Chapter IX

Amongst his friends--for of a few associates he had many--the friend George fixed upon as the one to aid him in his rescue from the commission of what he considered the damning crime of ingratitude, was the surgeon of his own regiment--a man of sense and shrewdness, and one who was professionally taciturn upon subjects not intended for general conversation:--to him, after mature deliberation, George proceeded, and having begged his private ear, told him he wanted his immediate aid.

“What!--a duel?” said Dr. Short.

“No, my dear doctor,” said George, “I am ill--seriously ill. I have a constant pain in my side. I ought not to stay here. I must resign my assistant-secretaryship and go home for my health. I want a sick certificate.”

“Umph!” said Short--“I see--yes--on which side is the pain--left--right?”

“Intensely severe on the right side,” said George. “I cannot lift my arm perpendicularly without feeling the most excruciating torture.”

“Umph!” said the doctor. “You know what Abernethy said upon that point to the old woman who said the same thing to _him_--eh!--What a fool you must be to try!--eh!”

“I assure you, doctor, mine is no laughing matter,” said George.

“Let’s see your tongue. Umph!--clean as a whistle, and red as beet-root. Won’t do--eh! No tricks upon travellers--no case of liver. Can’t do what you want--or what you don’t want. Did Sir Cadwallader send you to me?”

“No, indeed,” said George, “no human being is aware of my visit to you.”

“Why did you make a secret of it, eh?” said Short. “Every man has a liver; every liver is subject to disease. What’s the use of mystery?”

“I know of no mystery,” said George.

“Won’t do, Mr. Assistant-secretary,” said Short. “A surgeon ought to have an eagle’s eye, a lion’s heart, and a lady’s hand. Cannot say I have all those qualities; but as far as the eye goes, I think, I can see as far as my neighbours--eh!”

“I don’t know what you should make a merit of seeing,” said George. “I have no disguises--I wish to be candid with you.”

“Ah!” said Short, “now I see. You want to tell me you have nothing the matter with you: and yet you want me to give you a sick certificate--eh!--that’s it--umph!”

“My dear doctor,” said George, “I believe you _do_ know something of my feelings, for you certainly have guessed my wishes. I am _not_ ill,--at least in body; but I may be saved from being ill in body, in mind, in reputation, and in conscience, if you will but grant your fiat for shipping me to England.”

“_I_ know,” said Short, “you are as safe in _my_ care as a baby on her mother’s bosom:--but I say--those grey eyes and black eyelashes are the devil!--aren’t they?--umph!--sweet creature! Come, no nonsense, or you get no certificate. You know it is all mighty fine your coming to me, looking as mysterious as a playhouse conspirator: everybody here, except your two selves, and perhaps Sir Cad. knows the whole story.”

“What story?” said George:--“no word has ever passed my lips--”

“No: but a great many have passed the lips of other people,” said Short. “As for your own words, they are what we call superfluous--the eyes have it--eh!--umph!”

“What you say, doctor,” said George, “makes me miserable.”

“Very!” said Short. “I know--it makes every man miserable to have gained the affections of a charming, amiable girl, with a hundred and fifty thousand pounds:--it is quite a calamity! Poor Mr. Assistant-secretary!--you can’t think how I pity you!”

“Doctor, this is no joking matter,” said George. “It is useless, I perceive, to attempt disguise with _you_: you have seen or heard what I never suspected could have been even remarkable. If I wished your assistance upon this point when I came into this room, it is ten thousand times more desirable to me now.”

“Umph!” said Short. “Why?”

“Why!” exclaimed George:--“we have so suddenly and deeply plunged into this discussion; you assume so much, and I have such perfect faith and confidence in you, that--”

“You are good enough to propose telling me what I know already,” interrupted Short.

“No, not what you know already,” said George, “but what my resolution is. The general, in the outset of my career here, befriended me, espoused my cause, restored me to society, and made me what I am. I am admitted into his family, and I evince my gratitude to him for all his kindnesses by--”

“--By permitting his daughter to fall in love with you!” said Short:--“how can _you_ help that?”

“If such should be the case,” said George, “it is my duty instantly to quit this place.”

“To be sure!” said Short--“and add to all the other marks of your sense of the General’s obligations by leaving his only darling child to break her heart.”

“Do not talk in this way, doctor,” said the assistant secretary, “it is I”--

“Pshaw!” said Short. “No nonsense: stay where you are--I’ll give you no certificate.”

“Then I must go without one,” said George. “Private business in England”--

“Very private, indeed!” said Short. “I say, stay where you are.”

“My dear friend,” said George, “it is impossible! What you have told me now, in addition to a remark which I accidentally overheard, renders it imperatively necessary that I should go. It is the only favour I have ventured to ask of you, or of any man since I have been here: grant me the certificate, let me show it to Sir Cadwallader, and tear myself away from the only place in the world where I care to live.”

“Oh!” said Short, putting his finger to his nose--“mutual, I see. Umph!”

“I did not say--”

“Yes, you did,” said Short. “How do you know Sir Cad. will let you go?”

