his mouth, rubbed his forehead violently, +stared at me for a few moments, and then slowly ejaculated. + +"There's a beastly row--tremendous--no end--that's what there is." + +"A row?" + +"Yes--no end of a row." + +"Who? What? Which of them?" + +"All of them. Yesterday, and to-day, and to be continued to-morrow. +Such is life. Sic transit, et cetera. Good Lord! Macrorie, what's a +fellow to do but drown himself? Yes, my boy--oblivion! that's what I +want. And I'll have it. This life isn't the thing for me. I was never +made to be badgered. The chief end of man is for other things than +getting snubbed by woman. And I'm not going to stand it. Here, close +by, is a convenient river. I'll seek an acquaintance with its icy tide, +rather than have another day like this." + +"But I'm all in the dark. Tell what it is that has happened." + +Jack inhaled a few more whiffs of the smoke that cheers but not +inebriates, and then found voice to speak: + +"You see it began yesterday. I started off at peace with the world, and +went most dutifully to call on Miss Phillips. Well, I went in and found +her as cool as an icicle. I didn't know what was up, and proceeded to +do the injured innocent. Whereupon she turned upon me, and gave it to +me then and there, hot and heavy. I didn't think it was in her. I +really didn't--by Jove! The way she gave it to me," and Jack paused in +wonder. + +"What about?" said I. + +"The widow!" groaned Jack. + +"The widow?" I repeated. + +"Yes--the widow." + +"But how did she hear about it so soon?" + +"Oh, easy enough. It's all over town now, you know. Her friends here +heard of it, and some were incredulous, and others were indignant. At +any rate, both classes rushed with delightful unanimity to inform her, +so you may imagine the state of mind I found her in. + +"You can easily imagine what she said. I don't think much of your +imagination, Macrorie, but in this case it don't require a very vivid +one. The worst of it is, she was quite right to feel indignant. The +only thing about it all that gave me the smallest relief, was the fact +that she didn't do the pathetic. She didn't shed a tear. She simply +questioned me. She was as stiff as a ramrod, and as cold as a stone. +There was no mercy in her, and no consideration for a fellow's +feelings. She succeeded in making out that I was the most contemptible +fellow living." + +"And what did you say?" + +"Say? What could I say? She forced me to own up about the widow. Hang +it, you know I can't lie. So, after trying to dodge her questions, I +answered them. She wouldn't let me dodge them. But there was one thing +left. I swore to her, by all that was true, that I didn't care a fig +for the widow, that my engagement with her arose altogether through a +mistake. She pressed me hard on this, and I had to tell this too." + +"What? Look here, Jack--you didn't drag in Louie into your confounded +scrape?" + +"Do you think I'm such a villain as that?" said Jack, indignantly. "No +--of course I didn't. Louie--I'd die first. No. I told her some story +about my mistaking her for a friend, whose name I didn't mention. I +told her that I took the widow's hand by mistake--just in fun, you +know--thinking it was my friend, and all that; and before I knew it the +widow had nabbed me." + +"Well?" + +"Well, she didn't condescend to ask the name of my friend. She thought +the widow was enough at a time, I suppose, and so she asked me about +the state of my feelings toward her. And here I expressed myself +frankly. I told her that my only desire was to get out of her clutches +--that it was all a mistake, and that I was in an infernal scrape, and +didn't know how to get out of it. + +"Such strong language as this mollified her a little, and she began to +believe me. Yet she did not soften altogether. At last, I pitched into +the widow hot and heavy. This restored her to her usual self. She +forgave me altogether. She even said that she was sorry for me. She +hinted, too, that if she ever saw the widow, she'd have it out with +her." + +"Heaven forbid!" said I. "Keep them apart, Jack, if you can." + +Jack groaned. + +"So it's all right, is it? I congratulate you--as far as it's worth +congratulation, you know. So you got out of it, did you? A 'full, +fresh, frank, free, formal, ample, exhaustive, and perfectly +satisfactory explanation,' hey? That's the style of thing, is it?" + +Jack gnashed his teeth. + +"Come, now--old boy--no chaff. I'm beyond that. Can't stand it. Fact +is, you haven't heard the whole story yet, and I don't feel like +telling the rest of it, if you interrupt a fellow with your confounded +humbug." + +"Go ahead--don't fear, Jack--I won't chaff." + +Jack drew a long breath. + +"Well, then--I took her out for a drive. We had a very good time, +though both of us were a little preoccupied, and I thought she had +altered awfully from what she used to be; and then, you know, after +leaving her, I went to see the widow." + +"You didn't tell her where you were going, of course?" + +"So," said Jack, with a sigh. "Well, you see, I went to the widow, and +I found that she had heard about my calling on Miss Phillips, and +driving out with her for a couple of hours, and I don't know what else. +She was calm, and quiet, and cool, and simply wanted to know what it +all meant. Well, do you know that sort of coolness is the very thing +that I can't stand. If she'd raved at me, or scolded, or been +passionate, or gone on in any kind of a way, I could have dealt with +her; but with a person like that, who is so calm, and cool, and quiet, +I haven't the faintest idea how to act. + +"I mumbled something or other about 'old friendship'--'stranger in a +strange land'--horrid rot--what an ass she must have thought me!--but +that's the way it was. She didn't say any thing. She began to talk +about something else in a conventional way--the weather, I think. I +couldn't do any thing. I made a vague attempt at friendly remonstrance +with her about her coolness; but she didn't notice it. She went on +talking about the weather. She was convinced that it would snow. I, for +my part, was convinced that there was going to be a storm--a hurricane +--a tornado--any thing. But she only smiled at my vehemence, and +finally I left, with a general idea that there was thunder in the air. + +"Well, you know, I then went off to see Louie. But I didn't get any +satisfaction there. The other girls were present, and the aunt. There +wasn't any whist, and so I had to do the agreeable to the whole party. +I waited until late, in the hope that some chance might turn up of a +private chat with Louie, but none came. So at last I came home, feeling +a general disgust with the world and the things of the world." + +"Rather hard, that," said I, as Jack relapsed into moody silence. + +"Hard?" said he; "that was yesterday, but it was nothing to what I met +with to-day." + +"To-day?--why, what's up worse than that?" + +"Every thing. But I'll go on and make a clean breast of it. Only don't +laugh at me, Macrorie, or I'll cut." + +"Laugh? Do I ever laugh?" + +Jack took a few more puffs, and relieved his sorrow-laden breast by +several preliminary and preparatory sighs, after which he proceeded: + +"To-day," he began, "I got up late. I felt heavy. I anticipated a +general row. I dressed. I breakfasted, and, just as I was finishing, +the row began. A letter was brought in from the post-office. It was +from lumber Three." + +"Number Three?" I cried. + +"Number Three," repeated Jack. "As if it wasn't bad enough already, she +must come forward to add herself to those who were already crushing me +to the earth, and driving me mad. It seemed hard, by Jove! I tell you +what it is, old chap, nobody's so remorseless as a woman. Even my duns +have been more merciful to me than these friends whom I love. It's too +bad, by Jove, it is! + +"Well. Number Three's letter was simply tremendous. She had heard every +thing. I've already told you that she keeps the run of me pretty well, +though how she manages it I can't imagine--and now it seems she heard, +on the same day, of my engagement to the widow, and of the arrival of +Miss Phillips, to whom I was also engaged. This news seemed to drive +her wild with indignation. She mentioned these facts to me, and ordered +me to deny them at once. She declared that it was impossible for any +gentleman to act so dishonorably, and said that nothing but the +character of her informant could lead her to ask me to deny such foul +slanders. + +"That's the way she put it. That's the style of thing she flung at me +when I was already on my back. That's Number Three for you! And the +worst of it is, I don't know what to say in reply. I tell you what it +is now, Macrorie, that was a pretty tough beginning for the day. I felt +it, and I left my room with a dark presentiment in my mind, and the +same general idea of a brooding thunder-storm, which I had experienced +the evening before. + +"Then I went to see Miss Phillips, and this was my frame of mind. I +found her calm, cold, and stiff as an iceberg. Not a single kind word. +No consideration for a fellow at all. I implored her to tell me what +was the matter. She didn't rail at me; she didn't reproach me; but +proceeded in the same cruel, inconsiderate, iceberg fashion, to tell me +what the matter was. And I tell you, old boy, the long and the short of +it was, there was the very mischief to pay, and the last place in +Quebec that I ought to have entered was that particular place. But +then, how did I know? Besides, I wanted to see her." + +"What was it?" I asked, seeing Jack hesitate. + +"What! Why, who do you think had been there? The widow herself! She had +come to call on Miss Phillips, and came with a fixed design on me. In a +few moments she managed to introduce my name. Trotting me out in that +fashion doesn't strike me as being altogether fair, but she did it. Mrs. +Llewelopen, who is Miss Phillips's aunt, took her up rather +warmly, and informed her that I was engaged to Miss Phillips. The widow +smiled, and said I was a sad man, for I had told her, when I engaged +myself to her, that my affair with Miss Phillips was all broken off, +and had repeated the same thing two evenings before. She also informed +them that I visited her every day, and was most devoted. To all this +Miss Phillips had to listen, and could not say one word. She had sense +enough, however, to decline any altercation with the widow, and reserve +her remarks for me. And now, old boy, you see what I caught on entering +the presence of Miss Phillips. She did not weep; she did not sigh; she +did not reproach; she did not cry--she simply questioned me, standing +before me cold and icy, and flinging her bitter questions at me. The +widow had said this and that. The widow had repeated such and such +words of mine. The widow had also subjected her to bitter shame and +mortification. And what had I to say? She was too much of a lady to +denounce or to scold, and too high-hearted even to taunt me; too proud, +too lofty, to deign to show that she felt the cut; she only questioned +me; she only asked me to explain such and such things. Well, I tried to +explain, and gave a full and frank account of every thing, and, as far +as the widow was concerned, I was perfectly truthful. I declared again +that it was all a mistake, and that I'd give any thing to get rid of +her. This was all perfectly true, but it wasn't by any means +satisfactory to Miss Phillips. She's awfully high-strung, you know. She +couldn't overlook the fact that I had given I the widow to understand +that it was all broken off with us. I had never said so, but I had let +the widow think so, and that was enough. + +"Well, you know, I got huffy at last, and said she didn't make +allowances for a fellow, and all that I told her that I was awfully +careless, and was always getting into confounded scrapes, but that it +would all turn out right in the end, and some day she'd understand it +all. Finally, I felt so confoundedly mean, and so exactly like some +infernal whipped cur, that I then and there asked her to take me, on +the spot, as I was, and fulfil her vow to me. I swore that the widow +was nothing to me, and wished she was in Jericho. At this she smiled +slightly, and said that I didn't know what I was saying, and, in fact, +declined my self-sacrificing offer. So there I was--and I'll be hanged, +Macrorie, isn't it odd?--there's the third person that's refused to +marry me off-hand! I vow I did what I could. I offered to marry her at +once, and she declined just as the others did. With that I turned the +tables on her, reproached her for her coldness, told her that I had +given her the highest possible mark of my regard, and bade her adieu. +We shook hands. Hers was very languid, and she looked at me quite +indifferently. I told her that she'd feel differently to-morrow, and +she said perhaps she might And so I left her. + +"Well, then, I had the widow to visit, but the letter and the affair +with Miss Phillips had worn out my resources. In any ordinary case, the +widow was too many guns for me, but, in a case like this, she was +formidable beyond all description. So I hunted up the chaplain, and +made him go with me. He's a good fellow, and is acquainted with her a +little, and I knew that she liked him. So we went off there together. +Well, do you know, Macrorie, I believe that woman saw through the whole +thing, and knew why the chaplain had come as well as I did. She greeted +me civilly, but rather shortly; and there was a half-smile on her +mouth, confound it! She's an awfully pretty woman, too! We were there +for a couple of hours. She made us dine--that is to say, I expected to +dine as a matter of course, and she invited the chaplain. So we stayed, +and I think for two hours I did not exchange a dozen words with her. +She directed her conversation almost exclusively to the chaplain. I +began to feel jealous at last, and tried to get her attention, but it +was no go. I'm rather dull, you know--good-natured, and all that, but +not clever--while the chaplain is one of the cleverest men going; and +the widow's awfully clever, too. They got beyond me in no time. They +were talking all sorts of stuff about Gregorian chants, ecclesiastic +symbolism, mediaeval hymns, the lion of St Mark, chasuble, alb, and all +that sort of thing, you know, no end, and I sat like a log listening, +just the same as though they spoke Chinese, while the widow took no +more notice of me than if I'd been a Chinaman. And she kept up that +till we left. And that was her way of paying me off. And the chaplain +thought she was an awfully clever woman, and admired her--no end. And I +felt as jealous as Othello. + +"Then I hurried off to Louie. But luck was against me. There was a lot +of fellows there, and I didn't get a chance. I only got a pleasant +greeting and a bright look, that was all. I was longing to get her into +a corner, and have a little comfort, and a little good advice. But I +couldn't. Misfortunes never come singly. To-day every thing has been +blacker than midnight. Number Three, Miss Phillips, and the widow, are +all turning against a fellow. I think it's infernally hard. I feel Miss +Phillips's treatment worst. She had no business to come here at all +when I thought she was safe in New Brunswick. I dare say I could have +wriggled through, but she came and precipitated the catastrophe, as +the saying is. Then, again, why didn't she take me when I offered +myself? And, for that matter, why didn't Number Three take me that +other time when I was ready, and asked her to fly with me? I'll be +hanged if I don't think I've had an abominably hard time of it! And now +I'm fairly cornered, and you must see plainly why I'm thinking of the +river. If I take to it, they'll shed a tear over me, I know; whereas, +if I don't, they'll all pitch into me, and Louie'll only laugh. Look +here, old boy, I'll give up women forever." + +"What! And Louie, too?" + +"Oh, that's a different thing altogether," said Jack; and he subsided +into a deep fit of melancholy musing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +I REVEAL MY SECRET.--TREMENDOUS EFFECTS OF THE REVELATION.--MUTUAL +EXPLANATIONS, WHICH ARE BY NO MEANS SATISFACTORY. JACK STANDS UP FOR +WHAT HE CALLS HIS RIGHTS.--REMONSTRANCES AND REASONINGS, ENDING IN A +GENERAL ROW.--JACK MAKES A DECLARATION OF WAR, AND TAKES HIS DEPARTURE +IN A STATE OF UNPARALLELED HUFFINESS. + + +I Could hold out no longer. I had preserved my secret jealously for two +entire days, and my greater secret had been seething in my brain, and +all that, for a day. Jack had given me his entire confidence. Why +shouldn't I give him mine? I longed to tell him all. I had told him of +my adventure, and why should I not tell of its happy termination? Jack, +too, was fairly and thoroughly in the dumps, and it would be a positive +boon to him if I could lead his thoughts away from his own sorrows to +my very peculiar adventures. + +"Jack," said I, at last, "I've something to tell you." + +"Go ahead," cried Jack, from the further end of his pipe. + +"It's about the Lady of the Ice," said I. + +"Is it?" said Jack, dolefully + +"Yes; would you like to hear about it?" + +"Oh, yes, of course," said Jack, in the same tone. + +Whereupon I began with the evening of the concert, and told him all +about the old man, and my rush to the rescue. I gave a very animated +description of the scene, but, finding that Jack did not evince any +particular interest, I cut it all short. + +"Well," said I, "I won't bore you. I'll merely state the leading facts. +I got the old fellow out. He took my arm, and insisted on my going home +with him. I went home, and found there the Lady of the Ice." + +"Odd, too," said Jack, languidly, puffing out a long stream of smoke; +"don't see how you recognized her--thought you didn't remember and all +that. So you've found her at last, have you? Well, my dear fellow, 'low +me to congratulate you. Deuced queer, too. By-the-way, what did you say +her name was?" + +"I didn't mention her name," said I. + +"Ah, I see; a secret?" + +"Oh, no. I didn't suppose you'd care about knowing." + +"Bosh! Course I'd care. What was it, old boy? Tell a fellow. I'll keep +dark--you know me." + +"Her name," said I, "is Miss O'Halloran." + +No sooner had I uttered that name, than an instantaneous and most +astonishing change came over the whole face, the whole air, the whole +manner, the whole expression, the whole attitude, of Jack Randolph. He +sprang up to his feet, as though he had been shot, and the pipe fell +from his hands on the floor, where it lay smashed. + +"WHAT!!!" he cried, in a loud voice. + +"Look here," said I--"what may be the meaning of all that? What's the +row now?" + +"What name did you say?" he repeated. + +"Miss O'Halloran," said I. + +"O'Halloran?" said he--"are you sure?" + +"Of course, I'm sure. How can I be mistaken?" + +"And her father--what sort of man is he?" + +"A fine old felloe," said I--"full of fun, well informed, convivial, +age about sixty, well preserved, splendid face--" + +"Is--is he an Irishman?" asked Jack, with deep emotion. + +"Yes." + +"Does--does he live in--in Queen Street?" asked Jack, with gasp. + +"The very street," said I. + +"Number seven hundred and ninety-nine?" + +"The very number. But see here, old chap, how the mischief do you +happen to know exactly all about that house? It strikes me as being +deuced odd." + +"And you saved her?" said Jack, without taking any notice of my +question. + +"Haven't I just told you so? Oh, bother! What's the use of all this +fuss?" + +"Miss O'Halloran?" said Jack. + +"Miss O'Halloran," I repeated. "But will you allow me to ask what in +the name of common-sense is the matter with you? Is there a bee in your +bonnet, man? What's Miss O'Halloran to you, or you to Miss O'Halloran? +Haven't you got enough women on your conscience already? Do you mean to +drag her in? Don't try it my boy--for I'm concerned there." + +"Miss O'Halloran!" cried Jack. "Look here, Macrorie--you'd better take +care." + +"Take care?" + +"Yes. Don't you go humbugging about there." + +"I don't know what you're up to, dear boy. What's your little joke?" + +"There's no joke at all about it," said Jack, harshly. "Do you know who +Miss O'Halloran is?" + +"Well, I know that she's the daughter of Mr. O'Halloran, and that he's +a fine old fellow. Any further information, however, I shall be +delighted to receive. You talk as though you know something about her. +What is it? But don't slander. Not a word against her. That won't +stand." + +"Slander! A word against her!" cried Jack. "Macrorie, you don't know +who she is, or what she is to me. Macrorie, this miss O'Halloran is +that lady that we have been calling 'Number Three'." + +It was now my turn to be confounded. I, too, started to my feet, and +not only my pipe, but my tumbler also, fell crashing to the floor. + +"The devil she is!" I cried. + +"She is--I swear she is--as true as I'm alive." + +At this moment I had more need of a good, long, low whistle than ever I +had in my life before. But I didn't whistle. Even a whistle was useless +here to express the emotions that I felt at Jack's revelation. I stood +and stared at him in silence. But I didn't see him. Other visions came +before my mind's eye, Horatio, which shut out Jack from my view. I was +again in that delightful parlor; again Nora's form was near--her +laughing face, her speaking eyes, her expression--now genial and +sympathetic, now confused and embarrassed. There was her round, rosy, +smiling face, and near it the sombre face of Marion, with her dark, +penetrating eyes. And this winning face, this laughter-loving Venus-- +this was the one about whom Jack rated as his Number Three. This was +the one whom he asked to run off with him. She! _She_ run off, and with +him! The idea was simple insanity. She had written him a letter--had +she?--and it was a scorcher, according to his own confession. She had +found him out, and thrown him over. Was not I far more to her than a +fellow like Jack--I who had saved her from a hideous death? There could +be no question about that. Was not her bright, beaming smile of +farewell still lingering in my memory? And Jack had the audacity to +think of her yet! + +"Number Three," said I--"well, that's odd. At any rate, there's one of +your troubles cut off." + +"Cutoff?" + +"Yes." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean this, that Number Three won't bother you again." + +Jack stood looking at me for some time in silence, with a dark frown on +his brow. + +"Look here, Macrorie," said he; "you force me to gather from your words +what I am very unwilling to learn." + +"What!" said I "Is it that I admire Miss O'Halloran? Is that it? Come, +now; speak plainly, Jack. Don't stand in the sulks. What is it that you +want to say? I confess that I'm as much amazed as you are at finding +that my Lady of the Ice is the same as your 'Number Three.' But such is +the case; and now what are you going to do about it?" + +"First of all," said Jack, coldly, "I want to know what you are +proposing to do about it." + +"I?" said I. "Why, my intention is, if possible, to try to win from +Miss O'Halloran a return of that feeling which I entertain toward her." + +"So that's your little game--is it?" said Jack, savagely. + +"Yes," said I, quietly; "that's exactly my little game. And may I ask +what objection you have to it, or on what possible right you can ground +any conceivable objection?" + +"Right?" said Jack--"every right that a man of honor should respect." + +"Right?" cried I. "Right?" + +"Yes, right. You know very well that she's mine." + +"Yours! Yours!" I cried. "Yours! You call her "Number Three." That very +name of itself is enough to shut your mouth forever. What! Do you come +seriously to claim any rights over a girl, when by your own confession +there are no less than two others to whom you have offered yourself? Do +you mean to look me in the face, after what you yourself have told me, +and say that you consider that you have any claims on Miss O'Halloran?" + +"Yes, I do!" cried Jack. "I do, by Jove! Look here, Macrorie. I've +given you my confidence. I've told you all about my affair with her. +You know that only a day or two ago I was expecting her to elope with +me--" + +"Yes, and hoping that she wouldn't," I interrupted. + +"I was not. I was angry when she refused, and I've felt hard about it +ever since. But she's mine all the same, and you know it." + +"Yours? And so is Miss Phillips yours," I cried, "and so is Mrs. +Finnimore; and I swear I believe that, if I were to be sweet on Louie, +you'd consider yourself injured. Hang it, man! What are you up to? +What do you mean? At this rate, you'll claim every woman in Quebec. +Where do intend to draw the line? Would be content if I were sweet on +Miss Phillips? Wouldn't you be jealous if I were to visit the widow? +And what would you say if I were seized with a consuming passion for +Louie? Come, Jack--don't row; don't be quite insane. Sit down again, +and let's drop the subject." + +"I won't drop the subject," growled Jack. "You needn't try to argue +yourself out of it. You know very well that I got her first." + +"Why, man, at this rate, you might get every woman in America. You seem +to think that this is Utah." + +"Come, no humbug, Macrorie. You know very well what I am to that +girl." + +"You! you!" I cried. "Why, you have told me already that she has found +you out. Hang it, man! if it comes to that, what are you in her eyes +compared with me? You've been steadily humbugging her ever since you +first knew her, and she's found it out But I come to her as the +companion of the darkest hour of her life, as the one who saved her +from death. You--good Lord!--do you pretend to put yourself in +comparison with me? You, with your other affairs, and your conscious +falsity to her, with me! Why, but for me, she would be drifting down +the river, and lying stark and dead on the beach of Anticosti. That is +what I have done for her. And what have you done? I might laughed over +the joke of it before I knew her; but now, since I know her, and her, +when you force me to say what you have done, I declare to you that you +have wronged her, and cheated her, and humbugged her, and she knows +it, and you know it, and I know it. These things may be all very well +for a lark; but, when you pretend to make a serious matter of them, +they look ugly. Confound it! have you lost your senses?" + +"You'll see whether I've lost my senses or not," said Jack, fiercely. + +"You've got trouble enough on your shoulders, Jack," said I. "Don't +get into any more. You actually have the face to claim no less than +three women. Yes, four. I must count Louie, also. If this question +were about Louie, wouldn't you be just as fierce?" + +Jack did not answer. + +"Wouldn't you? Wouldn't you say that I had violated your confidence? +Wouldn't you declare that it was a wrong to yourself, and a bitter +injury? If I had saved Louie's life, and then suddenly fallen in love +with her wouldn't you have warned me off in the same way? You know you +would. But will you listen to reason? You can't have them all. You must +choose one of them. Take Miss Phillips, and be true to your first vow. +Take the widow, and be rich. Take Louie, and be happy. There you have +it. There are three for you. As for Miss O'Halloran, she has passed +away from you forever. I have snatched her from death, and she is mine +forever." + +"She shall never be yours!" cried Jack, furiously. + +"She shall be mine!" cried I, in wrathful tones. + +"Never! never!" cried Jack. "She's mine, and she shall be mine." + +"Damn it, man! are you crazy? How many wives do you propose to have?" + +"She shall be mine!" cried Jack. "She, and no other. I give up all +others. They may all go and be hanged. She, and she alone, shall be +mine." + +Saying this, he strode toward the door, opened it, passed through, and +banged it behind him. I heard his heavy footsteps as he went off, and I +stood glaring after him, all my soul on fire with indignation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +A FRIEND BECOMES AN ENEMY.--MEDITATIONS ON THE ANCIENT AND VENERABLE +FABLE OF THE DOG IN THE MANGER.--THE CORRUPTION OF THE HUMAN HEART. +--CONSIDERATION OF THE WHOLE SITUATION.