CHAPTER x.x.xVI. AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL
Our time is now brief with our reader, and we would not trespa.s.s on him longer by dwelling on the mere details of those struggles to which Helen and Forester were reduced by daily a.s.sociation and companionship.
One hears much of Platonism, and, occasionally, of those brother and sisterly affections which are adopted to compensate for dearer and tenderer ties. Do they ever really exist? Has the world ever presented one single successful instance of the compact? We are far, very far, from doubting that friendship, the truest and closest, can subsist between individuals of opposite s.e.x. We only hazard the conjecture that such friendships must not spring out of "Unhappy Love." They must not be built out of the ruins of wrecked affection. No, no; when Cupid is bankrupt, there is no use in attempting to patch up his affairs by any composition with the creditors.
We are not quite so sure that this is exactly the ill.u.s.tration Forester would have used to convey his sense of our proposition; but that he was thoroughly of our opinion, there is no doubt. Whether Helen was one of the same mind or not, she performed her task more easily and more gracefully. We desire too sincerely to part with our fair readers on good terms, to venture on the inquiry whether there is not more frankness and candor in the character of men than women? There is certainly a greater difficulty in the exercise of this quality in the gentler s.e.x, from the many restraints imposed by delicacy and womanly feeling; and the very habit of keeping within this artificial barrier of reserve gives an ease and tranquillity to female manner under circ.u.mstances where men would expose their troubled and warring emotions. So much, perhaps, for the reason that Miss Darcy displayed an equanimity of temper very different from the miserable Forester, and exerted powers of pleasing and fascination which, to him at least, had the singular effect of producing even more suffering than enjoyment.
The intimacy hitherto subsisting between them was rather increased than otherwise. It seemed as if their relations to each other had been fixed by a treaty, and now that transgression or change was impossible. If this was slavery in its worst form to Forester, to Helen it was liberty unbounded. No longer restrained by any fear of misconception, absolved, in her own heart, of any designs upon his, she scrupled not to display her capacity for thinking and reflecting with all the openness she would have done to her brother Lionel; while, to relieve the deep melancholy that preyed upon him, she exerted herself by a thousand little stratagems of caprice or fancy, that, however successful at the time, were sure to increase his gloom when he quitted her presence. Such, then, with its varying vicissitudes of pleasure and pain, was the condition of their mutual feeling for the remainder of their stay on the northern coast Many a time had Forester resolved on leaving her forever, rather than perpetuate the lingering torture of an affection that increased with every hour; but the effort was more than his strength could compa.s.s, and he yielded, as it were, to a fate, until at last her companionship had become the whole aim and object of his existence.
As winter closed in, they removed to Dublin, and established themselves temporarily in an old-fashioned family hotel, selected by Bicknell, in a quiet, unpretending street. Neither their means nor inclination would have prompted them to select a more fashionable resting-place, while the object of strict seclusion was here secured. The ponderous gloom of the staid old house, where, from the heavy sideboard of almost black mahogany to the wrinkled visage of the grim waiter, all seemed of a bygone century, were rather made matters of mutual pleasantry among the party than sources of dissatisfaction; while the Knight a.s.sured them that this was in his younger days the noisy resort of the gay and fashionable 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. It is possible that he hurried his toilet in the hope of speaking a few words to Helen, who not un-frequently came down before her mother.
If so, he was doomed to disappointment, as the room was empty when he entered; and there was nothing for it but to wait, impatiently indeed, and starting at every footstep on the stairs and every door that shut or opened.
At last he heard the sound of approaching steps, softened by the deep old carpet. They came,--he listened,--the door opened, and the waiter announced a name, what and whose Forester paid no attention to, in his annoyance that it was not hers he expected. The stranger-a very plump, joyous little personage in deep black--did not appear quite unknown to Forester; but as the recognition interested him very little, he merely returned a formal bow to the other"s more cordial salute, and turned to the window where he was standing.
"The Knight, I believe, is dressing?" said the new arrival, advancing towards 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 were here, 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 of manner; for now he remembered the face and figure of the worthy Paul, as he had seen both in the large mirror of his mother"s drawing-room.
"Ha! I guessed as much," rejoined Paul, with a chuckling laugh; "the ladies are here, too, ain"t they?"
