CHAPTER XXXVI. AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL
Our time is now brief with our reader, and we would not trespass on himlonger by dwelling on the mere details of those struggles to which Helenand Forester were reduced by daily association and companionship.
One hears much of Platonism, and, occasionally, of those brother andsisterly affections which are adopted to compensate for dearer andtenderer ties. Do they ever really exist? Has the world ever presentedone single successful instance of the compact? We are far, very far,from doubting that friendship, the truest and closest, can subsistbetween individuals of opposite sex. We only hazard the conjecture thatsuch friendships must not spring out of "Unhappy Love." They must notbe built out of the ruins of wrecked affection. No, no; when Cupid isbankrupt, there is no use in attempting to patch up his affairs by anycomposition with the creditors.
We are not quite so sure that this is exactly the illustration Foresterwould have used to convey his sense of our proposition; but that he wasthoroughly of our opinion, there is no doubt. Whether Helen was oneof the same mind or not, she performed her task more easily and moregracefully. We desire too sincerely to part with our fair readerson good terms, to venture on the inquiry whether there is not morefrankness and candor in the character of men than women? There iscertainly a greater difficulty in the exercise of this quality in thegentler sex, from the many restraints imposed by delicacy and womanlyfeeling; and the very habit of keeping within this artificial barrierof reserve gives an ease and tranquillity to female manner undercircumstances where men would expose their troubled and warringemotions. So much, perhaps, for the reason that Miss Darcy displayedan equanimity of temper very different from the miserable Forester, andexerted powers of pleasing and fascination which, to him at least, hadthe singular effect of producing even more suffering than enjoyment.The intimacy hitherto subsisting between them was rather increased thanotherwise. It seemed as if their relations to each other had been fixedby a treaty, and now that transgression or change was impossible. Ifthis was slavery in its worst form to Forester, to Helen it was libertyunbounded. No longer restrained by any fear of misconception, absolved,in her own heart, of any designs upon his, she scrupled not to displayher capacity for thinking and reflecting with all the openness she wouldhave done to her brother Lionel; while, to relieve the deep melancholythat preyed upon him, she exerted herself by a thousand little stratagemsof caprice or fancy, that, however successful at the time, were sure toincrease his gloom when he quitted her presence. Such, then, with itsvarying vicissitudes of pleasure and pain, was the condition of theirmutual feeling for the remainder of their stay on the northern coastMany a time had Forester resolved on leaving her forever, rather thanperpetuate the lingering torture of an affection that increased withevery hour; but the effort was more than his strength could compass, andhe yielded, as it were, to a fate, until at last her companionship hadbecome the whole aim and object of his existence.
As winter closed in, they removed to Dublin, and established themselvestemporarily in an old-fashioned family hotel, selected by Bicknell, ina quiet, unpretending street. Neither their means nor inclination wouldhave prompted them to select a more fashionable resting-place, while theobject of strict seclusion was here secured. The ponderous gloom ofthe staid old house, where, from the heavy sideboard of almost blackmahogany to the wrinkled visage of the grim waiter, all seemed of abygone century, were rather made matters of mutual pleasantry among theparty than sources of dissatisfaction; while the Knight assured themthat this was in his younger days the noisy resort of the gay andfashionable of the capital.
"Indeed," added he, "I am not quite sure that this is not where the'Townsends,' as the club was then called, used to meet in Swift's time.Bicknell will tell us all about it, for he's coming to dine with us."
Forester was the first to appear in the drawing-room before dinner. Itis possible that he hurried his toilet in the hope of speaking a fewwords to Helen, who not un-frequently came down before her mother.If so, he was doomed to disappointment, as the room was empty when heentered; and there was nothing for it but to wait, impatiently indeed,and starting at every footstep on the stairs and every door that shut oropened.
At last he heard the sound of approaching steps, softened by the deepold carpet. They came,--he listened,--the door opened, and the waiterannounced a name, what and whose Forester paid no attention to, in hisannoyance that it was not hers he expected. The stranger-a very plump,joyous little personage in deep black--did not appear quite unknown toForester; but as the recognition interested him very little, he merelyreturned a formal bow to the other's more cordial salute, and turned tothe window where he was standing.
"The Knight, I believe, is dressing?" said the new arrival, advancingtowards Forester.