“If he could,” said George, “which for worlds I would not he should, even fancy what is passing in this room, he would--”

“What!” said Short--“do you think he does not know what is passing in your mind and that of Miss Ellen’s?”

“What _is_ passing in our minds?” asked George.

“_Our_ minds!” said Short--“umph!--that’s it--_our_ minds! The glorious _we_ of literature is not more commanding than the ‘our’ of you two. Why, you are over head and ears in love with each other, and you cannot help showing it wherever you are. I know the symptoms, Mr. Assistant-secretary--have had the complaint myself: so has Sir Cad.--a great practitioner in _that_ way:--d’ye think he is blind?”

“I know he is everything that is kind and good,” said George.

“Well, then, perhaps his goodness and kindness may go the length of wishing you to be his son-in-law,” said Short.

“Impossible!” said George--“a creature he has made--”

“Umph!” said Short,--“don’t see how that interferes--eh! You had better talk to _her_ of your heart than to _me_ of your liver. See what _he_ says--or, if you don’t like that, _I_ will.”

“Doctor!” said George, looking extremely fierce.

“I will,” said Short;--“that is to say, I shall tell his Excellency officially that you have applied for a sick certificate; and, if you’ll trust to me, I’ll work it to the best advantage. If Sir Cad. is crusty, you shall have it. A pain in the side makes no show:--I can’t tell whether you have a pain in your side or not. If he demur to your going, you shall be in excellent health; if he frown, and expresses a wish that way, you shall be shipped for Cheltenham in a fortnight.”

“I knew,” said George, “you would be my friend.”

“I _am_ your friend,” said the doctor, “therefore I want you to stop. You have enemies here as well as your betters. Your going would be a triumph to some half-dozen of the fellows who have been dangling after Miss Ellen for the last two years, and who have never got so much as a smile from her for their pains. No, no: mark me, Mr. Assistant-secretary;--put the affair into my hands, and you shall have the sick certificate when _I_ think you want it, and not before.”

George, it must be confessed, was incalculably surprised at the evident notoriety of an attachment of which he even fancied himself unconscious only a few days before. That the lookers-on see more than the players, is generally said, and here was a proof of the correctness of the saying: the very circumstance, however, of its having become a topic of general conversation strengthened, as we have seen, his determination to put an end to the scandal through the aid of his friend Short.

Had he not been bound to his military duty by military law, his retreat could have been easily managed; but it was absolutely necessary that the very man from whom he wished to keep his motives for going, secret, should be the person, and the only person, who could dispense with his services, and grant him leave to put his plan into execution. As it was, he had only to trust to the doctor, whose proceedings he endeavoured to accelerate by pointing out to him the dangers of delay.

That he was not slow to act, George soon discovered. At dinner the next day Sir Cadwallader began to throw out hints that he was aware of George’s intention of applying for the certificate, and in general terms censured the conduct of commanding officers who, by permitting themselves to be parties to a deception practised under the connivance of medical officers, committed themselves as accomplices to what, after all, however strong the phrase might sound, was little better than a deliberate fraud.

“There’s jobbing all over the world,” said his Excellency. “One is never safe. Any fellow that wants to shirk duty, makes friends with the doctor, and out comes a sick certificate.--What’s the matter?--liver, to be sure! As Short says, ‘Who can see a pain in the side?’”

Nobody spoke, because nobody exactly comprehended what his Excellency meant by this gratuitous observation, except George, who felt himself get extremely red in the face,--a very natural consequence of being talked _at_ by a commander-in-chief. Ellen did not know to whom the observation referred, and looked round the table to see if any of the half-dozen guests were affected. Her look rested on George: their eyes met: they both became suddenly embarrassed, and Sir Cadwallader, who was good at a long shot, saw the glance and the response, which confirmed his suspicions, and decided his course of conduct.

The evening of this day was passed as agreeably as the evening before, but Ellen felt a difference in George’s manner towards her: she could scarcely define what it was, or how to account for it, and yet it somehow connected itself in her mind with her father’s hypothetical observation at dinner. The guests departed, unregretted by either of the lovers, for so, unconsciously they were; and the party was reduced to a trio, composed of Sir Cadwallader, Ellen, and the assistant military secretary, who always lingered last of the throng, were it never so late.

“So,” said Sir Cadwallader, after a short pause, “I suppose, Mr. Brown, you felt the force of my little remark at dinner about sick certificates--eh! I hope you did--it was meant expressly for _you_.”

“Sir!” faltered George, anticipating the burst of displeasure which he was assured would follow this announcement.

“Yes, sir,” said his Excellency, “I understand you have been applying to Short for one of those melancholy testimonials of ill health, with a liver as sound as a roach, and the constitution of a ploughman.”

“I assure your Excellency,” said George, “that--I am not capable of deception upon any point:--I”--

“I don’t know what you call deception, Mr. Brown,” said Sir Cadwallader; “you are in good health, and you want the doctor to say you are sick, in order to quit your duty, and leave those who wish you well.”

Ellen, who began to feel extremely uneasy, and think her presence at such a scene was scarcely necessary, rose to depart.

