“Thoughts that frown upon our mirthWill smile upon our sorrow;And many dark fears of to-dayMay be bright hopes to-morrow.”—Pinckney.
That same night, within that same hour, when her son lay cold and stark in the room below, the fierce, turbulent spirit of the gipsy queen passed away.
Death above, and death below—the cold, dread, invisible presence pervading the whole house with a chilling awe. Voices were hushed to lowest whispers, footfalls were muffled; the deep, fervent joy of the reunited held in check by its dread majesty.
There was a subdued luster through the house when morning broke. Pet and Erminie, very pale and very silent, had arrayed mother and son for the grave; and now, side by side, they lay, white and still, and rigid, in the pale, leaden dawn of the morning that dawned for them in vain. Stern, and still, and silent, Ray sat by the bedside, gazing in tearless grief on the lifeless forms before him. Near him sat Lord De Courcy, with a look of deep sadness, which not even the joy of meeting Erminie could totally efface from his fine features. Kneeling beside her dead husband, with her face hidden in her hands, was the woman Marguerite, swaying backward and forward in voiceless grief. Her first cry had been to be restored to her child, but Lady Maude had soothed her and prevailed upon her to wait until they could all return to the city together. Worn out and fatigued by her rapid journey, Lady Maude lay asleep in Erminie’s little bed; and Erminie, sitting beside her with her arms clasped round her neck, her beautiful head, with its wreathof golden hair lying on her breast, was asleep too. Ranty Lawless had ridden off to Judestown to prepare for the funeral, good-naturedly taking upon himself all the trouble in order to spare Ray. And lastly Petronilla, looking as still and serious as though a laugh had never dimpled her cherry lips, moved on tip-toe about the house, dressing everything in white, arranging flowers in vases, and imparting a softened beauty to the grim reality of death.
Early in the day the news spread abroad, and sympathizing neighbors began to drop in with offers of aid and assistance. Among them came the admiral, looking unspeakably doleful and lugubrious; and when Pet, in as few words as possible, related what had happened, the dear, crusty, soft-hearted old beau was so affected that he was obliged to rush from the house and wipe his stormy old eyes, unseen, under the lee of Ringbone, which gaunt quadruped regarded him with displeased surprise. Then came Mr. Toosypegs and Miss Priscilla, whose sharp, cankerous face had grown ten degrees more unyieldingly sour and acid with every passing year. Poor Mr. Toosypegs was so sincerely grieved at the death of “Mrs. Ketura,” that he took out his bandanna and relieved his mind, then and there, by a good hearty cry.
It was all like a dream to Erminie, a dream of mingled sorrow and joy. Her tears fell fast for her whom, deeply as she had wronged her, sternly as she had ever treated her, she still loved; but they fell on a mother’s breast, and a father’s hand rested on her bowed head. She could scarcely realize or believe all that had happened; and she watched the people come and go, and saw the lifeless forms closed from view beneath the coffin-lid, and saw the funeral-procession pass from the house, and felt the chilling sense of desolation that a funeral always brings. Then this, too, passed; and she saw the people disperse and go to their homes, and the white shrouding removed from the rooms, and the bright summer sunshine came warmly in, and then all began to be real—a glad, joyous reality at last.
“And now, what next?” said Ray, as they all gathered together in the little parlor of the cottage when all was over.
“We must all return to the city, next,” said Lord De Courcy, “to Rita. You, of course, my dear boy, are one of the family, now.”
“I thank you, my lord, but I have marked out my future course for myself. I have a name and a fortune yet to win.”
“My dearest Ray, you would not leave me,” said Lady Maude, reproachfully, laying her hand on his arm.
He touched his lips to the small, white hand, and said: “I cannot be a dependent on any one’s bounty, not even yours, my dear mother. You would not have me fold my arms ignobly and become a worthless drone in the busy hive of this world. My path is already clear—an uphill one it may be—but the goal I aim at will be reached at last.”
His eyes rested half-unconsciously on Pet, who was gazing very intently out of the window while he spoke. Lord De Courcy saw the direction of his glance, and smiled slightly to himself.
“But you, at least, will not think of leaving us so soon,” pleaded Lady Maude; “consider how short a time since we have met, and how long we have been parted. Indeed, I will not hear of parting with you yet.”
“Oh, pray, Ray, don’t go,” said Erminie, gently; “what could we all ever do without you? Do stay, like a dear, good boy.”
