Chapter 9

"MAN PROPOSES."

"May I ask, Lord Aldean, if you have ever perused the biography of the celebrated Dr. Johnson of Auchinleck?"

"Yes, Mrs. Purcell, I have. Mallow made me read it when I was cramming for the 'varsity."

"Made you read it!" echoed Mrs. Purcell, majestically; "the word 'made' is misapplied, surely!"

"Well, it is a teaser, isn't it?" said Aldean, frankly; "shouldn't read it to keep myself awake. Boswell's a bit long-winded, ain't he?"

"Boswell, Lord Aldean, whatever he may be, is not frivolous."

"I don't read anything, as a rule," confessed Jim, "except the papers."

Mrs. Purcell frowned. "The general slovenliness of style of the daily journals is not such as Dr. Johnson would have approved," said she, in her deep voice. "The very letters of the illustrious lexicographer have the roll and volume of ethic poetry."

"'Paradise Lost,'" said Miss Ostergaard; "everybody talks about it and no one reads it."

"I have read it, Tui," observed Miss Slarge, rousing herself from her brown study; "it afforded me useful hints on idolatry. Moloch, who is mentioned therein, is identical with the Baal or Bel of the Babylonians. The Romish festival of St. John, at the midsummer solstice, is simply the relic of the Chaldean worship of Tammuz. One of Bel's names was Oannes: the Latinized form of John in the sacred language of the Papists, Joannes. Remove the 'J,' and you can see how the idol was converted into the prophet."

"Most interesting," said Aldean, groaning, as this deluge of hard names rattled about his head. "Do you write like Dr. Johnson, Miss Slarge?"

"Alas! Rubina does not," sighed Mrs. Purcell. "Rather does she adopt the antithetic style of Macaulay, the historian."

The conversation was taking place in Mrs. Purcell's drawing-room round a cheerful fire. In the next room Olive was writing letters. She was, in truth, somewhat depressed by the non-appearance of Mallow, whom she had expected that evening, and felt little inclined for conversation. True to his promise, Aldean had called at Mallow's rooms after dinner, but, finding there neither his friend nor a telegram, had come over to enjoy himself at Campden Hill. But that the business on hand might not be neglected, he had left word that, if a telegram came, it was to be sent on to him at Mrs. Purcell's house. Mallow's absence had not surprised him. He concluded that he was in the neighbourhood of Poplar Street, Hain-hunting. As it was, Mallow was at that moment a prisoner in the Anarchist den, and, by his very warning to Aldean that his absence might be indefinite, he had done away with all chance of rescue.

Jim's true errand to Campden Hill was to propose to Miss Ostergaard. He was determined to know the worst--or the best--before leaving for Italy. But it chanced that Mrs. Purcell's Johnsonian mania was strong upon her, for she pestered the poor boy with a hundred and one details concerning her celebrated Samuel, until he fervently wished that he or Johnson had never been born--not to speak of Bean, Goldy, Reynolds, and all other illustrious old bores idolized of Mrs. Purcell. He was hopelessly dazed with it all--and looked it. Nor did it add to his comfort in any degree to find Tui heartily laughing at his plight. It became too much for the wretched Jim. He grew both desperate and rude.

"Seems to me, the most creditable thing about Johnson," said he, crossly, "was that he didn't murder Boswell."

"Murder Boswell!" gasped Mrs. Purcell. "Murder his biographer?"

"I mean the fellow who was always asking questions," explained Jim. "I can't think how Johnson put up with his silly gabble. Fancy a fellow asking another fellow what he'd do if he was shut up in a castle with a baby. Such bosh, y'know!"

"Lord Aldean," said Mrs. Purcell, solemnly rising, "you are evidently not aware that it was Boswell's object to afford the great Doctor an opportunity for the display of his unrivalled fund of argument."

"And of contradiction," hinted Tui, sweetly.

Mrs. Purcell shook her head sadly. "I perceive that you are both of you of the earth, earthly," she said pityingly. "The solemnity of the learned lexicographer's periods is lost upon you. Rubina, let us leave these unideaed young people to their own puny, foolish ways."

"Yes, Priscilla," said Miss Slarge, rising. "I must return to my desk."