“Stay, Miss,” said the General--“wait to hear what the gentleman has to say for himself.”

“Really, papa,” said Ellen--

“Really, Miss,” said the General--“recollect I am commanding officer here: obey orders--sit you down, Miss. If you wished for leave of absence, Mr. Brown, why not have applied to me upon any fair ground? I hate shamming--eh!”

“It is impossible,” said George, “for me either to extenuate or explain my fault. It is now known to you, sir:--there can be no difficulty in my going _now_.”

“Why so, sir?” said his Excellency.

“You have exhibited my thoughtless--my ungrateful conduct, in its proper light,” said George: “I cannot--indeed, I cannot remain longer with you.”

“Suppose, sir, I cannot spare you,” said the General.

“_My_ services, sir,” said, or rather sobbed, George, “are of no importance. I--”

“That’s matter of opinion,” said the General. “But suppose _I_ could manage without you--look at that young lady there--d’ye think _she_ could spare you?”

“Oh, father!” said Ellen, who had sat trembling, and cold, and pale, during the conversation--“I--don’t wish to interfere.”

“You don’t!” said Sir Cadwallader--“not interfere!--you _do_ wish to interfere, Miss. Lord bless your heart! Elly,--haven’t I been young myself--eh? No, no, you can’t cheat _me_, cunning as you are:--you love this fellow, and he loves _you_.”

“Father!” said Ellen.

Brown said nothing, but looked as if the world was on the point of annihilation.

“Don’t contradict me, Elly,” said the General: “where’s the harm?--where’s the wrong? When I heard George’s story, I was resolved to restore him to his proper place in society. I brought him into my house--into my family--and you have fallen in love with each other:--that’s _my_ affair. What then? When I first knew your poor dear mother--the best of women and of wives!--what was I?--a subaltern--the second son of a grocer at Gloucester. That was it, George--her mother was an heiress.--It sounds vain now--she fell in love with me, as I did with _her_. Well, I became possessed of her fortune; _that_ enabled me to purchase up in my profession: and if it had not been for that, I might have been now a hoary-headed lieutenant, or at best a captain of sixty-two, going through my daily ‘Halt--left wheel,’ till my legs ached, instead of being here a titled and decorated commander-in-chief. What has that dear woman to whom, under Providence, I owe everything, left me?--this girl--this child of my heart--the dearest--the only object of my affections! Half a glance tells me the state of the case.”

Ellen sat with her eyes fixed upon her father--George’s filled with tears--and what gem is brighter than a soldier’s tear so shed?

“Your conduct, sir,” said the General, “has done you the greatest honour. I appreciate it in the highest degree. But it won’t do--go you do not. If my Elly here is foolish enough to sympathize with her father in his predilections, and chooses to give her heart to an ensign without a shilling, what am I to do?--why, I’ll tell you, Mr. Brown,--religiously to realize whatever wishes she may entertain, for the sake of her beloved mother, and to take care that she does not make a foolish match with somebody not half so worthy of her.”

“My dear father,” said Ellen--

“_Tace, tace!_ daughter of mine,” said Sir Cadwallader:--“don’t coquet,--don’t try to deceive me. George, come here:--I am serious--take her hand, my good, excellent fellow! You, who have been so admirable a son, cannot fail to make a good husband. This is my firm conviction.”

“But, sir,” said Miss Adamthwaite, rising, “I”--

“Oh!” said the general, “you don’t like him! Oh! that, indeed, is a different affair:--then I am out in my reckoning, and there’s an end of the business.”

“I didn’t say,” said Ellen,--and bursting into tears, she caught her father round the neck, and her head dropped upon his shoulder.

“Come here, George,” said Sir Cadwallader--“come here!--take her from me! I know what she means:--she is your’s!”--“I have neither chick nor child but this beloved one!” continued the General, who seemed to have caught the infection of weeping--“I have nobody to please but her and myself. I think I have taken the surest method of doing both. I hate fine speeches--I don’t want thanks--so, my dear souls, God bless you both! I’m off--a syllable more from me would spoil it all. Talk over your own matters. Let these be the last tears I ever see you shed; and to-morrow the babblers, and tattlers, and scandal-mongers, shall have the pleasure of hearing how the old general has been fool enough to give his only daughter to a penniless subaltern! Good night! my children--good night!”

Saying which, away went Sir Cadwallader, leaving the affianced lovers in a state of doubt whether they were awake or in a dream. George gazed on the blushing girl, even yet doubting whether she would fulfil her father’s intentions. Their eyes met:--those doubts vanished. Words were inadequate to the expression of their feelings:--he caught her in his arms and pressed her to his panting heart:--at which particular moment, Major Mopes, military secretary to his Excellency Sir Cadwallader Adamthwaite, and Captain Narcissus Fripps, his Excellency’s senior aide-du-camp, passed along the varhandah, into which all the doors and windows of his Excellency’s drawing-room opened.