--ATTEMPTS TO COUNTERMINE JACK, +AND FINAL RESOLVE. + + +So Jack left, and so I stood staring after him in furious indignation. + +"By Jove!" I exclaimed, addressing my own honorable self, "are you +going to stand that sort of thing, Macrorie? And at your time of life, +my boy! You, twenty-two years of age, six feet high, and with your +knowledge of the world! You're not altogether an ass, are you? I think +I can depend on you, my boy. You'll stand up for your rights. She's +yours, old chap. Cling to her. Remember your ancestors. You'll get her, +and if Jack chooses to make a fool of himself, let him!" + +After this expression of opinion, I replaced my last pipe and tumbler, +and resumed my seat. Over my head the clouds rolled; through my brain +penetrated the gentle influence, bringing tranquillity and peace; +bringing also wisdom, and the power of planning and of resolving. + +My reflections made me feel that Nora mast be mine. She seemed dearer +than all the world, and all that. Hadn't I saved her life? I had. Then +that life was mine. No one else had such a claim on her as I had. +Jack's absurd pretence at a claim was all confounded stuff and +nonsense. I considered his attitude on this occasion a piece of the +worst kind of selfishness, not to speak of its utter madness. The dog +in the manger was nothing to this. I was not the man to let myself be +pushed aside in this way. He would not have thought of her if I had not +put in my claim. Before that she was no more to him than "Number +Three," one of his tormentors from whom he longed to get free, one who +annoyed him with letters. All this he had confessed to me. Yet the +moment that I told him my story, and informed him of her identity with +the Lady of the Ice, at once he changed about, and declared he would +never give her up. + +All of which reminded me forcibly of the language of a venerable female +friend, who used to hold up her hands and exclaim, "Oh, dear! Oh, my! +Oh, the corruption of the human heart! Oh, dear! Oh, my!" + +On the other hand, I was not so blind but that I could see that Jack's +impudent and ridiculous claim to Hiss O'Halloran had made her appear in +a somewhat different light from that in which I had hitherto viewed +her. Until that time I had no well-defined notions. My mind vibrated, +between her image and that of Marion. But now Miss O'Halloran suddenly +became all in all to me. Jack's claim on her made me fully conscious of +my superior claim, and this I determined to enforce at all hazards. And +thus the one end, aim, and purpose of my life, suddenly and almost +instantaneously darted up within me, and referred to making Miss +O'Halloran my own. + +But, if this was to be done, I saw that it must be done quickly. Jack's +blood was up. He had declared that he would win her, and had departed +with this declaration. I knew him well enough to feel sure that his +action would be prompt. He was capable of any act of folly or of +desperation. If I could hope to contend successfully against him, it +would be necessary for me to be as foolish and as desperate. I must go +in for a headlong game. It was to be a regular steeple-chase. No +dilly-dallying--no shuffling--no coquetting--no wooing--but bold, +instant, and immediate action. And why not? Our intercourse on the ice +had been less than a day, but those hours were protracted singly to the +duration of years, and we had been forced into intimacy by the peril of +our path and the horror of our way. We were beaten together by the +tempest, rocked by the ice, we sank together in the wave, together we +crossed the tottering Ice-ridge--together we evaded the fall of +avalanches. Again and again, on that one unparalleled journey, she had +received her life from me. Was all this to count for nothing? This! +Why, this was every thing. What could her recollections of Jack be when +compared to her recollections of me? For one who came to her as I had +come there need be no delay. Enough to tell her what my feelings +were--to urge and implore her for immediate acceptance of my vows. + +This was my fixed resolve; but when, where, and how? I could not go to +the house again for two days, and, during two days, Jack would have the +advantage. No doubt he would at once reply to that last letter of hers. +No doubt he would fling away every thought but the one thought of her. +No doubt he would write her a letter full of protestations of love, and +implore her, for the last time, to fly with him. He had done so before. +In his new mood he might do it again. The thought made ay blood run +cold. The more I dwelt upon it, the more confident I was that Jack +would do this. + +And what could I do? + +One of two ways could be adopted: + +First, I might go there on the following day, and call on Miss +O'Halloran. Her father would be away. + +And, secondly, I might write her a letter. + +But neither of these plans seemed satisfactory. In the first place, I +did not feel altogether prepared to go and call on her for such a +purpose. It came on a fellow too suddenly. In the second place, a +letter did not seem to be the proper style of thing. The fact is, when +a fellow seeks a lady, he ought to do it face to face, if possible. + +The more I thought of it, the more strongly I felt the absolute +necessity of waiting for those two days which should intervene before I +could go. Then I might go on a regular invitation. Then I might have an +additional opportunity of finding out her sentiments toward me. In +fact, I concluded to wait. + +And so I waited. + +The two days passed slowly. Jack, of course, kept aloof, and I saw +nothing and heard nothing of him. Where he was, or what he was doing, I +could not tell. I could only conjecture. And all my conjectures led to +the fixed conviction that Jack in his desperation had written to her, +and proposed flight. + +This conviction became intensified more and more every hour. I grew +more and more impatient. My mood became one of constant and incessant +fidgetiness, nervousness, and harrowing suspense. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +TREMENDOUS EXCITEMENT.--THE HOUR APPROACHES, AND WITH IT THE MAN.--THE +LADY OF THE ICE.--A TUMULTUOUS MEETING.--OUTPOURING OF TENDER +EMOTIONS.--AGITATION OF THE LADY.--A SUDDEN INTERRUPTION.--AN INJURED +MAN, AN AWFUL, FEARFUL, DIREFUL, AND UTTERLY-CRUSHING REVELATION.--WHO +IS THE LADY OF THE ICE? + + +At last the appointed evening came, and I prepared to go to +O'Halloran's. By this time I was roused up to a pitch of excitement +such as I had never before experienced. For two days and two nights I +had been brooding and dreaming over this one subject, imagining all +sorts of things, making all sorts of conjectures about Jack's letter +and Miss O'Halloran's reception of it. Was it possible that she could +share his madness and his desperation? That I could not tell. Women in +love, and men in love also, will always act madly and desperately. But +was she in love? Could that serene, laughing, merry, happy face belong +to one who was capable of a sudden act of desperation--of one who would +flit with Jack, and fling her father into Borrow at a moment's warning? +How could that be? So by turns my hopes and my fears rose in the +ascendant, and the end of it all was that, by the time I reached +O'Halloran's door, Jack himself, in his most frantic mood, could not +have been more perfectly given up to any headlong piece of rashness, +folly, and desperation, than I was. + +I knocked at the door. + +I was admitted, and shown into the room. O'Halloran, I was told, had just +arrived, and was dressing. Would I be kind enough to wait? + +I sat down. + +In about two minutes I heard a light footstep. + +My heart beat fast. + +Some one was coming. + +Who? + +The light footstep and the rustling dress showed that it was a lady. + +But who? + +Was it the servant? + +Or Marion? + +Was it Nora? + +My heart actually stood still as these possibilities suggested +themselves, and I sat glaring at the door. + +The figure entered. + +My heart gave a wild bound; the blood surged to my face, and boiled in +my veins. It was Nora's self! It was--it was--my Nora! + +I rose as she entered. She greeted me with her usual beaming and +fascinating smile. I took her hand, and did not say a word for a few +moments. The hour had come. I was struggling to speak. Here she was. +This was the opportunity for which I had longed. But what should I say? + +"I've been longing to see you alone," I cried, at last. "Have you +forgotten that day on the ice? Have you forgotten the eternal hours of +that day? Do you remember how you clung to me as we crossed the +ice-ridge, while the waves were surging behind us, and the great +ice-heaps came crashing down? Do you remember how I raised you up as +you fell lifeless, and carried your senseless form, springing over the +open channel, and dashing up the cliff? And I lost you, and now I've +found you again!" + +I stopped, and looked at her earnestly, to see how she received my +words. + +And here let me confess that such a mode of address was not generous or +chivalrous, nor was it at all in good taste. True chivalry would have +scorned to remind another of an obligation conferred; but then, you +see, this was a very peculiar case. In love, my boy, all the ordinary +rules of life, and that sort of thing, you know, must give way to the +exigencies of the hour. And this was a moment of dire exigency, in +which much had to be said in the most energetic manner. Besides, I +spoke what I thought, and that's my chief excuse after all. + +I stopped and looked at her; but, as I looked, I did not feel reason to +be satisfied with my success so far. She retreated a step, and tried to +withdraw her hand. She looked at me with a face of perplexity and +despair. Seeing this, I let go her hand. She clasped both hands +together, and looked at me in silence. + +"What!" said I, tragically, yet sincerely--for a great, dark, bitter +disappointment rose up within me--"what! Is all this nothing? Has it +all been nothing to you? Alas! what else could I expect? I might have +known it all. No. You never thought of me. You could not, I was less +than the driver to you. If you had thought of me, you never would have run +away and left me when I was wandering over the country thinking +only of you, with all my heart yearning after you, and seeking only for +some help to send you. And yet there was that in our journey which +might at least have elicited from you some word of sympathy." + +There again, my friend, I was ungenerous, unchivalrous, and all that. +Bad enough is it to remind one of favors done; but, on the heels of +that, to go deliberately to work and reproach one for want of +gratitude, is ten times worse. By Jove! And for this, as for the other, +my only excuse is the exigencies of the hour. + +Meanwhile she stood with an increasing perplexity and grief in every +look and gesture. She cast at me a look of utter despair. She wrung her +hands; and at last, as I ended, she exclaimed: + +"Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do? Oh, dear! Oh, what a dreadful, +dreadful thing! Oh, dear!" + +Her evident distress touched me to the heart. Evidently, she was +compromised with Jack, and was embarrassed by this. + +"Follow your own heart," said I, mournfully. "But say--can you not give +me some hope? Can you not give me one kind word?" + +"Oh, dear!" she cried; "it's dreadful. I don't know what to do. It's +all a mistake. Oh, I _wish_ you could only know all! And me!! What in +the world _can_ I do!" + +"Oh, Miss O'Halloran!" said I; "I love you--I adore-you--and--oh, Miss +O'Halloran!--I--" + +"Miss O'Halloran!" she cried, starting back as I advanced once more, +and tried to take her hand. + +"_Nora_, then," said I. "Dearest, sweetest! You cannot be indifferent. Oh, +Nora!" and I grasped her hand. + +But at that moment I was startled by a heavy footstep at the door. I +dropped Nora's hand, which she herself snatched away, and turned. + +IT WAS O'HALLORAN!!!!! + +He stood for a moment looking at us, and then he burst out into a roar +of laughter. + +"Macrorie!" he cried--"Macrorie! May the divil saize me if I don't +beleeve that ye're indulgin' in gallanthries." + +Now, at that moment, his laughter sounded harsh and ominous; but I had +done no wrong, and so, in conscious innocence, I said: + +"Mr. O'Halloran, you are right in your conjecture; but I assure you +that it was no mere gallantry; for, sir, I have a strong affection for +Miss O'Halloran, and have just asked her for her hand." + +"_Miss_ O'Halloran!" cried he. "_Miss_ O'Halloran! Sure, why didn't ye ask +hersilf, thin, like a man?" + +"Oh, dear!" cried Nora, taking O'Halloran's arm, and turning her +beautiful, pleading face up to his--"oh, dear! It's all a dreadful, +dreadful mistake. He doesn't know who I am. He thinks that _I_ am Miss +O'Halloran." + +"You!" I cried. "You! Why, are you not? Of course, you are. Who else +are you?" + +"Oh, tell him, tell him!" cried Nora. "It's so dreadful! Such a horrid, +horrid mistake to make!" + +A bright light flashed all over O'Halloran's face. He looked at me, and +then, at Nora; and then there came forth a peal of laughter which would +have done honor to any of the gods at the Olympian table. This time the +laughter was pure, and fresh, and joyous, and free. + +"_Miss_ O'Halloran!" he cried--"ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! _Miss_ O'Halloran! +ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! _Miss_ O'Halloran! Oh, be the powers, it's me +that'll nivir get over that same! _Miss_ O'Halloran! An' givin' wee to +sintimint--ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! an'askin' for riciproceetee av' tindir +attachmint--ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! What in the woide wurruld ivir injuiced +ye to think that me own little Nora was _Miss_ O'Halloran?" + +"Miss O'Halloran? Why," said I, "what else could I suppose? I recollect +now, when you introduced me the other night, you didn't mention her +name; and, if she isn't Miss O'Halloran, who is she? Let me know now, +at least. But my sentiments remain the same," I concluded, "whatever +name she has." + +"The divull they do!" said O'Halloran, with a grin. "Well, thin, the +quicker ye cheenge yer sintimints, the betther. Me own Nora--she's not +_Miss_ O'Halloran-an' lucky for me--she's somethin' betther--she's-MRS. +O'HALLORAN!!!" + +Let the curtain fall. There, reader, you have it. We won't attempt to +enlarge--will we? We'll omit the exploding thunder-bolt-won't we? I +will quietly put an end to this chapter, so as to give you leisure to +meditate over the woes of Macrorie. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +RECOVERY FROM THE LAST GREAT SHOCK.--GENIALITY OF MINE HOST.--OFF AGAIN +AMONG ANTIQUITIES.--THE FENIANS.--A STARTLING REVELATION BY ONE OF THE +INNER CIRCLE.--POLITICS, POETRY, AND PATHOS.--FAR-REACHING PLANS AND +DEEP-SEATED PURPOSES. + + +I was to dine with O'Halloran, and, though for some time I was +overwhelmed, yet I rallied rapidly, and soon recovered. O'Halloran +himself was full of fun. The event had apparently only excited his +laughter, and appeared to him as affording material for nothing else +than endless chaff and nonsense. + +As for Nora, she had been so agitated that she did not come to dinner, +nor did Marion make her appearance. This was the only thing that gave +me discomfort. O'Halloran seemed to understand how natural my mistake +was, and I supposed that he made every allowance, and all that. + +We sat at table for a long tune. O'Halloran discoursed on his usual +variety of subjects. Something occurred which suggested the Fenians, +whereupon he suddenly stopped; and, looking earnestly at me, he said: + +"Ye know I'm a Fenian?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"I make no saycrit of it," said he. "As a British officer, you're my +mortal inimee in my capaceetee as a Fenian; but at this table, and in +this house, we're nayther one thing nor the other. You're only +Macrorie, and I'm only O'Halloran. Still I don't mind talking of the +subject of Fenianism; it's an important one, and will one day take up a +great speece in histhory. I don't intind to indulge in any offinsive +objurgeetions ageenst the Saxon, nor will I mintion the wrongs of +Oireland. I'll only enloighten you as to the purpose, the maining, and +the attichood of the Fenian ordher." + +With these words he rose from the table, and chatted on general +subjects, while the servants brought in the spoons, glasses, tumblers, +and several other things. Beneath the genial influence of these, +O'Halloran soon grew eloquent, and resumed his remarks on the Fenians. + +"The Fenian ordher," he began, "has two eems. One is abroad; the other +is at home. + +"The first is that which is kipt before the oyes of the mimbers of the +outher circles. It manes the libereetion of Oireland, and perpitual +inmity to England. This purpose has its maneefesteetion in the attacks +which have alriddy been made on the inimy. Two inveesions have been +made on Canada. Innumerable and multeefeerious small interproises have +been set on fut in Oireland and in England; and these things serve the +purpose of keeping before the moinds of the mimbers the prospict of +some grand attack on the inimy, and of foirin' their ardhor. + +"But there is an innermost circle, saycludhid from the vulgar oi, +undher the chootelar prayiminence of min of janius, in whose moinds +there is a very different eem. It is the second which I have mintioned. +It is diricthid against America. + +"Thus-- + +"In the American raypublic there are foive millions of Oirish vothers. +Now, if these foive millions cud only be unoited in one homojaneous +congreegeetion, for some one prayiminent objict, they cud aisly rule +the counthree, an' dirict its policee intoirely, at home and abroad. + +"This, thin, is the thrue and genuoine eem of the shuparior min of the +intayrior circles. It is a grand an' comprayhinsive schayme to +consoleedeete all the Oirish votes into one overwhilming mass which can +conthrol all the ilictions. It is sweed by a few min of praysoiding +moinds and shupayrior janius. + +"And hince you bayhowld a systim roising within the boosom of the +American raypublic, which will soon be greather thin the raypublic +itself. At prisint, though, we do not number much over a million. But +we are incraysing. We have hoighly-multifeerious raysourcis. All the +_hilps_ are in our pee. These are our spoys. They infarrum us of all +the saycrit doings of the American payple. They bring constint +accisions to our numbers. They meek us sure of our future. + +"Oirishmin," he continued, "will nivir roise iffikeeciouslee in +Oireland. They can only roise in Amirica. Here, in this counthry, is +their only chance. And this chance we have sayzed, an', begorra, we'll +follow it up till all Amirica is domeeneetid by the Oirish ilimint, and +ruled by Oirish votes. This is the only Oirish raypublic for which we +care." + +"But you've been divided in your counsels," I suggested. "Did'nt this +interfere with your prospects?" + +"Oh," said he, "that was all our diplomeecee." + +"And were you never really divided?" + +"Nivir for a momint. Those were only thricks intindid to disave and +schtoopeefy the Amirican and English governmints." + +"So your true aim refers to America?" + +"Yis. And we intind to saycure to Amirica a perpetual succession of +Oirish prisidints." + +"When will you be able to begin? At the next election?" + +"No--not so soon. Not for two or three to come. By the third elicton +though, all the Oirish populeetion will be riddy to vote, and thin +we'll have our oun Oirish Prisidint. And afther that," said O'Halloran, +in an oracular tone, and pausing to quaff the transparent draught-- +"afther that, Amirica will be simplee an Oirish republic. Then we'll +cast our oys across the say. We'll cast there our arrums. We'll sind +there our flates and armies. We'll take vingince out of the Saxon for +the wrongs of foive cinturies. We'll adopt Ould Oireland into the +fameelee of the Steetes, as the youngest, but the fairist and the +broightist of thim all. We'll throw our laygions across the Oirish +Channel into the land of the Saxon, and bring that counthry down to its +proimayval insignifeecance. That," said O'Halloran, "is the one +sehtoopindous eem of the Fenian Ordher." + +O'Halloran showed deep emotion. Once more he quaffed the restoring +draught. + +"Yis, me boy," he said, looking tenderly at me. "I'll yit return to the +owld land. Perhaps ye'll visit the eeged O'Halloran before he doise. +Oi'll teek up me risidince at Dublin. Oi'll show ye Oircland--free-- +troiumphint, shuprame among the neetions. Oi'll show ye our noble +pisintry, the foinist in the wurruld. Oi'll take ye to the Rotondo. +Oi'll show ye the Blarney-stone. Oi'll show ye the ruins of Tara, where +me oun ancisthors once reigned." + +At this his emotion overcame him, and he was once more obliged to seek +a restorative. + +After this he volunteered to sing a song, and trolled off the following +to a lively, rollicking air: + + +"'Ye choonfol Noine! + Ye nymphs devoine, +Shuprame in Jove's dominions! + Assist me loyre, + Whoile oi aspoire +To cilibreet the Fenians. + + +"'Our ordher bowld + All onconthrowled +Injued with power, be dad, is + To pleece in arrums + The stalwart farrums +Of half a million Paddies. + + +"'To Saxon laws + For Oireland's cause +Thim same did breok allaygiance, + An' marched away + In war's array + To froighten the Canajians. + + +"'We soon intind + Our wee to wind +Across the woide Atlantic, + Besaige the ports, + Blow up the forts, +An' droive the Saxon frantic. + + +"'An' thin in loine, + Our hosts will join +Beneath the Oirish pinnint, + Till Dublin falls, + An' on its walls +We hang the lord-liftinnint. + + +"'The Saxon crew + We'll thin purshoo +Judiciously and calmly-- + On Windsor's plain + We'll hang the Quane +An' all the royal family. + + +"'An'thin-begob! + No more they'll rob +Ould Oireland of her taxes, + An' Earth shall rowl + From powl to powl +More aisy on its axis.'" + + +Now all the time O'Halloran was talking and singing, I had scarcely +heard a word that he said. Once I caught the general run of his +remarks, and said a few words to make him think I was attending; but my +thoughts soon wandered off, and I was quite unconscious that he was +talking rank treason. How do I know so much about it now, it may be +asked. To this I reply that after-circumstances gave me full +information about was said and sung. And of this the above will give a +general idea. + +But my thoughts were on far other subjects than Fenianism. It was the +Lady of the Ice that filled my heart and my mind. Lost and found, and +lost again! With me it was nothing but--"O Nora! Nora! Wherefore art +thou, Nora?"--and all that sort of thing, you know. + +Lost and found! Lost and found! A capital title for a sensation novel, +but a bad thing, my boy, to be ringing through a poor devil's brain. +Now, through my brain there rang that identical refrain, and nothing +else. And all my thoughts and words the melancholy burden bore of +never--never more. How could I enjoy the occasion? What was +conviviality to me, or I to conviviality? O'Halloran's words were +unheeded and unheard. While Nora was near, he used to seem a brilliant +being, but Nora was gone! + +And why had she gone? Why had she been so cut up? I had said but +little, and my mistake had been hushed up by O'Halloran's laughter. Why +had she retired? And why, when I spoke to her of my love, had she +showed such extraordinary agitation? Was it--oh, was it that she too +loved, not wisely but too well? O Nora! Oh, my Lady of the Ice! Well +did you say it was a dreadful mistake! Oh, mistake--irreparable, +despairing! And could I never see her sweet face again? + +By this, which is a pretty fair specimen of my thoughts, it will be +plainly seen that I was in a very agitated frame of mind, and still +clung as fondly and as frantically as ever to my one idea of the Lady +of the Ice. + +One thing came amid my thoughts like a flash of light into darkness, +and that was that Jack, at least, was not crossing my path, nor was he +a dog in my manger; Miss O'Halloran might be his, but she was nothing +to me. Who Miss O'Halloran was, I now fully understood. It was Marion-- +Marion with the sombre, sad face, and the piercing, lustrous eyes. + +Well, be she who she might, she was no longer standing between Jack and +me. I could regain my lost friend at any rate, I could explain every +thing to him. I could easily anticipate the wild shrieks of laughter +with which he would greet my mistake, but that mattered not. I was +determined to hunt him up. All my late bitter feeling against him +vanished, and I began to feel a kind of longing for his great broad +brow, his boyish carelessness, his never-ending blunders. So at an +early hour I rose, and informed O'Halloran that I had an engagement at +eleven o'clock, and would have to start. + +"It's sorry I am," said he, "but I won't deteen ye." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +A FEW PARTING WORDS WITH O'HALLORAN.--HIS TOUCHING PARENTAL TENDERNESS, +HIGH CHIVALRIC SENTIMENT, AND LOFTY SENSE OF HONOR.--PISTOLS FOR TWO.-- +PLEASANT AND HARMONIOUS ARRANGEMENT.--"ME BOY, YE'RE AN HONOR TO YER +SEX!" + + +"It's sorry I am," said O'Halloran, "but I won't deteen ye, for I +always rispict an engeegemint." + +He stopped and looked at me with a benevolent smile. I had risen from +my chair, and was standing before him. + +"Sit down a momint," said he. "There's a subjict I wish to mintion, the +considhereetion of which I've postponed till now." + +I resumed my seat in some surprise. + +"Me boy," said he, in a tender and paternal voice, "it's now toime for +me to speak to ye about the ayvint of which I was a casual oi-witniss. +I refer to your addhrissis to me woife. Don't intherrupt me. I +comprayhind the whole matter. The leedies are all fond of ye. So they +are of me. Ye're a devvil of a fellow with them--an' so am I. We +comprayhind one another. You see we must have a mayting." + +"A meeting!" + +"Yis--of coorse. A jool. There's nothing else to be done." + +"You understand," said I, "of course, the nature of my awkward mistake, +and the cause of it." + +"Don't mintion it. Me ondherstand? Of coorse. Am I an owl? Be dad, I +nivir laughed so much these tin years. Ondherstand! Every bit of it. +But we won't have any expleeneetions about that. What concerns us is +the code of honor, and the jewty of gintlemin. A rigid sinse of honor, +and a shuprame reygard for the sancteties of loife, requoire that any +voioleetion, howivir onintintional, be submitted and subjicted to the +only tribunal of chivalry--the eencient and maydoayval orjil of the +jool." + +I confess I was affected, and deeply, by the lofty attitude which +O'Halloran assumed. He hadn't the slightest hard feeling toward me. He +wasn't in the smallest degree jealous. He was simply a calm adherent to +a lofty and chivalrous code. His honor had been touched ignorantly, no +doubt--yet still it had been touched, and he saw no other course to +follow than the one laid down by chivalry. + +"My friend," said I, enthusiastically, "I appreciate your delicacy, and +your lofty sentiment. This is true chivalry. You surpass yourself. You +are sublime!" + +"I know I am," said O'Halloran, naively. + +A tear trembled in his eye. He did net seek to conceal his generous +emotion. That tear rolled over and dropped into his tumbler, and +hallowed the draught therein. + +"So then," said I, "we are to have a meeting--but where, and when?" + +"Whinivir it shoots you, and wherivir. I'm afraid it'll take you out of +your wee. We'll have to go off about twinty moiles. There's a moighty +convaynient place there, I'm sorry it's not nayrer, but it can't be +helped. I've had three or fower maytings there mesilf this last year. +You'll be deloighted with it whin you once get there. There's good +whiskey there too. The best in the country. We'll go there." + +"And when?" + +"Well, well--the seconds may areenge about that. How'll nixt Monday +do?" + +"Delightfully, if it suits you." + +"Oh, I'll be shooted at any toime." + +"What shall we meet with?" I asked. + +"Sure that's for you to decoide." + +"Pistols," I suggested. + +O'Halloran nodded. + +"I really have no preference. I'll leave it to you if you like," said +I. + +O'Halloran rose--a benevolent smile illumined his face. He pressed my +hand. + +"Me boy," said he, with the same paternal tone which he had thus far +maintained, "don't mintion it. Aihter will do. We'll say pistols. Me +boy, ye're as thrue as steel--" He paused, and then wringing my hand, +he said in a voice tremulous with emotion--"Me boy, ye're an honor to +yer sex!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +SENSATIONAL!--TERRIFIC!--TREMENDOUS!--I LEAVE THE HOUSE IN A STRANGE +WHIRL.--A STORM.--THE DRIVING SLEET.--I WANDER ABOUT.--THE VOICES OF +THE STORM, AND OF THE RIVER.--THE CLANGOR OF THE BELLS.--THE SHADOW IN +THE DOORWAY.--THE MYSTERIOUS COMPANION.--A TERRIBLE WALK.--FAMILIAR +VOICES.--SINKING INTO SENSELESSNESS.--THE LADY OF THE ICE IS REVEALED +AT LAST AMID THE STORM! + + +As I left the house there came a blast of stinging sleet, which showed +me that it was a wild night. It was not many days now since that +memorable journey on the river; and the storm that was blowing seemed +to be the counterpart and continuation of that. It had been overcast +when I entered O'Halloran's; when I left it, the storm had gathered up +into fury, and the wind howled around, and the furious sleet dashed +itself fiercely against me. The street was deserted. None would go out +on so wild a night. It was after eleven; half-past, perhaps. + +For a moment I turned my back to the sleet, and then drew forth my +cloud from my pocket, and bound it about my head. + +Thus prepared, and thus armed, I was ready to encounter the fiercest +sleet that ever blew. I went down the steps, took the sidewalk, and +went off. + +As I went on, my mind was filled with many thoughts. A duel was before +me; but I gave that no consideration. The storm howled about and +shrieked between the houses; but the storm was nothing. There was that +in my heart and in my brain which made all these things trivial. It was +the image of my Lady of the Ice, and the great longing after her, +which, for the past few days, had steadily increased. + +I had found her! I had lost her! Lost and found! Found and lost! + +The wrath of the storm had only this one effect on me, that it brought +before me with greater vividness the events of that memorable day on +the river. Through such a storm we had forced our way. From such +pitiless peltings of stinging sleet I had sheltered her fainting, +drooping head. This was the hurricane that had howled about her as she +lay prostrate, upheld in my arms, which hurled its wrathful showers on +her white, upturned face. From this I had saved her, and from worse-- +from the grinding ice, the falling avalanche, the dark, deep, cold, +freezing flood. I had brought her back to life through all these +perils, and now--and now!