"No, Rubina, not with my consent. You shall do no such thing. To tax your brain at so late an hour is the height of folly. In the next room we will play draughts; it is a cheerful amusement."

Miss Slarge sighed, but complied. She knew from experience the futility of attempting to argue with her ponderous sister.

As they left the room Aldean stepped forward to open the door. "Hope I haven't been rude, Mrs. Purcell!"

"Rude? Certainly not, Lord Aldean; but it must be confessed that you are sadly ignorant. Your style of conversation is neither elegant nor well considered."

Jim returned to the fire and Tui, unabashed. He was bent on proposing; and Tui, by some peculiar instinct, purely feminine, knew it. What is more, she intended to let him have his say. Lately it had dawned upon her that it was possible to play her fish too long. He might sulk away from the hook; and she had no intention of allowing that to happen. So she sat, and looked at the fire, and Jim sat and looked at her; while the hearts of both beat a lively rataplan, utterly incommensurate with so tranquil an occupation.

"I say!" began Jim, gracefully. "You don't think Mrs. Purcell's on her hind legs? Do you?"

"Oh no!" responded Tui, still confining her interest to the fire. "Women never get on their--I mean, never lose their tempers."

"Don't they?" said Aldean (this as a simple interrogation, not an assertion).

"Of course not. I am a woman; I ought to know. How silly you are."

"I'm unideaed! Mrs. Purcell says so."

"She made the same remark about me. She stole the word, you know, from Boswell, who got it from Johnson. It seems we are both of us"--Tui sighed--"'unideaed.'"

"It's a kind of bond between us, isn't it?"

"Dear me, Lord Aldean, how should I know?" (Silence for a few moments, during which, the ordinary medium for conversation proving unsuitable, recourse was had to certain more subtle means--chiefly ocular. Finally, a combination seemed to be decided upon.)

Aldean (gloomily): "I hate Dr. Johnson; don't you?"

Tui (viciously): "Not so much as I do Boswell--the nasty Poll-Pry."

Aldean: "So he is--so he was! That's another bond between us" (insinuatingly), "ain't it?"

Tui (repeating herself): "How should I know, Lord Aldean?" (Silence.)

Aldean (desperately) "Do--do you think that marriages are made in heaven?"

Tui (faintly): "I--I have heard that they are."

Aldean (speculating): "I wonder when they--whoever they are--will set about manipulating ours?"

Tui (with a maidenly perturbation): "Ours, Lord Aldean! What do you mean by ours?"

Aldean (moving his chair closer): "You know!" (No answer.) "I'm sure you know."

Tui: "Ridiculous." (Deserts the fire for the hearthrug.)

Aldean (intercepting the field of view): "Tui! Oh" (with a gasp) "Tui!" Certain physical demonstrations followed, amid which the dental emissions necessary for the iteration of the name "Tui" crackled like volleys from a machine-gun.

"Oh, Lord Aldean!" implored Tui, collecting her senses, "don't."

"Don't what, Tui?" said Jim, seizing her hand.

"Get up! If Mrs. Purcell came in, what would she say?"

"She would say I was proposing, Tui; and she wouldn't be far wrong. Say 'Yes.'"

"Why should I say 'Yes?'"

"Because I love you and you love me."

"I haven't said that I love you," said Tui, rising in feigned alarm,

"I don't need you to say it. I can see it."

Henceforth, for some time, conversation became superfluous, if not impossible.

At length Jim came to the point. "My darling!" he implored, "say that you will marry me."

"How can I? It's so sudden; you're so--so--so very demonstrative. No, no; I won't--I can't."

"Oh, very well, Miss Ostergaard," cried Aldean, suddenly releasing her. "I'm a fool, and you're a hard-hearted coquette," and he turned his back to fold his arms and sulk.

"Lord Aldean!" said Tui, faintly. There was no reply. "Lord Aldean," she repeated. Still no reply. Finally, in desperation, "Jim!"

"Oh, Tui, Tui!" His arms were round her. "Will you--will you?"

"I will," murmured Tui, with accents well-nigh liturgical.

"Dearest!"

Then there was a great silence, and what is perhaps best expressed by typographic constellations.

* * * * * *

There came a knock--a discreet knock, be it said--at the door; and, shortly following it, the footman--a concrete being indeed. His signal gave rise to a very elegant little manœuvre, whereby the width of the hearthrug was speedily, if somewhat obtrusively, placed between these two. Under his breath Jim muttered, "Hang it!"