"Yes; but I have no doubt he will be down in a few moments."
"Time enough,--no hurry in life. They told me below stairs that you werehere, and so I came up at once. I thought that I might introduce myself.Paul Dempsey,--Dempsey's Grove. You've heard of me before, eh?"
"I have had that pleasure," said Forester, with more animation ofmanner; for now he remembered the face and figure of the worthy Paul, ashe had seen both in the large mirror of his mother's drawing-room.
"Ha! I guessed as much," rejoined Paul, with a chuckling laugh; "theladies are here, too, ain't they?"
Forester assented, and Paul went on.
"Only heard of it from Bicknell half an hour ago. Took a car, and cameoff at once. And when did _you_ come?"
Forester stared with amazement at a question whose precise meaning hecould not guess at, and to which he could only reply by a half-smile,expressive of his difficulty.
"You were away, weren't you?" asked Dempsey.
"Yes; I have been out of England," replied Forester, more than everpuzzled how this fact could or ought to have any interest for the other.
"Never be ashamed of it. Soldiering 's very well in its way, though I 'dnever any taste for it myself,--none of that martial spirit that stirredthe bumpkin as he sang,--
Perhaps a recruit Might chance to shoot Great General Buonaparte.
Well, well! it seems you soon got tired of glory, of which, from allI hear, a little goes very far with any man's stomach; and no wonder.Except a French bayonet, there 's nothing more indigestible thancommissary bread."
"The service is not without some hardships," said Forester, blandly,and preferring to shelter himself under generality than invite furtherinquisitiveness.
"Cruelties you might call them," rejoined Dempsey, with energy. "Thefrightful stories we read in the papers!--and I suppose they are alltrue. Were you ever touched up a bit yourself?" This Paul said inhis most insinuating manner; and as Forester's stare showed a totalignorance of his meaning, he added, "A little four-and-twenty, I mean,"mimicking, as he spoke, the action of flogging.
"Sir!" exclaimed Forester, with an energy almost ferocious; and Dempseymade a spring backwards, and intrenched himself behind a sofa-table.
"Blood alive!" he exclaimed, "don't be angry. I wouldn't offend you forthe world; but I thought--"
"Never mind, sir,-your apology is quite sufficient," said Forester, whohad no small difficulty to repress laughing at the terrified face beforehim. "I am quite convinced there was no intention to give offence."
"Spoke like a man," said Dempsey, coming out from his ambush with anoutstretched hand; and Forester, not usually very unbending in suchcases, could not help accepting the salutation so heartily proffered.
"Ah, my excellent friend, Mr. Dempsey!" said the Knight, entering at thesame moment, and gayly tapping him on the shoulder. "A man I have longwished to see, and thank for many kind offices in my absence.--I 'm gladto see you are acquainted with Mr. Dempsey.--Well, and how fares theworld with you?"
"Better, rather better, Knight," said Paul, who had scarcely recoveredthe fright Forester had given him. "You've heard that old Bob's off?Didn't go till he could n't help it, though; and now your humble servantis the head of t
he house."
While the Knight expressed his warm congratulations, Lady Eleanor andHelen came in; and by their united invitation Paul was persuaded toremain for dinner,--an event which, it must be owned, Forester could notpossibly comprehend.
Bicknell's arrival soon after completed the party, which, howeverdiscordant in some respects, soon exhibited signs of perfect accordanceand mutual satisfaction. Mr. Dempsey's presence having banished allbusiness topics for discussion, he was permitted to launch out intohis own favorite themes, not the least amusing feature of which was theperfect amazement of Forester at the man and his intimacy.
As the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room, Paul became more moodyand thoughtful, now and then interchanging glances with Bicknell, andseeming as if on the verge of something, and yet half doubting how toapproach it. Two or three hastily swallowed bumpers, and a look, whichhe believed of encouragement, from Bicknell, at length rallied Mr.Dempsey, and after a slight hesitation, he said,--
"I believe, Knight, we are all friends here; it is, strictly speaking, acabinet council?"
If Darcy did not fathom the meaning of the speech, he had that knowledgeof the speaker which made his assent to it almost a matter of course.
"That's what I thought," resumed Paul; "and it is a moment I have beenanxiously looking for. Has our friend here said anything?" added he,with a gesture towards Bicknell.