“You must have a heart of flint if you can resist all these pleadings,” said Lord De Courcy, drawing Erminie fondly toward him. “Come, Miss Lawless, will you not aid my little girl, here, in persuading this ungrateful scapegrace of ours from running away?”
“Oh, there is no use in me asking anybody to do anything,” said Pet, coloring slightly, yet looking saucy still, “because they never do it; if Minnie—beg pardon, Lady Erminie, can’t persuade him, then there is no use in my trying.”
“Now, Pet,” said Erminie, reproachfully, and blushing at her new-found title.
“Come, my dear boy, consent to stay with us for some weeks, at least,” said Lady Maude, looking up, coaxingly, in his handsome face.
“Your ladyship’s will is my law,” said Ray, a smile breaking through the grave sadness of his face.
“That is right! when are we to start, my lord?”
“Early to-morrow, if you like. Mrs. Germaine,” he said, glancing at Marguerite, “I know is impatient to embrace her daughter.”
“I wish you were coming, too, Pet,” said Erminie, going over and putting her arm around Pet’s small waist.
“And why can she not?” said Lady Maude, looking kindly down in Pet’s changing face; “we will be delighted to have her with us. Do come, my dear.”
“I thank your ladyship, but I cannot.”
“Now, Pet, why? You can come if you like,” said Erminie.
“Indeed I can’t, Erminie. I must stay and console uncle Harry for your loss. The man-of-war on the mantel-piece will be quite inadequate to the task, and there he will be in sackcloth and ashes, rending his garments and tearing his hair—”
“His wig, you mean,” broke in Ranty.
“Ranty, be still. I should like to oblige you, Lady Erminie, but you perceive I can’t. It is one of the cardinal virtues consoling the afflicted, and I am trying to cultivate all the virtues preparatory to taking the black veil one of these days, and becoming a nun.”
“Not if I can help it,” said Ray, coming over.
“Well, but you can’t help it, you know,” said Pet, turning red, but flashing defiance in a way that made Lady Maude smile, and reminded Erminie of the Pet of other days; “and now I really must go before it gets any later. Erminie, I’ll come over early to-morrow and see you off, so I will not bid you good-by now. Ranty—”
“Oh, never mind Ranty,” interposed Ray; “let me be your escort home for once, Pet. Come, do not refuse me now. I have a great many things to say to you.”
Pet colored vividly, but she did not refuse, and nodding a good-by to the rest, they left the cottage together.
“Can we not prevail upon you at least to accompany us back to the city?” said Lord De Courcy to Ranty, when they were gone.
Ranty hesitated, and glanced at Erminie, who blushed, of course.
“Come, say yes, Mr. Lawless,” said Lord De Courcy, laying his hand on Ranty’s shoulder, in his kind, cordialmanner. “Erminie must not part with all her old friends at once.”
“Besides, you have not seen Rita, you know, Mr. Lawless,” added Lady Maude, with her own peculiar winning smile; “and she will be exceedingly glad to meet you once more. You really must come now.”
Still Ranty hesitated, and looked unspeakable things at Erminie.
“I see how it is,” said the earl. “Mr. Lawless won’t consent unless Erminie seconds the invitation. Come, my love, tell him he must come.”
“I—I will be very glad to have Ranty with us,” said Erminie, blushing most becomingly.
“Very well, that settles the matter, I hope, my young friend.”
“My lord, I shall only be too happy to accept your kind invitation!” exclaimed Ranty, all in a glow of delight. “Nothing could give me more pleasure than to meet Lady Rita again.”
So it was arranged they should start the following morning. Pet rode over to see Erminie off, and tears stood in the dancing eyes of the elf as she bade her good-by. As for Erminie, she wept audibly as the carriage rolled away, and the home of her childhood was left far behind. She strained her eyes to catch a last glimpse of the pretty little vine-embowered cottage on the lonely bank, and watched the blinding top of the White Squall fading away in the distance as if it had been the face of an old friend. Then came Dismal Hollow, and at the verge of the wood they encountered Toosypegs, on horseback, waiting to bid Erminie farewell.
“Oh, Mr. Toosypegs, I’m so glad to see you,” said Erminie, putting her little snow-flake of a hand out of the window to greet him. “How do you do, and how is Miss Priscilla?”
“Thanky, Miss Minnie,” said Mr. Toosypegs, in a dejected tone. “I ain’t well at all. I’m very much obliged to you, and aunt Prisciller—well, the old gander broke his leg this morning, and she ain’t—well, she ain’t in as good spirits as she might be. Miss Minnie, you ain’t going to be long away, are you?”
