Chapter 13
"Confidant? I believe you. Why she's twice as clever a girl as Fotheringay, and literary and that, while Miss Foth can't do much more than read."
"She can write," said the major, remembering Pen's breast pocket.
Foker broke out into a sardonic "He, he! Rouncy writes her letters," he said; "every one of 'em; and since they've quarreled, she don't know how the deuce to get on. Miss Rouncy is an uncommon pretty hand, whereas the old one makes dreadful work of the writing and spelling when Bows ain't by. Rouncy's been settin' her copies lately--she writes a beautiful hand, Rouncy does."
"I suppose you know it pretty well," said the major archly: upon which Mr. Foker winked at him again.
"I would give a great deal to have a specimen of her handwriting,"
continued Major Pendennis, "I dare say you could give me one."
"No, no, that would be too bad," Foker replied. "Perhaps I oughtn't to have said as much as I have. Miss F.'s writin' ain't so _very_ bad, I dare say; only she got Miss R. to write the first letter, and has gone on ever since. But you mark my word, that till they are friends again the letters will stop."
"I hope they will never be reconciled," the major said, with great sincerity; "and I can't tell you how delighted I am to have had the good fortune of making your acquaintance. You must feel, my dear sir, as a man of the world, how fatal to my nephew's prospects in life is this step which he contemplates, and how eager we all must be to free him from this absurd engagement."
"He has come out uncommon strong," said Mr. Foker; "I have seen his verses; Rouncy copied 'em. And I said to myself when I saw 'em, 'Catch _me_ writin' verses to a woman--that's all.'"
"He has made a fool of himself, as many a good fellow has before him.
How can we make him see his folly and cure it? I am sure you will give us what aid you can in extricating a generous young man from such a pair of schemers as this father and daughter seem to be. Love on the lady's side is out of the question."
"Love, indeed!" Foker said. "If Pen hadn't two thousand a year when he came of age--"
"If Pen hadn't _what_?" cried out the major, in astonishment.
"Two thousand a year: hasn't he got two thousand a year?--the general says he has."
"My dear friend," shrieked out the major, with an eagerness which this gentleman rarely showed, "thank you!--thank you!--I begin to see now.--Two thousand a year! Why, his mother has but five hundred a year in the world.--She is likely to live to eighty, and Arthur has not a s.h.i.+lling but what she can allow him."
"What! he ain't rich then?" Foker asked.
"Upon my honor, he has no more than what I say."
"And you ain't going to leave him any thing?"
The major had sunk every s.h.i.+lling he could sc.r.a.pe together on annuity, and of course was going to leave Pen nothing; but he did not tell Foker this. "How much do you think a major on half-pay can save?" he asked.
"If these people have been looking at him as a fortune, they are utterly mistaken--and--and you have made me the happiest man in the world."
"Sir to you," said Mr. Foker, politely, and when they parted for the night they shook hands with the greatest cordiality; the younger gentleman promising the elder not to leave Chatteries without a further conversation in the morning. And as the major went up to his room, and Mr. Foker smoked his cigar against the door pillars of the George, Pen, very likely, ten miles off, was lying in bed kissing the letter from his Emily.
The next morning before Mr. Foker drove off in his drag, the insinuating major had actually got a letter of Miss Rouncy's in his own pocket-book.
Let it be a lesson to women how they write. And in very high spirits Major Pendennis went to call upon Doctor Portman at the Deanery, and told him what happy discoveries he had made on the previous night.
As they sat in confidential conversation in the dean's oak breakfast parlor, they
"I'm going to fight the dragon," he said, with a laugh, to Doctor Portman.
"And I shrive you, sir, and bid good fortune go with you," answered the doctor. Perhaps he and Mrs. Portman and Miss Mira, as they sate with their friend the dean's lady, in her drawing-room, looked up more than once at the enemy's window to see if they could perceive any signs of the combat.
The major walked round, according to the directions given him, and soon found Mrs. Creed's little door. He pa.s.sed in, and as he ascended to Captain Costigan's apartment, he could hear a stamping of feet, and a great shouting of "Ha, ha!" within.
"It's Sir Derby Oaks taking his fencing lesson," said the child, who piloted Major Pendennis. "He takes it Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."
The major knocked, and at length a tall gentleman came forth, with a foil and mask in one hand, and a fencing glove on the other.
Pendennis made him a deferential bow. "I believe I have the honor of speaking to Captain Costigan.--My name is Major Pendennis."
The captain brought his weapon up to the salute, and said--"Major, the honor is moine; I'm deloighted to see ye."
CHAPTER XI.