-- + +Now, for that Lady of the Ice, whose image was brought up before me by +the tempest and the storm, there arose within me a mighty and +irrepressible yearning. She had become identified with Nora, but yet it +was not Nora's face and Nora's image that dwelt within my mind. That +smiling face, with its sparkling eyes and its witching smile, was +another thing, and seemed to belong to another person. It was not Nora +herself whom I had loved, but Nora as she stood the representative of +my Lady of the Ice. Moreover, I had seen Nora in unfeigned distress; I +had seen her wringing her hands and looking at me with piteous entreaty +and despair; but even the power of these strong emotions had not given +her the face that haunted me. Nora on the ice and Nora at home were so +different, that they could not harmonize; nor could the +never-to-be-forgotten lineaments of the one be traced in the other. And, +could Nora now have been with me in this storm, I doubted whether her +face could again assume that marble, statuesque beauty--that immortal +sadness and despair, which I had once seen upon it. That face--the true +face that I loved--could I ever see it again? + +I breasted the storm and walked on I knew not where. At last I found +myself on the Esplanade. Beneath lay the river, which could not now be +seen through the blackness of the storm and of the night, but which, +through that blackness, sent forth a voice from all its waves. And the +wind wailed mournfully, mingling its voice with that of the river. So +once before bad rushing, dashing water joined its uproar to the howl of +pitiless winds, when I bore her over the river; only on that occasion +there was joined in the horrid chorus the more fearful boom of the +breaking icefields. + +And now the voice of the river only increased and intensified that +longing of which I have spoken. I could not go home. I thought of going +back again to O'Halloran's house. There was my Lady of the Ice--Nora. I +might see her shadow on the window--I might see a light from her room. + +Now Nora had not at all come up to my ideal of the Lady of the Ice, and +yet there was no other representative. I might be mad in love with an +image, a shadow, an idea; but if that image existed anywhere in real +life, it could exist only in Nora. And thus Nora gained from my image +an attractiveness, which she never could have had in her own right. It +was her identity with that haunting image of loveliness that gave her +such a charm. The charm was an imaginary one. Had I never found her on +the river and idealized her, the might have gained my admiration; but +she would never have thrown over me such a spell. But now, whatever she +was in herself, she was so merged in that ideal, that in my longing for +my love I turned my steps backward and wandered toward O'Halloran's, +with the frantic hope of seeing her shadow on the window, or a ray of +light from her room. For I could find no other way than this of +satisfying those insatiable longings that had sprung up within me. + +So back I went through the storm, which seemed still to increase in +fury, and through the sleet, which swept in long horizontal lines down +the street, and whirled round the corner, and froze fast to the houses. +As I went on, the violence of the storm did not at all weaken my +purpose. I had my one idea, and that one idea I was bent on carrying +out. + +Under such circumstances I approached the house of O'Halloran. I don't +know what I expected, or whether I expected, any thing or not. I know +what I wanted. I wanted the Lady of the Ice, and in search of her I ha + thus wandered back to that house in which lived the one with whom she +had been identified. A vague idea of seeing her shadow on the window +still possessed me, and so I kept along on the opposite sidewalk, and +looked up to see if there was any light or any shadow. + +There was no light at all. + +I stood still and gazed. + +Was there a shadow? Or what was it? There was something moving there--a +dark, dusky shadow, in a niche of the gateway, by the corner of the +house--a dark shadow, dimly revealed in this gloom--the shadowy outline +of a woman's form. + +I do not know what mad idea possessed me. I looked, while my heart beat +fast and painfully. A wild idea of the Lady of the Ice coming to me +again, amid the storm, to be again my companion through the storm, +flashed like lightning through my brain. + +Suddenly, wild and clear and clanging, there came the toll of a bell +from a neighboring tower, as it began to strike the hour of midnight. +For a moment I paused in a sort of superstitious terror, and then, +before the third stroke had rung out, I rushed across the street. + +The figure had been watching me. + +As I came, she started. She hurried forward, and met me at the curb. +With a wild rush of joy and exultation, I caught her in my arms. I felt +her frame tremble. At length she disengaged herself and caught my arm +with a convulsive clasp, and drew me away. Mechanically, and with no +fixed idea of any kind, I walked off. + +She walked slowly. In that fierce gale, rapid progress was not +possible. She, however, was well protected from the blast. A cloud was +wrapped around her head, and kept her face from the storm. + +We walked on, and I felt my heart throb to suffocation, while my brain +reeled with a thousand new and wild fancies. Amid these, something of +my late superstition still lingered. + +"Who is she?" I wondered; "Who is she? How did she happen to wait for +me here? Is it my Lady of the Ice? Am I a haunted man? Will she always +thus come to me in the storm, and leave me when the storm is over? +Where am I going? Whither is she leading me? Is she taking me back to +the dark river from which I saved her?" + +Then I struggled against the superstitious fancy, and rallied and tried +to think calmly about it. + +"Yes. It's Nora," I thought; "it's herself. She loves me. This was the +cause of her distress. And that distress has overmastered her. She has +been unable to endure my departure. She has been convinced that I would +return, and hag waited for me. + +"Nora! Yes, Nora! Nora! But, Nora! what is this that I am doing? This +Nora can never be mine. She belongs to another. She was mine only +through my mistake. How can she hope to be mine, or how can I hope to +be hers? And why is it that I can dare thus to take her to ruin? Can I +have the heart to?" + +I paused involuntarily, as the full horror of this idea burst upon me. +For, divested of all sentiment, the bald idea that burst upon my +whirling brain was simply this, that I was running away with the wife +of another man, and that man the very one who had lately given me his +hospitality, and called me his friend. And even so whirling a brain as +mine then was, could not avoid being penetrated by an idea that was so +shocking to every sentiment of honor, and loyalty, and chivalry, and +duty. + +But as I paused, my companion forced me on. She had not said a single +word. Her head was bent down to meet the storm. She walked like one +bent on some desperate purpose, and that purpose was manifestly too +strong and too absorbing to be checked by any thing so feeble as my +fitful and uncertain irresolution. She walked on like some fate that +had gained possession of me. I surrendered to the power that thus held +me. I ceased even to think of pausing. + +At length we came to where there was a large house with lights +streaming from all the windows. It was Colonel Berton's--I knew it +well. A ball had been going on, and the guests were departing. Down +came the sleighs as they carried off the guests, the jangle of the +bells Bounding shrilly in the stormy night. Thus far in my wanderings +all had been still, and this sudden noise produced a startling effect. + +One sleigh was still at the door, and as we approached nearer we could +see that none others were there. It was probably waiting for the last +guest. At length we reached the house, and were walking immediately +under the bright light of the drawing-room windows, when suddenly the +door of the house opened, and a familiar voice sounded, speaking in +loud, eager, hilarious tones. + +At the sound of that voice my companion stopped, and staggered back, +and then stood rigid with, her head thrust forward. + +It was Jack's voice. + +"Thanks," he said. "Ha! ha! ha! You're awfully kind, you know. Oh, yes. +I'll be here to-morrow night. Good-by. Good-by." + +He rushed down the steps. The door closed. He sprang into the sleigh. +It started ahead in an opposite direction, and away it went, till the +jangle of the bells died out in the distance, amid the storm. + +All was still. The street was deserted. The storm had full possession. +The lights of the house flashed out upon the snowdrifts, and upon the +glittering, frozen sleet. + +For a moment my companion stood rooted to the spot. Then snatching her +arm from mine, she flung up her hand with a sudden gesture, and tore my +cloud down from off my face. The lights from the windows shone upon me, +revealing my features to her. + +The next instant her arms fell. She staggered back, and with a low moan +of heart-broken anguish, she sank down prostrate into the snow. + +Now hitherto there had been on my mind a current of superstitious +feeling which had animated most of my wild fancies. It had been +heightened by the events of my wanderings. The bowl of the storm, the +voice of the dark river, the clangor of the midnight bell, the shadowy +figure at the doorway--all these circumstances had combined to +stimulate my imagination and disorder my brain. But now, on my arrival +at this house, these feelings had passed away. These signs of +commonplace life--the jangling sleigh-bells, the lighted windows, the +departing company--had roused me, and brought me to myself. Finally, +there came the sound of Jack's voice, hearty, robust, healthy, strong-- +at the sound of which the dark shadows of my mind were dispelled. And +it was at this moment, when all these phantasms had vanished, that my +companion fell senseless in the snow at my feet. + +I stooped down full of wonder, and full too of pity. I raised her in my +arms. I supported her head on my shoulder. The storm beat pitilessly; +the stinging sleet pelted my now uncovered face; the lights of the +house shone out upon the form of my companion. All the street was +deserted. No one in the house saw us. I, for my part, did not think +whether I was seen or not. All my thoughts were turned to the one whom +I held in my arms. + +I took the cloud which was wrapped around her head, and tenderly and +delicately drew it down from her face. + +Oh, Heavens! what was this that I saw? + +The lights flashed out, and revealed it unmistakably. There--then-- +resting on my shoulder--under my gaze--now fully revealed--there lay +the face that had haunted me--the face for which I had longed, and +yearned, and craved! There it lay--that never-to-be-forgotten face-- +with the marble features, the white lips, the closed eyes, the stony +calm--there it lay--the face of her whom alone I loved--the Lady of the +Ice! + +What was this? I felt my old mood returning. Was this real? Was it not +a vision? How was it that she came to me again through the storm, again +to sink down, and again to rest her senseless form in my arms, and her +head upon my breast? + +For a few moments I looked at her in utter bewilderment. All the wild +fancies which I had just been having now came back. I had wandered +through the storm in search of her, and she had come. Here she was-- +here, in my arms! + +Around us the storm raged as once before; and again, as before, the +fierce sleet dashed upon that white face; and again, as before, I +shielded it from its fury. + +As I looked upon her I could now recognize her fully and plainly; and +at that recognition the last vestige of my wild, superstitious feeling +died out utterly, for she whom I held in my arms was no phantom, nor +was she Nora. I had been in some way intentionally deceived, but all +the time my own instinct had been true; for, now, when the Lady of the +lee again lay in my arms, I recognized her, and I saw that she was no +other than _Marion_. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +MY LADY OF THE ICE.--SNOW AND SLEET.--REAWAKENING.--A DESPERATE +SITUATION.--SAVED A SECOND TIME.--SNATCHED FROM A WORSE FATE.--BORNE IN +MY ARMS ONCE MORE.--THE OPEN DOOR. + + +So there she lay before me--the Lady of the Ice, discovered, at last, +and identified with Marion. And she lay there reclining on my arms as +once before, and in the snow, with the pitiless blast beating upon her. +And the first question that arose was, "What can I do?" + +Ay--that was the question. What could I do? + +I leave to the reader to try and imagine the unparalleled embarrassment +of such a situation. For there was I, in an agony of eagerness to save +her--to do something--and yet it was simply impossible to think of any +one place to which I could take her. + +Could I take her into Colonel Berton's? That was my first impulse. The +lights from his windows were flashing brightly out into the gloom close +beside us. But how could I take her there? With what story? Or if I +trumped up some story--which I easily could do--would she not betray +herself by her own incoherencies as she recovered from her faint? No, +not Colonel Berton's. Where, then? Could I take her anywhere? To an +hotel? No. To any friends? Certainly not. To her own home?--But she had +fled, and it was locked against her. Where--where could I take her? + +For I had to do something. I could not let her lie here--she would +perish. I had to take her somewhere, and yet save her from that ruin +and shame to which her rashness and Jack's perfidy had exposed her. Too +plain it all seemed now. Jack had urged her to fly--beyond a doubt--she +had consented, and he had not come for her. + +I raised her up in my arms, and carried her on. Once before I had thus +carried her in my arms--thus, as I saved her from death; and now, as I +thus bore her, I felt that I was trying to save her from a fate far +worse--from scandal, from evil speaking--from a dishonored name--from a +father's curse. And could I but save her from this--could I but bear +her a second time from this darker fate back to light, and life, and +safety; then I felt assured that my Lady of the Ice could not so soon +forget this second service. + +I raised her up and carried her thus I knew not where. There was not a +soul in the streets. The lamps gave but a feeble light in the wild +storm. The beating of the sleet and the howling of the tempest +increased at every step. My lady was senseless in my arms. I did not +know where I was going, nor where I could go; but breasted the storm, +and shielded my burden from it as well as I could; and so toiled on, in +utter bewilderment and desperation. + +Now I beg leave to ask the reader if this situation of mine was not as +embarrassing a one as any that he ever heard of. For I thus found +forced upon me the safety, the honor, and the life of the very Lady of +the Ice for whom I had already risked my life--whose life I had already +saved; and about whom I had been raving ever since. But now that she +had thus been thrown upon me, with her life, and her honor, it was an +utterly impossible thing to see how I could extricate her from this +frightful difficulty; though so fervent was my longing to do this, +that, if my life could have done it, I would have laid it down for her +on the spot. + +At last, to my inexpressible relief, I heard from her a low moan. I put +her down on the door-step of a house close by, and sat by her side +supporting her. A lamp was burning not far away. + +She drew a long breath, and then raised herself suddenly, and looked +all around. Gradually the truth of her position returned to her. She +drew herself away from me, and buried her face in her hands, and sat in +silence for a long time. I waited in patience and anxiety for her to +speak, and feared that the excitement and the anguish which she had +undergone might have affected her mind. + +Suddenly she started, and looked at me with staring eyes. + +"Did _he_ send _you_?" she gasped, in a strange, hoarse, choking voice. + +Her face, her tone, and the emphasis of her words, all showed the full +nature of the dark suspicion that had flung itself over her mind. + +"_He_! _Me_!" I cried, indignantly. "Never! never! Can you have the +heart to suspect _me_? Have I deserved this?" + +"It looks like it," said she, coldly. + +"Oh, listen!" I cried; "listen! I will explain my coming. It was a +mistake, an accident. I swear to you, ever since that day on the ice, +I've been haunted by your face--" + +She made an impatient gesture. + +"Well, not your face, then. I did not know it was yours. I called it +the Lady of the Ice." + +"I do not care to hear," said she, coldly. + +"Oh, listen!" I said. "I want to clear myself from your horrid +suspicion. I was at your house this evening. After leaving, I wandered +wildly about. I couldn't go home. It was half madness and superstition. +I went to the Esplanade, and there seemed voices in the storm. I +wandered back again to your house, with a vague and half-crazy idea +that the Lady of the Ice was calling me. As I came up to the house, I +saw a shadowy figure on the other side. I thought it was the Lady of +the Ice, and crossed over, not knowing what I was doing. The figure +came and took my arm. I walked on, frozen into a sort of superstitious +silence. I swear to you, it happened exactly in this way, and that for +a time I really thought it was the Lady of the Ice who had come to meet +me in the storm. I held back once or twice, but to no avail. I swear to +you that I never had the remotest idea that it was you, till the moment +when you fell, and I saw that you yourself were the Lady of the Ice. I +did not recognize you before; but, when your face was pale, with +suffering and fear upon it, then you became the same one whom I have +never forgotten." + +"_He_ did not send you, then?" said she again. + +"He? No. I swear he didn't; but all is just as I have said. Besides, we +have quarrelled, and I have neither seen nor heard of him for two +days." + +She said nothing in reply, but again buried her face in her hands, and +sat crouching on the door-step. The storm howled about us with +tremendous fury. All the houses in the street were dark, and the street +itself showed no living forms but ours. A lamp, not far off, threw a +feeble light upon us. + +"Come," said I at last; "I have saved you once from death, and, I doubt +not, I have been sent by Fate to save you once again. If you stay here +any longer, you must perish. You must rouse yourself." + +I spoke vehemently and quickly, and in the tone of one who would listen +to no refusal. I was roused now, at last, from all irresolution by the +very sight of her suffering. I saw that to remain here much longer +would be little else than death for her. + +"Oh, what shall I do?" she moaned. + +"Tell me of some place where I can take you." + +"There is no place. How could I dare to go to any of my friends?" + +"Why should you not?" + +"I cannot--I cannot." + +"You can easily make up some story for the occasion. Tell me the name +of some one, and I will take you." + +"No," said she. + +"Then," said I, "you must go home." + +"Home! home!" she gasped. + +"Yes," said I, firmly, "home. Home you must go, and nowhere else." + +"I cannot." + +"You must." + +"I will not; I will die first." + +"You shall not die!" I cried, passionately. "You shall not die while I +am near you. I have saved your life before, and I will not let it end +in this. No, you shall not die--I swear by all that's holy! I myself +will carry you home." + +"I cannot," she murmured, feebly. + +"You must," said I. "This is not a question of death--it's a question +of dishonor. Home is the only haven where you can find escape from +that, and to that home I will take you." + +"Oh, my God!" she wailed; "how can I meet my father?" + +She buried her face in her hands again, and sobbed convulsively. + +"Do not be afraid," said I. "I will meet him, and explain all. Or say-- +answer me this," I added, in fervid, vehement tones--"I can do more +than this. I will tell him it was all my doing. I will accept his +anger. I'll tell him I was half mad, and repented. I'll tell any thing +--any thing you like. I'll shield you so that all his fury shall fall +on me, and he will have nothing for you but pity." + +"Stop," said she, solemnly, rising to her feet, and looking at me with +her white face--"stop! You must not talk so. I owe my life to you +already. Do not overwhelm me. You have now deliberately offered to +accept dishonor for my sake. It is too much. If my gratitude is worth +having, I assure you I am grateful beyond words. But your offer is +impossible. Never would I permit it." + +"Will you go home, then?" I asked, as she paused. + +"Yes," said she, slowly. + +I offered my arm, and she took it, leaning heavily upon me. Our +progress was slow, for the storm was fierce, and she was very weak. + +"I think," said she, "that in my haste I left the back door unlocked. +If so, I may get in without being observed." + +"I pray Heaven it may be so," said I, "for in that case all trouble +will be avoided." + +We walked on a little farther. She leaned more and more heavily upon +me, and walked more and more slowly. At last she stopped. + +I knew what was the matter. She was utterly exhausted, and to go +farther was impossible. I did not question her at all. I said nothing. +I stooped, and raised her in my arms without a word, and walked +vigorously onward. She murmured a few words of complaint, and struggled +feebly; but I took no notice whatever of her words or her struggles. +But her weakness was too great even for words. She rested on me like a +dead weight, and I would have been sure that she had fainted again, had +I not felt the convulsive shudders that from time to time passed +through her frame, and heard her frequent heavy sighs and sobbings. + +So I walked on through the roaring storm, beaten by the furious sleet, +bearing my burden in my arms, as I had done once before. And it was the +same burden, under the same circumstances--my Lady of the Ice, whom I +thus again uplifted in my arms amid the storm, and snatched from a +cruel fate, and carried back to life and safety and home. And I knew +that this salvation which she now received from me was far more +precious than that other one; for that was a rescue from death, but +this was a rescue from dishonor. + +We reached the house at last. The gate which led into the yard was not +fastened. I carried her in, and put her down by the back door. I tried +it. It opened. + +The sight of that open door gave her fresh life and strength. She put +one foot on the threshold. + +Then she turned. + +"Oh, sir," said she, in a low, thrilling voice, "I pray God that it may +ever be in my power to do something for you--some day--in return--for +all this. God bless you! you have saved me--" + +And with these words she entered the house. The door closed between us +--she was gone. + +I stood and listened for a long time. All was still. + +"Thank Heaven!" I murmured, as I turned away. "The family have not +been alarmed. She is safe." + +I went home, but did not sleep that night My brain was in a whirl from +the excitement of this new adventure. In that adventure every +circumstance was one of the most impressive character; and at the same +time every thing was contradictory and bewildering to such an extent +that I did not know whether to congratulate myself or not, whether to +rejoice or lament. I might rejoice at finding the Lady of the Ice; but +my joy was modified by the thought that I found her meditating flight +with another man. I had saved her; but then I was very well aware that, +if I had not come, she might never have left her home, and might never +have been in a position to need help. Jack had, no doubt, neglected to +meet her. Over some things, however, I found myself exulting--first, +that, after all, I _had_ saved her, and, secondly, that she had found +out Jack. + +As for Jack, my feelings to him underwent a rapid and decisive change. +My excitement and irritation died away. I saw that we had both been +under a mistake. I might perhaps have blamed him for his treachery +toward Marion in urging her to a rash and ruinous elopement; but any +blame which I threw on him was largely modified by a certain +satisfaction which I felt in knowing that his failure to meet her, +fortunate as it was for her, and fortunate as it was also for himself +would change her former love for him into scorn and contempt. His +influence over her was henceforth at an end, and the only obstacle that +I saw in the way of my love was suddenly and effectually removed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +PUZZLING QUESTIONS WHICH CANNOT BE ANSWERED AS YET.--A STEP TOWARD +RECONCILIATION.--REUNION OF A BROKEN FRIENDSHIP.--PIECES ALL COLLECTED +AND JOINED.--JOY OF JACK.--SOLEMN DEBATES OVER THE GREAT PUZZLE OF THE +PERIOD.--FRIENDLY CONFERENCES AND CONFIDENCES.--AN IMPORTANT +COMMUNICATION. + + +The night passed, and the morning came, and the impression of these +Recent events grew more and more vivid. The very circumstances under +which I found my Lady of the Ice were not such as are generally chosen +by the novelist for an encounter between the hero and heroine of his +novel. Of that I am well aware; but then I'm not a novelist, and I'm +not a hero, and the Lady of the Ice isn't a heroine--so what have you +got to say to that? The fact is, I'm talking about myself. I found +Marion running away, or trying to run away, with my intimate friend. +The elopement, however, did not come off. She was thrown into my way in +an amazing manner, and I identified her with my Lady, after whom I +longed and pined with a consuming passion. Did the discovery of the +Lady of the Ice under such circumstances change my affections? Not at +all. They only grew all the stronger. The Lady was the same as ever. I +had not loved Nora, but the Lady of the Ice; and now that I found out +who she was, I loved Marion. This happens to be the actual state of the +case; and, whether it is artistic or not, does not enter into my mind +for a single moment. + +Having thus explained my feelings concerning Marion, it will easily be +seen that any resentment which I might have felt against Jack for +causing her grief, was more than counterbalanced by the prospect I now +had that she would give him up forever. Besides, our quarrel was on the +subject of Nora, and this had to be explained. Then, again, my duel was +on the _tapis_, and I wanted Jack for a second. I therefore determined +to hunt him up as soon as possible. + +But in the course of the various meditations which had filled the hours +of the night, one thing puzzled me extremely, and that was the +pretension of Nora to be my Lady of the Ice. Why had she done so? Why +did Marion let her? Why did O'Halloran announce his own wife to me as +the lady whom I had saved? No doubt Nora and Marion had some reason. +But what, and why? And what motive had O'Halloran for deceiving me? +Clearly none. It was evident that he believed Nora to be the lady. It +was also evident that on the first night of the reading of the +advertisement, and nay story, he did not know that the companion of +that adventure of mine was a member of his family. The ladies knew it, +but he didn't. It was, therefore, a secret of theirs, which they were +keeping from him. But why? And what possible reason had Marion for +denying it, and Nora for coming forward and owning up to a false +character to O'Halloran? + +All these were perplexing and utterly bewildering mysteries, of which. +I could make nothing. + +At length I cut short the whole bother by going off to Jack's. + +He was just finishing his breakfast. + +The moment he saw me, he started to his feet, and gave a spring toward +me. Then he grasped my hand in both of his, while his face grew radiant +with delight. + +"Macrorie! old boy!" he cried. "What a perfect trump! I'll be hanged if +I wasn't going straight over to you! Couldn't stand this sort of thing +any longer.--What's the use of all this beastly row? I haven't had a +moment's peace since it begun. Yes, Macrorie," he continued, wringing +my hand hard, "I'll be hanged if I wouldn't give up every one of the +women--I was just thinking that I'd give them all for a sight of your +old face again--except, perhaps, poor little Louie--" he added. "But, +come, sit down, load up, and fumigate." + +And he brought out all his pipes, and drew up all his chairs, and +showed such unfeigned delight at seeing me, that all my old feelings of +friendship came back, and resumed their places. + +"Well, old fellow," said I, "do you know in the first place--our row-- +You know--" + +"Oh, bother the row!" + +"Well, it was all a mistake." + +"A mistake?" + +"Yes. We mistook the women." + +"How's that? I'm in the dark." + +"Why, there are two ladies at O'Halloran's." + +"Two?" + +"Yes, and they weren't introduced, and, as they're both young, I +thought they were both his daughters." + +"Two women! and young? By Jove!" cried Jack--"and who's the other?" + +"His wife!" + +"His wife? and young?" The idea seemed to overwhelm Jack. + +"Yes," said I, "his wife, and young, and beautiful as an angel." + +"Young, and beautiful as an angel!" repeated Jack. "Good Lord, +Macrorie!" + +"Well, you know, I thought his wife was Miss O'Halloran, and the other +Miss Marion." + +"What's that? his wife? You thought she was Miss O'Halloran?" + +"Yes, and the one I saved on the ice, you know--" + +"Well, all I can say is, old fellow, I'm confoundedly sorry for your +sake that she's a married woman. That rather knocks your little game. +At the same time it's a very queer thing that I didn't know any thing +about it. Still, I wasn't at the house much, and Mrs. O'Halloran might +have been out of town. I didn't know any thing about their family +affairs, and never heard them mentioned. I thought there was only a +daughter in the family. Never dreamed of there being a wife." + +"Well, there is a wife--a Mrs. O'Halloran--so young and beautiful that +I took her for the old man's daughter; and Jack, my boy, I'm in a +scrape." + +"A scrape?" + +"Yes--a duel. Will you be my second?" + +"A duel!" cried Jack, and gave a long whistle. + +"Fact," said I, "and it all arose out of my mistaking a man's wife for +His daughter." + +"Mistaking her?" cried Jack, with a roar of laughter. "So you did. Oh, +Macrorie! how awfully spooney you were about her, you know--ready to +fight with your best friend about her, and all that, you know. And how +did it go on? What happened? Come, now, don't do the reticent. Out with +it, man. Every bit of it. A duel! And about a man's wife! Good Lord +Macrorie, you'll have to leave the regiment. An affair like this will +rouse the whole town. These infernal newspapers will give exaggerated +accounts of every thing, you know. And then you'll get it. By Jove, +Macrorie, I begin to think your scrape is worse than mine." + +"By-the-way, Jack, how are you doing?" + +"Confound it man, what do you take me for? Do you think I'm a stalk or +a stone. No, by Jove, I'm a man, and I'm crazy to hear about your +affair. What happened? What did you do? What did you say? Something +must have taken place, you know. You must have been awfully sweet on +her. By Jove! And did the old fellow see you at it? Did he notice any +thing? A duel! Something must have happened. Oh, by Jove! don't I know +the old rascal! Not boisterous, not noisy, but keen, sir, as a razor, +and every word a dagger. The most savage, cynical, cutting, insulting +old scoundrel of an Irishman that I ever met with. By Heaven, Macrorie, +I'd like to be principal in the duel instead of second. By Jove, how +that old villain did walk into me that last time I called there! + +"Well, you see," I began, "when I went to his house he introduced _me_, +And didn't introduce _her_." + +"Yes." + +"Well, I talked with her several times, but for various reasons, +unnecessary to state, I never mentioned her name. I just chatted with +her, you know, the way a fellow generally does." + +"Was the old fellow by?" + +"Oh, yes, but you know yesterday I went there and found her alone." + +"Well?" + +"Well--you know--you were so determined at the time of our row, that I +resolved to be beforehand, so I at once made a rush for the prize, and +--and--" + +"And, what?" + +"Why--did the spooney--you know--told her my feelings--and all that +sort of thing, you know." + +I then went on and gave Jack a full account of that memorable scene, +The embarrassment of Nora, and the arrival of O'Halloran, together with +our evening afterward, and the challenge. + +To all this Jack listened with intense eagerness, and occasional bursts +Of uncontrollable laughter. + +I concluded my narrative with my departure from the house. Of my +return, my wanderings with Marion, my sight of him at Berton's, and all +those other circumstances, I did not say a word. Those things were not +the sort that I chose to reveal to anybody, much less to Jack. + +Suddenly, and in the midst of his laughter and nonsense, Jack's face +changed. He grew serious. He thrust his hand in his pocket with +something like consternation, and then drew forth-- + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +A LETTER!