This exhibition of mutual tenderness was, it must be admitted, something likely to make a commotion in a small circle. It, however, produced effects upon the military secretary and the aide-du-camp of a totally different character. Major Mopes, who had the highest opinion of George, and whose praises of his conduct had mainly conduced to create the interest which the general took in him, was horror-stricken. The idea that _he_ had been chiefly instrumental in bringing him into Sir Cadwallader’s family, the happiness of which he was now so evidently attempting to destroy, filled him with regret and indignation: all he hoped was, that his companion, Captain Fripps, might not have seen all that _he_ had witnessed. He felt that if the secret were confined to himself, George might yet be saved; that an appeal to his sense of honour and right feeling would induce him immediately to withdraw himself from a sphere so dangerous as that in which he now was moving,--little thinking that George had decided upon doing so a week before.

The aide-du-camp, however, _had_ seen the sight--which so startled him, that he, like the major, but from very different motives, did not speak a word. At the end of the varhandah they parted for the night, during which, while Major Mopes lay considering how he might best save George and Ellen, and smother the whole affair, the captain was arranging the manner in which it would be best to communicate the circumstance to the general so as to obtain the greatest possible credit for himself, and secure the immediate dismissal of his apparently favoured rival in the general’s consideration. For which purpose, the ingenuous and ingenious gentleman, instead of going to bed, as was his original intention, returned to the barracks and to the quarters of his bosom friend, Ensign Honeyman, whom he had just left, in order to avail himself of his advice: thus, in the very first instance, himself doing all the mischief to Ellen’s character and reputation, the preservation of which from injury was to be made the ostensible ground of his communication of the fact to her father.

Honeyman, who was the inseparable companion of Fripps, agreed entirely with his friend on the course to be pursued in order to overthrow Brown; and it was accordingly settled that the captain should, the very first thing in the morning, make a confidential report to his Excellency of what had occurred.

Meanwhile the unconscious lovers, whose parting kiss formed the subject of contemplation for both the gallant heroes, were thinking of each other and of the happiness which had taken them so completely by surprise, that they could scarcely think what had passed during the evening anything but a bright, yet baseless vision. The old general was the only one of the inmates of the house who slept soundly. He went to bed to rest upon the consciousness of having made two people happy--of having realised his intentions of providing for George--and gratified his wish of giving Ellen the man to whom, insensibly and unconsciously, she had become devotedly attached:--and, above all this, he revelled in the pleasure of having found out their secret, and anticipated any communication on the subject from either of themselves:--add to this, his just appreciation of George’s anxiety to quit the only place in the world which was dear to him--to surrender all the worldly advantages it afforded, to preserve the being he loved from the anger of her parent, the malice of her _friends_--or, putting it as an extreme case, the ills of a marriage with a man who would have nothing but an ensign’s half-pay, even if, under the circumstances, he could secure that--and the amount of Sir Cadwallader’s self-gratulation may be in some degree ascertained.

The gun had scarcely announced the dawn of day when Captain Narcissus Fripps was up and stirring; there was no time to be lost. It was his turn to ride with the general before breakfast; the opportunity would be favourable; the success of the disclosure was unquestionable. The getting rid of George was his great object; for the captain’s jealousy of the interloper, as he considered him, was not so much excited by his evident success with the young lady, as by the favourable estimation in which the young lady’s father held him and his character: and when jealousy takes possession of the mind, it leaves room for no other passions but such as may be made subservient to its own ends, and which may be called into action for its own revengeful gratification.

Lavater says, that “he, who being master of the fittest moment to crush his enemy, magnanimously neglects it, is born to be a conqueror.” Captain Narcissus Fripps, whatever heroic deeds he might have been destined to do in other days, did by no means display this evidence of future success; and although George was neither his, nor any other man’s enemy, he resolved that two hours should not elapse before he was irrecoverably ruined in Sir Cadwallader’s estimation.

The captain was a fair, sickly-looking man, always extremely well dressed, his hair assiduously ringleted on his cheeks and over his forehead. He wore divers rings upon his fingers, and sundry chains around his neck; his clothes fitted him as if they were his skin. His voice was drawling, and he lisped a little. When he talked, he pawed the air with his hands flappingly, something after the fashion of a kangaroo; and when he wished to be particularly lively, playfully patted the arm of the person with whom he was conversing, affecting himself always to be excessively shocked at everything that everybody said to him: in short, nobody could exactly make him out. He was considered excessively fine--evidently fancied himself a beauty, and was not quite free from a suspicion of aiding nature in the getting up of his complexion, by borrowing a tinge from art.

To have been treated neglectfully by a young lady of Ellen’s qualifications, and that she should so readily have permitted such marked advances on the part of one so unquestionably his inferior in rank and station, (for the Fripps’ blood had been ennobled in a remote degree from Narcissus,) was galling beyond measure; although his attentions to Miss Adamthwaite had never gone much farther than singing to her by moonlight, accompanying himself on the guitar, or making her a pair of card-racks, or painting a couple of rose-buds on the top of a cotton box. If she sometimes worked at those often-mentioned, indescribable strips of muslin which engage the attention of modern fine ladies, he would thread her needle for her; and in winding off silk on his thumbs he was most assiduous and skilful. It was therefore the indignity which he considered the circumstance to involve, rather than the jealousy of a lover, which urged him on to ruin George. _His_ fate, however, was sealed, and when the horses were at the door, Captain Narcissus felt his heart beat with anxiety for the discovery. “Lie still, little flutterer,” said he, as he pressed his hand to his bosom; and mounting his steed, rode slowly off with his Excellency the Commander of the forces, to make their accustomed matutinal excursion.