“That does not depend on me now, Mr. Toosypegs,” saidErminie, smiling. “You know I have got a father and mother to take care of me now.”
“Yes, I know,” said Mr. Toosypegs, mournfully; “it’s going to be horrid lonesome when you are gone; I know it is. I wish I had never been born! I declare to goodness I do! People may say what they like, but I don’t see where’s the good of it,” said Mr. Toosypegs, with a subdued howl.
“Come, Horlander! take things easy,” suggested Ranty, poking his head out through the opposite window. “Care killed a cat.”
“It’s all very well to say, ‘take things easy,’ Master Ranty,” said Mr. Toosypegs, wiping his eyes with the cuff of his coat-sleeve; “but if you were in my place—in love—a—I mean going to part with Miss Minnie, and never see her again, I don’t see how you could take it easy either. I dare say you mean real well in telling me so, Master Ranty, but I can’t do it at all. Good-by, Miss Minnie,” said poor Mr. Toosypegs, sobbing outright. “I don’t expect ever to see you again in this world—my feelings are in that state that I will soon be a melancholy corpse. I know very well I will.”
“Oh, Mr. Toosypegs, I hope not; you only think so. Give my love to Miss Priscilla, and tell her I’ll send her a new shawl from Baltimore. Good-by.” And with a smile, Erminie fell back, and the carriage drove on, unhappy O. C. Toosypegs wiping his eyes, and snuffling, in the middle of the road.
Nothing of any importance occurred during the remainder of the journey. The whole party arrived safely in the city, and were domesticated with the friend in whose house the earl and countess were staying.
The duty of informing Rita of her new-found parentage devolved upon Lady Maude. In the gentlest and kindest manner possible, she performed her task; and great was the astonishment and greater the mortification of the supercilious little lady on learning who she really was. “Some natural tears she shed;” but when the countess informed her she was still to reside with them as before, and not being completely selfish after all, she consented at last to wipe them, and met her mother with quite a decent show of affection. Poor Marguerite! she clasped the little gilded, glittering butterfly to her breast, and wept over her with a passionatelove that touched every heart. There was a perceptible coldness and jealousy in the dainty little lady’s greeting of Erminie, whom she looked upon as a rival and natural enemy; but the gentleness and sweetness of the new-found heiress were not to be resisted; and before they all separated for the night Lady Rita made up her mind that matters were, after all, by no means so bad as she had at first supposed.
Ray passed a week with the family in Baltimore, and then returned to Judestown—on business, he said, but as more than one of the party shrewdly guessed, to see Pet. He found her worthy father at home, and unbounded was the astonishment of that most upright gentleman upon learning all that had transpired during his absence. Inwardly he rejoiced at the annihilation of the gang of smugglers, and fervently thanked his stars that his own connection with them had not been discovered.
But another surprise was in store for him when Ray appeared before him and formally solicited the hand of his daughter. Ray Germaine, the gipsy’s grandson, and Ray Germaine, Lady De Courcy’s son, were two very different personages; and his worship, the judge, was graciously pleased to give a prompt assent. The first would have been, in no very choice terms, shown the door; the latter was taken by the hand and cordially told, after the manner of fathers in the play, to “take her and be happy,” which Pet assured him he would find some difficulty in being, once she was his wife.
And so our Pet was engaged at last; and Ray returned to Baltimore to inform his friends of his success and make arrangements for their marriage, which the judge, who thought it would be something added to his already overwhelming dignity to be father-in-law of the son of a peeress, desired might take place as soon as possible.
Erminie clapped her hands with delight when she heard of it, and Lady Maude, whose heart the wild elf had taken by storm, expressed her heartfelt pleasure.
“And you must return with us to England as soon as you are married,” said Lord De Courcy, to the bridegroom-elect.
“And we will all live together. Oh, it will be so nice to be near Pet!” said Erminie delightedly.
Ray laughed and shook his head.
“We may accompany you to England, as both Pet and I desire to visit it, but our future home must be here.”
“Why not in England as well as here?” asked his lordship.
“Oh, well, for many reasons. One is, Petronilla would never consent; another is that I am too much attached to this land of my adoption to wish to leave it for any other; and thirdly and lastly, I have already attained some slight degree of fame in my profession here, and I do not wish to lose it now by going to another land.”