"M'lord," said the Apollo in livery; "if you please, m'lord, there's a person below who wishes to see your lordship."

"What sort of a person?"

"A low sort of person, m'lord. His business is important, he says."

"Hope nothing's wrong with Mallow, poor chap," mumbled Aldean, driving the footman out of the room.

Then he went downstairs. In the hall he found a disreputable marionette, who, at the sight of him, at once commenced profusely to scrape and bow. This creature confessed to the name of Vraik, and addressed Lord Aldean in a husky whisper--presumably that the lordly footman should not hear.

"Mr. Mallow told me to send a wire to his rooms, m'lord," said the man--"that is, when I saw the Major cove off. But bein' a bit late for a telegram, I thought I might as well trot round myself. Mr. Mallow wasn't in, and they told me you'd left a message for this place, m'lord."

"Yes, I did. Well, what about the Major?"

"He's off to the Continong, m'lord; cleared off by the nine hexpress from Victorier--took three boxes with 'im."

"Went off to-night, did he?" mused Jim. "That is just what Mallow expected. He's a bit of a liar, that Major. Very well," he said to Vraik, "I will convey your message to Mr. Mallow."

"What am I to do now, m'lord?"

"Call and see Mr. Mallow to-morrow. He will give you your orders. You can go now, Vraik."

"Foggy night, m'lord--fog will get into the throat som'ow."

Aldean construed the remark correctly, and produced half-a-crown. The creature slipped it into his pocket, and sneaked out with the abasement he judged befitting to the occasion.

"Well," said Aldean, re-ascending the stairs, "I can't say Mallow's particular as to whom he employs. But one can't work in mud, I suppose, without getting a bit dirty. H'm! so the Major's off. That means I'll have to go to-morrow. There's a nine o'clock, I think, as well as the midday mail from Victoria. I had better take it, I suppose. Hang it!" grumbled Jim--"just when she's said 'Yes.' This comes of sticking closer than a brother."

On re-entering the drawing-room, Aldean found Tui the centre of manifest congratulations. Olive and Mrs. Purcell, assisted by Miss Slarge--who had returned from Babylon for the purpose--were showering upon her many expressions of delight, osculatory and otherwise. Tui, of course, was weeping. How things had progressed thus far, in so incredibly short a space of time, Jim was at a loss to comprehend. He felt a little out of his depth, and wondered if all was as it should be. He supposed it was all natural enough. Still, he was obviously disconcerted when the trio bore down upon him, brimful of compliments and general expressions of goodwill. He blushed, and sought a corner with as much speed as he felt to be compatible with politeness. But even so he was only protected in the rear. Olive shook one hand and said, "Oh, Lord Aldean, I am so glad." Mrs. Purcell took the other, and continued, "Lord Aldean, I congratulate myself that beneath my roof you have met the future partner of your joys and sorrows."

"I knew it would be all right," said Miss Slarge, beaming. "One marriage invariably brings another. That superstition we can trace back to the land of Uz."

"Thanks, awf'ly," muttered Jim, nervously.

Then once again Tui became the centre of attraction.

"Dearest Tui," said Olive.

"My sweet girl," said Miss Slarge.

"It will be a pleasing spectacle for me to witness the progress of Love's young dream," rolled Mrs. Purcell, still majestic.

"Oh dear! you are all very kind," wept Tui. "How--how--how very happy I am!"

"I fear you are not to see the progress of Love's young dream just yet, Mrs. Purcell," blurted out Aldean. "I am going away, you know."

"Going away?" echoed the combined trio.

"Oh, Jim!" wailed Tui. "Oh, Jim!"

Aldean steeled his heart. "Major Semberry has bolted to Italy," he said. "I must follow him--promised Mallow.'

"And why has Major Semberry departed so suddenly?"

"Guilty conscience, Mrs. Purcell. He's gone off to see Carson."

"To see my husband?" cried Olive, turning white. "Are you following him?"

"Yes; by the nine train to-morrow. Don't want to go, but promised Mallow. I can't break my promise, you know."

Tui jumped up and kissed him before them all. "Jim," she cried, "you are a darling!"