--STRANGE HESITATION.--GLOOMY FOREBODINGS.--JACK DOWN DEEP IN +THE DUMPS.--FRESH CONFESSIONS.--WHY HE MISSED THE TRYST.--REMORSE AND +REVENGE.--JACK'S VOWS OF VENGEANCE.--A VERY SINGULAR AND UNACCOUNTABLE +CHARACTER.--JACK'S GLOOMY MENACES. + + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I'll be hanged if I haven't forgot all about +it. It's been in my pocket ever since yesterday morning." + +Saying this, he held up the letter, and looked at it for some time +Without opening it, and with a strange mixture of embarrassment and +ruefulness in his expression. + +"What's that?" said I, carelessly. "A letter? Who's it from, Jack?" + +Jack did not give any immediate answer. He turned the letter over and +over, looking at it on the front and on the back. + +"You seem hit hard, old man," said I, "about something. Is it a +secret?" + +"Oh, no," said Jack, with a sigh. + +"Well, what's the matter?" + +"OH, only this," said he, with another sigh. + +"What, that letter?" + +"Yes." + +"It don't look like a dun, old chap--so, why fret?" + +"Oh, no," said Jack, with a groan. + +"What's the reason you don't open it?" + +Jack shook his head. + +"I've a pretty good idea of what's in it," said he. "There are some +letters you can read without opening them, old boy, and this is one of +them. You know the general nature of the contents, and you don't feel +altogether inclined to go over all the small details." + +"You don't mean to say that you're not going to open it?" + +"Oh, I'll open it," said Jack, more dolefully than ever. + +"Then, why don't you open it now?" + +"Oh, there's no hurry--there's plenty of time." + +"It must be something very unimportant. You say you've had it lying in +Your pocket ever Since the day before yesterday. So, what's the use of +getting so tragic all of a sudden?" + +"Macrorie, old chap," said Jack, in a tone of hollow despair. + +"Well?" + +"Do you see that letter?" and he held it up in his hand. + +"Yes." + +"Well, in that I am to read a convincing proof that I am a scoundrel!" + +"A what? Scoundrel? Pooh, nonsense! What's up now? Come, now, old boy, +no melodrama. Out with it. But, first of all, read the letter." + +Jack laid the unopened letter on the table, filled his pipe, lighted +it, and then, throwing himself back in his chair, sat staring at the +ceiling, and sending forth great clouds of smoke that gathered in dense +folds and soon hung overhead in a dark canopy. + +I watched him in silence for some time. I suspected what that letter +might be, but did not in any way let my suspicion appear. + +"Jack," said I, at last, "I've seen you several times in trouble during +the last few days, but it is now my solemn conviction, made up from a +long observation of your character, your manner, your general style, +and your facial expression, that on this present occasion you are hit +harder than ever you've been since I had the pleasure of your +acquaintance." + +"That's a fact," said Jack, earnestly and solemnly. + +"It isn't a secret, you said?" + +"No, not from you. I'll tell you presently. I need one pipe, at least, +to soothe my nerves." + +He relapsed into silence, and, as I saw that he intended to tell me of +his own accord, I questioned him no further, but sat waiting patiently +till he found strength to begin the confession of his woes. + +At length he reached forward, and once more raised the letter from the +table. + +"Macrorie, my boy." + +"Well?" + +"Do you see this letter?" + +"Yes." + +"Whom do you think it's from?" + +"How do I know?" + +"Well," said Jack, "this letter is the sequel to that conversation you +and I had, which ended in our row." + +"The sequel?" + +"Yes. You remember that I left threatening that Number Three should be +mine." + +"Oh, yes; but don't bother about that now," said I. + +"Bother about it? Man alive, that's the very thing that I have to do! +The bother, as you call it, has just begun. This letter is from Number +Three." + +"Number Three? Marion!" + +"Yes, Marion, Miss O'Halloran, the one I swore should be mine. Ha, ha!" +laughed Jack, wildly; "a precious mess I've made of it! Mine? By Jove! +What's the end of it? To her a broken heart--to me dishonor and +infamy!" + +"My dear boy," said I, "doesn't it strike you that your language +partakes, to a slight extent, of the melodramatic? Don't get stagy, +dear boy." + +"Stagy? Good Lord, Macrorie! Wait till you see that letter." + +"That letter! Why, confound it, you haven't seen it yourself yet." + +"Oh, I know, I know. No need for me to open it. Look here, Macrorie, +will you promise not to throw me over after I tell you about this?" + +"Throw you over?" + +"Yes. You'll stick by a fellow still--" + +"Stick by you? Of course, through thick and thin, my boy." + +Jack gave a sigh of relief. "Well, old chap," said he, "you see, after +I left you, I was bent on nothing but Marion. The idea of her slipping +out of my hands altogether was intolerable. I was as jealous of you as +fury, and all that sort of thing. The widow and Miss Phillips were +forgotten. Even little Louie was given up. So I wrote a long letter to +Marion." + +Jack paused, and looked hard at me. + +"Well," said I. + +"Well," said he, "you know her last letter to me was full of reproaches +about the widow and Miss Phillips. She even alluded to Louie, though +how under heaven she had heard about her is more than I can imagine. +Well, you know, I determined to write her a letter that would settle +all these difficulties, and at the same time gain her for myself, for +good and all. You see I had sworn to get her from you, and I could +think of nothing but that oath. So I wrote--but, oh, Macrorie, +Macrorie, why, in Heaven's name, did you make that mistake about Mrs. +O'Halloran, and force that infernal oath out of me? Why did that +confounded old blockhead forget to introduce her to you? That's the +cause of all my woes. But I won't bore you, old fellow; I'll go on. So, +you see, in my determination to get her, I stuck at nothing. First of +all, instead of attempting to explain away her reproaches, I turned +them all back upon her. I was an infatuated fool, Macrorie, when I +wrote that letter, but I was not a villain. I wrote it with an earnest +desire that it should be effective. Well, I told her that she should +not blame me for my gallantries, but herself for forcing me to them. I +reproached her for refusing to elope with me when I offered, and +told her she cared far more for her father's ease and comfort than she +did for my happiness. I swore that I loved her better than any of them, +or all of them put together, and I'll be hanged if I didn't, Macrorie, +when I wrote it. Finally, I told her there was yet time to save me, +and, if she had a particle of that love which she professed, I +implored her now to fly with me. I besought her to name some time +convenient to her, and suggested--oh, Macrorie, I suggested--swear at +me--curse me--do something or other--Macrorie, I suggested last night +-midnight--I did, by Heaven!" + +And, saying this, Jack looked at me for some minutes in silence, with a +wild expression that I had never before seen on his face. + +"Last night, Macrorie!" he repeated "midnight! Think of that, Why +don't you say something?" + +"Say?" said I. "Why, hang it, man, what can I say? It's a case beyond +words. If you've made such an appointment, and broken it, you've--well, +there's nothing to say." + +"That's true," said Jack, in a sepulchral tone. "That's true. I made +the appointment, and, Macrorie--I was not there." + +"Well, of course, I gathered as much from the way you go on about it +--but that's what I should like to understand, if it isn't a secret." + +"Oh, no. I'll make no secret about any thing connected with this +business. Well, then, I put the letter in the post-office, and strolled +off to call on Miss Phillips. Will you believe it, she was 'not at +home?' At that, I swear I felt so savage that I forgot all about Marion +and my proposal. It was a desperate cut. I don't know any thing that +has ever made me feel so savage. And I feel savage yet. If she had any +thing against me, why couldn't she have seen me, and had it out with +me, fair and square? It cut deep. By Jove! Well, then, I could think of +nothing else but paying her off. So I organized a sleighing-party, and +took out the Bertons and some other girls. I had Louie, you know, and +we drove to Montmorency. Fun, no end. Great spirits. Louie teasing all +the way. We got back so late that I couldn't call on the widow. That +evening I was at Chelmsford's--a ball, you know--I was the only one of +ours that went. Yesterday, didn't call on Miss Phillips, but took out +Louie. On my way I got this letter from the office, and carelessly +stuffed it into my pocket. It's been there ever since. I forgot +all about it. Last evening there were a few of us at Berton's, and the +time passed like lightning. My head was whirling with a cram of all +sorts of things. There was my anger at Miss Phillips, there was a long +story Louie had to tell about the widow, and then there was Louie +herself, who drove every other thought away. And so, Macrorie, Marion +and my letter to her, and the letter in my pocket, and the proposed +elopement, never once entered into my head. I swear they had all passed +out of my mind as completely as though it had all been some confounded +dream." + +Jack stopped, and again relapsed into moody silence. + +"I'll tell you what it is, old fellow," said he, after a pause. "It's +devilish hard to put up with." + +"What is?" I asked. + +"This 'not-at-home' style of thing. Never mind--I'll pay her up!" + +Now here was a specimen of rattle-brainishness--of levity--and of +childishness; so desperate, that I began to doubt whether this absurd +Jack ought to be regarded as a responsible being. It seemed simply +impossible for him to concentrate his impulsive mind on any thing. He +flings himself one day furiously into an elopement scheme--the next +day, at a slight, he forgets all about the elopement, and, in a +towering rage against Miss Phillips, devotes himself desperately to +Louie. And now when the elopement scheme has been brought before him, +even in the midst of his remorse--remorse, too, which will not allow +him to open her letter--the thought of Miss Phillips once more drives +away all recollection of Marion, even while he has before him the +unopened letter of that wronged and injured girl. Jack's brain was +certainly of a harum-scarum order, such as is not often found--he was a +creature of whim and impulse--he was a rattle-brain, a scatter-brain +--formed to win the love of all--both men and women--formed, too, to +fall into endless difficulties--formed also with a native buoyancy of +spirit which enabled him to float where others would sink. By those +who knew him, he would always be judged lightly--by those who knew him +not, he would not fail to be judged harshly. Louie knew him, and +laughed at him--Marion knew him not, and so she had received a stroke +of anguish. Jack was a boy--no, a child--or, better yet, a great big +baby. What in the world could I say to him or do with him? I alone knew +the fullness of the agony which he had inflicted, and yet I could not +judge him as I would judge another man. + +"I'll pay her up!" reiterated Jack, shaking his head fiercely. + +"But before paying her up, Jack," said I, "wouldn't it be well to read +that letter?" + +Jack gave a sigh. + +"_You_ read it, Macrorie," said he; "I know all about it." + +"Well," said I, "that is the most astonishing proposal that I ever +heard even from you. To read a letter like that!--Why, such a letter +should be sacred." + +Jack's face flushed. He seized the letter, tore it open, and read. The +flush on his face deepened. As he finished, he crushed it in his hand, +and then relapsed into his sombre fit. + +"It's just as I said, Macrorie," said he. "She promised to meet me at +the time I mentioned. And she was there. And I was not. And now she'll +consider me a scoundrel." + +In a few moments Jack opened out the crushed note, and read it again. + +"After all," said he, "she isn't so awfully affectionate." + +"Affectionate!" + +"No--she seems afraid, and talks a great deal too much of her father, +and of her anguish of soul--yes, that's her expression--her anguish of +soul in sacrificing him to me. By Jove!--sacrifice! Think of that! And +she says she only comes because I reproach her with being the cause of +grief--heavens and earth! and she says that she doesn't expect any +happiness, but only remorse. By Jove! See here, Macrorie--did you ever +in your life imagine that a woman, who loved a fellow well enough to +make a runaway match with him, could write him in such a way? Why, hang +it! she might have known that, before our honeymoon was over, that +confounded old Irish scoundrel of a father of hers would have been +after us, insisting on doing the heavy father of the comedy, and giving +us his blessing in the strongest of brogues. And, what's more, he'd +have been borrowing money of me, the beggar! Borrowing money! of _me_ +--_me_--without a penny myself and head over heels in debt. Confound +his impudence!" + +And Jack, who had begun this with remorse about Marion, ended with this +burst of indignation at Marion's father, consequent upon a purely +imaginary but very vivid scene, in which the latter was supposed to be +extorting money from him. And he looked at me with a face that craved +sympathy for such unmerited wrongs, and showed still more plainly the +baby that was in him. + +I made no answer. His quotations from Marion's letter showed me plainly +how she had been moved, and what a struggle of soul this resolve had +cost her. Now I could understand the full meaning of that sombre face +which I had seen in O'Halloran's parlor, and also could see why it was +that she had absented herself on that last evening. Did this letter +change my sentiments about her? How could it, after what I already +knew? It only elevated her, for it showed that at such a time her soul +was racked and torn by the claims of filial duty. Under her +hallucination, and under the glamour which Jack had thrown over her, +she had done a deep wrong--but I alone knew how fearful was her +disenchantment, and how keen was the mental anguish that followed. + +"She'll never forgive me," said Jack, after a long silence. + +"Who?" said I, with some bitterness, which came forth in spite of my +new-found conviction of Jack's utter babyhood.--"Who, Miss Phillips?" + +"Oh, no," said Jack--"Marion." + +"Forgive you!" I ejaculated. + +"Of course not. It's bosh to use the word in such a connection. She'll +hate and scorn me till her dying day." + +"No, Jack," said I, somewhat solemnly, "I think from what little I know +of her, that if she gets over this, she'll feel neither hate nor +scorn." + +"Yes, she will," said Jack, pettishly. + +"No," said I. + +"You don't know her, my boy. She's not the one to forget this." + +"No, she'll never forget it--but her feelings about you will be +different from hate and scorn. She will simply find that she has been +under a glamour about you, and will think of you with nothing but +perfect indifference--and a feeling of wonder at her own infatuation." + +Jack looked vexed. + +"To a woman who don't know you, Jack, my boy--you become idealized, and +heroic; but to one who does, you are nothing of the kind. So very +impressible a fellow as you are, cannot inspire a very deep passion. +When a woman finds the fellow she admires falling in love right and +left, she soon gets over her fancy. If it were some one other woman +that had robbed her of your affection, she would be jealous; but when +she knows that all others are equally charming, she will become utterly +indifferent." + +"See here, old boy, don't get to be so infernally oracular. What the +mischief does a fellow like you know about that sort of thing? I +consider your remarks as a personal insult, and, if I didn't feel so +confoundedly cut up, I'd resent it. But as it is, I only feel bored, +and, on the whole, I should wish it to be with Marion as you say it's +going to be. If I could think it would be so, I'd be a deuced sight +easier in my mind about her. If it weren't for my own abominable +conduct, I'd feel glad that this sort of thing had been stopped--only I +don't like to think of Marion being disappointed, you know--or hurt +--and that sort of thing, you know. The fact is, I have no business to +get married just now--no--not even to the angel Gabriel--and this would +have been so precious hard on poor little Louie." + +"Louie--why," said I, "you speak confidently about her." + +"Oh, never fear about her," said Jack. "She's able, to take care of +herself. She does nothing but laugh at me--no end." + +"Nothing new, then, in that quarter?" I asked, feeling desirous now of +turning away from the subject of Marion, which was undergoing the same +treatment from Jack which a fine and delicate watch would receive at +the hands of a big baby. "No fresh, proposals?" + +"No," said Jack, dolefully, "nothing but chaff." + +"And Miss Phillips?" + +"Affairs in that quarter are in _statu quo_," said Jack. "She's chosen +to not-at-home me, and how it's going to turn out is more than I can +tell. But I'll be even with her yet. I'll pay her off!" + +"Perhaps you won't find it so easy as you imagine." + +"Won't I?" said Jack, mysteriously; "you'll see." + +"Perhaps she's organizing a plan to pay _you_ off." + +"That's more than she can do." + +"By-the-way--what about the widow?" + +"Well," said Jack, seriously, "whatever danger is impending over me, +maybe looked for chiefly in that quarter." + +"Have you seen her lately?" + +"No--not since the evening I took the chaplain there." + +"You must have heard something." + +"Yes," said Jack, moodily. + +"What?" + +"Well, I heard from Louie, who keeps well up in my affairs, you know. +She had gathered something about the widow." + +"Such as what?" + +"Well, you know--she wouldn't tell." + +"Wouldn't tell?" + +"No--wouldn't tell--chaffed me--no end, but wouldn't go into +particulars." + +"But could you find out whether it affected you or not?" + +"Oh, of course, I took that for granted. That was the point of the +whole joke, you know. Louie's chaff consisted altogether of allusions +to some mysterious plan, of the widow's, by which she would have full, +ample, perfect, complete, and entire vengeance on me." + +"That's bad." + +"It is." + +"A widow's a dangerous thing." + +"Too true, my boy," said Jack, with a sigh; "nobody knows that better +than I do." + +"I wonder you don't try to disarm her." + +"Disarm her?" + +"Yes--why don't you call on her?" + +"Well, confound it, I did call only a day or two ago, you know. The +last two or three days I've been engaged." + +"Yes, but such an engagement will only make the widow more furious." + +"But, confound it, man, it's been simply impossible to do any thing +else than what I have been doing." + +"I'll tell you what it is, Jack," said I, solemnly, "the widow's your +chief danger. She'll ruin you. There's only one thing for you to do, +and that is what I've already advised you to do, and Louie, too, for +that matter. You must fly." + +"Oh, bosh!--how can I?" + +"Leave of absence--sell out--any thing." + +Jack shook his head, and gave a heavy sigh. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +A FRIENDLY CALL.--PRELIMINARIES OF THE DUEL NEATLY ARRANGED.--A DAMP +JOURNEY, AND DEPRESSED SPIRITS.--A SECLUDED SPOT.--DIFFICULTIES +WHICH ATTEND A DUEL IN A CANADIAN SPRING.--A MASTERLY DECISION. +--DEBATES ABOUT THE NICETIES OF THE CODE OF HONOR.--WHO SHALL HAVE THE +FIRST SHOT, STRUGGLE FOR PRECEDENCE.--A VERY SINGULAR AND OBSTINATE +DISPUTE.--I SAVE O'HALLORAN FROM DEATH BY RHEUMATISM. + + +Before the close of the day a gentleman called on me from O'Halloran, +whom I referred to Jack, and these two made arrangements for the duel. +It was to take place in a certain locality, which I do not intend to +mention, and which was no matter how many miles out of town. + +We left at an early hour, and the doctor accompanied us. Jack had +sufficient foresight to fill the sleigh with all the refreshments that +might be needed on such an occasion. We drove to O'Halloran's house, +where we found his sleigh waiting, with himself and a friend all ready +to start. They led the way, and we followed. + +It was a nasty time, the roads were terrible. They were neither one +thing nor the other. There was nothing but a general mixture of ice +heaps, slush, thawing snowdrifts, bare ground, and soft mud. Over this +our progress was extremely slow. Added to this, the weather was +abominable. It was warm, soft, slimy, and muggy. The atmosphere had +changed into a universal drizzle, and was close and oppressive. At +first O'Halloran's face was often turned back to hail us with some +jovial remark, to which we responded in a similar manner; but after a +time silence settled on the party, and the closeness, and the damp, and +the slow progress, reduced us one and all to a general state of +sulkiness. + +At length we came to a little settlement consisting of a half-dozen +houses, one of which bore a sign on which we read the words _Hotel de +France_. We kept on without stopping, and O'Halloran soon turned to the +right, into a narrow track which went into the woods. In about half an +hour we reached our destination. The sleighs drew up, and their +occupants prepared for business. + +It was a small cleared space in the middle of the woods. The +forest-trees arose all around, dim, gloomy, and dripping. The ground +was dotted with decayed stumps, and covered with snow in a state of +semi-liquefaction. Beneath all was wet; around all was wet; and above +all was wet. The place with its surroundings was certainly the most +dismal that I had ever seen, and the dank, dark, and dripping trees +threw an additional gloom about it. + +We had left Quebec before seven. It was after twelve when we reached +this place. + +"Well, me boy," said O'Halloran to me, with a gentle smile, "it's an +onsaisonable toime of year for a jool, but it can't be helped--an' it's +a moighty uncomfortable pleece, so it is." + +"We might have had it out in the road in a quiet way," said I, "without +the trouble of coming here." + +"The road!" exclaimed O'Halloran. "Be the powers, I'd have been +deloighted to have had it in me oun parrulor. But what can we do? Sure +it's the barbarous legisleetin of this counthry, that throis to stoifle +and raypriss the sintimints of honor, and the code of chivalry. Sure +it's a bad pleece intoirely. But you ought to see it in the summer. +It's the most sayquisthered localeetee that ye could wish to see." + +Saying this, O'Halloran turned to his friend and then to us. + +"Gintlemin," said he, "allow me to inthrojuice to ye me very particular +friend, Mr. Murtagh McGinty." + +Mr. Murtagh McGinty rose and bowed, while we did the same, and +disclosed the form of a tall, elderly, and rather dilapidated Irishman. + +All this time we had remained in our sleighs. The surrounding scene had +impressed us all very forcibly, and there was a general disinclination +to get out. The expanse of snow, in its half-melted condition, was +enough to deter any reasonable being. To get out was to plunge into an +abyss of freezing slush. + +A long discussion followed as to what ought to be done. Jack suggested +trying the road; McGinty thought we might drive on farther. The doctor +did not say any thing. At last O'Halloran solved the difficulty. + +He proposed that we should all remain in the sleighs, and that we +should make a circuit so as to bring the backs of the sleighs at the +requisite distance from one another. + +It was a brilliant suggestion; and no sooner was it made, than it was +adopted by all. So the horses were started, and the sleighs were turned +in the deep slush until their backs were presented to one another. To +settle the exact distance was a matter of some difficulty, and it had +to be decided by the seconds. Jack and McGinty soon got into an +altercation, in which Jack appealed to the light of reason, and McGinty +to a past that was full of experience. He overwhelmed Jack with so many +precedents for his view of the case, that at last the latter was +compelled to yield. Then we drove forward, and then backward; now we +were too far away, again we were too near, and there didn't appear to +be any prospect of a settlement. + +At last O'Halloran suggested that we should back the sleighs toward one +another till they touched, and then his sleigh would move forward +twelve paces. + +"But who's to pace them?" asked Jack. + +"Why the horse, of course," said O'Halloran. "Sure it's a regular pacer +he is, and bred up to it, so he is." + +To this Jack had nothing to say. + +So the horses backed and the sleighs touched one another. + +"Wait a minute McGinty, me boy," said O'Halloran--putting his hand on +his friend's arm--"let's all take somethin' warrum. Me system is slowly +conjaylin, an' such a steete of things is moighty onwholeaome." + +This proposition was received with the same unanimity which had greeted +O'Halloran's other propositions. Flasks were brought out; and some +minutes were passed in a general, a couvivial, and a very affectionate +interchange of courtesies. + +"Me boy," said O'Halloran to me, affectionately, "ye haven't had so +much ixpayrieence as I have, so I'll teek the liberty to give ye a +small bit of instherruction. Whin ye foire, eem low! Moind that, now +--ye'll be sure to hit." + +"Thank you," said I. + +He wrung my hand heartily; and then motioning to McGinty, his sleigh +started off, and advanced a few paces from ours, a little farther than +the usual distance on such an occasion. With this he seemed to be +satisfied, and, as nobody made any objection, we prepared for the +business of the day. + +O'Halloran and I stood up in the sleighs, while the seconds kept their +seats. Jack and the doctor sat in the front seat of our sleigh. McGinty +sat beside O'Halloran as he stood up. I stood in the after-seat of our +sleigh. + +"Shall I give the word?" said Jack. + +"No," said McGinty. "I've had more exparience. I've been sicond at +elivin jools--an' hope to assist an as minny more." + +"Shure we won't throuble ayiher of ye," said O'Halloran. "It's me +that's fought more jools than you've been sicond at. Me friend Macrorie +and I'll manage it to shoot oursilves--so we will." + +"Ye can't give the word yersilves," said McGinty. + +"An' what do we want of a word, thin?" said O'Halloran. + +"To foire by," said McGinty. + +"There's a peculeeareetee," said O'Halloran, loftily, "in the prisint +occeesion that obveeates the nicissitee of such prosaydings, and +inables us to dispinse with any worrd of command. Macrorie, me boy +--frind of me sowl--I addhriss you as the Oirish addhrissed the English +at Fontenoy: '_Fire first!