Horseback, it must be confessed, whether the pace be a walk, trot, amble, canter, or gallop, is not altogether suitable or convenient for confidential communication; and when the captain found the general resolved upon adopting the penultimate pace of those enumerated, he felt the difficulty of breaking the business to him insuperable. Indeed, Sir Cadwallader was not particularly partial to his aide-du-camp’s society, and preferred, when circumstances permitted, the company of Major Mopes, who, upon the morning in question, stayed at home to counteract, if possible, the ill effects of the representation which the captain went abroad expressly to make.

After a start of a mile or so, Sir Cadwallader pulled up, and suggested to the captain that they should dismount, and walk up to a rising ground on the other side of a fordable nullah, in order to get a view of the town at a point from which Miss Adamthwaite had made a drawing, but which the general had himself never happened to visit. This was more fortunate for Narcissus than even _he_ could have hoped; the place--the subject--all naturally tended to the point he had in view. The “little flutterer” would lie still no longer: the aptness of the opportunity delighted him, and he was decided to avail himself of it forthwith.

“Were you here with Ellen when she made the sketch?” said Sir Cadwallader.

“Oh! dear, no, general,” said Fripps, “I never come out upon sketching parties with ladies: I shouldn’t think of doing such a thing.”

“I don’t see the harm of it,” said his Excellency. “In Italy, Ellen used to pass the greatest part of the day in drawing from Nature: it would have been dull work if she had thought it necessary to have remained always alone.”

“Oh, dear Italy!” said Narcissus, sighing and turning up his eyes--“the climate is so charming there.”

“Climate makes no great difference in conduct,” said Sir Cadwallader.

“No, to be sure,” said the captain, “but--I am so very particular, I never presume on the good-nature of the dear ladies. Indeed what I see going on with other people sometimes shocks me--not only on account of my own feelings as they regard delicacy, but as far as the honour and happiness of those I esteem and respect are concerned.”

“Honour and happiness!” said the General,--“what the deuce have honour and happiness to do with a water-colour drawing?”

“Oh! dear no, general,” said the captain, pawing the air, “I did not say they had; but--perhaps to the artist they may be something.”

“I hope, if you mean Ellen,” said Sir Cadwallader, “they have a great deal to do with her.”

“Really, general,” said Fripps, “I don’t know what to say; but I have something to tell you which you ought to know.”

“Why, then, out with it, Fripps,” said Sir Cadwallader.

“Oh! I can’t tell you all at once,” said the captain. “I know you will be very angry--but I’m sure I ought to tell you: and yet I don’t know how I shall ever be able to do such a thing!”

“What! is there a plot brewing, or a mutiny hatching?” said the General.

“Oh! no sir,” said Fripps, “it is nothing public; it is----oh, I can’t tell you!”

“Why,” said the General, “I am not very particular as to time; only as you have begun, you may as well go on.”

“Oh, it’s so very fie-fie! Sir Cadwallader,” said Narcissus.

“Very what?” said his Excellency.

“Very naughty, sir,” replied the aide-du-camp.

“Who is it about?” asked his Excellency.

“That is what I’m almost afraid to say,” continued Fripps. “I never was so shocked in my life!--I declare I did not recover myself for two hours after.”

“After what?” said the General:--“do speak out.”

“I don’t know how to explain,” said Fripps, wringing his hands like

“Some sad widow o’er her babe deploring”--

“but I’ll endeavour.”

“Is it anything about my daughter?” said Sir Cadwallader, who, although unaware that any scene had taken place, had long remarked the aide-du-camp’s growing dislike of George.

“La, General!--you are such a man,” said Fripps, “I declare, you seem to know everything by intuition.”

“Well,” said his Excellency, “what has she been doing?”

“I know I shall never be able to explain it quite,” said Fripps; “but--I--think I may mention that--people think--I--that is, Mr. Brown--is--rather too free--and particular--and--”

“Umph!” said Sir Cadwallader. “If _I_ don’t find fault, and _she_ does not find fault with his attentions,--that is, if he does pay her particular attention,--there is no great harm in _that_, Captain Fripps.”

“No, sir,” said the captain; “but I’m sure you cannot guess. It is no fault of Miss Ellen’s--that I am certain of:--but--you have no idea. Oh! upon my word--that Mr. Brown--I speak, you know, in confidence to you, sir--but--he is such a rude man.”

“Rude!” said Sir Cadwallader--“do you think so? As far--”

“Ah! that’s where it is,” said Fripps, pawing and ambling about--“I can’t--it is something so very fie-fie--only you ought to know it: but, I declare, I don’t know how to say it out.”

“When did all this occur?” said Sir Cadwallader.

