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

consult Francie as to Lionel's sad estate. He did not stay to ask himself whether it were likely that a quiet and gentle girl, living in this secluded neighborhood, could be of much help in such a matter; it was enough that he was going to talk it all over with Miss Francie; things would be clearer then.

Now, as you go up from Winstead Station to Winstead Village, there is a strip of coppice that runs parallel with one part of the highway; and through this prolonged dingle a pathway meanders, which he who is not in a hurry may prefer to the road. Of course Mangan chose this pleasanter way, though he had to moderate his pace now because of the briars; and right glad was he to notice the various symptoms of the new-born life of the world--the pale anemones stirred by the warm, moist breeze, the delicate blossoms of the little wood-sorrel, the budded raceme of the wild hyacinth; while loud and clear a blackbird sang from a neighboring bough. He did not expect to meet any one; he certainly did not expect to meet Miss Francie Wright, who would doubtless be away at her cottages. But all of a sudden he was startled by the apparition of a rabbit that came running towards him, and then, seeing him, bolted off at right angles; and as this caused him to look up from his botanizings, here, unmistakably, was Miss Francie, coming along through the glade. Her pale complexion showed a little color as she drew near; but there was not much embarrassment in the calm, kind eyes.

"This is indeed a stroke of good-fortune," he said, "for I came down for the very purpose of having a talk with you all by yourself--about Lionel. But I did not imagine I should meet you here."

"I am going down to the station," she said. "I expect a parcel by the train you must have come by; and I want it at once."

"May I go with you and carry it for you?" he said, promptly; and of course she could not refuse so civil an offer. The awkward part of the arrangement was that they had to go along through this straggling strip of wood in single file, making a really confidential chat almost an impossibility; whereupon he proposed, and she agreed, that they should get out into the highway; and thereafter they went on to the station by the ordinary road.

But this task he had undertaken proved to be a great deal more difficult and delicate than he had anticipated. To have a talk with Francie--that seemed simple enough; it was less simple, as he discovered, to have to tell Lionel's cousin that the young man had gone and engaged himself to be married. Indeed, he beat about the bush for a considerable time.

"You see," he said, "a young fellow at his time of life, especially if he has been petted a good deal, is very apt to be wayward and restless, and likely to get into trouble through the mere impulsiveness, the recklessness of youth--"

"Mr. Mangan," Miss Francie said, with a smile in the quiet gray eyes, "why do you always talk of Linn as if he were so much younger than you? There is no great difference. You always speak as if you were quite middle-aged."

"I am worse than middle-aged--I am resigned, and read Marcus Aurelius," he said. "I suppose I have taken life too easily. Youth is the time for fighting; there is no fight left in me at all; I accept what happens. Oh, by the way, when my book on Comte comes out, I may have to buckle on my armor again; I suppose there will be strife and war and deadly thrusts; unless, indeed, the Positivists may not consider me worth answering. However, that is of no consequence; it's about Linn I have come down; and really, Miss Francie, I fear he is in a bad way, and that he is taking a worse way to get out of it."

"I am very sorry to hear that," she said, gravely.

"And then he's such a good fellow," Mangan continued. "If he were selfish or cruel or grasping, one might think that a few buffets from the world might rather be of service to him; but as it is I don't understand at all how he has got himself into such a position--or been entrapped into it; you see, I don't know Miss Burgoyne very well--"

"Miss Burgoyne?" she repeated, doubtfully.

"Miss Burgoyne of the New Theatre."

Then Mangan watched his companion, timidly and furtively--which was a strange thing for him, for ordinarily his deep-set gray eyes were singularly intense and sincere.

"Perhaps I ought to tell you at once," he said, slowly, "that--that--the fact is, Lionel is engaged to be married to Miss Burgoyne."

"Lionel--engaged to be married?" she said, quickly, and she looked up. He met her eyes and read them; surely there was nothing there other than a certain pleased curiosity; she had forgotten that this engagement might be the cause of her cousin's trouble; she only seemed to think it odd that Linn was about to be married.

"Yes; and now I am afraid he regrets his rashness, and is in terrible trouble over it--or perhaps that is only one of several things. Well, I had made other forecasts for him," Mangan went on to say, with a little hesitation. "I could have imagined another future for him. Indeed, at one time, I thought that if ever he looked out for a wife it would be--a little nearer home--"

Her eyes were swiftly downcast; but the next instant she had bravely raised them and was regarding him.