“But, my dearest boy, I do not like the idea of being so far separated from you,” said Lady Maude, anxiously.
“Oh, to cross the Atlantic is a mere pleasure-trip now, my dear mother,” laughed Ray; “so we will meet at intervals, after all. As I intend to be a great man one of these days—”
“You can be that, easily, by growing fat,” interrupted Ranty. “You can’t be reached now with anything less than a ten-foot pole; and if you only grow stout with years, I’ll back you against any man in the community for greatness. You’ll make Daniel Lambert himself look to his laurels.”
“By the way, Erminie, I have a message for you from your old admirer, Mr. Toosypegs,” said Ray. “He says he can’t bear the idea of letting you go without seeing you again: so he is coming here, and the admiral with him.”
“Miss Priscilla ought to come, too, and make the party complete,” said Ranty. “I wonder she is so imprudent as to let that innocent youth journey so far alone. There is no telling what may happen to him in a depraved place like this.”
“I am sure I shall be glad to see Mr. Toosypegs again, and the dear old admiral. Oh, I do love him,” exclaimed Erminie.
“I wish I could get you to say that about his nephew,” said Ranty, with an appealing look.
Lord De Courcy smiled encouragingly on the youth as, together with Lady Maude, he left the room.
“There is a love which, bornIn early days, lives on through silent years.”“Love is life’s end.”—Spenser.
Erminie—Lady Erminie now—sat in an elegantly-furnished library, pulling a costly bouquet wantonly to pieces, and looking excessively lovely in her dress of pale-blue silk and white lace.
Pacing up and down the room, as if for a wager, was Master Ranty Lawless, with a look as nearly approaching the intensely gloomy as was possible for his handsome, happy face to wear.
“Why, Ranty, what in the world is the matter with you this morning?” said Erminie, at last, opening her sweet blue eyes very wide in innocent wonder.
“Lady Erminie, I’m going away, this very morning; and what’s more, I’m never going to come back! I’ll be swung to the yard-arm if I do!” was the unexpected answer, delivered with a savage, jerking abruptness that made Erminie drop her flowers and half rise from her seat in consternation.
“Why, Ranty—why, Ranty! How can you talk so? What has happened? What is the matter? Are you going crazy?”
“What’s happened? Everything’s happened, everything’s the matter, and I am going crazy, if it’s any consolation to you to learn it. Yes, you may look surprised, Lady Erminie Germaine, or De Courcy, or whatever your name may be, but you are the cause of it all; and you know it too, for all you sit up there looking as innocent and unconscious as it is possible for any young woman to look. Never mind though; I don’t care! Just go on, Lady Erminie! You’llfind what a nice young man you’ve lost, when it’s too late!” said Ranty, striding up and down, and looking ferociously at poor Erminie.
“Oh, Ranty! how can you go on so? What have I done?” said Erminie, twisting her fingers, and looking up with shining, tearful eyes, looking so pretty and innocent in her distress that Ranty’s better angel prompted him to go over and caress away her tears on the spot.
But Ranty was angry and didn’t do anything of the kind. On the contrary, he grew twice as fierce as before, and strode up and down twice as rapidly, bursting out with:
“What have you done? There’s a question! What haven’t you done, I want to know? You knew very well I loved you, and paid attention to you since you were the size of a well-grown doughnut, and when you hadn’t a cent to bless yourself with. You know I did, Lady Erminie, and you needn’t deny it. Well, your father and mother turn up, and you find yourself a fine lady, and after that you grow stiff and dignified, and keep me at a distance, as Paddy did the moon, and flirt with every bescented, behair-oiled jackanapes that squirms, and bows, and simpers, and makes fools of themselves, and talk with all sorts of soft nonsense to you! You know you do, Lady Erminie, and I repeat it, you needn’t deny it! Here was last night, at that concert, soiree, or tea-party, or whatever it was, didn’t you let that contemptible fool, the Honorable Augustus Ahringfeldt, make the strongest sort of love to you the whole blessed evening. Honorable, indeed! A pretty honorable, he is, all hair and conceit, like a scented orang-outang!” sneered Ranty, elevating his Roman nose to the loftiest angle of scorn.
“Indeed—indeed, Ranty, I couldn’t help it! He talked to me, and I had to answer him, and you never came near me all the time,” said Erminie with tears of distress in her gentle blue eyes.