_'" + +And saying this, O'Halloran bowed and then stood erect, facing me with +a grave countenance. + +"Fire first?" said I "Indeed, Mr. O'Halloran, I'll do nothing of the +kind." + +"Indade and you shall," said he, with a laugh. "I insist upon it!" + +"Well, if it comes to that," said I, "what's to prevent me from +insisting that you shall fire the first shot?" + +"Shure and ye wouldn't dayproive me of the plisure of giving you the +prasaydince," said he. + +"Then, really," said I, "you will force me to insist upon your having +the precedence. You're an older man than I am, and ought to have the +first place. So, Mr. O'Halloran--fire first!" + +"Thank you," said he, with a bow, "but really, me boy, you must excuse +me if I insist upon it." + +"Oh, no," said I. "If it were any other occasion, I would cheerfully +give you the precedence, and so I give it to you here." + +"But, you see," said O'Halloran, "you must considher me in the loight +of an intertainer. Ye're my guest to a certain ixtint. I must give up +all the honors to you. So foire awee, me boy, and eem low." + +"No," said I, "I really couldn't think of it." + +This friendly altercation went on for some time, while the others sat +listening in amazement. + +McGinty was the first to interrupt. + +"It's in defoiuce of all the joolin code," said he, starting up. "I +must inter my protest." + +"So say I," cried Jack. "I say let the usual word be given--or else if +one must have the first shot, let them draw for it." + +O'Halloran looked upon them both with a smile of benevolent pity. + +"McGinty," said he. + +"Well." + +"Ye know me?" + +"Sure an' I do." + +"And how many jools I've fought?" + +"Meself does." + +"Am I a choild at it? Will ye be koind enough to mintion any one that +has any cleem to considher himself the shupayrior of Phaylim O'Halloran +in the noiceties and the dilicacies of the jooling code? Will ye be so +good as to infarrum me what there is lift for me to lerrun?" + +At this appeal Mr. Murtagh McGinty subsided into silence, and sat down +again, shaking his head. + +Jack still insisted that the word of command should be given; but +O'Halloran silenced him effectually by asking him if he had ever fought +a duel. + +"No," said Jack. + +"Have ye ivir been second at one before?" + +"No," said Jack, again. + +"So this is your first time out?" + +"Yes," said Jack, who looked deeply humiliated. + +"Will, thin," said O'Halloran, loftily, "allow me to infarrum you, sir, +that this is the thirty-seventh toime that I've had the plisure of +taking part in a jool, ayther as principal or sicond." + +Whereupon Jack was suppressed. + +In all this the doctor took no part He looked cold, wet, uncomfortable, +and unhappy. + +And now O'Halloran turned to me again. + +"Me boy," said he, "if ye'll not grant me this as a feevor, I'll cleem +it as a roight." + +"A right?" said I. + +"Yis," said O'Halloran, solemnly, "a roight!" + +"I don't know what you mean," I said, in some perplexity. + +"I'll expleen. I'm undher a debt of obleegeetion to you that I nivir +can repee. Ye've seeved the loife of me daughter, me choild, me Marion +--that's one debt--then ye've seeved my loife, me own. But for you, I'd +have been tarrun in payces by a howling mob, so I would. Me oun loife +is yours. Jewty, and the cleems of gratichood, and the code of honor, +all inspoire me with a desoire to meek some rayturrun for what ye've +done for me. + +"On the other hand," he continued, "ye've made a misteek of an +onplisint nature about Mrs. O'H. Ye didn't main any harrum; but the +dade's done, and there it is. It necissitates a jool. We must feece one +another to satisfy offindid honor. But at the seem toime, while this +jool is thus necissiteeted be the code of honor, jewty and gratichood +must be considhered. It's a moighty noice case," he continued, +meditatively, "and I don't think such a case ivir came within my +ixpayrience; but that ixtinsive ixpayrience which I've had rinders me +the best judge of what may be the most shootable course on the prisint +occasion. But the ulteemeete tindincy of all me mideeteetions on the +subjict is this--that I must allow you to fire the first shot." + +"Well," said I, "if you insist on looking at it in that light, and if +you persist in feeling obligation, that sense of obligation ought to +make you yield to my wishes, and, if I don't want to fire first, you +ought not to insist upon it." + +"No, me boy," said O'Halloran; "that's all oidle casuisthree an' imply +mitaphysics. There's no process of ratiosheeneetion that'll be iver +eeble to overturrun the sintimints of jewty and dilicacy that spring +spontaneous in the brist. So blaze away." + +"Excuse me, but I insist on your firing first." + +"Be the powers, thin! and I insist on your taking the lade." + +"Pardon me, but you must." + +"I'm inkeepeble of such a lack, of common cevileetee," said he. "I must +still insist." + +"And so must I." + +This singular and very original altercation went on for some time. At +last O'Halloran took the cushions off the seat, and deliberately sat +down, facing me, with his legs dangling over the back of the sleigh. +Seeing that our argument was to be continued for some time, and that he +was thus making himself comfortable, I did the same. We thus sat facing +one another. + +The seconds here again interposed, but were again baffled by +O'Halloran, who explained the whole situation to them in so forcible a +manner that they did not know how to answer him. For my part, I was +firm in my resolve, and was not going to fire unless we both fired +together. True, I might have fired in the air; but I knew O'Halloran so +well by this time that I was convinced, if I did such a thing, he would +reproach me for it, and insist on my firing again. And in that case it +would all have to be commenced afresh. + +So there we sat, with our legs dangling over the backs of our +respective sleighs, facing one another, pistol in hand, and +occasionally renewing the discussion. He was obstinate, I was equally +so, and the time began to pass away, and the situation gradually grew +more and more tedious to our companions. Still they could not say any +thing. It was a punctilio of honor which they could not argue down, +and behind all the argument which might be used there arose the very +impressive accumulation of O'Halloran's past experience in the field of +honor. So all that they could do was to make the best of the situation. + +The situation! It was, at best, a dismal one. Overhead was a leaden +sky; underneath, the thawing snow, which every hour assumed a more +watery appearance; in the distance arose the dreary, gloomy, melancholy +forest-trees; while all around was a thin, fine drizzle, which +enveloped us, saturating and soaking us with watery vapor. We all +became limp and bedraggled, in soul as well as body. The most +determined buoyancy of spirit could not withstand the influence of that +drizzle, and, one by one, we all sank beneath it. + +But not without a struggle. For, at first, as O'Halloran and I thus sat +facing one another, we did not forget the ordinary civilities of life, +nor were we satisfied with sitting and staring at one another. On the +contrary, we sought to beguile the time with an interchange of courtesy +on both sides. I took my flask and drank to the health of O'Halloran. +O'Halloran responded. The seconds followed. Then O'Halloran drank +to the health of Jack and the doctor. Then I drank to the health of +McGinty. Then Jack and the doctor drank to the health of O'Halloran, +and McGinty pledged me. + +Two hours passed, and found each of us sitting there in the same +position. Jack and the doctor made a doleful attempt at a game of +euchre, but soon gave it up. McGinty sat refreshing himself with his +flask, defying the weather, laughing, joking, and singing. Then we all +smoked. From time to time the seconds would make fresh efforts to shake +our resolve. They proposed once more that we should toss up for it, or +drive home now, and come out again--in fact, any thing rather than sit +here amid this cold, and drizzle, and wet, and dismal gloom, and +miserable, rheumatic atmosphere. But all these proposals were declined, +and O'Halloran was immovable in his purpose; while I, on the other +hand, was equally resolved that I would not fire first. + +Thus time passed, and neither of us would yield. At length, the doctor +settled himself down into the bottom of the sleigh, and drew the +buffalo-robes over him. After a final expostulation, accompanied with a +threat to drive off, Jack imitated his example. McGinty, seeing this, +proceeded to make himself comfortable in the same way. The poor horses +had the worst time of it. The cold snow was up to their knees; and, as +they stood there, they moved uneasily, tramping it down, till a pool of +icy water lay beneath, in which they had to stand. I mentioned this to +O'Halloran; but he only turned it against me, and made use of it as a +fresh argument to shake my decision. + +At last I saw that O'Halloran's face and attitude had undergone a +change. For my part, I was wet to the skin, and chilled to my very +bones; but I was young and strong, and could stand even that. With +O'Halloran, however, it was different. A man of sixty cannot sit with +impunity, inactive, and exposed to a cold, slimy drizzle, such as this +was, without feeling very serious effects, and anticipating worse. This +he soon experienced. I saw his figure crouching down, and an expression +of pain coming over his face. In the midst of his pain he still +maintained his punctilious resolution; but how much did that cost him! +It was his own fault, of course. It was all brought on by his +impracticability, his whimsicality, his eccentricity, and his +punctiliousness. Nevertheless, there was in him that which excited my +deepest commiseration. The wretchedness and the pain of his face, and +the suffering which was visible in his attitude, all touched me. He sat +crouched down, shivering, shuddering, his teeth chattering, and +presented a deplorable picture of one who struggled vainly against an +overmastering pain. + +My resolution was shaken by this. I rose to my feet. + +"Mr. O'Halloran," said I, "pardon me. I see that I am subjecting you to +very great suffering. If you sit there any longer, exposed to this +damp, you'll never get over it. It would be but poor courtesy to +subject you to that any longer. And so I don't see what better I can do +than allow you to have your own way. I'll have to give up my scruples, +I suppose. I can't sit here any longer, and see you suffer. And so +--here goes!--I'm willing to fire as you wish." + +At this O'Halloran rose to his feet with a cry of joy. + +"The first shot!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes," said I, "the first. I'll fire, if you insist on it." + +"And that's just what I do," said he, shivering. + +At this I took aim. + +Bang! went the shot. I afterward found that it passed through his hat. + +O'Halloran now raised his pistol, and levelled it at me. But the +pleasure of his triumph had excited him; and, besides, he was shivering +from head to foot, and his teeth were chattering. An accurate aim was +impossible. His hand could scarcely hold the pistol, and his benumbed +finger could scarcely pull the trigger. He fired, and the bullet passed +through the sleeve of my coat, and close to the doctor's head. + +"Me boy," he cried, flinging down the pistol, "there's no ind to the +obleegeetions you put me under! I owe ye me loife a second toime. Ye've +seeved me from death by fraizing." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +HOME AGAIN.--THE GROWLS OF A CONFIRMED GROWLER.--HOSPITALITY.--THE +WELL-KNOWN ROOM.--VISION OF A LADY.--ALONE WITH MARION.--INTERCHANGE OF +THOUGHT AND SENTIMENT.--TWO BEAUTIFUL WOMEN.--AN EVENING TO BE +REMEMBERED.--THE CONVIVIALITY OF O'HALLORAN.--THE HUMORS OF +O'HALLORAN, AND HIS BACCHIC JOY. + + +We all hurried away from the ground as rapidly as possible, and soon +reached the _Hotel de France_. It was small, stuffy, and rather close, +but, to people in our half-frozen condition, the big Canadian stove was +a blessing beyond words. O'Halloran seemed like an _habitue_ of the +place, judging by the way he button-holed the landlord, and by the +success with which he obtained "somethin' warrum" for the company. But +the _Hotel de France_ was not a place where one might linger; and so, +after waiting long enough to allow the heat of the Canadian stove to +penetrate us, aided by the blended power of "somethin' warrum" +--and long enough also to give oats to the horses, which, after all, +must have had the worst of it--poor devils!--we started and dragged on +to the town. + +All this time O'Halloran did not appear to have recognized Jack at all. +On the drive out this might have been accounted for, but, in the _Hotel +de France_, O'Halloran had a full and perfect inspection of him. If he +did recognize him, it certainly did not appear in his manner. He +exchanged words with Jack in a tone of hilarious cordiality, which did +not seem as though he considered Jack an enemy; and Jack, who never +failed to respond when greeted in such a way, met him more than +halfway. It was evident that O'Halloran had not the smallest idea that +Jack was that identical British officer whom he had expelled from his +house. + +Of all the party the doctor seemed to have suffered most; and, on the +journey back, he kept up one prolonged growl at me. I was fated, he +said, to bring him bad luck, and I would be the death of him. Once +before he had ridden all night in the storm for me; and now here was +another fool's errand. He seemed inclined to consider it as a personal +insult, and actually felt aggrieved because O'Halloran's bullet had not +shattered my arm, or penetrated my brain. Thus he alternated between +shivering and swearing all the way back. + +"I tell you what it is, Macrorie," he growled, "if you ever come to ask +my help again on any occasion whatever, I'll take it as a personal +insult. I wouldn't have come this time, but I thought it was to be an +affair of honor. An affair of honor! Rot and nonsense! Dragging a +fellow over the country all day to see a couple of pistols fired in the +air! What sort of a thing do you call that? And here am I--in for it +--yes--damn it, man!--I say again--in for it--to any extent--rheumatism, +neuralgia, gout, inflammation, and fifty other things! If I +thought you'd have any of them, I'd feel satisfied. But no--you're all +right, and can afford to sit there grinning at the sufferings of a +better man than yourself." + +From which it will appear that the doctor was savage, and I was not. + +On reaching Quebec, O'Halloran gave us all a comprehensive invitation +to dinner. + +But the doctor could not accept it. He had taken cold, and would have +to go home. Jack could not accept it. He had a very pressing +engagement. Mr. McGinty could not accept it, for he had some important +business. So O'Halloran pressed me. I alone was disengaged. I had no +rheumatism, no pressing engagement, no important business. O'Halloran +was urgent in his invitation. Our duel seemed only to have heightened +and broadened his cordiality. I was dying to see Marion--or to find out +how she was--so what did I do? Why, I leaped at the invitation, as a +matter of course. + +So once more I was ushered into that comfortable and hospitable +back-parlor. Since I had been there last, what events had occurred! +O'Halloran left me for a time, and I was alone. I sat down, and thought +of that night when I had wandered forth. I thought of all the wild +fancies that had filled my brain, as I wandered about amid the storm, +listening to the howl of the wind, and the deep, sullen moan of the +river. I recalled that strange, weird superstition, which had drawn me +back once more to the house--and the deep longing and craving which had +filled my heart for one glimpse, however faint, of my Lady of the Ice. +I thought of my return--of my earnest gaze around, of the deep toll of +the midnight bell, and of the sudden revelation of that dim, shadowy +figure of a veiled lady, that stood in faint outline by the house, +which advanced to meet me as I hurried over to her. + +It was quite dark. There were no lamps lighted, but the coal-fire +flickered and threw a ruddy glow about the apartment; at times leaping +up into brightness, and again dying down into dimness and obscurity. +O'Halloran had gone up-stairs, leaving me thus alone, and I sat in the +deep arm-chair with my mind full of these all-absorbing fancies; and, +in the midst of these fancies, even while I was thinking of that veiled +figure which I had seen under the shadow of the house--even thus--I +became aware of a light footfall, and a rustling dress beside me. + +I turned my head with a quick movement of surprise. + +There was the figure of a lady--graceful, slender, formed in a mould of +perfect elegance and loveliness, the dark drapery of her dress +descending till it died away among the shadows on the floor. I stared +for a moment in surprise. Then the light of the fire, which had +subsided for a moment, leaped up, and flashed out upon the exquisite +features, and the dark, lustrous, solemn eyes of Marion. + +I sprang to my feet, with my heart beating so fast that it seemed +impossible to breathe. The surprise was overwhelming. I had thought of +her as raving in brain-fever, descending deep down into the abyss of +delirium, and now--here she was--here--by my side!--my Lady of the +Ice!--Marion! + +"I heard that you were here," she said, in a low, tremulous voice, "and +I could not help coming down to tell you how I--how I bless you for +--for that night." + +She stopped--and held out her hand in silence. + +I seized it in both of mine. For a few moments I could not speak. At +last I burst forth: + +"Oh, my God! What bliss it is for me to see you!--I've been thinking +about it ever since--I've been afraid that you were ill--that you would +never get over it." + +And still holding her hand in mine, I raised it with tremulous +eagerness, and pressed it to my lips. + +She gently withdrew it, but without any appearance of anger. + +"No," said she, "I was not ill. A wakeful night, a very feverish +excitement--that was all." + +"I listened long after you left," said I, in a low voice; "and all was +still." + +"Yes," she said, in the same low voice. "No one heard me. I reached my +room without any one knowing it. But I had much to sustain me. For oh, +sir, I felt deeply, deeply grateful to find myself back again, and to +know that my folly had ended so. To be again in my dear home--with my +dear papa--after the anguish that I had known!" + +She stopped.--It was a subject that she could not speak of without an +emotion that was visible in every tone. Her voice was sad, and low, and +solemn, and all its intonations thrilled to the very core of my being. +And for me--I had nothing to say--I thrilled, my heart bounded at the +sight of her face, and at the tones of her voice; while within me there +was a great and unspeakable joy. If I had dared to say to her all that +I felt at that moment! But how dare I? She had come in the fulness of +her warm gratitude to thank me for what I had done. She did not seem to +think that, but for me, she would not have left her home at all. She +only remembered that I had brought her back. It was thus that her +generous nature revealed itself. + +Now, while she thus expressed such deep and fervent gratitude, and +evinced such joy at being again in her home, and at finding such an +ending to her folly, there came to me a great and unequalled +exultation. For by this I understood that her folly was cured--that her +infatuation was over--that the glamour had been dissipated--that her +eyes had been opened--and the once--adored Jack was now an object of +indifference. + +"Have you told any one about it?" I asked. + +"No," said she, "not a soul." + +"_He_ is my most intimate friend," said I, "but I have kept this secret +from him. He knows nothing about it." + +"Of course he does not," said she, "how was it possible for you to tell +him? This is our secret." + +I cannot tell the soft, sweet, and soothing consolation which +penetrated my inmost soul at these words. Though few, they had a world +of meaning. I noticed with delight the cool indifference with which she +spoke of _him_. Had she expressed contempt, I should not have been so well +pleased. Perfect indifference was what I wanted, and what I +found. Then, again, she acknowledged me as the only partner in her +secret, thus associating me with herself in one memorable and +impressive way. Nor yet did she ask any questions as to whom I meant. +Her indifference to him was so great that it did not even excite +curiosity as to how I had found out who he was. She was content to take +my own statement without any questions or observations. + +And there, as the flickering light of the coal-fire sprang up and died +out; as it threw from time to time the ruddy glow of its uprising +flames upon her, she stood before me--a vision of perfect loveliness +--like a goddess to the devotee, which appears for an instant amid the +glow of some mysterious light, only to fade out of sight a moment +after. The rare and perfect grace of her slender figure, with its dark +drapery, fading into the gloom below--the fair outline of her face--her +sad, earnest, and melancholy expression; the intense and solemn +earnestness of her dark, lustrous eyes--all these conspired to form a +vision such as impressed itself upon my memory forever. This was the +full realization of my eager fancy--this was what I had so longed to +see. I had formed my own ideal of my Lady of the Ice--in private life +--in the parlor--meeting me in the world of society. And here before me +that ideal stood. + +Now, it gives a very singular sensation to a fellow to stand face to +face with the woman whom he worships and adores, and to whom he dares +not make known the feelings that swell within him; and still more +singular is this sensation, when this woman, whom he adores, happens to +be one whom he has carried in his arms for an indefinite time; and more +singular yet is it, when she happens to be one whom he has saved once, +and once again, from the most cruel fate; by whose side he has stood +in, what may have seemed the supreme moment of mortal life; whom he has +sustained and cheered and strengthened in a dread conflict with Death +himself; singular enough is the sensation that arises under such +circumstances as these, my boy--singular, and overwhelming, and +intolerable; a sensation which paralyzes the tongue and makes one +mute, yet still brings on a resistless and invincible desire to speak +and make all known; and should such a scene be too long continued, the +probability is that the desire and the longing thus to speak will +eventually burst through all restraint, and pour forth in a volume of +fierce, passionate eloquence, that will rush onward, careless of +consequences. Now, such was my situation, and such was my sensation, +and such, no doubt, would have been the end of it all, had not the +scene been brought to an end by the arrival of O'Halloran and his wife, +preceded by a servant with lights, who soon put the room in a state of +illumination. + +Nora, as I must still call her, was somewhat embarrassed at first +meeting me--for she could not forget our last interview; but she +gradually got over it, and, as the evening wore on, she became her old, +lively, laughing, original self. O'Halloran, too, was in his best and +moat genial mood, and, as I caught at times the solemn glance of the +dark eye's of Marion, I found not a cloud upon the sky that overhung +our festivities. Marion, too, had more to say than usual. She was no +longer so self-absorbed, and so abstracted, as she once was. She was +not playful and lively like Nora; but she was, at least, not sad; she +showed an interest in all that was going on, and no longer dwelt apart +like a star. + +It was evident that Nora knew nothing at all about the duel. That was a +secret between O'Halloran and me. It was also evident that she knew +nothing about Marion's adventure--that was a secret between Marion and +me. There was another secret, also, which puzzled me, and of which +O'Halloran must, of course, have known as little as I did, and this was +that strange act of Nora's in pretending to be the Lady of the Ice. +Why had she done it? For what possible reason? Why had Marion allowed +her to do it? All this was a mystery. I also wondered much whether she +thought that I still believed in that pretence of hers. I thought she +did, and attributed to this that embarrassment which she showed when +she first greeted me. On this, as on the former occasion, her +embarrassment had, no doubt, arisen from the fact that she was playing +a part, and the consciousness that such a part was altogether out of +her power to maintain. Yet, why had she done it? + +That evening I had a better opportunity to compare these two most +beautiful women; for beautiful each most certainly was, though in a +different way from the other. I had already felt on a former occasion +the bewitching effect of Nora's manner, and I had also felt to a +peculiar and memorable extent that spell which had been cast upon me by +Marion's glance. Now I could understand the difference between them and +my own feelings. For in witchery, in liveliness, in musical laughter, +in never-failing merriment, Nora far surpassed all with whom I had ever +met; and for all these reasons she had in her a rare power of +fascination. But Marion was solemn, earnest, intense; and there was +that on her face which sent my blood surging back to my heart, as I +caught her glance. Nora was a woman to laugh and chat with; Nora was +kind and gracious, and gentle too; Nora was amiable as well as witty; +charming in manner, piquant in expression, inimitable at an anecdote, +with never-failing resources, a first-rate lady-conversationist, if I +may use so formidable a word--in fact, a thoroughly fascinating woman; +but Marion!--Marion was one, not to laugh with, but to die for; Marion +had a face that haunted you; a glance that made your heart leap, and +your nerves tingle; a voice whose deep intonations vibrated through all +your being with a certain mystic meaning, to follow you after you had +left her, and come up again in your thoughts by day, and your dreams by +night--Marion! why Nora could be surveyed calmly, and all her +fascinating power analyzed; but Marion was a power in herself, who +bewildered you and defied analysis. + +During that time when Nora had been confounded in my mind with the Lady +of the Ice, she had indeed risen to the chief place in my thoughts, +though my mind still failed to identify her thoroughly. I had thought +that I loved her, but I had not. It was the Lady of the Ice whom I +loved; and, when Marion had revealed herself, then all was plain. After +that revelation Nora sank into nothingness, and Marion was all in all. + +Oh, that evening, in that pleasant parlor! Shall I ever forget it! + +Our talk was on all things. Of course, I made no allusion to my journey +over the ice, and Nora soon saw that she was free from any such +unpleasant and embarrassing remarks. Freed from this fear, she became +herself again. Never was she more vivacious, more sparkling, or more +charming. O'Halloran joined the conversation in a manner that showed +the rarest resources of wit, of fun, and of genial humor. Marion, as I +said before, did not hold aloof, but took a part which was subordinate, +it is true, yet, to me, far more effective; indeed, incomparably more +so than that of the others. Indeed, I remember now nothing else but +Marion. + +So the evening passed, and at length the ladies retired. Nora bade me +adieu--with her usual cordiality, and her kindly and bewitching glance; +while Marion's eyes threw upon me their lustrous glow, in which there +was revealed a certain deep and solemn earnestness, that only +intensified, if such a thing were possible, the spell which she had +thrown over my soul. + +And then it was "somethin' warrum." Under the effects of this, my host +passed through several distinct and well-defined moods or phases. + +First of all, he was excessively friendly and affectionate. He alluded +to our late adventure, and expressed himself delighted with the result. + +Then he became confidential, and explained how it was that he, an old +man, happened to have a young wife. + +Fifteen years ago, he said, Nora had been left under his care by her +father. She had lived in England all her life, where she had been +educated. Shortly after he had become her guardian he had been +compelled to fly to America, on account of his connection with the +Young-Ireland party, of which he was a prominent member. He had been +one of the most vigorous writers in one of the Dublin papers, which was +most hostile to British rule, and was therefore a marked man. As he did +not care about imprisonment or a voyage to Botany Bay, he had come to +America, bringing with him his ward Nora, and his little daughter +Marion, then a child of not more than three or four. By this act he had +saved himself and his property, which was amply sufficient for his +support. A few years passed away, and he found his feelings toward Nora +somewhat different from those of a parent--and he also observed that Nora +looked upon him with tenderer feelings than those of gratitude. + +"There's a great difference intoirely," said he, "between us now. I've +lost my youth, but she's kept hers. But thin, at that toime, me boy, +Phaylim O'Halloran was a moightily different man from the one you see +before you. I was not much over forty--in me proime--feeling as young +as any of thim, an' it wasn't an onnatural thing that I should win the +love of ayven a young gyerrul, so it wasn't. An' so she became me +woife--my Nora--me darlin'--the loight of me loife. And she's +accompanied me iver since on all my wandherin's and phelandherin's, and +has made the home of the poor ixoile a paradoise, so she has." + +All this was very confidential, and such a confidence would probably +never have been given, had it not been for the effects of "somethin' +warrum;" but it showed me several things in the plainest manner. The +first was, that Nora must be over thirty, at any rate, and was +therefore very much older than I had taken her to be. Again, her +English accent and style could be accounted for; and finally the +equally English accent and style of Marion could be understood and +accounted for on the grounds of Nora's influence. For a child always +catches the accent of its mother rather than of its father, and Nora +must, for nearly fifteen years, have been a sort of mother, more or +less, to Marion. + +And now, why the mischief did Nora pretend to be my Lady of the Ice, +and in the very presence of Marion try to maintain a part which she +could not carry out? And why, if she were such a loving and faithful +wife, did she deliberately deceive the confiding O'Halloran, and make +him believe that she was the one whom I had saved? It was certainly not +from any want of love for him. It must have been some scheme of hers +which she had formed in connection with Marion. But what in the world +could such a scheme have been, and why in the world had she formed it? + +This was the puzzling question that arose afresh, as O'Halloran +detailed to me very confidentially the history of this romantic +experience in his life. + +But this was only one of his moods, and this mood passed away. The +romantic and the confidential was succeeded by the literary and the +scholastic, with a dash of the humorous. + +A trivial remark of mine, in the course of some literary criticisms of +his, turned his thoughts to the subject of puns. He at once plunged +into the history of puns. He quoted Aristophanes, Plautus, Terence, +Cicero. He brought forward illustrations from Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, +Milton, Puritan, writers, Congreve, Cowper, and others, until he +concluded with Hood, who he declared had first unfolded to the human +mind the possibility of the pun. + +From this he passed off lightly and easily into other things, and +finally glided into the subject of mediaeval Latin. This, he asserted, +was born and nourished under peculiar circumstances, so different from +classical Latin, as to be almost a new language, yet fully equal to it +in all the best characteristics of a language. He defied me to find any +thing in classical poetry that would compare with the "Dies Irae," the +"Stabat Mater," or the "Rhythm of Bernard de Morlaix." As I was and am +rather rusty in Latin, I did not accept the challenge. Then he asserted +that mediaeval Latin was so comprehensive in its scope that it was +equally good for the convivial and for the solemn, and could speak +equally well the sentiments of fun, love, and religion. He proved this +by quotations from the immortal Walter Mapes. He overwhelmed me, in +fact, with quotations. I caved in. I was suppressed. I became extinct. +Finally he offered to show me an original song of his own, which he +asserted was "iminintly shooted to the prisint occasion." + +As I had no other way of showing my opinion of it, I begged the paper +from him, and give here a true copy of it, verbatim et literatim, notes +and all: + +PHELIMII HALLORANII CARMEN. + +Omnibus Hibernicis + Semper est ex more +Vino curas pellere + Aut montano rore;* +Is qui nescit bibere, + Aut est cito satur, +Ille, Pol! me judice + Parvus est potator.