"I, sir? I said nothing, I protest!" exclaimed the man of law, with anair of deprecation. "I told you, Mr. Dempsey, that I would inform theKnight of the generous proposition you made about the loan; but, tillthe present moment, I have not had the opportunity."
"Pooh, pooh! a mere trifle," interrupted Paul. "It is not of that Iwas thinking: it is of a very different subject I would speak. HasLady Eleanor or Miss Darcy--has she told you nothing of me?" said he,addressing the Knight.
"Indeed they have, Mr. Dempsey, both spoken of you repeatedly, andalways in the same terms of grateful remembrance."
"It isn't that, either," said Paul, with a half-sigh of disappointment.
"You are unjust to yourself, Mr. Dempsey," said Darcy, good-humoredly,"to rest a claim to our gratitude on any single instance of kindness;trust me that we recognize the whole debt."
"But it's not that," rejoined Paul, with a shake of the head. "Lordbless us! how close women are about these things," muttered he tohimself. "There is nothing for it but candor, I suppose, eh?"
This being put in the form of a direct question, and the Knight havingas freely assented, Paul resumed,--"Well, here it is. Being now at thehead of an ancient name, and very pretty independence,--Bicknell hasseen the papers,--I have been thinking of that next step a man takes whowould wish to--wish to-hand down a little race of Dempseys. Youunderstand?" Darcy smiled approvingly, and Paul continued: "And asconformity of temper, taste, and habits are the surest pledges of suchfelicity, I have set the eyes of my affections upon--Miss Darcy."
So little prepared was the Knight for what was coming, that up to thatmoment he had been listening with a smile of easy enjoyment; but whenthe last word was spoken, he started as if he had been stung by areptile, nor could all his habitual self-control master the momentaryflush of irritation that covered his face.
"I know," said Paul, with a dim consciousness that his proposition wasbut half acceptable, "that we are not exactly, so to say, the same rankand class; but the Dempseys are looking up, and--"
"'The Darcys looking down,' you would add," said the Knight, with agleam of his habitual humor in his eye.
"And, like the buckets in a well, the full and empty ones meethalf-way," added Dempsey, laughing. "I know well, as I said before, weare not the same kind of people, and perhaps this would have deterred mefrom indulging any thoughts on the subject, but for a chance, a bit ofan accident, as a body may call it, that gave me courage."
"This is the very temple of candor, Mr. Dempsey," said theKnight, smiling. "Pray proceed, and let us hear the source of yourencouragement; what was it?"
"Say, who was it, rather," interposed Paul.
"Be it so, then. Who was it? You have only made my curiosity stronger."
"Lady Eleanor,--ay, and Miss Helen herself."
A start of anger and a half-spoken exclamation were as quicklyinterrupted by a fit of laughing; and the Knight leaned back in hischair, and shook with the emotion.
"You doubt it; you think it absurd," said Dempsey, himself laughing,and not exhibiting the slightest irritation. "What if they say it'strue,--will that content you?"
"I'm afraid it would not," said Darcy, equivocally; "there's nothingless likely to do so. Still, I assure you, Mr. Dempsey, if the ladiesare of the mind you attribute to them, I shall find it very difficult todisbelieve anything I ever hear hereafter."
"I'm satisfied to stand or fall by their verdict," said Paul,resolutely. "I'm not a fool, exactly; and do you think if I had notsomething stronger than mere suspicion to guide me, that I'd have gonethat same journey to London? Oh, I forgot--I did not tell you about mygoing to Lord Netherby."
"You went to Lord Netherby, and on this subject?" said Darcy, whose facebecame suffused with shame, an emotion doubly painful from Forester'spresence.
"That I did," rejoined the unabashed Paul, "and a long conversation wehad over the matter. He introduced me to his wife too. Lord bless us,but that is a bit of pride!"
"You are aware that the lady is Lord Wallincourt's mother," interposedDarcy, sternly.