NEGOTIATION.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
The major and Captain Costigan were old soldiers and accustomed to face the enemy, so we may presume that they retained their presence of mind perfectly; but the rest of the party a.s.sembled in Cos's sitting-room were, perhaps, a little flurried at Pendennis's apparition.
Miss Fotheringay's slow heart began to beat, no doubt, for her cheek flushed up with a great healthy blush, as Lieutenant Sir Derby Oaks looked at her with a scowl. The little crooked old man in the window-seat, who had been witnessing the fencing-match between the two gentlemen (whose stamping and jumping had been such as to cause him to give up all attempts to continue writing the theater music, in the copying of which he had been engaged) looked up eagerly toward the new comer as the major of the well-blacked boots entered the apartment distributing the most graceful bows to every body present.
"Me daughter--me friend, Mr. Bows--me gallant young pupil and friend, I may call 'um, Sir Derby Oaks," said Costigan splendidly waving his hand, and pointing each of these individuals to the major's attention. "In one moment, meejor, I'm your humble servant," and to dash into the little adjoining chamber where he slept, to give a twist to his lank hair with his hair-brush (a wonderful and ancient piece), to tear off his old stock and put on a new one which Emily had constructed for him, and to a.s.sume a handsome clean collar, and the new coat which had been ordered upon the occasion of Miss Fotheringay's benefit, was with the still active Costigan the work of a minute.
After him, Sir Derby entered, and presently emerged from the same apartment, where he also cased himself in his little sh.e.l.l-jacket, which fitted tightly upon the young officer's big person; and which he, and Miss Fotheringay, and poor Pen too, perhaps, admired prodigiously.
Meanwhile conversation was engaged between the actress and the new comer; and the usual remarks about the weather had been interchanged before Costigan re-entered in his new "shoot," as he called it.
"I needn't apologize to ye, meejor," he said, in his richest and most courteous manner, "for receiving ye in me s.h.i.+rt-sleeves."
"An old soldier can't be better employed than in teaching a young one the use of his sword," answered the major, gallantly. "I remember in old times hearing that you could use yours pretty well, Captain Costigan."
"What, ye've heard of Jack Costigan, major," said the other, greatly.
The major had, indeed; he had pumped his nephew concerning his new friend, the Irish officer; and whether he had no other knowledge of the captain than what he had thus gained, or whether he actually remembered him, we can not say. But Major Pendennis was a person of honor and undoubted veracity, and said that he perfectly well recollected meeting Mr. Costigan, and hearing him sing, at Sir Richard Strachan's table at Walcheren.
At this information, and the bland and cordial manner in which it was conveyed, Bows looked up, entirely puzzled. "But we will talk of these matters another time," the major continued, perhaps not wis.h.i.+ng to commit himself; "it is to Miss Fotheringay that I came to pay my respects to-day;" and he performed another bow for her, so courtly and gracious, that if she had been a d.u.c.h.ess he could not have made it more handsome.
"I had heard of your performances from my nephew, madam," the major said, "who raves about you, as I believe you know pretty well. But Arthur is but a boy, and a wild enthusiastic young fellow, whose opinions one must not take _au pied de la lettre_; and I confess I was anxious to judge for myself. Permit me to say your performance delighted and astonished me. I have seen our best actresses, and, on my word, I think you surpa.s.s them all. You are as majestic as Mrs. Siddons."
"Faith, I always said so," Costigan said, winking at his daughter; "Major take a chair." Milly rose at this hint, took an unripped satin garment off the only vacant seat, and brought the latter to Major Pendennis with one of her finest courtesies.
"You are as pathetic as Miss O'Neill," he continued, bowing and seating himself; "your s.n.a.t.c.hes of song reminded me of Mrs. Jordan in her best time, when we were young men, Captain Costigan; and your manner reminded me of Mars. Did you ever see the Mars, Miss Fotheringay?"
"There was two Mahers in Crow-street," remarked Miss Emily; "f.a.n.n.y was well enough, but Biddy was no great things."
"Sure, the major means the G.o.d of war, Milly, my dear," interposed the parent.
"It is not that Mars I meant, though Venus, I suppose, may be pardoned for thinking about him;" the major replied, with a smile directed in full to Sir Derby Oaks, who now re-entered in his sh.e.l.l-jacket, but the lady did not understand the words of which he made use, nor did the compliment at all pacify Sir Derby, who, probably, did not understand it either, and at any rate received it with great sulkiness and stiffness; scowling uneasily at Miss Fotheringay, with an expression which seemed to ask, "What the deuce does this man here?"
Major Pendennis was not in the least annoyed by the gentleman's ill-humor. On the contrary, it delighted him. "So," thought he, "a rival is in the field;" and he offered up vows that Sir Derby might be, not only a rival, but a winner too, in this love-match in which he and Pen were engaged.