Prince Fortunatus by William Black (ebook reader with highlighter TXT) 📖

and daggers--so it was a duel he was thinking of? But they are not really going to fight, Miss Ross," continued Miss Burgoyne, who had grown quite friendly. "You know people can't give up an engagement at a theatre to go and fight a duel: it's only French gentlemen who have no occupation who do that sort of thing. A duel?--a real, actual duel--do you seriously mean it?"

The prospect seemed to afford her great satisfaction, if not even a cause for merriment.

"Miss Burgoyne, you will not permit it!" Nina exclaimed.

"I?" said the other. "What have I to do with it? If two men want to fight, why shouldn't they?" said she, with apparent carelessness.

"Ah, but you know well what you have to do with it," Nina said, with some touch of scorn. "Yes, you pretend; but you know it well. The young man he goes from you yesterday to provoke the duel--you have been talking to him--and yet you pretend. You say, why should they not fight? Then it is nothing to you that one friend or the other friend may be killed?--that is nothing to you?--and you know you can prevent it if you choose. You do not wish to interfere--it will be amusing to read in the papers! Oh, very amusing! And if the one is killed?"

"But you know, Miss Ross, they don't go such lengths nowadays," said Miss Burgoyne, with great good-humor. "No, no; it's only honor and glory they go out for; it's only the name of the thing; they don't want to kill each other. Besides, if two men mean to fight, how can a woman interfere? What is she supposed to know of the cause of quarrel? These things are not supposed to be known."

"Then," said Nina, whose lips had grown still more indignant and scornful, "this is what I say: if anything happens, it is your conscience that will speak to you in after time. You wish them to fight, yes, for your vanity to be pleased!--you wish it said that they fight about you! And that is a trionf for you--something in the papers--and you do not care what harm is done if you are talked about! That is your friendship!--what do you care?--any one may be sacrificed to your vanity--"

"I suppose if they were fighting about you, you wouldn't say a word against it!" observed Miss Burgoyne, coolly. In fact the vehement reproaches that Nina had addressed to her did not seem to have offended her in the least; for she went on to say, in the best of tempers: "Well, Miss Ross, I have to thank you for bringing me the news. But don't be alarmed; these dreadful duels, even when they get into the newspapers, seldom show much harm done. And in the meantime will you excuse me?--Jane is grumbling in there, I know. Tell me anything you may hear about it by and by--and meanwhile I am very much obliged to you." So Nina found herself dismissed, neither her piteous appeal nor her indignant protest having had apparently any effect whatever.

But Miss Burgoyne, while transforming herself into Grace Mainwaring, had plenty of time to think over this startling position of affairs, and to consider how she could best use it to her own advantage. She had a nimble brain; and it may have occurred to her that here was a notable chance for her to display the splendid magnanimity of her disposition--to overwhelm Mr. Lionel Moore with her forgiveness and her generous intervention on his behalf. At all events, in the first scene in which these two met on the stage, Harry Thornhill became instantly aware that the merry and mischievous Grace Mainwaring appeared bent on being very friendly towards him--even while she looked curiously at him, as if there were something in her mind. Moreover, she seemed in excellent spirits; there was no perfunctory "drag" in her give-and-take speeches with the adventurous young gentleman whom fate had thrown in her way. He was very well pleased to find the scene going so well; he sang his share in the parting duet with unusual verve; she responded with equal animation; the crowded house gave them an enthusiastic recall. But the public could not tell that, even in the midst of this artistic triumph, the audacious young lover had his own thoughts in his head; and that he was really saying to himself, "What the mischief is she at now?"

He was to learn later on in the evening. Just as he got dressed for the ball-room scene, a message was brought him that Miss Burgoyne would like to see him for a minute or two as soon as he was ready. Forthwith he went to her room, tapped at her door, entered, and found himself the sole occupant; but the next moment the curtain concealing the dressing-room was opened about five feet from the ground; and there (the rest of her person being concealed) he beheld the smiling face of Grace Mainwaring, with its sparkling eyes and rouge and patches, to say nothing of the magnificent white wig with its nodding sprays of brilliants.

"Just a moment, Mr. Moore," said she, "and I shall be with you directly"--and therewith the vision was gone, and the crimson curtains came together again.

Very shortly thereafter the Squire's Daughter came forth in all the splendor of her white satin and pearls; and she lost no time in letting him know why he had been summoned.

"You are a very bloodthirsty man," said she, in accents of grave reproach (though her eyes were not so serious), "and I am ashamed of you that you should think of harming that poor boy; but I am not going to allow it--"

"Why, who told you anything about it?" he said; for he could not pretend not to know what she meant.