“I haven’t lost a moment in telling your Excellency,” said Fripps: “what I saw happened last night.”

“Oh!” said the General--(every doubt of George’s honourable conduct having been released by learning the date of the affair, whatever it was, which had shocked the delicacy of the exquisite Narcissus)--“was it very bad?”

“I never did such a thing myself in all my life, Sir Cadwallader,” said Fripps; “and, upon my honour! I am sorry to have seen it: it has quite upset me.”

“You didn’t catch them in what the book-makers call ‘an interesting situation,’ Captain Fripps, did you?” said Sir Cadwallader.

“La! General, you are such a man,” said Fripps. “I declare, how you guessed it I cannot think--but you are right: so the moment I saw it, I said to myself--well! if ever--Oh! gracious--to think of the man that his Excellency has raised to his present station!--to think of--”

“That will do, captain,” said the General. “I am quite aware of the excellence of your intentions, and I thank you for your excessive care of Ellen’s interest and prospects:--now let us look at the prospect before us.”

“Well!” said Fripps to himself, “if ever I saw such a man!”--“To think, you know, of that nasty, great, coarse creature, Brown--well, if ever I--”

“I think she has done it remarkably well,” said the general, putting his hand varhandah-wise over his eyes, to look at the beautiful panorama before them.

“What, sir?” said Fripps, ambling about and twiddling his curls.

“The view,” replied the General. “That bungalow in the foreground is a beautiful object, and she has made the most of it. It is odd enough, often as I have been on the Mulligopatemy road, I never was here before.”

Fripps looked at his Excellency with amazement, and almost began to repent not having himself been more lively with Miss Ellen, to whose reputed fortune Narcissus would have had no earthly objection, even encumbered with the lady herself.

“And so,” said Sir Cadwallader, returning to the subject, “you surprised _my_ daughter and my assistant military secretary in an interesting situation--eh?”

“Upon my word, General, it was not intentional on my part,” said Fripps. “I had just been taking some of Hoffman’s capillaire and water, and a sponge biscuit with Ensign Honeyman at his quarters, where we had been singing some little Sicilian duets to the guitar by moonlight, and time flew so quickly, that it was near eleven o’clock before we thought of separating. When I came home I met Major Mopes at the gate, and we went together through the varhandah, and there--I really--I assure you it is the first time I ever saw such a thing--but there--there--Oh! how shall I describe the scene?”

“You saw Mr. Brown kiss my daughter, perhaps:--I understand perfectly,” said the General:--“that’s enough, Captain Fripps; we will settle _that_ gentleman’s affair after breakfast. So, come, let us take to our horses, and finish our ride.”

It must be admitted that Captain Fripps felt disagreeably disappointed by the manner in which his Excellency received his account of the glaring indecorum which he had overseen; but he knew that he was a man of few words, with great promptitude and decision of action, and he still encouraged the hope of seeing his antipathy--the assistant military secretary, most unceremoniously expelled the house in the course of the morning.

Differently, indeed, had the friendly Major Mopes been engaged during the same period. He had seen and conversed with George, who, it must be admitted, elated as he was by the wonderful piece of good-fortune which had befallen him, indulged his playfulness of disposition by leading the major by a very circuitous route to the real state of the case; indeed he dexterously avoided coming to the point till he perceived, by his worthy friend’s manner and countenance, that he must not carry the joke much further. When he had explained all, and, to establish the certainty of his statement, presented the military secretary to Ellen Adamthwaite herself, in the character of her affianced lover, the major’s gratification and joy were complete.

The breakfast, it must be owned, was a trial to the principal performers. Ellen, of course, had been informed by George of the discovery of their parting embrace by the two staff-officers--Mopes still thinking that Narcissus, who was generally occupied by thoughts of himself, had not seen equally clear with himself.

The moment arrived; the general entered the breakfast-room. Curries, rice, Bombay ducks, Java red fish, eggs, European ham, hump and kabobs, were thickly intermingled with grapes, strawberries, mangoes, and plantains. The grateful fumes of coffee filled the atmosphere; and the tea, unchilled by the waving Punkah, sparkled in its cups. Ellen took her seat with downcast eyes, after having received a certain number of paternal kisses from his Excellency; and Captain Narcissus Fripps, after having shaken hands with George Brown, deposited himself at the end of the table, directly opposite the gallant yet melancholy Mopes, major and military secretary.

As the meal proceeded, Fripps could not help noticing certain looks which were passing between his four companions, especially as even the countenance of the major was every now and then illuminated by a cursory expression more nearly approaching to a smile than he had ever seen them before. The General looked at George; George looked at Ellen; and Ellen, affecting to repress his intelligent glances by a half-comic seriousness, was blushing crimson.

Captain Narcissus Fripps began to feel exceedingly awkward and embarrassed. It was clear that his companions were in a confederacy, and that he was, by general consent, “basketed.” Very few words were spoken, and nobody seemed inclined to break the silence. Narcissus felt assured that the General had availed himself of the first moment after their return home to lecture his daughter upon the dreadful impropriety which he had witnessed; but this he could hardly reconcile with the fact that Brown was placed next her at table, and permitted to look and talk to her, little or much, as suited his fancy; while the eyes of Ellen plainly exhibited the existence of an intelligence between them--which eyes _will_ exhibit in the just degree to which such intelligence extends.