* + + +Omnibus Americis + Semper est in ore +Tuba, frondes habens ex + Nicotino flore; +Densis fumi nubibus + Et vivunt et movent, +Hoc est summum gaudium + Sic Te Bacche! foyent.* + + +Omnis tune Hibernicus + Migret sine mora, +Veniat Americam + Vivat hac in ora, +Nostram Baccam capiat,* + Et montanum rorem, +Erit Pol! Americus* + In saecula saeculorum. + Amen. + + +[Footnotes: + +*_Montano rore_--cf., id. Hib., _mountain-dew_; item, id. Scot., Hib., +et Amer., _whiskey_. + +*_Parvus potator_--cf., id. Amer., _small potater_. + +*_Te Bacce_--cf., id. Amer., _Tebaccy_, i.e., _Tobacco_. + +*_Baccam_--in America vulgo dici solet, _Backy_. + +*_Americus_--cf., id. Amer., _a merry cuss_.] + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +FROM APRIL TO JUNE.--TEMPORA MUTANTUR, ET NOS MUTAMUR IN ILLIS. +--STARTLING CHANGE IN MARION!--AND WHY?--JACK AND HIS WOES.--THE +VENGEANCE OF MISS PHILLIPS.--LADIES WHO REFUSE TO ALLOW THEIR HEARTS TO +BE BROKEN.--NOBLE ATTITUDE OF THE WIDOW.--CONSOLATIONS OF LOUIE. + + +Time passed on, and week succeeded to week, without any occurrence of a +decisive nature. April died out, May passed, and June came. Then all +the trees burst into leaf, and the fields arrayed themselves in green, +and all Nature gave one grand leap from winter into summer. + +During all this time I was a constant and a favored guest at +O'Halloran's. I really don't think I ever went anywhere else. I cut off +all visits to others--that is, in the evening--and went there only. +O'Halloran always received me with the same cordiality, and the ladies +always met me with the same smile. + +So many evenings in that comfortable parlor, so many chats with the +ladies, so many interviews with my host, could not fail to bring us +nearer together. Such was, indeed, the case with O'Halloran and Nora; +but with Marion it was different. There was, indeed, between us the +consciousness of a common secret, and she could not fail to see in my +manner something warmer than common--something more tender than +friendship, for instance--something, in fact, which, without being at +all spooney, was still expressive of very delicate regard. Yet there +came over her something which excited my fears, and filled me with +gloomy forebodings. She seemed to lose that cordiality which she +evinced on that first evening when I talked with her alone. She never +threw at me those deep glances which then had made my nerves tingle. +She seemed constrained and reserved. Only in speaking to me, there was +always in her voice an indefinable sweetness and gentleness, which made +her tones ring in my memory afterward like soft music. That showed me +that there was no coldness on her part; and so, too, when I did catch +at times the glance of her dark eyes, there was something in them so +timid, so soft, and so shy, that I could not think of her as wearying +of me. Yet this Marion, timid, tender, and shy; this Marion, holding +aloof under evident constraint, keeping apart, giving me no +opportunity; this Marion, who had now exchanged the intensity and the +solemnity of former days for something so very different--became a +puzzle to me. + +Why had she changed? Was it her returning regard for Jack? Impossible. +His name had several times been mentioned without causing any emotion +in her. His approaching marriage with Mrs. Finnimore had once been +mentioned by Nora, who spoke of it as an interesting item of news. +Marion heard it with indifference. Or was she trying to withdraw from +any further intimacy with me? Was she suspicious of my intentions, and +desirous of giving me no hope? Was she trying to repel me at the +outset? It seemed so. And so a great fear gradually arose in my heart. + +So went the time away, and toward the latter part of May and the +beginning of June I used to take the ladies out driving, hoping that +these new circumstances might elicit some show of cordiality in Marion. +But this proved a complete failure; for, the closer we were thrown +together, the greater seemed her shy reticence, her timid reserve, and +her soft and gentle yet persistent manner of keeping me at a distance. + +And so, here was I. I had found my Lady of the Ice; yet no sooner had I +found her than she withdrew herself to an inaccessible height, and +seemed now as far out of my reach as on that eventful morning when I +sought her at the hut at Montmorency, and found that she had fled. + +Spending so much time as I did at O'Halloran's, I did not see so much +of Jack as before; yet he used to drop in from time to time in the +morning, and pour forth the sorrows of his soul. + +Marion's name he never mentioned. Either he had forgotten all about +her, which was not improbable; or the subject was too painful a one for +him to touch upon, which also was not improbable; or, finally, her +affair became overshadowed by other and weightier matters, which was in +the highest degree natural. + +His first great trouble arose from the action of Miss Phillips. + +He had gone there a second time to call, and had again been told that +she was not at home. He turned away vowing vengeance, but in the +following morning found that vengeance was out of the question; for he +received a parcel, containing all the letters which he had ever written +to Miss Phillips, and all the presents that he had ever given her, with +a polite note, requesting the return of her letters. This was a blow +that he was not prepared for. It struck home. However, there was no +help for it--so he returned her letters, and then came to me with all +kinds of vague threats. + +Such threats, however, could not be carried out; and as for Miss +Phillips, she was quite beyond the reach of them. She accepted the +situation wonderfully well. She did more--she triumphed over it. In a +short time she had others at her feet, prominent among whom was Colonel +Blount--a dashing officer, a Victoria Cross, and a noble fellow in +every respect. Thus Miss Phillips revenged herself on Jack. She tossed +him aside coolly and contemptuously, and replaced him with a man whom +Jack himself felt to be his superior. And all this was gall and +wormwood to Jack. And, what was more, he was devoured with jealousy. + +The worst thing about it all, however, was the crushing blow which it +gave to his self-love. I am inclined to think that he was very much +taken down, on one occasion, when I informed him incidentally that +Marion was in excellent spirits, and was said to be in better health +than she had known for years. Miss Phillips's policy, however, was a +severer blow. For it had all along been his firm belief that his +tangled love-affairs could not end without a broken heart, or +melancholy madness, or life-long sorrow, or even death, to one or more +of his victims. To save them from such a fate, he talked of suicide. +All this was highly romantic, fearfully melodramatic, and even +mysteriously tragic. But, unfortunately for Jack's self-conceit, the +event did not coincide with these highly-colored views. The ladies +refused to break their hearts. Those organs, however susceptible and +tender they may have been, beat bravely on. Number Three viewed him +with indifference. Miss Phillips coolly and contemptuously cast him +off, and at once found new consolation in the devotion of another. +Broken hearts! Melancholy madness! Life-long sorrow! Not they, indeed. +They didn't think of him. They didn't confide their wrongs to any +avenger. No brother or other male relative sent Jack a challenge. He +was simply dropped. He was forgotten. Now any one may see the chagrin +which such humiliation must have caused to one of Jack's temper. + +And how did the widow treat Jack all this time? The widow! She was +sublime; for she showed at once the fostering care of a mother, and +the forgiveness of a saint. Forgiveness? That's not the word. I am +wrong. She showed nothing of the kind. On the contrary, she evinced no +consciousness whatever that any offence had been committed. If Jack had +deceived her as to Miss Phillips, she showed no knowledge of such +deceit; if he had formed other entanglements of which he had never told +her, she never let him know whether she had found out or not; if Jack +went every evening to console himself with Louie, any discovery which +the widow may have made of so very interesting yet transparent a fact +was never alluded to by her. Such was the lofty ground which the widow +took in reference to Jack and his affairs, and such was the manner with +which she viewed him and them--a manner elevated, serene, calm, +untroubled--a manner always the same. For she seemed above all care for +such things. Too high-minded, you know. Too lofty in soul, my boy, and +all that sort of thing. Like some tall cliff that rears its awful form, +swells from the vale, and midway cleaves the storm, and all the rest of +it. Such was the demeanor of the widow Finnimore. + +She was so kind and cordial that Jack had not a word to say. After a +few days of absence, during which he had not dared to call on her, he +had ventured back, and was greeted with the gentlest of reproaches for +his neglect, and was treated with an elaboration of kindness that was +positively crushing. So he had to go, and to keep going. She would not +suffer a single cloud to arise between them. An unvarying sweetness +diffused itself evermore over her very pretty face, and through all the +tones of her very musical voice. And so Jack was held fast, bound by +invisible yet infrangible bonds, and his soul was kept in complete +subjection by the superior ascendency of the widow. + +So he went to see her every day. About six, generally dined there. +Always left at eight, or just as dinner was over. Not much time for +tenderness, of course. Jack didn't feel particularly inclined for that +sort of thing. The widow, on the other hand, did not lay any stress on +that, nor did she allow herself to suspect that Jack was altogether too +cold for a lover. Not she. Beaming, my boy. All smiles, you know. +Always the same. Glad to see him when he came--a pleasant smile of +adieu at parting. In fact, altogether a model _fiancee_, such as is not +often met with in this vale of tears. + +Now always, after leaving this good, kind, smiling, cordial, pretty, +clever, fascinating, serene, accomplished, hospitable, and altogether +unparalleled widow, Jack would calmly, quietly, and deliberately go +over to the Bertons', and stay there as long as he could. What for? Was +he not merely heaping up sorrow for himself in continuing so ardently +this Platonic attachment? For Louie there was no danger. According to +Jack, she still kept up her teasing, quizzing, and laughing mood. +Jack's break-up with Miss Phillips was a joke, he had confided to her +that he had also broken off with Number Three; and, though she could +not find out the cause, this became another joke. Finally, his present +attitude with regard to the widow was viewed by her as the best joke of +all. She assured him that the widow was to be his fate, and that she +had driven the others from the field, so as to have him exclusively to +herself. + +And thus Jack alternated and vibrated between the widow and Louie, and +all his entanglements were now reduced to these two. + +Such is a full, frank, fair, free, ample, lucid, and luminous +explanation of the progress of affairs, which explanation was necessary +in order to make the reader fully understand the full meaning of what +follows. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +JACK'S TRIBULATIONS.--THEY RISE UP IN THE VERY FACE OF THE MOST +ASTONISHING GOOD FORTUNES.--FOR, WHAT IS LIKE A LEGACY?--AND THIS COMES +TO JACK!--SEVEN THOUSAND POUNDS STERLING PER ANNUM!--BUT WHAT'S THE USE +OF IT ALL?--JACK COMES TO GRIEF!--WOE! SORROW! DESPAIR! ALL THE WIDOW! +--INFATUATION.--A MAD PROPOSAL.--A MADMAN, A LUNATIC, AN IDIOT, A MARCH +HARE, AND A HATTER, ALL ROLLED INTO ONE, AND THAT ONE THE LUCKY YET +UNFORTUNATE JACK. + + +Jack had been falling off more and more. I was taken up with the +O'Hallorans; he, with those two points between which he oscillated like +a pendulum; and our intercourse diminished, until at length days would +intervene without a meeting between us. + +It was in the middle of June. + +I had not seen Jack for more than a week. + +Suddenly, I was reminded of him by a startling rumor that reached my +ears after every soul in the garrison and in the city had heard it. It +referred to Jack. It was nothing about the widow, nothing about Louie, +nothing about Marion, nothing about Miss Phillips. + +It did not refer to duns. + +He had not been nabbed by the sheriff. + +He had not put an end to himself. + +In short, the news was, that an uncle of his had died, and left him a +fortune of unknown proportions. _Omne iguotum pro mirifico_, of course; +and so up went Jack's fortune to twenty thousand a year. Jack had told +me about that uncle, and I had reason to know that it was at least six +or seven thousand; and, let me tell you, six or seven thousand pounds +per annum isn't to be laughed at. + +So here was Jack--raised up in a moment--far above the dull level of +debt, and duns, and despair; raised to an upper and, I trust, a better +world, where swarms of duns can never arise, and bailiffs never come; +raised, my boy, to a region of serene delight, where, like the gods of +Epicurus, he might survey from his cloudless calm the darkness and the +gloom of the lower world. A fortune, by Jove! Seven thousand pounds +sterling a year! Hard cash! Why, the thing fairly took my breath away. +I sat down to grapple with the stupendous thought. Aha! where would the +duns be now? What would those miserable devils say now, that had been +badgering him with lawyers' letters? Wouldn't they all haul off? +Methought they would. Methought! why, meknew they would--mefancied how +they would fawn, and cringe, and apologize, and explain, and lick the +dust, and offer to polish his noble boots, and present themselves for +the honor of being kicked by him. Nothing is more degrading to our +common humanity than the attitude of a creditor toward a poor debtor +--except the attitude of that same creditor, when he learns that his +debtor has suddenly become rich. + +Having finally succeeded in mastering this great idea, I hurried off to +Jack to congratulate him. + +I found him in his room. He was lying down, looking very blue, very +dismal, and utterly used up. At first, I did not notice this, but burst +forth in a torrent of congratulations, shaking his hand most violently. +He raised himself slightly from the sofa on which he was reclining, and +his languid hand did not return my warm grasp, nor did his face exhibit +the slightest interest in what I said. Seeing this, I stopped short +suddenly. + +"Hallo, old boy!" I cried. "What's the matter? Any thing happened? +Isn't it true, then?" + +"Oh, yes," said Jack, dolefully, leaning forward, with his elbows on +his knees, and looking at the floor. + +"Well, you don't seem very jubilant about it. Any thing the matter? +Why, man, if you were dying, I would think you'd rise up at the idea +of seven thousand a year." + +Jack said nothing. + +At such a check as this to my enthusiastic sympathy, I sat in silence +for a time, and looked at him. His elbows were on his knees, his face +was pale, his hair in disorder, and his eyes were fixed on the wall +opposite with a vacant and abstracted stare. There was a haggard look +about his handsome face, and a careworn expression on his broad brow, +which excited within me the deepest sympathy and sadness. Something had +happened--something of no common kind. This was a something which was +far, very far, more serious than those old troubles which had oppressed +him. This was something far different from those old perplexities--the +entanglements with three engagements. Amid all those he was nothing but +a big, blundering baby; but now he seemed like a sorrow-stricken man. +Where was the light of his eyes, the glory of his brow, the music of +his voice? Where was that glow that once used to pervade his fresh, +open, sunny face? Where! It was Jack--but not the Jack of old. It was +Jack--but + +"Alas! how changed from him +That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim!" + +Or, as another poet has it-- + +'"Twas Jack--but living Jack no more!" + +"Jack," said I, after a long and solemn silence, in which I had tried +in vain to conjecture what might possibly be the cause of this--"Jack, +dear boy, you and I have had confidences together, a little out of the +ordinary line. I came here to congratulate you about your fortune; but +I find you utterly cut up about something. Will you let me ask you what +it is? I don't ask out of idle curiosity, but out of sympathy. At the +same time, if it's any thing of a private nature, I beg pardon for +asking you to tell it." + +Jack looked up, and a faint flicker of a smile passed over his face. + +"Oh, all right, old boy!" he said. "I'm hit hard--all up--and that sort +of thing--hit hard--yes, damned hard--serves me right, too, you know, +for being such an infernal fool." + +He frowned, and drew a long breath. + +"Wait a minute, old chap," said he, rising from the sofa; "I'll get +something to sustain nature, and then I'll answer your question. I'm +glad you've come. I don't know but that it'll do me good to tell it all +to somebody. It's hard to stay here in my den, fretting my heart out +--damned hard!--but wait a minute, and I'll explain." + +Saying this, he walked over to the sideboard. + +"Will you take any thing?" + +"Thanks, no," said I; "a pipe is all I want." And I proceeded to fill +and light one. + +Thereupon Jack poured out a tumbler of raw brandy, which he swallowed. + +Then he came back to the sofa. A flush came to his face, and his eyes +looked brighter; but he had still the same haggard aspect. + +"I'm in for it, Macrorie," said he at last, gloomily. + +"In for it?" + +"Yes--an infernal scrape." + +"What?" + +"The widow--damn her!" and he struck his clinched fist against the head +of the sofa. + +"In for it? The widow?" I repeated. "What do you mean?" + +Jack drew a long breath, and regarded me with a fixed stare. "I mean," said +Jack, fixing his eyes upon me with an awful look, "I mean this +--that I have to marry that woman." + +"Marry her?" + +"Yes," he exclaimed, dashing his fist upon the table savagely, "marry +her! There you have it. I'm in for it. No escape. Escape--ha! ha! +Nabbed, sir. All up! Married and done for--yes, eternally done for!" + +He jerked these words out in a fierce, feverish way; and then, flinging +himself back, he clasped his knees with his hands, and sat regarding me +with stern eyes and frowning brow. + +This mood of Jack's was a singular one. He was evidently undergoing +great distress of mind. Under such circumstances as these, no levity +could be thought of. Had he not been so desperate, I might have +ventured upon a jest about the widow driving the others from the field +and coming forth victorious; but, as it was, there was no room for +jest. So I simply sat in silence, and returned his gaze. + +"Well?" said he at last, impatiently. + +"Well?" said I. + +"Haven't you got any thing to say about that?" + +"I don't know what to say. Your manner of telling this takes me more by +surprise than the thing itself. After all, you must have looked forward +to this." + +"Looked forward? I'll be hanged if I did, except in a very general way. +Damn it, man! I thought she'd have a little pity on a fellow, and allow +me some liberty. I didn't look forward to being shut up at once." + +"At once? You speak as though the event were near." + +"Near? I should think it was. What do you say to next week? Is that +near or not? Near? I should rather think so." + +"Next week? Good Lord! Jack, do you really mean it? Nonsense!" + +"Next week--yes--and worse--on Tuesday--not the end, but the beginning, +of the week--Tuesday, the 20th of June." + +"Tuesday, the 20th of June!" I repeated, in amazement. + +"Yes, Tuesday, the 20th of June," said Jack. + +"Heavens, man! what have you been up to? How did it happen? Why did you +do it? Couldn't you have postponed it? It takes two to make an +agreement. What do you mean by lamenting over it now? Why didn't you +get up excuses? Haven't you to go home to see about your estates? Why, +in Heaven's name, did you let it be all arranged in this way, if you +didn't want it to be?" + +Jack looked at me for a few moments very earnestly. "Why didn't I?" +said he, at length; "simply because I happen to be an unmitigated, +uncontrollable, incorrigible, illimitable, and inconceivable ASS! +That's the reason why, if you must know." + +Jack's very forcible way of putting this statement afforded me no +chance whatever of denying it or combating it. His determination to be +an ass was so vehement, that remonstrance was out of the question. I +therefore accepted it as a probable truth. + +For some time I remained silent, looking at Jack, and puffing solemnly +at my pipe. In a situation of this kind, or in fact in any situation +where one is expected to say something, but doesn't happen to have any +thing in particular to say, there's nothing in the world like a pipe. +For the human face, when it is graced by a pipe, and when the pipe is +being puffed, assumes, somehow, a rare and wonderful expression of +profound and solemn thought. Besides, the presence of the pipe in the +mouth is a check to any overhasty remark. Vain and empty words are thus +repressed, and thought, divine thought, reigns supreme. And so as I sat +in silence before Jack, if I didn't have any profound thoughts in my +mind, I at least had the appearance of it, which after all served my +purpose quite as well. + +"I don't mind telling you all about it, old chap," said Jack, at last, +who had by this time passed into a better frame of mind, and looked +more like his old self. "You've known all about the row, all along, and +you'll have to be in at the death, so I'll tell you now. You'll have to +help me through--you'll be my best man, and all that sort of thing, you +know--and this is the best tune for making a clean breast of it, you +know: so here goes." + +Upon this Jack drew a long breath, and then began: + +"I've told you already," he said, "how abominably kind she was. You +know when I called on her after the row with Miss Phillips, how sweet +she was, and all that, and how I settled down on the old terms. I +hadn't the heart to get up a row with her, and hadn't even the idea of +such a thing. When a lady is civil, and kind, and all that, what can a +fellow do? So you see I went there as regular as clock-work, and dined, +and then left. Sometimes I went at six, and stayed till eight; +sometimes at five, and stayed till nine. But that was very seldom. +Sometimes, you know, she'd get me talking, and somehow the time would +fly, and it would be ever so late before I could get away. I'm always +an ass, and so I felt tickled, no end, at her unfailing kindness to me, +and took it all as so much incense, and all that--I was her deity, you +know--snuffing up incense--receiving her devotion--feeling half sorry +that I couldn't quite reciprocate, and making an infernal fool of +myself generally. + +"Now you know I'm such a confounded ass that her very reticence about +my other affairs, and her quiet way of taking them, rather piqued me; +and several times I threw out hints about them, to see what she would +say. At such times she would smile in a knowing way, but say nothing. +At last there was one evening--it was a little over a week ago--I went +there, and found her more cordial than ever, more amusing, more +fascinating--kinder, you know, and all that. There was no end to her +little attentions. Of course all that sort of thing had on me the +effect which it always has, and I rapidly began to make an ass of +myself. I began to hint about those other affairs--and at last I told +her I didn't believe she'd forgiven me." + +Here Jack made an awful pause, and looked at me in deep solemnity. + +I said nothing, but puffed away in my usual thoughtful manner. + +"The moment that I said that," continued Jack, "she turned and gave me +the strangest look. 'Forgiven you,' said she; 'after all that has +passed, can _you_ say that?' + +"'Well,' I said, 'you don't seem altogether what you used to be--' + +"'I!' she exclaimed. 'I not what I used to be?--and _you_ can look _me_ +in the face and say that.' + +"And now, Macrorie, listen to what an ass can do. + +"You see, her language, her tone, and her look, all piqued me. But at +the same time I didn't know what to say. I didn't love her--confound +her!--and I knew that I didn't--but I wanted to assert myself, or some +ether damned thing or other--so what did I do but take her hand." + +I puffed on. + +"She leaned back in her chair. 'Ah, Jack,' she sighed, 'I don't +believe you care any thing for poor me.'" + +Jack paused for a while, and sat looking at the floor. + +"Which was quite true," he continued, at last. "Only under the +circumstances, being thus challenged, you know, by a very pretty widow, +and being an ass, and being conceited, and being dazzled by the +surroundings, what did I do but begin to swear that I loved her better +than ever? + +"'And me alone!' she sighed. + +"'Yes, you alone!' I cried, and then went on in the usual strain in +which impassioned lovers go under such circumstances, but with this +very material difference, that I didn't happen to be an impassioned +lover, or any other kind of a lover of hers at all, and I knew it all +the time, and all the time felt a secret horror at what I was saying. + +"But the fact of the business is, Macrorie, that woman is--oh--she is +awfully clever, and she managed to lead me on, I don't know how. She +pretended not to believe me--she hinted at my indifference, she spoke +about my joy at getting away from her so as to go elsewhere, and said a +thousand other things, all of which had the effect of making me more of +an ass than ever, and so I rushed headlong to destruction." + +Here Jack paused, and looked at me despairingly. + +"Well?" said I. + +"Well?" said he. + +"Go on," said I. "Make an end of it. Out with it! What next?" + +Jack gave a groan. + +"Well--you see--somehow--I went on and before I knew it there I was +offering to marry her on the spot--and--heavens and earth! Macrorie +--wasn't it a sort of judgment on me--don't you think?--I'd got used to +that sort of thing, you know offering to marry people off hand, you +know, and all that--and so it came natural on this occasion; and I +suppose that was how it happened, that before I knew what I was doing I +had pumped out a violent and vehement entreaty for her to be mine at +once.--Yes, at once--any time--that evening--the next day--the day +after--no matter when. I'll be hanged if I can say now whether at that +moment I was really sincere or not. I'm such a perfect and finished +ass, that I really believe I meant what I said, and at that time I +really wanted her to marry me. If that confounded chaplain that goes +humbugging about there all the time had happened to be in the room, I'd +have asked him to tie the knot on the spot. Yes, I'll be hanged if I +wouldn't! His not being there is the only reason, I believe, why the +knot wasn't tied. In that case I'd now be Mr. Finnimore--no, by Jove +--what rot!