"A little bird," she made answer, with much complacence. "And the idea that you should really want to do such a thing!--how many voices like yours are there wandering about in comedy-opera that you should consider you have any right to run such a risk? I don't mean being killed--I mean catching a cold! I suppose you have got to take your coat and waistcoat off--on Calais sands--with a wind blowing in from the sea; that is a nice thing for your chest and throat, isn't it? Well, I'm going to step in and prevent it. I consider you have treated me very badly--pretending you didn't see me, when you were so very particularly engaged; but never mind; I never bear malice; and, as I say, I'm going to step in and prevent this piece of folly."

"Very much obliged, I am sure," he said, politely. "When men propose to fight, it is so extremely pleasant to find a woman appear to throw a protecting arm over them!"

"Oh, I am not going to be repelled by any of your ferocious sentiments," said she, good-naturedly. "I am a friend of both of you--I hope; and I won't have anything of the kind--I tell you I won't allow it--"

"I'm afraid your intervention has come too late," said he, quietly.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Oh, it isn't worth speaking about," said he. "The young gentleman went a little too far--he has got to be taught a lesson, that is all--"

"Oh, listen to him!--listen to his bloodthirstiness!" she exclaimed, in affected horror; and then she suddenly altered her tone. "Come, now, Mr. Moore, you're not seriously going to try to harm that poor boy! He is a very nice boy, as honest and simple-minded as you could wish. And such a pretty boy, too--no, no, it is quite absurd--"

"You are right there," said he. "It is quite absurd. The whole thing is absurd. But it has gone too far."

Here Miss Burgoyne was called.

"Will you leave it in my hands?" she said, leisurely rising from her chair, and tucking up her long train so that she might safely pass into the wings.

"Certainly not," said he. "You have no right to know anything about it. The quarrel was forced upon me; I had no wish to harm your pretty boy, nor have I much now--except in trying to keep myself from being harmed. But that is all over now; and this thing has to be seen through to the end now."

He held open the door for her; and then he accompanied her along the passage and up the steps, until they were both ready for their entrance on the stage.

"Men are so obstinate," said she, with an air of vexation; "so obstinate and foolish. But I don't care; I'll see if I can't get something done; I won't allow two dear friends of mine to do anything so stupid if I can help it. Why, the idea!--getting into a quarrel with a harmless young fellow like that! You ought to have been kind to him for my sake--for he really is such a dear boy--so simple and good-natured--"

"But where is Grace?" said a voice out there in the wide ball-room; and as this was Miss Burgoyne's cue, she tripped lightly on to the stage with her smiling answer: "One kiss, papa, before the guests arrive." And, as it turned out, there was no further opportunity of talk that night between Miss Burgoyne and Mr. Lionel Moore.

But two days thereafter, and just as Lionel was about to go out for his morning ride, the house-porter brought him a card. It was Mr. Percival Miles who was below.

"Ask the gentleman to come up."

Here were the preliminaries of battle, then. Lionel had a vague kind of notion that the fire-eating youth ought not to have appeared in person--that he ought to have been represented by a friend; however, it was not of much consequence. He only hoped that there would be no further altercation or throwing of ink-bottles; otherwise he considered it probable that this interview would terminate in a more English manner than the last.

The young gentleman came in, hat in hand. He was apparently very calm and dignified.

"Mr. Moore," said he, slowly, as if he were repeating words already carefully chosen, "I am about to take an unusual course. I have been asked to do so--I have been constrained to do so--by the one person whose wish in such a matter must be respected. I have come to apologize to you for my conduct of the other day."

"Oh, very well," said Lionel, but somewhat coldly; he did not seem well satisfied that this young man should get off so easily, after his unheard-of insolence. Indeed, Lionel was very much in the position of the irate old Scotchwoman whose toes were trodden upon by a man in a crowd. "I beg your pardon," said the culprit. "Begging my paurdon 'll no dae," was the retort, "I'm gaun to gie ye a skelp o' the lug!"

"I hope you will accept my apology," the pale-faced young gentleman continued in the same stiff and embarrassed manner. "I don't know whether it is worth while my offering any excuse for what I did--except that it was done under a misapprehension. The--the lady in question seemed annoyed--perhaps I mistook the meaning of certain phrases she used--and certainly I must have been entirely in error in guessing as to what she wished me to do. I take the whole blame on myself. I acted hastily--on the spur of the moment; and now I am exceedingly sorry; and I ask your pardon."

"Oh, very well," Lionel said, though somewhat ungraciously. "But you see you are getting rather the best of this performance. You come here with a ridiculous cock-and-bull