"Do you mean me, Mr. Mangan?" she asked.

He did not answer; he left her to understand. Miss Francie shook her head, and there was a slight smile on her lips.

"No, no," she said. "That was never possible at any time. Where was your clear sight, Mr. Mangan? Of course I am very fond of Linn; I have been so all my life; and there's nothing I wouldn't do to save him trouble or pain. But even a stupid country girl may form her ideal--and in my case Lionel never came anywhere near to that. I know he is good and generous and manly--he is quite wonderful, considering what he has come through; but on the other hand--well--oh, well, I'm not going to say anything against Linn--I will not."

"I am sure you will not," said Mangan, quietly; and here they reached the station.

The parcel had not arrived; there was nothing for it but to retrace their steps; and on their way across the common they returned to Lionel and his wretched plight.

"Surely," said Miss Francie, with a touch of indication in her voice--"surely, if Miss Burgoyne learns that he is fretting over this engagement, she will release him at once. No woman could be so shameless as to keep him to an unwilling bargain--"

"I am not so sure about that," Mangan made answer. "She may think she has affection for two, and that all will be well. It is a good match for her. His position in his profession and in society will be advantageous to her. Then she may be vain of her conquest--so many different motives may come in. But the chief point is that Linn doesn't want to be released from this engagement; he declares he will abide by it--if only she doesn't expect him to be very affectionate. It is an extraordinary imbroglio altogether; I am beginning to believe that all the time he has been in love with that Italian girl whom he knew in Naples, and who was in the New Theatre for a while, and that now he has made the discovery, when it is too late, he doesn't care what happens to him. She has gone away; he has no idea where she is; here he is engaged to Miss Burgoyne, and quite willing to marry her; and in the meantime he plays cards heavily to escape from thinking. In fact, he is not taking the least care of himself, and you would be surprised at the change in his appearance already. It isn't like Linn Moore to talk of going to bed when he ought to be setting out for a dinner-party; and the worst of it is, he won't pay any heed to what you say to him. But something must be done; Linn is too good a fellow to be allowed to go to the mischief without some kind of protest or interference."

"If you like," said Miss Francie, slowly, "I will go to Miss Burgoyne. She is a woman; she could not but listen. She cannot want to bring misery on them both."

"No," said he, with a little show of authority. "Whatever we may try--not that. I have heard that Miss Burgoyne has a bit of a temper."

"I am not afraid," said his companion, simply.

"No, no. If that were the only way, I should propose to go to Miss Burgoyne myself," he said. "But, you see, the awkward thing is that neither you nor I have any right to appeal to her, so long as Linn is willing to fulfil the engagement. We don't know her; we could not remonstrate as a friend of her own might. If we were to interfere on his behalf, she would immediately turn to him; and he is determined not to back out."

"Then what is to be done, Mr. Mangan?" she exclaimed, in despair.

"I--I don't quite see at present," he answered her. "I thought I would talk it over with you, Miss Francie. I thought there might be something in that; that the way might seem clearer. But I see no way at all, unless you were to go to him yourself. He would listen to you. Or he might even listen to me, if I represented to him that you were distressed at the condition of affairs. At present he doesn't appear to care what happens to him."

They had crossed the common; they had come to the foot of the wood; and they did not go on to the highway, for Miss Francie suggested that the sylvan path was the more interesting. And so they passed in among the trees, making their way through the straggling undergrowth, while the soft March wind blew moist and sweet all around them, and the blackbirds and thrushes filled the world with their silver melody, and in the more distant woods the ringdoves crooned. Maurice Mangan followed her--in silence. Perhaps he was thinking of Lionel; perhaps he was thinking of the confession she had made in crossing the common; at all events, he did not address her; and when she stooped to gather some hyacinths and anemones he merely waited for her. But as they drew near to the farther end of the coppice the path became clearer, and now he walked by her side.

"Miss Francie," he said (and it was his eyes that were cast down now), "you were speaking of the ideals that girls in the country may form for themselves--and girls everywhere, I dare say; but don't you think it rather hard?"

"What is?"

"Why, that you should raise up an impossible standard, and that poor common human beings, with all their imperfections and disqualifications, are sent to the right about."

"Oh, no," Miss Francie said, cheerfully. "You don't understand at all. A girl does not form her ideal out of her own head. She is not clever enough to do that; or, rather, she is not stupid enough to try