"Faith, so that she is n't mine," said the inexorable Paul, "I don'tcare! There she was, lying in state, with a greyhound with silver bellson his neck at her feet; and when I came into the room, she lifts upher head and gives me a look, as much as to say, 'Oh, that's him.'--'Mr.Dempsey, of Dempsey's Hole,'--for hole he would call it, in spite ofme,--'Mr. Dempsey, my love,' said my Lord, bowing as ceremoniously asif he never saw her before; and so, taking the hint, I began a littlecourse of salutations, when she called out, 'Tell him not to do that,Netherby,--tell him not to do that-'"
This was too much for Mr. Dempsey's hearers, who, however differentlyminded as to the narrative, now concurred in one outbreak of heartylaughter.
"Well, my Lord," said Darcy, turning to Forester, "you certainly haveshown evidence of a most enviable good temper. Had your Lordship--"
"His Lordship!" exclaimed Paul, in amazement. "Is n't that yourson,--Captain Darcy?"
"No, indeed, Mr. Dempsey," said the Knight; "I thought, as I came intothe drawing-room, that you were acquainted, or I should have presentedyou to the Earl of Wallincourt."
"Oh, ain't I in for it now!" cried Paul, in an accent of grief mostludicrously natural. "Oh! by the powers, I 'm up to the knees introuble! And that was your mother! oh dear! oh dear!"
"You see, my worthy friend," said Darcy, smiling, "how easy a thingdeception is. Is it not possible that your misconceptions do not endhere?"
"I 'll never get over it, I know I'll not!" exclaimed Paul, wringinghis hands as he arose from the table. "Bad luck to it for grandeur!"muttered he between his teeth; "I never had a minute's happiness since Igot the taste for it." And with this honest avowal he rushed out of theroom.
It was some time before the party in the dining-room adjourned upstairs;but when they did, they found Mr. Dempsey seated at the fire, recountingto the ladies his late unhappy discomfiture,--a narrative which evenLady Eleanor's gravity was not enabled to withstand. A kind audiencewas always a boon of the first water to honest Paul; and very littlepressing was needed to induce him to continue his revelations, for theKnight wisely felt that such pretensions as his could not be buried sosatisfactorily as beneath the load of ridicule.
Mr. Dempsey's scruples soon vanished and thawed under the warmth ofencouraging voices and smiles, and he began the narrative of his nightat "The Corvy," his painful durance in the canoe, his escape, theburning of the law papers, and each step of his progress to the verymoment that he stood a listener at Lady Eleanor's door. Then he haltedabruptly and said, "Now I'm dumb! racks and thumbscrews wouldn't getmore out of me.
"
"You cannot mean, sir," said Lady Eleanor, calmly but haughtily, "thatyou overheard the conversation that passed between my daughter andmyself?"
"Every word of it!" replied Paul, bluntly.
"Oh, really, sir, I can scarcely compliment you on the spirit of yourcuriosity; for although the theme we talked on, if I remember aright,was the speedy necessity of removing,--the urgency of seeking some placeof refuge--"
"If I had n't heard which, I could not have assisted you in yourdeparture," rejoined the unabashed Paul: "the old Loyola maxim, 'Evil,that Good may come of it.'"
Helen sat pale and terrified all this time; for although Lady Eleanorhad forgotten the discussion of any other topic on that night save thatof their legal difficulties, she well remembered a theme nearer anddearer to her heart. Whether from the distress of these thoughts, or inthe hope of propitiating Mr. Dempsey to silence, so it was, she fixedher eyes upon him with an expression Paul thought he could read, andhe gave a look of such conscious intelligence in return as brought theblush to her cheek. "I 'm not going to say one word about it," said he,in a stage whisper that even the Knight himself overheard.
"Then I must myself insist upon Mr. Dempsey's revelations," said Darcy,not at all satisfied with the air of mystery Dempsey threw around hisintercourse.
Another look from Helen here met Paul's, and he stood uncertain how toact.
"Really, sir," said Lady Eleanor, "however little the subject wediscussed was intended for other ears than our own, I must beg of younow to repeat what you remember of it."
"Well, what can I do?" exclaimed Paul, looking at Helen with anexpression of the most helpless misery; "I know you are angry, and Iknow that when you like it, you can blaze up like a Congreve rocket.Oh, faith! I don't forget the day I showed you the newspaper about theEnglish officer thrashing O'Halloran!"
Helen grew scarlet, and turned away, but not before Forester had caughther eyes, and read in them more of hope than his heart had known formany a day before.