It all at once struck the captain, that upon a principle not unfrequently acted upon,--of doing what in certain circles is called, “wiping it up, and saying nothing about it,” the General meant to take no public notice of the event which he had communicated, but that, instead of kicking the assistant military secretary out of the house, he would give him some detached appointment, which would have the effect of removing him from his present sphere of action, and his nomination to which, would be attributed to the General’s continued and unchanged regard for him, rather than as a manœuvre to separate him from his daughter. This idea the gentle Narcissus cherished; and perfectly conscious that the embarrassment in which they all appeared involved must have arisen from his solicitude for the peace and honour of the family, and coupling these effects with the absence of all remark from the General, touching the matter, he resolved to act upon the same principle, assimilate his conduct to that of Sir Cadwallader, and take the first occasion to make him sensible of the caution he proposed to adopt, and the course he intended to pursue.

It ought to be mentioned that Captain Fripps was not a very great favourite with anybody at head-quarters. The major indeed called him “Molly Fripps,” and that too in a sad and solemn tone; and George was quite aware that he affected to despise _him_. The stiffness of the breakfast-party would not of itself, therefore, have startled him, but the character of the stiffness of this particular morning puzzled him exceedingly; for although little was said, so much more was looked than usual, that never did captain more greatly rejoice than did this of ours, when the repast was terminated by the departure of Ellen.

The young lady’s exit was shortly followed by those of the major and George, and once again the aide-du-camp was alone with the General.

“Well, captain,” said Sir Cadwallader, “I suppose you think my conduct very strange.”

“No, upon my honour! not, sir,” said Fripps: “I quite appreciate it--so considerate--and so wise--and so like your Excellency.”

“I am glad you approve of it,” said the General:--“but who told you the history of my proceedings since our return home?”

“Oh! nobody told me,” said the captain; “I would not talk about it to anybody for the world.”

“Then how have you acquired the knowledge of what I have done, and what I propose to do?” said his Excellency.

“I conclude,” said Fripps, “that your Excellency means to take no notice of what I told you, to the parties themselves, but get rid of Mr. Brown in some way or other, so as to prevent the _eclat_.”

“Prevent the _eclat_ of an affair known to two or three people!” exclaimed the General--“no, no.”

“I protest, sir,” said Fripps, “it shall never pass my lips: I have too much regard for Miss Adamthwaite. It would be very shocking, I know, to let it spread; but my duty to _you_, as well as my esteem for _her_, would keep me silent as the tomb upon the subject.”

“You need not restrain yourself, Captain Fripps,” said Sir Cadwallader, “on _my_ account or hers.”

“I know, sir,” said Fripps, “that you have been so kind and good to Mr. Brown; and what a shocking vice ingratitude is!--And to think of his venturing to embrace any young lady, and especially your daughter!”

“Did you ever hear an old song that I used to sing when I was a sub.,” said the general:--

“‘My mother having heard that Colin he had kiss’d me,
Proposed to the youth that to-morrow we should wed:
To church then we went, paid the parson his fees,
And so got holy licence to kiss when we please.’”

“Oh! dear, no,” said Fripps, shuddering, and pawing, and making curtseying bows, “I never heard such a song as _that_ in all my life.”

“Well, it may serve to enlighten you then,” said the General. “What if Ellen Adamthwaite and George Brown are about to do a similar thing--what should you say _then_?”

“What!” exclaimed the captain--“you _don’t_ mean, sir,--that--”

“I do mean so,” said Sir Cadwallader.

“What! that delicate fair creature,” said Fripps, in a soliloquizing tone, “to--”

“--Yes, is likely very soon to become _Brown_, Captain Fripps,” said the General.

“Why, then, the discovery I made--”

“Was nothing very important after all,” said the General. “Your kindness and consideration for her and me are nevertheless equally admirable; only if you had not gone back to your friend Mr. Honeyman’s quarters, and told _him_ what you had seen, before you mentioned it to _me_, our obligations perhaps would have been somewhat greater.”

“Well, I declare, Sir Cadwallader,” said Fripps, “I only told him because I--”

“Because you happened to be sure of finding _him_ up,” said the General, “and you were not so sure of getting hold of anybody else at that time to whom to give the interesting information.”

“Oh dear, dear!--I shall never be able to look at Miss Ellen again,” said the captain. “I admit it was--how could you have known it, sir?--dear me!--what a deceitful toad Honeyman must be to have betrayed me.”

“We will not discuss the matter any further,” said the General. “I agree with _you_ that it would be irksome for you to associate with my daughter and her husband after what has occurred, and therefore you have my full permission to resign your aide-du-campship, and join your regiment. I am a plain, blunt man, as you know, and of few words.”