Forester a.s.sented, and Paul went on.
"Only heard of it from Bicknell half an hour ago. Took a car, and came off at once. And when did _you_ come?"
Forester stared with amazement at a question whose precise meaning he could 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 ever puzzled 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 "d never any taste for it myself,--none of that martial spirit that stirred the b.u.mpkin 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 all I hear, a little goes very far with any man"s stomach; and no wonder.
Except a French bayonet, there "s nothing more indigestible than commissary bread."
"The service is not without some hardships," said Forester, blandly, and preferring to shelter himself under generality than invite further inquisitiveness.
"Cruelties you might call them," rejoined Dempsey, with energy. "The frightful stories we read in the papers!--and I suppose they are all true. Were you ever touched up a bit yourself?" This Paul said in his most insinuating manner; and as Forester"s stare showed a total ignorance 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 Dempsey made a spring backwards, and intrenched himself behind a sofa-table.
"Blood alive!" he exclaimed, "don"t be angry. I wouldn"t offend you for the world; but I thought--"
"Never mind, sir,-your apology is quite sufficient," said Forester, who had no small difficulty to repress laughing at the terrified face before him. "I am quite convinced there was no intention to give offence."
"Spoke like a man," said Dempsey, coming out from his ambush with an outstretched hand; and Forester, not usually very unbending in such cases, could not help accepting the salutation so heartily proffered.
"Ah, my excellent friend, Mr. Dempsey!" said the Knight, entering at the same moment, and gayly tapping him on the shoulder. "A man I have long wished to see, and thank for many kind offices in my absence.--I "m glad to see you are acquainted with Mr. Dempsey.--Well, and how fares the world with you?"
"Better, rather better, Knight," said Paul, who had scarcely recovered the 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 servant is the head of the house."
While the Knight expressed his warm congratulations, Lady Eleanor and Helen came in; and by their united invitation Paul was persuaded to remain for dinner,--an event which, it must be owned, Forester could not possibly comprehend.
Bicknell"s arrival soon after completed the party, which, however discordant in some respects, soon exhibited signs of perfect accordance and mutual satisfaction. Mr. Dempsey"s presence having banished all business topics for discussion, he was permitted to launch out into his own favorite themes, not the least amusing feature of which was the perfect amazement of Forester at the man and his intimacy.
As the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room, Paul became more moody and thoughtful, now and then interchanging glances with Bicknell, and seeming as if on the verge of something, and yet half doubting how to approach it. Two or three hastily swallowed b.u.mpers, and a look, which he 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, a cabinet council?"
If Darcy did not fathom the meaning of the speech, he had that knowledge of the speaker which made his a.s.sent to it almost a matter of course.
"That"s what I thought," resumed Paul; "and it is a moment I have been anxiously 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 an air of deprecation. "I told you, Mr. Dempsey, that I would inform the Knight of the generous proposition you made about the loan; but, till the present moment, I have not had the opportunity."
"Pooh, pooh! a mere trifle," interrupted Paul. "It is not of that I was thinking: it is of a very different subject I would speak. Has Lady 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, and always 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 grat.i.tude 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. "Lord bless us! how close women are about these things," muttered he to himself. "There is nothing for it but candor, I suppose, eh?"
This being put in the form of a direct question, and the Knight having as freely a.s.sented, Paul resumed,--"Well, here it is. Being now at the head of an ancient name, and very pretty independence,--Bicknell has seen the papers,--I have been thinking of that next step a man takes who would wish to--wish to-hand down a little race of Dempseys. You understand?" Darcy smiled approvingly, and Paul continued: "And as conformity of temper, taste, and habits are the surest pledges of such felicity, I have set the eyes of my affections upon--Miss Darcy."
So little prepared was the Knight for what was coming, that up to that moment he had been listening with a smile of easy enjoyment; but when the last word was spoken, he started as if he had been stung by a reptile, nor could all his habitual self-control master the momentary flush of irritation that covered his face.
"I know," said Paul, with a dim consciousness that his proposition was but half acceptable, "that we are not exactly, so to say, the same rank and cla.s.s; but the Dempseys are looking up, and--"