"These are more mysteries, Mr. Dempsey; and if you continue to scatterriddles as you go, we shall never get to the end of this affair."
"Perhaps," interposed Bicknell, hoping to close the unpleasantdiscussion,--"perhaps Mr. Dempsey, feeling that he had personally nointerest in the conversation between Lady Eleanor and Miss Darcy--"
"Had n't he, then?" exclaimed Paul,--"maybe not. If I hadn't, then, whohad?--tell me that. Wasn't it then and there I first heard of the kindintentions towards me?"
"Towards you, sir! Of what are you speaking?"
"Blood alive! will you tell me that I 'm not Paul Dempsey, of Dempsey'sGrove?" exclaimed he, driven beyond all patience by what he deemedequivocation. "Will you tell me that your Ladyship didn't allude to theday I brought the letter from Coleraine, and say that you actuallybegan to like me from that hour? Did n't you tell Miss Helen not to liedown-hearted, because there were better days in store for us? Miss Darcyremembers it, I see,--ay, and your Ladyship does now. Did n't you callme rash and headstrong and ambitious? I forgive it all; I believe it istrue. And was n't I your bond-slave from that hour? Oh, mercy on me! thepleasant time I had of it at Mother Fum's! Then came the days and nightsI was watching over you at Ballintray. Ay, faith, and money was veryscarce with me when I gave old Denny Nolan five shillings for the loanof his nankeen jacket to perform the part of waiter at the little inn.Do you remember a little note, in the shape of a friendly warning? Eh,now, my Lady, I think your memory is something fresher."
If the confusion of Lady Eleanor and her daughter was extreme at thisoutpouring of Mr. Dempsey's confessions, the amazement of Darcy and theutter stupefaction of Forester were even greater; to throw discreditupon him would be to acknowledge the real bearing of the circumstances,which would be far worse than all his imputations; so there was noalternative but to lie under every suspicion his narrative mightsuggest.
Forester felt annoyed as much that such a person should have obtainedthis assumed intimacy as by the pretensions he well knew were onlyabsurd, and took an early leave under the pretence of fatigue. Bicknellsoon followed; and now the Knight, arresting Dempsey's preparations fordeparture, led him back towards the fire, and placing a chair for himbetween Lady Eleanor and himself, obliged him to recount his scatteredreminiscences once more, and, what was a far less pleasing duty to him,to listen to Lady Eleanor while she circumstantially unravelled the webof his delusion, and, in order, explained on what unsubstantial groundshe had built the edifice of his hope. Perhaps honest Paul was not moreafflicted at any portion of the disentanglement than that which, indisavowing his pretensions, yet confessed that some other held thefavorable place, while that other's name was guarded as a secret. Thiswas, indeed, a sore blow, and he could n't rally from it; and willinglywould he have bartered all the gratitude they expressed for his manyfriendly offices to know his rival's name.
"Well," exclaimed he, as Lady Eleanor concluded, "it's clear I was n'tthe man. Only think of my precious journey to London, and the interviewwith that terrible old Countess,--all for nothing! No matter,--it's allpast and over. As for the loan, I 've arranged it all; you shall havethe money when you like."
"I must decline your generous offer, not without feeling your debtor forit; but I have determined to abandon these proceedings. The Governmenthave promised me some staff appointment, quite sufficient for my wishesand wants; and I will neither burden my friends nor wear out myself bytiresome litigation."
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"That's the worst of all," exclaimed Dempsey; "I thought you would notrefuse me this."
"Nor would I, my dear Dempsey, but that I have no occasion for the sum.To-morrow I set out to witness the last suit I shall ever engage in;and as I believe there is little doubt of the issue, I have nothing ofsanguine feeling to suffer by disappointment."
"Well, then, to-morrow I 'll start for Dempsey's Grove," said Paul,sorrowfully. "With very different expectations I quitted it a few daysago. Good-bye, Lady Eleanor; good-bye, Miss Helen. I suppose there 's nouse in guessing?"
Mr. Dempsey's leave-taking was far more rueful than his wont, and woeseemed to have absorbed all other feeling; but when he reached the door,he turned round and said,--
"Now I am going,--never like to see him again; do tell me the name."
A shake of the head, and a merry burst of laughter, was all the answer;and Paul departed.