“Oh, dear Sir Cadwallader!” said Fripps, “do not force me to leave you: everything may be arranged, and I--”

“I wish you good morning, Captain Fripps,” said the General. “My daughter bids me decline on _her_ part a scene of leave-taking, and will not in all probability return home until after your departure. Brown’s name will be in orders as aide-du-camp this afternoon; and, as I am now allowed only one, you will see the necessity of marching in ‘double quick.’ Good morning.” Saying which, his Excellency retired from the apartment, muttering humourously to himself--

“But never more be officer of mine.”

“Well, if ever!” said Narcissus--“dear me--this is most uncommonly unpleasant! I declare I could scratch that nasty creature Honeyman’s eyes out, for such a sly trick. I’ll go to him--tax him with his conduct:--but I am sure we shall make it up before we part; because I am quite certain he did not mean to injure me.”

And so Fripps went on murmuring to himself, until, to his utter dismay, one of Sir Cadwallader’s servants made his appearance with his Excellency’s compliments--wished to know when his “things would be ready for moving.” This question was conclusive. The circumstance which had occurred--the awkward position in which he had placed himself by his tittle-tattle, and the intentions so evidently displayed in his conduct, all conspired to induce him to exert himself in fulfilling his Excellency’s wish for his speedy disappearance. His servant was directed to make immediate preparations for the start; and the captain himself proceeded to Honeyman, to reproach and bid him farewell. Their quarrel was, as the captain had anticipated, soon reconciled; and from the door of his dear friend’s quarters, Fripps, after eating a tiffin of fowl-sandwiches, raspberry tarts, and barleysugar-drops, moistened by some lemonade, took his departure to join his regiment at Bombay.

It is strange how much the loss of one, to a constant association with whom we have become habituated, affects us. Ellen, who cared no more for Narcissus than for any other officer in his Majesty’s service, naval or military, and in all human probability much less, could not look at his vacant place at tiffin without a feeling of regret. Perhaps this feeling, considering the consequences his removal involved, as far as regarded his worldly circumstances, might have been strengthened by the recollection that, however innocently, unconsciously certainly, and most unintentionally, she herself had been the cause of his ejection. Certain it was, she was out of spirits, and George saw she was. He could not help feeling uneasy at the symptoms he observed, but his anxiety was considerably relieved when he had ascertained that his _friend_ was actually gone, and saw that Ellen, when her George filled his chair at dinner, was as much at her ease as she could be, knowing that the events which had occurred during the day were most undoubtedly forming the topic of conversation at every other table in the presidency.

We must not bestow sufficient space upon the episode of our history, to dwell at length upon the proceedings at head-quarters until the day of George’s marriage to Ellen was fixed. When the matrimonial termination to their acquaintance was announced as decided and inevitable, the public opinion of the forty or fifty estimable ladies and gentlemen, who formed the public of the place, turned wonderfully in favour of George. He was a most agreeable person--so clever; and it was so judicious of the General to advance merit, and consult the happiness of his child. And at last the day came, and they were married, and proceeded to pass the honeymoon in the picturesque bungalow which formed the effective foreground of Ellen’s last East-Indian view.

The happiness of this most happy pair--for so they were--was not, however, destined to continue long uninterrupted: a sudden attack, and short illness, deprived them in the third month of their married life of the kind-hearted, generous parent, the founder of their fortunes and felicity. This event, of course, decided them upon returning to England, and induced George to retire from the army. Having entered it, as an officer, much too late to expect in peaceable times promotion, even by purchase, to any valuable extent, he yielded to the solicitations of his Ellen, who had seen enough of military life as a soldier’s daughter, not to desire a continuance of it as a soldier’s wife. Her tastes,--her pursuits,--were those of retirement and quiet, and the blessing of being so much her own mistress as not to be destined by a Horse-Guards’ order to pass ten or twelve years of her life in an East-Indian cantonment or a West-Indian barrack, was too great to be refused. So implicit was Sir Cadwallader’s reliance upon George, that, at the old gentleman’s death, he found himself, with some trifling limitations, in the possession of property, real and personal, to the amount of upwards of seven thousand a-year.

In this position was George Brown when he returned to England; and it may easily be imagined that the circumstances detailed in this narrative, when related by himself to his mother and sister upon the occasion of his first visit to them, produced in their hearts and minds sentiments of gratitude to Providence, by which a course of events so propitious to their beloved, deserving relative, had been ordained.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,
Dorset Street, Fleet Street.

Transcriber’s Notes

p.38, l.15: Removed a redundant (double) that (that he was a choice
spirit).
p.52, l.11: Removed double quotation mark at the end of the sentence
(Brag as Brag thought of himself).
p.53, l.13: Added a hyphen (hand-in-glove).
p.81, l.19: Corrected name (Ilfracombe).
p.124, l.23: Typo corrected (to explain herself).
p.160, l.13: Added a full stop (directed to A. Z.).
p.175, l.1: Typo corrected (we were only anxious).
p.256, l.2 and p.261, l.10: The author (T. Hook) uses the spelling in
Gilbert Gurney: Varhandah.
Throughout the text: keeping aide-du-camp even though it seems wrong.
Except as noted above, original spelling and punctuation have been
retained.