“No; the thumb-screws of the Holy Office wouldn’t have got a word out of me!” said Ranty, fiercely. “Do you think I was going to thrust myself forward where I wasn’t wanted? No, Lady Erminie De Courcy; though you may be above me in rank and wealth, I can have as much pride as you can yet; and if you think fit to cut my acquaintance,you are perfectly welcome to do it. I am going away this afternoon, and I am not likely to trouble you any more; but first I’ll punch the head of that sweet seraph, the Honorable Augustus—hanged if I don’t! Lady Erminie, good-by! I’m off for a voyage to Constantinople; and if you hear that the sultan has had me bow-strung, or bastinadoed, or pitched into the Bosphorus, or that I have committed suicide, or anything, I hope you’ll drop a tear to the memory of the little boy in roundabout-jackets who used to go sailing and making love with you at old Judestown.”
Here Ranty dropped his voice to the deeply-pathetic, and held out his hand mournfully to Erminie. But that young lady’s hands were up before her face, and she seemed in a fair way to comply with his request to drop a tear to his memory; for she was sobbing away convulsively.
“There, now! I’ve went and set you a-crying!” exclaimed Ranty, in a tone, or rather howl, of mingled remorse and distraction. “That’s always the way I go and put my foot in whatever I go to do! I am a brute! a crocodile! a sea-serpent! a monster! an unmitigated bear! and I deserve a sound flogging for speaking to you as I did. Erminie! dear Erminie! dearest Erminie! forgive me, like a good girl. It was all owing to that hairy-faced fool, Ahringfeldt—I swear it was! I was jealous of him! madly jealous! the effeminate little cream-candy puppy! Dear Erminie, forgive me! Dearest Erminie, look up and say I am forgiven, or I will go to the nearest apothecary’s, and put an end to my miserable existence with a gallon or two of Prussic acid. Dear, dearest, darling Erminie! only say you forgive me!” pleaded Ranty, kneeling before her, and gently withdrawing her hands from before her.
Erminie looked up imploringly through her tears.
“Oh, Ranty! how can you say such dreadful things? Oh, you frighten me to death! Promise me you will not kill yourself; it is so wicked, you know!”
“Beside being disagreeable to be sat on by a coroner and a dozen asses of jurymen. Well, I won’t, if you will promise me one thing.”
“Oh, Ranty! I will promise anything if you will not do it.”
“Will you, though? Oh, Erminie! you’re a nice youngwoman! Well, I want you to be my dear, little blue-eyed wife. Now, then, say yes.”
But Erminie, with a bright blush and a little surprised scream, threw up her hands and covered her face.
“Now, Erminie, that’s no answer at all,” said Ranty, taking down the hands. “You don’t know what a capital husband I’ll make. You can’t begin to have the remotest idea of it, you know. Come, Erminie, say yes—there’s a good girl.”
“Oh, Ranty!”
“Yes, I know; girls always look flustered in cases like this; but, somehow, they manage to say yes, after all. Now, Erminie, if you don’t say yes, I’ll go right straight off for the Prussic acid—mind that!”
“Well, yes, then,” said Erminie, blushing, and laughing, and hiding her face on his shoulder.
“Gloria in excelsis! alleluia! hurrah! Oh, Erminie! my own little darling! you have made me the happiest man from here to the antipodes. Oh, Erminie! I knew you would, all along! I always thought you had too much good sense to reject me for a puppy like the Honorable Augustus!” exclaimed Ranty, in a rapture. “Oh, Erminie! I’ll give you leave to cowhide me within an inch of my life if I ever give you a cross look or word again! Oh, Erminie—”
The sudden opening of the library-door cut short his interminable string of interjections in which Ranty would have indulged, and the next moment, Lord De Courcy stood looking with grave surprise on the two lovers.
“Ah! beg your pardon,” he said, blandly, as Ranty sprung to his feet. “I was not aware there was any one here. Excuse me for interrupting you.” And with a bow and an almost imperceptible smile, he was turning away, when Ranty stepped forward, and said:
“Hold on, my lord. There’s a little matter to be arranged here, which may as well be done now as any other time. I love your daughter and have told her so, and your daughter loves me, and has told me so; and all we want is your lordship’s consent to our union. I may not be quite her equal in wealth, and rank, and all that sort of thing, in your eyes; but as a free-born American citizen, and an independent ‘sovereign’ in my own right, and possessing a strongarm, a stout heart, and a clear conscience, I feel myself as good as the best lord, duke, or Sir Harry in all Great Britain; and so, my lord, if you will give me your daughter, I will try to prove myself worthy of the gift.”