--I mean I'd now be her husband, and she'd be Mrs. Randolph +--confound her!" + +Jack again relapsed into silence. His confession was a difficult task +for him, and it came hard. It was given piecemeal, like the confession +of a murderer on the day before his execution, when his desire to +confess struggles with his unwillingness to recall the particulars of +an abhorrent deed, and when after giving one fact he delays and +falters, and lapses into long silence before he is willing or able to +give another. + +"Well, after that," he resumed, at last, "I was fairly in for it--no +hope, no going back--no escapes--trapped, my boy--nabbed--gone in +forever--head over heels, and all the rest of it. The widow was +affected by my vehemence, as a matter of course--she stammered--she +hesitated, and of course, being an ass, I was only made more vehement +by all that sort of thing, you know. So I urged her, and pressed her, +and then, before I knew what I was about, I found her coyly granting my +insane request to name the day." + +"Oh, Jack! Jack! Jack!" I exclaimed. + +"Go on," said he. "Haven't you something more to say? Pitch in. Give +it to me hot and heavy. You don't seem to be altogether equal to the +occasion, Macrorie. Why don't you hit hard?" + +"Can't do it," said I. "I'm knocked down myself. Wait, and I'll come to +time. But don't be too hard on a fellow. Be reasonable. I want to take +breath." + +"Name the day! name the day! name the day!" continued Jack, ringing the +changes on the words; "name the day! By Jove! See here, Macrorie--can't +you get a doctor's certificate for me and have me quietly put in the +lunatic asylum before that day comes?" + +"That's not a bad idea," said I. "It might be managed. It's worth +thinking about, at any rate." + +"Wild!" said Jack, "mad as a March hare, or a hatter, or any other +thing of that sort--ungovernable--unmanageable, devoid of all sense and +reason--what more do you want? If I am not a lunatic, who is? That's +what I want to know." + +"There's a great deal of reason in that," said I, gravely. + +"No there isn't," said Jack, pettishly. "It's all nonsense. I tell you +I'm a madman, a lunatic, an idiot, any thing else. I don't quite need a +strait-jacket as yet, but I tell you I do need the seclusion of a +comfortable lunatic asylum. I only stipulate for an occasional drop of +beer, and a whiff or two at odd times. Don't you think I can manage +it?" + +"It might be worth trying," said I. "But trot on, old fellow." + +Jack, thus recalled to himself, gave another very heavy sigh. + +"Where was I?" said he. "Oh, about naming the day. Well, I'll be +hanged if she didn't do it. She did name the day. And what day do you +think it was that she named? What day! Good Heavens, Macrorie! Only +think of it. What do you happen to have to say, now, for instance, to +the 20th of June? Hey? What do you say to next Tuesday? Tuesday, the +20th of June! Next Tuesday! Only think of it. Mad! I should rather +think so." + +I had nothing to say, and so I said nothing. + +At this stage of the proceedings Jack filled a pipe, and began smoking +savagely, throwing out the puffs of smoke fast and furious. Both of us +sat in silence, involved in deep and anxious thought--I for him, he for +himself. + +At last he spoke. + +"That's all very well," said he, putting down the pipe, "but I haven't +yet told you the worst." + +"The worst?" + +"Yes; there's something more to be told--something which has brought me +to this. I'm not the fellow I was. It isn't the widow; it's something +else. It's-- + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +"LOUIS!"--PLATONIC FRIENDSHIP.--ITS RESULTS.--ADVICE MAY BE GIVEN TOO +FREELY, AND CONSOLATION MAY BE SOUGHT FOR TOO EAGERLY.--TWO INFLAMMABLE +HEARTS SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO COME TOGETHER.--THE OLD, OLD STORY.--A +BREAKDOWN, AND THE RESULTS ALL AROUND.--THE CONDEMNED CRIMINAL.--THE +SLOW YET SURE APPROACH OF THE HOUR OF EXECUTION. + + +"It's Louie!" said Jack again, after a pause. "That's the 'hine illae +lachrymae' of it, as the Latin grammar has it." + +"Louie?" I repeated. + +"Yes, Louie," said Jack, sadly and solemnly. + +I said nothing. I saw that something more was coming, which would +afford the true key to Jack's despair. So I waited in silence till it +should come. + +"As for the widow herself," said Jack, meditatively, "she isn't a bad +lot, and, if it hadn't been for Louie, I should have taken all this as +an indication of Providence that my life was to be lived out under her +guidance; but then the mischief of it is, there happens to be a Louie, +and that Louie happens to be the very Louie that I can't manage to live +without. You see there's no nonsense about this, old boy. You may +remind me of Miss Phillips and Number Three, but I swear to you +solemnly they were both nothing compared with Louie. Louie is the only +one that ever has fairly taken me out of myself, and fastened herself +to all my thoughts, and hopes, and desires. Louie is the only one that +has ever chained me to her in such a way that I never wished to leave +her for anybody else. Louie! why, ever since I've known her, all the +rest of the world and of womankind has been nothing, and, beside her, +it all sank into insignificance. There you have it! That's the way I +feel about Louie. These other scrapes of mine--what are they? Bosh and +nonsense, the absurdities of a silly boy! But Louie! why, Macrorie, I +swear to you that she has twined herself around me so that the thought +of her has changed me from a calf of a boy into a man. Now I know it +all. Now I understand why I followed her up so close. Now, now, and +now, when I know it all, it is all too late! By Jove, I tell you what +it is, I've talked like a fool about suicide, but I swear I've been so +near it this last week that it's not a thing to laugh at." + +And Jack looked at me with, such a wild face and such fierce eyes that +I began to think of the long-talked-of head-stone of Anderson's as a +possibility which was not so very remote, after all. + +"I'll tell you all about it," said he. "It's a relief. I feel a good +deal better already after what I have said. + +"You see," said he, after a pause, in which his frown grew darker, and +his eyes were fixed on vacancy--"you see, that evening I stayed a +little later than usual with the widow. At last I hurried off. The deed +was done, and the thought of this made every nerve tingle within me. I +hurried off to see Louie. What the mischief did I want of Louie? you +may ask. My only answer is: I wanted her because I wanted her. No day +was complete without her. I've been living on the sight of her face and +the sound of her voice for the past two months and more, and never +fairly knew it until this last week, when it has all become plain to +me. So I hurried off to Louie, because I had to do so--because every +day had to be completed by the sight of her. + +"I reached the house somewhat later than usual. People were there. I +must have looked different from usual. I know I was very silent, and I +must have acted queer, you know. But they were all talking, and +playing, and laughing, and none of them took any particular notice. And +so at last I drifted off toward Louie, as usual. She was expecting me. +I knew that. She always expects me. But this time I saw she was looking +at me with a very queer expression. She saw something unusual in my +face. Naturally enough. I felt as though I had committed a murder. And +so I had. I had murdered my hope--my love--my darling--my only life and +joy. I'm not humbugging, Macrorie--don't chaff, for Heaven's sake!" + +I wasn't chaffing, and had no idea of such a thing. I was simply +listening, with a very painful sympathy with Jack's evident emotion. + +"We were apart from the others," he continued, in a tremulous voice. +"She looked at me, and I looked at her. I saw trouble in her face, and +she saw trouble in mine. So we sat. We were silent for some time. No +nonsense now. No laughter. No more teasing and coaxing. Poor little +Louie! How distressed she looked! Where was her sweet smile now? Where +was her laughing voice? Where was her bright, animated face--her +sparkling eyes--her fun--her merriment--her chaff? Poor little Louie!" + +And Jack's voice died away into a moan of grief. + +But he rallied again, and went on: + +"She asked me what was the matter. I told her--nothing. But she was +sure that something had happened, and begged me to tell her. So I told +her all. And her face, as I told her, turned as white as marble. She +seemed to grow rigid where she sat. And, as I ended, she bent down her +head--and she pressed her hand to her forehead--and then she gave me an +awful look--a look which will haunt me to my dying day--and then--and +then--then--she--she burst into tears--and, oh, Macrorie--oh, how she +cried!" + +And Jack, having stammered out this gave way completely, and, burying +his face in his hands, he sobbed aloud. + +Then followed a long, long silence. + +At last Jack roused himself. + +"You see, Macrorie," he continued, "I had been acting like the devil to +her. All her chaff, and nonsense, and laughter, had been a mask. Oh, +Louie! She had grown fond of me--poor miserable devil that I am--and +this is the end of it all! + +"She got away," said Jack, after another long silence--"she got away +somehow; and, after she had gone, I sat for a while, feeling like a man +who has died and got into another world. Paralyzed, bewildered--take +any word you like, and it will not express what I was. I got off +somehow--I don't know how--and here I am. I haven't seen her since. + +"I got away," he continued, throwing back his head, and looking +vacantly at the ceiling--"I got away, and came here, and the next day I +got a letter about my uncle's death and my legacy. I had no sorrow for +my poor dear old uncle, and no joy over my fortune. I had no thought +for any thing but Louie. Seven thousand a year, or ten thousand, or a +hundred thousand, whatever it might be, it amounts to nothing. What I +have gained is nothing to what I have lost. I'd give it all for Louie, +I'd give it all to undo what has been done. I'd give it all, by Heaven, +for one more sight of her! But that sight of her I can never have. I +dare not go near the house. I am afraid to hear about her. My legacy! I +wish it were at the bottom of the Atlantic. What is it all to me, if I +have to give up Louie forever? And that's what it is!" + +There was no exaggeration in all this. That was evident Jack's misery +was real, and was manifest in his pale face and general change of +manner. This accounted for it all. This was the blow that had struck +him down. All his other troubles had been laughable compared with this. +But from this he could not rally. Nor, for my part, did I know of any +consolation that could be offered. Now, for the first time, I saw the +true nature of his sentiments toward Louie, and learned from him the +sentiments of that poor little thing toward him. It was the old story. +They had been altogether too much with one another. They had been great +friends, and all that sort of thing. Louie had teased and given good +advice. Jack had sought consolation for all his troubles. And now--lo +and behold!--in one moment each had made the awful discovery that their +supposed friendship was something far more tender and far-reaching. + +"I'll never see her again!" sighed Jack. + +"Who?" said I. "The widow?" + +"The widow!" exclaimed Jack, contemptuously; "no--poor little Louie!" + +"But you'll see the widow?" + +"Oh, yes," said Jack, dryly. "I'll have to be there." + +"Why not kick it all up, and go home on leave of absence?" + +Jack shook his head despairingly. + +"No chance," he muttered--"not a ghost of a one. My sentence is +pronounced; I must go to execution. It's my own doing, too. I've given +my own word." + +"Next Tuesday?" + +"Next Tuesday." + +"Where?" + +"St. Malachi's." + +"Oh, it will be at church, then?" + +"Yes." + +"Who's the parson?" + +"Oh, old Fletcher." + +"At what time?" + +"Twelve; and see here, Macrorie, you'll stand by a fellow--of course +--won't you? see me off--you know--adjust the noose, watch the drop +fall--and see poor Jack Randolph launched into--matrimony!" + +"Oh, of course." + +Silence followed, and soon I took my departure, leaving Jack to _his +meditations and his despair_. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +A FRIEND'S APOLOGY FOR A FRIEND.--JACK DOWN AT THE BOTTOM OF DEEP ABYSS +OF WOE.--HIS DESPAIR.--THE HOUR AND THE MAN!--WHERE IS THE WOMAN!--A +SACRED SPOT.--OLD FLETCHER.--THE TOLL OF THE BELL.--MEDITATIONS ON EACH +SUCCESSIVE STROKE.--A WILD SEARCH.--THE PRETTY SERVANT-MAID, AND HER +PRETTY STORY.--THROWING GOLD ABOUT. + + +Jack's strange revelation excited my deepest sympathy, but I did not +see how it was possible for him to get rid of his difficulty. One way +was certainly possible. He could easily get leave of absence and go +home, for the sake of attending to his estates. Once in England, he +could sell out, and retire from the army altogether, or exchange into +another regiment. This was certainly possible physically; but to Jack +it was morally impossible. + +Now, Jack has appeared in this story in very awkward circumstances, +engaging himself right and left to every young lady that he fancied, +with a fatal thoughtlessness, that cannot be too strongly reprehended. +Such very diffusive affection might argue a lack of principle. Yet, +after all, Jack was a man with a high sense of honor. The only +difficulty was this, that he was too susceptible. All susceptible men +can easily understand such a character. I'm an awfully susceptible man +myself, as I have already had the honor of announcing, and am, +moreover, a man of honor--consequently I feel strongly for Jack, and +always did feel strongly for him. + +Given, then, a man of very great susceptibility, and a very high sense +of honor, and what would he do? + +Why, in the first place, as a matter of course, his too susceptible +heart would involve him in many tendernesses; and, if he was as +reckless and thoughtless as Jack, he would be drawn into inconvenient +entanglements; and, perhaps, like Jack, before he knew what he was +about, he might find himself engaged to three different ladies, and in +love with a fourth. + +In the second place, his high sense of honor would make him eager to do +his duty by them all. Of course, this would be impossible. Yet Jack had +done his best. He had offered immediate marriage to Miss Phillips, and +had proposed an elopement to Number Three. This shows that his impulses +led him to blind acts which tended in a vague way to do justice to the +particular lady who happened for the time being to be in his mind. + +And so Jack had gone blundering on until at last he found himself at +the mercy of the widow. The others had given him up in scorn. She would +not give him up. He was bound fast. He felt the bond. In the midst of +this his susceptibility drove him on further, and, instead of trying to +get out of his difficulties, he had madly thrust himself further into +them. + +And there he was--doomed--looking forward to the fateful Tuesday. + +He felt the full terror of his doom, but did not think of trying to +evade it. He was bound. His word was given. He considered it +irrevocable. Flight? He thought no more of that than he thought of +committing a murder. He would actually have given all that he had, and +more too, for the sake of getting rid of the widow; but he would not be +what he considered a sneak, even for that. + +There was, therefore, no help for it. He was doomed. Tuesday! June +20th! St. Malachi's! Old Fletcher! Launched into matrimony! Hence his +despair. + +During the intervening days I did not see him. I did not visit him, and +he did not come near me. Much as I sympathized with him in his woes, I +knew that I could do nothing and say nothing. Besides, I had my own +troubles. Every time I went to O'Halloran's, Marion's shyness, and +reserve, and timidity, grew more marked. Every time that I came home, I +kept bothering myself as to the possible cause of all this, and +tormented myself as to the reason of such a change in her. + +One day I called at the Bertons'. I didn't see Louie. I asked after +her, and they told me she was not well. I hoped it was nothing serious, +and felt relieved at learning that it was nothing but a "slight cold." +I understood that. Poor Louie! Poor Jack! Would that "slight cold" grow +worse, or would she get over it in time? She did not seem to be of a +morbid, moping nature. There was every reason to hope that such a one +as she was would surmount it. And yet it was hard to say. It is often +these very natures--buoyant, robust, healthy, straightforward--which +feel the most. They are not impressible. They are not touched by every +new emotion. And so it sometimes happens that, when they do feel, the +feeling lasts forever. + +Tuesday, at last, came--the 20th--the fated day! + +At about eleven o'clock I entered Jack's room, prepared to act my part +and stand by his side in that supreme moment of fate. + +Jack was lying on the sofa, as I came in. He rose and pressed my hand +in silence. I said nothing, but took my seat in an easy-chair. Jack was +arrayed for the ceremony in all respects, except his coat, instead of +which garment he wore a dressing-gown. He was smoking vigorously. His +face was very pale, and, from time to time, a heavy sigh escaped him. + +I was very forcibly struck by the strong resemblance which there was +between Jack, on the present occasion, and a condemned prisoner before +his execution. So strong was this, that, somehow, as I sat there in +silence, a vague idea came into my head that Jack was actually going to +be hanged; and, before I knew where my thoughts were leading me, I +began to think, in a misty way, of the propriety of calling in a +clergyman to administer ghostly consolation to the poor condemned in +his last moments. It was only with an effort that I was able to get rid +of this idea, and come back from this foolish, yet not unnatural fancy, +to the reality of the present situation. There was every reason, +indeed, for such a momentary misconception. The sadness, the silence, +the gloom, all suggested some prison cell; and Jack, prostrate, +stricken, miserable, mute, and despairing, could not fail to suggest +the doomed victim. + +After a time Jack rose, and, going to the sideboard, offered me +something to drink. I declined. Whereupon he poured out a tumblerful of +raw brandy and hastily swallowed it. As he had done that very same +thing before, I began to think that he was going a little too far. + +"See here, old boy," said I, "arn't you a little reckless? That sort of +thing isn't exactly the best kind of preparation for the event--is it?" + +"What?--this?" said Jack, holding up the empty tumbler, with a gloomy +glance toward me; "oh, its nothing. I've been drenching myself with +brandy this last week. It's the only thing I can do. The worst of it +is, it don't have much effect now. I have to drink too much of it +before I can bring myself into a proper state of calm." + +"Calm!" said I, "calm! I tell you what it is, old chap, you'll find +it'll be any thing but calm. You'll have delirium tremens before the +week's out, at this rate." + +"Delirium tremens?" said Jack, with a faint, cynical laugh. "No go, my +boy--too late. Not time now. If it had only come yesterday, I might +have had a reprieve. But it didn't come. And so I have only a +tremendous headache. I've less than an hour, and can't get it up in +that time. Let me have my swing, old man. I'd do as much for you." + +And, saying this, he drank off a half tumbler more. + +"There," said he, going back to the sofa. "That's better. I feel more +able to go through with it. It takes a good lot now, though, to get a +fellow's courage up." + +After this, Jack again relapsed into silence, which I ventured to +interrupt with a few questions as to the nature of the coming ceremony. +Jack's answers were short, reluctant, and dragged from him piecemeal. +It was a thing which he had to face in a very short time, and any other +subject was preferable as a theme for conversation. + +"Will there be much of a crowd?" + +"Oh, no." + +"You didn't invite any." + +"Me? invite any? Good Lord! I should think not!" + +"Perhaps she has?" + +"Oh, no; she said she wouldn't." + +"Well, I dare say the town, by this time, has got wind of it, and the +church'll be full." + +"No, I think not," said Jack, with a sigh. + +"Oh, I don't know; it's not a common affair." + +"Well, she told me she had kept it a secret--and you and Louie are the +only ones I've told it to--so, unless you have told about it, no one +knows." + +"I haven't told a soul." + +"Then I don't see how anybody can know, unless old Fletcher has +proclaimed it." + +"Not he; he wouldn't take the trouble." + +"I don't care," said Jack, morosely, "how many are there, or how few. +Crowd or no crowd, it makes small difference to me, by Jove!" + +"Look here, old fellow," said I, suddenly, after some further +conversation, "if you're going, you'd better start. It's a quarter to +twelve now." + +Jack gave a groan and rose from his sofa. He went into his +dressing-room and soon returned, in his festive array, with a face of +despair that was singularly at variance with his costume. Before +starting, in spite of my remonstrances, he swallowed another draught of +brandy. I began to doubt whether he would be able to stand up at the +ceremony. + +St. Malachi's was not far away, and a few minutes' drive brought us +there. + +The church was quite empty. A few stragglers, unknown to us, had taken +seats in the front pews. Old Fletcher was in the chancel. We walked up +and shook hands with him. He greeted Jack with an affectionate +earnestness of congratulation, which, I was sorry to see, was not +properly responded to. + +After a few words, we all sat down in the choir. + +It wanted about five minutes of the time. + +The widow was expected every moment. + +Old Fletcher now subsided into dignified silence. I fidgeted about, and +looked at my watch every half-minute. As for Jack, he buried his face +in his hands and sat motionless. + +Thus four minutes passed. + +No signs of the widow. + +One minute still remained. + +The time was very long. + +I took out my watch a half-dozen times, to hasten its progress. I shook +it impatiently to make it go faster. The great empty church looked cold +and lonely. The little group of spectators only added to the loneliness +of the scene. An occasional cough resounded harshly amid the universal +stillness. The sibilant sounds of whispers struck sharply and +unpleasantly upon the ear. + +At last the minute passed. + +I began to think my watch was wrong; but no--for suddenly, from the +great bell above, in the church-tower, there tolled out the first +stroke of the hour. And between each stroke there seemed o long, long +interval, in which the mind had leisure to turn over and over all the +peculiarities of this situation. + +ONE! I counted. + +[No widow. What's up? Did any one ever hear of a bride missing the +hour, or delaying in this way?] + +TWO! + +[What a humbug of a woman! She has cultivated procrastination all her +life, and this is the result] + +THREE! + +[Not yet. Perhaps she wants to make a sensation. She anticipates a +crowded church, and will make an entrance in state.] + +FOUR! + +[But no; she did not invite anybody, and had no reason to suppose that +any one would be here.] + +FIVE! + +[No, it could not be vanity; but, if not, what can be the possible +cause?] + +SIX! + +[Can it be timidity, bashfulness, and all that sort of thing? Bosh! The +widow Finnimore is not a blushing, timid maiden.] + +SEVEN! + +[Perhaps her watch is out of the way. But, then, on one's marriage-day, +would not one see, first of all, that one's watch was right?] + +EIGHT! + +[Perhaps something is the matter with her bridal array. The dress might +not have arrived in time. She may be waiting for her feathers.] + +NINE! + +[Not yet! Perhaps she is expecting Jack to go to her house and +accompany her here. It is very natural Jack may have agreed to do so, +and then forgotten all about it] + +TEN! + +[Perhaps there has been some misunderstanding about the hour, and the +widow is not expecting to come till two.] + +ELEVEN! + +[Perhaps she is ill. Sudden attack of vertigo, acute rheumatism, and +brain-fever, consequent upon the excitement of the occasion. The widow +prostrated! Jack saved!] + +TWELVE!!! + +The last toll of the bell rolled out slowly and solemnly, and its deep +tones came along the lofty church, and died away in long reverberations +down the aisles and along the galleries. Twelve! The hour had come, and +with the hour the man; but where was the woman? + +Thus far Jack had been holding his face in his hands; but, as the last +tones of the bell died away, he raised himself and looked around with +some wildness in his face. + +"By Jove!" said he. + +"What?" + +"The widow!" + +"She's not here," said I. + +"By Jove! Only think of it. A widow, and too late! By Jove! I can't +grapple with the idea, you know." + +After this we relapsed into silence, and waited. + +The people in the pews whispered more vigorously, and every little +while looked anxiously around to see if the bridal party was +approaching. Old Fletcher closed his eyes, folded his arms, and +appeared either buried in thought or in sleep--probably a little of +both. Jack sat stolidly with his legs crossed, and his hands hugging +his knee, looking straight before him at the opposite side of the +chancel, and apparently reading most diligently the Ten Commandments, +the Creed, and the Lord's Prayer, which were on the wall there. I was +in a general state of mild but ever-increasing surprise, and endeavored +to find some conceivable reason for such very curious procrastination. + +So the time passed, and none of us said any thing, and the little +company of spectators grew fidgety, and Jack still stared, and I still +wondered. + +At last old Fletcher turned to Jack. + +"You said twelve, I think, sir," said he, mildly and benevolently. + +"Twelve--did I? Well--of course; why not? Twelve, of course." + +"The lady is rather behind the time, I think--isn't she?" said the +reverend gentleman, with mild suggestiveness. + +"Behind the time?" said Jack, fumbling at his watch; "why, so she is; +why, it's twenty minutes to one. By Jove!" + +"Perhaps you mistook the hour," hinted the clergyman. + +"Mistook it? Not a bit of it," cried Jack, who looked puzzled and +bewildered. "The hour? I'm as confident it was twelve as I'm confident +of my existence. Not a bit of doubt about that." + +"Perhaps something's happened," said I; "hadn't I better drive round to +the house, Jack?" + +"Yes; not a bad idea," said Jack. "I'll go too. I can't stand it any +longer. I've read the ten commandments through seventy-nine times, and +was trying to work up to a hundred, when, you interrupted me. Do you +know, old chap--I feel out of sorts; that brandy's got to my head--I'd +like a little fresh air. Besides, I can't stand this waiting any +longer. If it's got to be--why, the sooner the better. Have it out--and +be done with it, I say. A fellow don't want to stand all day on the +scaffold waiting for the confounded hangman--does he?" + +Jack spoke wildly, cynically, and desperately. Old Fletcher listened to +these words with a face so full of astonishment and horror, that it has +haunted me ever since. And so we turned away, and we left that stricken +old man looking after us in amazement and horror too deep for words. + +Jack's spirits had flushed up for a moment into a fitful light; but the +next moment they sank again into gloom. We walked slowly down the +aisle, and, as we passed down, the spectators, seeing us go out, rose +from their seats with the evident conviction that the affair was +postponed, and the determination to follow. Jack's carriage was at the +door, and we drove off. + +"Macrorie, my boy," said Jack. + +"What?" + +"You didn't bring your flask, I suppose," said Jack, gloomily. + +"No," said I; "and it's well I didn't, for I think you've done enough +of that sort of thing to-day." + +"To-day? This is the day of all days when I ought. How else can I keep +up? I must stupefy myself, that's all. You don't know, old boy, how +near I am to doing something desperate." + +"Come, Jack, don't knock under that way. Confound it, I thought you had +more spirit." + +"Why the deuce does she drive me mad with her delay?" cried Jack, a +few minutes after. "Why doesn't she come and be done with it? Am I to +spend the whole day waiting for her? By Jove, I've a great mind to go +home, and, if she wants me, she may come for me." + +"Do," said I, eagerly. "She's missed the appointment; why should you +care?" + +"Pooh! a fellow can't act in that sort of way. No. Have it out. I've +acted badly enough, in a general way, but I won't go deliberately and +do a mean thing. I dare say this sort of thing will wear off in the +long run. We'll go to England next week. We'll start for New York +to-night, and never come back. I intend to try to get into the 178th +regiment. It's out in Bombay, I believe. Yes. I've made up my mind to +that. It's the only thing to be done. Yes--it's the best thing--far the +best for both of us." + +"Both of you!" + +"Both, yes; of course." + +"What, you and the widow?" + +"The widow? Confound the widow! Who's talking of her?" + +"I thought you were talking of her. You said you were going to take her +to England." + +"The widow? No," cried Jack, peevishly; "I meant Louie, of course. Who +else could I mean? Louie. I said it would be far better for me and +Louie if I went to Bombay." + +And with these words he flung himself impatiently back in the carriage +and scowled at vacancy. + +And this was Jack. This was my broad-browed, frank-faced, +golden-haired, bright, smiling, incoherent, inconsistent, +inconsequential, light-hearted, hilarious Jack--the Jack who was once +the joy of every company, rollicking, reckless, and without a care. To +this complexion had he come at last. Oh, what a moral ruin was here, my +countrymen! Where now were his jests and gibes--his wit, that was wont +to set the table in a roar? Alas! poor Yorick! _Amour_! _amour_! _quand +tu nous tiens_, who can tell what the mischief will become of us! Once +it was "not wisely but too many"--now it was "not wisely but too well" +--and this was the end of it. O Louie! O Jack! Is there no such thing +as true Platonic love on earth? + +But there was not much time for Jack to scowl or for me to meditate. +The widow did not live very far away, and a quarter of an hour was +enough to bring us there. + +It was a handsome house. I knew it well. Jack knew it better. But it +looked dark now, and rather gloomy. The shutters were closed, and there +was no sign of life whatever. + +Jack stared at the house for a moment, and then jumped out. I followed. +We hurried up the steps, and Jack gave a fierce pull at the bell, +followed by a second and a third. + +At the third pull the door opened and disclosed a maid-servant. + +"Mrs. Finnimore?" said Jack, as he stepped into the hall--and then +stopped. + +The servant seemed surprised. + +"Mrs. Finnimore?" said she. + +"Yes," said Jack. "Is she here?" + +"Here?" + +"Yes." + +"Why, sir--she's gone--" + +"Gone!" cried Jack. "Gone! Impossible! Why we drove straight here from +St. Malachi's, and didn't meet her. Which street did she go?" + +"Which street, sir? St. Malachi's, sir?" repeated the servant, in +bewilderment. + +"Yes--which way did she go?" + +"Why, sir--she went to Montreal," said the servant--"to Montreal, you +know, sir," she repeated, in a mincing tone, bridling and blushing at +the same time. + +"To--where? what?" cried Jack, thunderstruck--"Montreal! Montreal! What +the devil is the meaning of all that?" And Jack fairly gasped, and +looked at me in utter bewilderment. And I looked back at him with +emotions equal to his own. And we both stood, to use an expressive but +not by any means classical word--dumfounded. + +[Had a thunder-bolt burst--and all that sort of thing, you know, my boy.] + +Jack was quite unable to utter another word. So I came to his help. + +"I think you said your mistress went to Montreal?" said I, mildly and +encouragingly, for the servant began to look frightened. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Will you be kind enough to tell me what she went there for? I wouldn't +ask you, but it's a matter of some importance." + +"What for, sir?" said the servant--and a very pretty blush came over +her rather pretty face. "What for, sir? Why, sir--you know, sir--she +went off, sir--on her--her--wedding-tower, sir." + +"Her WHAT!!!" cried Jack, wildly. + +"Her wedding-tower, sir," repeated the servant, in a faint voice. + +"Her wedding-tour!" cried Jack. "Her wedding-tour! Do you mean what you +say? Is this a joke? What do you mean?" + +At this, which was spoken most vehemently by Jack, who was now in a +state of frightful excitement, the servant turned pale and started back +in fear--so I interposed. + +"Don't be at all alarmed," I said, kindly. "We merely want to know, you +know, what you mean by saying it was a wedding-tour. What wedding? We +want to know, you know." + +"Wedding, sir? Lor', sir! Yes, sir. This morning, sir. She was +married, you know, sir." + +"MARRIED!" cried Jack, in a strange, wild voice. + +"This morning!" I exclaimed. + +"Lor', sir! Yes, sir," continued the maid, who was still a little +frightened at the presence of such excited visitors. "This morning, +sir. Early, sir. Six o'clock, sir. And they took the seven o'clock +train, sir--for Montreal, you know, sir--and they talked of New York, +sir." + +"_They_ talked? _They_? _Who_? _Married_! Who married her? The widow! +Mrs. Finnimore! Married! Nonsense! And gone! What do you mean? Who was +it?" + +The maid started back in fresh fear at Jack's terrible agitation. +Terrible? I should rather think so. Imagine a criminal with the noose +about his neck hearing a whisper going about that a pardon had arrived. +Agitation? I should say that there was occasion for it Still, I didn't +like to see that pretty servant-maid frightened out of her wits. So I +interposed once more. + +"We merely want to know," said I, mildly, "who the gentleman was to +whom your mistress was married this morning, and with whom she went to +Montreal?" + +"Who, sir? Why, sir--it was the chaplain, sir--of the Bobtails, sir +--the Rev. Mr. Trenaman." + +"THE CHAPLAIN!!!" cried Jack, with a strange voice that was somewhere +between a shout and a sob. He turned to me. There was ecstasy on his +face. His eyes were all aglow, and yet I could see in them the moisture +of tears. He caught my hand in both of his. + +"Oh, Macrorie!" he faltered, "see here, old boy--it's too much--Louie +--all right--at last--too much, you know." + +And the long and the short of it is, he nearly wrung my hand off. + +Then he turned to the servant-maid, and fumbling in his pockets drew +out a handful of sovereigns-- + +"See here!" he said, "you glorious little thing! you princess of +servant-maids! here's something for a new bonnet, you know, or any +thing else yon fancy." + +And he forced the sovereigns into her hand. + +Then he wrung my hand again. + +Then he rushed wildly out. + +He flung some more sovereigns at the astonished coachman. + +Then he sprang into the carriage, and I followed. + +"Where shall I drive to, sir?" said the coachman. + +"To Colonel Berton's!" roared Jack. + +"Nonsense, Jack!" said I; "it's too early." + +"Early--the devil! No it isn't.--Drive on." + +And away went the carriage. + +I prevailed on Jack to drop me at the corner of one of the streets, +and, getting out, I went to my den, meditating on the astonishing +events of the day. + +The conclusions which I then came to about Mrs. Finnimore, now Mrs. +Trenaman, were verified fully by discoveries made afterward. + +She had been quick-sighted enough to see that Jack did not care for +her, and had given him up. The chaplain was far more to her taste. As +Jack came again to her, she could cot resist the desire to pay him up. +This was the reason why she led him on to an offer of matrimony, and +named the day and place. Miss Phillips had paid him up in one way; the +widow chose another method, which was more in accordance with her own +genius. All this time she had come to a full understanding with the +chaplain, and the day which she had named to Jack was the very one on +which her real marriage was to come off. I never could find out whether +the chaplain knew about it or not. I rather think he did not. If he had +known, he would have dropped a hint to Jack. He was such a confoundedly +good-hearted sort of a fellow, that he would have interposed to prevent +the success of the plan. As it was, it was carried out perfectly. + +After all, she wasn't a bad little thing. She knew about Jack's +devotion to Louie, and thought that her little plot, while it gratified +her own feelings, would not in any way interfere with Jack's happiness. +And it didn't. For, ever since then, Jack has never ceased to declare +that the widow, as he still called her, was--a brick--a trump--a +glorious lot--and every other name that has ever been invented to +express whatever is noble, excellent, or admirable in human nature. + +The next morning Jack came bursting into my room. One look at him was +enough. Jack was himself again. He poured forth a long, a vehement, and +a very incoherent account of his proceedings. I can only give the +general facts. + +He had driven at once to Colonel Berton's. He had dashed into the house +and asked for Louie. After a while Louie came down. He didn't say a +word to her, but caught her in his arms. She didn't resist. Perhaps she +had seen in his face, at one glance, that he was free. It was a long +time before the absurd fellow could tell her what had happened. At +length he managed to got it all out. He must have acted like a madman, +but, as all lovers are more or less mad, his behavior may not have +seemed very unnatural to Louie. The poor little girl bad been moping +ever since her last interview with Jack; every day had made it worse +for her; and Jack assured me that, if he hadn't turned up at that +particular hour on that particular day, she would have taken to her +bed, and never risen from it again. But as it was Jack's inveterate +habit to doom to death all the ladies who had cherished a tender +passion in his behalf, the assertion may not be absolutely true. Louie +might possibly have rallied from the blow, and regained the joy and +buoyancy of her old life; yet, however that may be, it was certainly +best for her that things should have turned out just as they did. + +But I must now leave Jack, and get on to-- + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +MY OWN AFFAIRS.--A DRIVE AND HOW IT CAME OFF.--VARYING MOODS.--THE +EXCITED, THE GLOOMY, AND THE GENTLEMANLY.--STRAYING ABOUT +MONTMORENCY.--REVISITING A MEMORABLE SCENE.--EFFECT OF SAID SCENE.--A +MUTE APPEAL AND AN APPEAL IN WORDS.--RESULT OF THE APPEALS.--"WILL YOU +TURN AWAY?"--GRAND RESULT.--CLIMAX.--FINALE.--A GENERAL UNDERSTANDING +ALL ROUND, AND A UNIVERSAL EXPLANATION OF NUMEROUS PUZZLES. + + +All this was very well. Of course. To a generous nature like mine, the +happiness of a friend could not fail to extend itself. For I'm awfully +sympathetic, you know. I don't remember whether I've made that remark +before or not, but in either case the fact remains. Yet, sympathetic or +not, every fellow has his own affairs, you know, and, as a matter of +course, these engage his chief attention. Now all my affairs circled +around one centre, and that centre was--Marion! + +I had seen her on the previous evening. I had made an engagement with +her and Nora to go out with me for a drive on the following day, and we +had arranged all about it. We were to drive to Montmorency Falls, a +place which is the chief attraction among the environs of Quebec. I had +not been there since that memorable day when I rode there with the +doctor to find my bird flown. + +Accordingly on the next day, at the appointed hour, I drew up in front +of O'Halloran's and went in. The ladies were there, but Nora was +half-reclining on a couch, and seemed rather miserable. She complained +of a severe attack of neuralgia, and lamented that she could not go. Up +on this I expressed my deepest regrets, and I hoped that Miss +O'Halloran would come. But Marion demurred, and said she wouldn't leave +Nora. Whereupon Nora urged her to go, and finally, after evident +reluctance, Marion allowed herself to be persuaded. + +It was with an inexpressible feeling of exultation that I drove off +with her. At last we were alone together, and would be so for hours. +The frigidity which had grown up within her during the last two months +might possibly be relaxed now under the influence of this closer +association. My heart beat fast. I talked rapidly about every thing. In +my excitement I also drove rapidly at first, but finally I had +sufficient sense to see that there was no need to shorten so precious +an interview by hurrying it through, and so I slackened our speed. + +As for Marion, she seemed as calm as I was agitated. Her demeanor was a +singular one. She was not exactly frigid or repellent. She was rather +shy and reserved. It was rather the constraint of timidity than of +dislike. Dislike? No. Not a bit of it. Whatever her feelings might be, +she had no reason for dislike. Still she was cold--and her coldness +began gradually to affect me in spite of my exultation, and to change +my joy to a feeling of depression. + +After a few miles this depression had increased sufficiently to sober +me down completely. I no longer rattled. I became grave. A feeling of +despondency came over me. My spirits sank. There seemed no sympathy +between us--no reciprocity of feeling. She had no cordiality of manner +--no word, or look, or gesture, to give encouragement. + +After a time my mood changed so under the influence of Marion's +depressing manner, that I fell into long fits of very ungallant +silence--silence, too, which she never attempted to break. Amid these +fits of silence I tried to conjecture the cause of her very great +coolness, and finally came to the very decision which I had often +reached before. "Yes," I thought, "she has discovered how I love her, +and she does not care for me. She has gratitude, but she cannot feel +love. So she wishes to repel me. She didn't want to come with me, and +only came because Nora urged her. She did not like to refuse, for fear +of seeming unkind to me. At the same time, now that she is with me, she +is trying to act in such a way as will effectually quell any unpleasant +demonstrations of mine." Thoughts like these reduced me to such a state +of gloom that I found myself indulging in fits of silence that grew +longer and longer. + +At last I roused myself. This sort of thing would never do. If nothing +else could influence me, I felt that I ought to obey the ordinary +instincts of a gentleman. I had invited her for a drive, and, because +she was constrained, that was no reason why I should be rude. So I +rallied my failing faculties, and endeavored now not to secure +enjoyment for myself, but rather to make the drive agreeable to my +companion. + +This better mood lasted all the rest of the way, and the few miles of +feverish excitement, which were followed by the few miles of +sullenness, were finally succeeded by the ordinary cheerfulness of a +travelling companion. The change was very much for the better. My +feverish excitement had served to increase the constraint of Marion; +and now, since it had passed away, she seemed more inclined to be +agreeable. There were many things to attract and interest those who +travelled merely for the pleasure of the thing, without any ulterior +motives. The long French villages, the huge chapels, the frequent +crosses by the way-side, the smooth, level road, the cultivated fields, +the overshadowing trees, the rich luxuriance of the vegetation, the +radiant beauty of the scene all around, which was now clothed in the +richest verdure of June, the _habitants_ along the road--all these and +a thousand other things sufficed to excite attention and elicit +remarks. While I was impassioned, or eager, or vehement, Marion had +held aloof; but now, while I was merely commonplace and conventional, +she showed herself sufficiently companionable. And so our drive went +on, and at last we reached our destination. + +If I were inclined to bore the reader, I might go into raptures over +this scene--where the river, winding on amid wooded banks, and over +rocky ledges, finally tumbles over a lofty precipice, and flings itself +in foam into the St. Lawrence; where the dark cliffs rise, where the +eddies twirl and twist, where the spray floats upward through the span +of its rainbow arch. But at that moment this scene, glorious though it +was, sank, into insignificance in my estimation in comparison with +Marion. I will take it for granted that the reader, like me, finds more +interest in Marion than in Montmorency, and therefore will not inflict +upon him any description of the scene. I refer him to Byron's lines +about Velino. They apply with equal force to Montmorency. + +Well. To resume. + +We wandered about Montmorency for an hour or more. We walked over the +broad, flat ledges. We descended deep slopes. We climbed lofty rocks. I +helped her over every impediment. I helped her down. I helped her up. +She had to take my hand a hundred times in the course of that scramble. + +There was an informal and an unconventional character about such +proceedings as these which did much toward thawing the crust of +Marion's reserve. She evidently enjoyed the situation--she enjoyed the +falls--she enjoyed the rocky ledges--she enjoyed the scramble--she even +went so far on one occasion as to show something like enthusiasm. Nor +did I, in the delight of that time, which I experienced to the most +vivid degree, ever so far forget myself as to do the impassioned in any +shape or way. Whatever was to be the final result, I had determined +that this day should be a happy one, and, since Marion objected so +strongly to the intense style, she should see nothing but what was +simply friendly and companionable. + +But it was a hard struggle. To see her beautiful, animated face--her +light, agile form--to feel her little hand--to hear the musical cadence +of her unequalled voice, and yet to repress all undue emotion. By Jove! +I tell you what it is, it isn't every fellow who could have held out as +long as I did. + +At last we had exhausted the falls, and we went back to the little inn +where the horses were left. We had still over an hour, and I proposed a +walk to the river-bank. To this Marion assented. + +We set out, and I led the way toward that very cottage where I had +taken her on that memorable occasion when I first met her. I had no +purpose in this, more than an irresistible desire to stand on that bank +by her side, and, in company with her, to look over that river, and +have the eyes of both of us simultaneously looking over the track of +our perilous journey. And still, even with such a purpose as this, I +resolved to discard all sentiment, and maintain only the friendly +attitude. + +The cottage was not far away, and, in a short tune, we entered the gate of +the farm, and found ourselves approaching it. + +As we went on, a sudden change came over Marion. + +Up to the time of our entering the gate she had still maintained the +geniality of manner and the lightness of tone which had sprung up +during our wanderings about the falls. But here, as we came within +sight of the cottage, I saw her give a sudden start. Then she stopped +and looked all around. Then she gave a sudden look at me--a deep, +solemn, earnest look, in which her dark, lustrous eyes fastened +themselves on mine for a moment, as though, they would read my very +soul. + +And at that look every particle of my commonplace tone, and every +particle of my resolution, vanished and passed away utterly. + +The next instant her eyes fell. We had both stopped, and now stood +facing one another. + +"Pardon me," said I, in deep agitation. "I thought it might interest +you. But, if you wish it, we may go back. Shall we go back, or shall we +go on?" + +"As you please," said she, in a low voice. + +We went on. + +We did not stop at the cottage. We passed by it, walking in silence +onward toward the river-bank. We reached it at last, and stood there +side by side, looking out upon the river. + +We were at the top of a bank which descended steeply for a great +distance. It was almost a cliff, only it was not rock, but sandy soil, +dotted here and there with patches of grass and clumps of trees. Far +below us was the river, whose broad bosom lay spread out for miles, +dotted with the white sails of passing vessels. The place +where we stood was a slight promontory, and commanded a larger and more +extended view than common. On the left and below us was the Ile +d'Orleans, while far away up the river Cape Diamond jutted forth, +crowned by its citadel, and, clustering around it, we saw the +glistening tin roofs and tapering spires of Quebec. But at that moment +it was neither the beauty nor the grandeur of this wonderful scene that +attracted my gaze, but rather the river itself. My eyes fastened +themselves on that broad expanse of deep and dark-blue water, and +wandering from the beach beneath, up the river, to the shore opposite +Quebec--many a mile away--in that moment all the events of our +memorable journey came back before me, distinctly and vividly. I stood +silent, Marion, too, was silent, as though she also had the same +thoughts as those which filled me. Thus we both stood in silence, and +for a long time our eyes rested upon the mighty river which now rolled +its vast flood beneath us, no longer ice-bound, but full and free, the +pathway for mighty navies, and the thoroughfare of nations. + +Now I was able to grasp the full and complete reality of our fearful +adventure. We had wandered from the opposite shore far up near Point +Levi, toiling over treacherous ice, which, even as we walked, had moved +onward toward the sea, and had thus borne us down for miles till we +attained the shore at this place. Looking at the river, I could trace +the pathway which we had taken, and could fix the locality of every one +of those events which had marked that terrible journey--where the horse +ran--where the sleigh floated--where I had drawn it to the ice--where +the ice-ridge rose--where we had clambered over--where Marion fell +--till finally beside this shore I could see the place where that open +channel ran, near which she had fallen for the last time, when I had +raised her in my arms and borne her back to life. And there, too, +below us, was the steep bank up which I had borne her--how I knew not, +but in some way or other most certainly--till I found refuge for her in +the hospitable cottage. At this last I looked with the strongest +emotion. What strength must have been mine! what a frenzied, frantic +effort I must have put forth! what a madness of resolve must have +nerved my limbs to have carried her up such a place as that! In +comparison with this last supreme effort all the rest of that journey +seemed weak and commonplace. + +Rousing myself at last from the profound abstraction into which I had +fallen, I turned and looked at my companion. + +She was standing close beside me; her hands hung in front of her, +closed over one another; her head was slightly bent forward; her eyes +were opened wide, and fixed steadfastly upon the river at the line +which we might have traversed; and there was in her face such rapt +attention, such deep and all-absorbed meditation, that I saw her +interest in this scene was equal to mine. But there was more than +interest There was that in her face which showed that the incidents of +that journey were now passing before her mind; her face even now +assumed that old expression which it had borne when first I saw her--it +was white, horror-stricken, and full of fear--the face that had fixed +itself on my memory after that day of days--the face of my Lady of the +Ice. + +She did not know that I was looking at her, and devouring her with my +gaze. Her eyes wandered over the water and toward the shore. I heard +her quick breathing, and saw a sudden shudder pass through her, and her +hands clutch one another more tightly in a nervous clasp, as she came +to that place where she had fallen last. She looked at that spot on the +dark water for a long tame, and in visible agitation. What had taken +place after she had fallen she well knew, for I had told it all on my +first visit to her house, but it was only from my account that she knew +it. Yet here were the visible illustrations of my story--the dark +river, the high, precipitous bank. In all these, as in all around, she +could see what I had done for her. + +Suddenly, with a start, she raised her head, and, turning, looked full +upon me. It was a wild, eager, wistful, questioning look--her large, +lustrous eyes thrilled me through with their old power; I saw in her +face something that set my heart throbbing with feverish madness. It +was a mute appeal--a face turned toward me as though to find out by +that one eager, piercing, penetrating glance, something that she longed +to know. At the same time there was visible in her face the sign of +another feeling contending with this--that same constraint, and shy +apprehension, and timidity, which had so long marked her manner toward +me. + +And now, in that moment, as her face thus revealed itself, and as this +glance thrilled through me, there flashed upon my mind in a moment the +meaning of it all. There was but an instant in which she thus looked at +me--the next instant a flush passed over her face, and her eyes fell, +but that very instant I snatched her hand in both of mine and held it. + +She did not withdraw it She raised her eyes again, and again their +strange questioning thrilled through me. + +"Marion," said I, and I drew her toward me. Her head fell forward. I +felt her hand tremble in mine. + +"Marion," said I--lingering fondly on the name by which I now called +her for the first time--"if I ask you to be mine--will you turn away?" + +She did not turn away. + +She raised her face again for a moment, and again for a moment the +thrilling glance flashed from her deep, dark eyes, and a faint smile of +heavenly sweetness beamed across the glory of her solemn face. + +There! + +I let the curtain drop. + +I'm not good at describing love-scenes, and all that sort of thing, you +know. + +What's more, I don't want to be either good or great at that. + +For, if a fellow feels like a fool, you know, when he's talking +spooney, how much more like a fool must he feel when he sits down and +deliberately writes spooney! You musn't expect that sort of thing from +me at any rate--not from Macrorie. I can feel as much as any fellow, +but that's no reason why I should write it all out. + +Another point. + +I'm very well aware that, in the story of my love, I've gone full and +fair against the practice of the novelist. For instance, now, no +novelist would take a hero and make him fall in love with a girl, no +matter how deucedly pretty she might be, who had been in love with +another fellow, and tried to run off with him. Of course not. Very +well. Now, you see, my dear fellow, all I've got to say is this, that +I'm not a novelist. I'm an historian, an autobiographer, or any thing +else you choose. I've no imagination whatever. I rely on facts. I can't +distort them. And, what's more, if I could do so, I wouldn't, no matter +what the taste or fashion of the day might be. + +There's a lot of miserable, carping sneaks about, whose business it is +to find fault with every thing, and it just occurs to me that some of +this lot may take it into their heads--notwithstanding the fads, mind +you--may take it into their heads, I say, to make the objection that it +is unnatural, when a girl has already been so madly in love, for +another fellow to win her affections in so short a time. Such fellows +are beneath notice, of course; but, for the benefit of the world at +large, and humanity in general, I beg leave to suggest a few important +points which serve to account for the above-mentioned change of +affection, and all that sort of thing: + +I. The mutability of humanity. + +II. The crushing effects of outrage and neglect on the strongest lore. + +III. My own overwhelming claims. + +IV. The daily spectacle of my love and devotion. + +V. My personal beauty. + +VI. The uniform of the Bobtails. + +The above, I think, will suffice. + +The drive back was very different from the drive down. On the way I +heard from Marion's own lips a full explanation of many of those things +which had been puzzling me for the last two months. She explained all +about the crossing of the river, though not without some hesitation, +for it was connected with her infatuation about Jack. Still, she had +got over that utterly, and, as I knew all about it, and as she had +nothing but indifference toward him, I was able to get an explanation +from her without much difficulty. + +It seems, then, that O'Halloran had forbidden Marion to see Jack, but +she was infatuated about him, and anxious to see him. She had met him +several times at the house of a friend at Point Levi, and a few days +before that eventful journey O'Halloran had gone to Montreal. At the +same time Jack had written her, telling her that he would be over +there. So she took advantage of her father's absence to go over on a +visit, hoping also to meet with Jack. But Jack was not there. She +stayed as long as she dared, and finally had to return so as to be home +before her father got back. This was the day of the storm. She had much +difficulty in finding a driver, but at length succeeded by means of a +heavy bribe. Then followed her momentous meeting with me. Her departure +from the cottage so abruptly was owing to her intense desire to get +home before her father should arrive. This she succeeded in doing. She +felt deeply grateful to me, but did not dare to take any steps to show +gratitude, for fear her father would hear of her journey to Point Levi. +Nora knew about it, and kept her secret from O'Halloran most +faithfully. Then came my arrival upon the scene. She recognized me at +once, and as soon as I told my story Nora recognized me, too, as +Marion's mysterious deliverer. + +They held counsel together after leaving the room, and, seeing +O'Halloran's fancy for me, they thought I might often come again. They +saw, too, that I had noticed their agitation, but had not recognized +Marion. They judged that I would suspect them, and so Nora volunteered +to personate the lady so as to save Marion from that outburst of +indignation which was sure to fall on her if her father knew of her +disobedience. This, then, was the cause of Nora's assumption of a false +part. She had told some plausible story to O'Halloran which satisfied +him and saved Marion; but her peculiar frank and open nature made her +incapable of maintaining her part, and also led to my absurd proposal +to her, and its consequences. + +Meanwhile Marion had her troubles. She had not seen Jack, but on her +return got his frantic letter, proposing an elopement, and threatening +to blow his brains out. She answered this as we have seen. After this, +she heard all about Jack's love-affairs, and wrote to him on the +subject. He answered by another proposal to elope, and reproached her +with being the cause of his ruin. This reproach stung her, and filled +her with remorse. It was not so much love as the desperation of +self-reproach which had led to her foolish consent. So at the appointed +time she was at the place; but instead of Jack--there was quite another +person. + +Of course, I did not get all the above from her at that time. Some of +it she told; but the rest came out long afterward. Long afterward I +learned from her own dear lips how her feelings changed toward me, +especially on that night when I saved her and brought her home. Jack +became first an object of contempt, then of indifference. Then she +feared that I would despise her, and tried to hold aloof. Despise her! +----!!!! + +All this, and a thousand other things, came out afterward, in the days +of our closer association, when all was explained, and Marion had no +more secrets to keep from me, and I had none from her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +GRAND CONCLUSION.--WEDDING-RINGS AND BALL-RINGS.--ST. MALACHI'S.--OLD +FLETCHER IN HIS GLORY.--NO HUMBUG THIS TIME.--MESSAGES SENT +EVERYWHERE.--ALL THE TOWN AGOG.--QUEBEC ON THE RAMPAGE.--ST. MALACHI'S +CRAMMED.--GALLERIES CROWDED.--WHITE FAVORS EVERYWHERE.--THE WIDOW HAPPY +WITH THE CHAPLAIN.--THE DOUBLE WEDDING.--FIRST COUPLE--JACK AND LOUIE! +--SECOND DITTO--MACRORIE AND MARION!--COLONEL BERTON AND O'HALLORAN +GIVING AWAY THE BRIDES.--STRANGE ASSOCIATION OF THE BRITISH OFFICER AND +THE FENIAN.--JACK AND MACRORIE, LOUIE AND MARION.--BRIDES AND +BRIDEGROOMS.--EPITHALAMICM.--WEDDING IN HIGH LIFE.--SIX OFFICIATING +CLERGYMEN.--ALL THE ELITE OF QUEBEC TAKE PART.--ALL THE CLERGY, ALL THE +MILITARY, AND EVERYBODY WHO AMOUNTS TO ANY THING.--THE BAND OF THE +BOBTAILS DISCOURSING SWEET MUSIC, AND ALL THAT SORT OF THING, YOU KNOW. + + +On reading over the above heading, I find it so very comprehensive that +it leaves nothing more for me to say. I will therefore make my bow, and +retire from the scene, with my warmest congratulations to the reader at +reaching + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lady of the Ice, by James De Mille + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADY OF THE ICE *** + +***** This file should be named 22013.txt or 22013.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/0/1/22013/ + +Produced by Marlo Dianne + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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