This plain, straight-forward speech, delivered with head erect, shoulders thrown back, and Master Ranty drawn up to the full extent of his six feet odd inches, evidently did not displease the earl. He turned to Erminie, whose blushing face was hid again, and said, with a smile:
“And what says my little girl? Has she authorized her old friend to say all this?”
“Yes, father,” whispered Erminie, throwing her arms around his neck.
“Well, then, I suppose I shall have to consent,” said the earl, rising. “Right, my boy,” he said, slapping Ranty heartily on the shoulder; “you are as good as any man living, and I like your bold, independent spirit. And now, as I amde trophere, I shall go and tell her ladyship that she is about to lose her new-found daughter again,” said the earl, as he left the room.
And for the next hour, Ranty and Erminie were just as perfectly happy as it is possible for any two denizens of this rather unhappy world to be.
It was arranged that the marriage of Ranty and Erminie should take place on the same day as that of Ray and Pet, and that the whole party should sail for England together.
And three days after, came our whole party from Judestown in a body, consisting of the judge, pompous and important, but inwardly wincing a little at the thought of meeting Erminie; Ray, handsome, and happy, and quite unlike his usual haughty self; Pet, bright, defiant, saucy, and sparkling as ever; the admiral, in a high state of beatitude and a new frock-coat with eye-dazzling brass buttons; Mr. Toosypegs, arrayed in a complete new suit to do honor to the occasion, and looking mildly melancholy; and last, but by no means least, Miss Priscilla, as stiff, grim, sour, rigid and upright as a church steeple.
Erminie flew down to meet them, and rushed into the arms of Pet, who favored her with a crushing hug; and then she kissed Miss Priscilla, who gingerly presented her wrinkled cheek for that operation; and then she shook hands withMr. Toosypegs, who repressed a groan of despair as she did so; and then she finished her greetings by throwing her arms around the admiral’s neck and kissing him too.
“Stand from under!” roared the admiral, with a tremendous burst of laughter. “So you’re going to get spliced to Ranty, Snowflake? Ho, ho, ho! Who’d ’a’ thought it? Lord! how pretty you are, anyway! And how’s your father and that nice-looking woman, your mother? I hope she’s pretty jolly,” said the admiral, politely.
Erminie laughed, and replied that she was as jolly as could be expected.
“And so you’re going to England, Miss Minnie, and never going to come back?” said Mr. Toosypegs, mournfully. “I’m real sorry—I’m dreadfully sorry, Miss Minnie. I do assure you I am. It’s awfully lonesome now, at the cottage. I can’t bear to go near it at all, it recalls the past so much. Miss Minnie, I don’t know what I shall ever do when you’re gone at all—I just don’t!”
“Horlando, hold your tongue!” snarled Miss Priscilla. And her dutiful nephew shut up like a jack-knife. “You’re foreverlastin’ a-talkin’; and a-talkin’ nonsense at that. Miss Minnie, I want to take hoff my things which is hinconvenient to wear in the ’ouse, besides wanting to be folded up and put away, to keep them from sp’lin’.”
Erminie smilingly rung the bell, and ordered the servant to show Miss Priscilla to her room; and, at the same moment, Lady Rita, impelled perhaps by curiosity, as much as anything else, to see those “rustics,” as she called them, swept majestically in, glittering in silk, and lace, and jewels, until she fairly dazzled the eyes.
Erminie rose, and presented her as her “sister, Lady Rita.” Her little ladyship curled her fastidious lip slightly, made a profoundly formal courtesy, and gracefully and superciliously sunk into the downy depths on a lounge, and thought inwardly what an “absurd set of the lowest people mamma was gathering about her!”
But from the moment Mr. Toosypegs set eyes on the bright little meteor, he was done for! Pet was forgotten; so was Erminie. Both, in his eyes, were eclipsed by this golden-winged, rainbow-tinted, little, sparkling vision. PoorMr. Toosypegs, for the third time, was deeply and hopelessly in love!
Three days after, the double-marriage took place, privately, by the desire of all parties. None but the friends of the brides were present; and immediately after the ceremony the farewells were spoken, and the bridal cortege drove down to the steamer that was to convey them to the Old World.
Straining their eyes to catch a last glance of the shore they were leaving, our bridal-party stood on the steamer’s deck, Erminie leaning on her husband’s arm, and Pet leaning on hers, both with eyes full of tears. Near them stood Lady Maude and Lord De Courcy, both thinking of him who slept, “after life’s fitful fever,” in his lonely hillside grave. There, too, was Marguerite, calmer and less despairing-looking now, though her wild, dark eyes were deeply mournful still. By her side was her dainty, tossy, brightly-dressed little daughter, inwardly thanking her stars to get home once more. And thus they all stand before you now, dear reader, receding far down in the blue horizon. One more glimpse, and you will see them no more.
At the White Squall still lives Admiral Harry Havenful, who sits in his parlor, gazing on the pink-and-straw-colored man-of-war, and smokes his pipe placidly, as he walks down the serene pathway leading to old age. On fine days Mr. Toosypegs always comes to see him, and there dilates for hours on the manifold beauties and attractions of Lady Rita, to whom he intends to be faithful as long as he lives. Mr. Toosypegs never will get married. He says he intends consecrating his life to the memory of the sparkling little comet that once flashed across his sky, and then disappeared forever. Mr. O. C. Toosypegs’ anguish and despair have subsided now to a calm, serene melancholy, seldom relieved by a smile, but by no means distressing to witness. He and the admiral continue to do good in their own simple, unobtrusive way, and find their chief delight in reading the letters they sometimes receive from Erminie and Pet. Judge Lawless lives in solitary grandeur at Heath Hill, the “Grand Seigneur” of Judestown still. Miss Priscilla resides in gloomy state at Dismal Hollow, and continues to murder the king’s English and scold Orlando severely every day, which castigations he bears with evident meekness. Reader, to ourfriends in Judestown, you have bidden an eternal farewell. Ray Germaine has risen to rank and wealth in his profession, and his handsome wife is the leader of thetonin the city where she resides, and excites in turn the wonder and admiration and envy of every one who knows her. Marriage has subdued her wildness a little, but not eradicated it; and our Pet is the happiest little lady in existence. There is a miniature Pet there, too—a saucy little limb already, who promises to be a second edition of wild Pet Lawless, in deeds as well as in looks.
Lady Erminie and Mr. Lawless reside in England, for the Countess De Courcy will not part with her daughter.
Little Lady Rita has married a Spanish grandee—a Don John somebody, and gone to live in her own “castle in Spain.” Marguerite has accompanied her to that sunny land.
The Earl and Countess De Courcy, loved and honored, pass happily through life together. Their latter days promise to be as bright with sunshine as their early ones were dark and troubled. Reader, to all these, too, and I fear not unreluctantly, you must bid farewell.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:Missing punctuation has been added and obvious punctuation errors have been corrected.Archaic, alternate and misspellings of words have been retained to match the original work with the exception of those listed below.Page 10: "Hr." changed to "Mr." (and I do assure you, Mr. Harkins, I hadn’t the faintest idea of hitting you that time.)Page 22: "sudder" changed to "shudder" (she said, with a convulsive shudder.)Page 61: "ad" changed to "and" (and he confessed he did that).Page 77: "Jernygham" changed to "Jernyngham" (he was joined by Jernyngham and Howard).Page 80: "Jernynham" changed to "Jernyngham" (Miss Clara Jernyngham had obtained the desire of her heart at last).Page 92: duplicate word "and" removed (numbing the sense of pain, and leaving nothing).Page 98: "these" changed to "there" (but her physician said there was no danger).Page 103: "women" changed to "woman" (Oh, woman! if there be one spark of human nature).Page 111: "catankerous" changed to "cantankerous" (and a cantankerous expression of countenance generally).Page 119: "Toospyegs" changed to "Toosypegs" for spelling consistency.Page 135: "yon" changed to "you" (let me tell you that!)Page 147: "feeling" changed to "feelings" (Somehow, my feelings are always relieved when I'm with you, Miss Minnie.)Page 163: "the" changed to "he" (as he held the candlestick aloft).Page 168: "shufling" changed to "shuffling" (setting that ominously-named animal off at a shuffling dog-trot).Page 174: "comet o" changed to "come to" (I hasn't lived forty odd years to come to dis in my old ages o' life.)Page 197: "them" changed to "then" (Well, come along then; I'll tell her.)Page 212: removed duplicate word "of" (Then the very demon of defiance sprung into the eyes of the elf).Page 218: "loss" changed to "lose" (Since Heaven willed we should lose one angel it gave us).Page 220: "befor" changed to "before" (it had made her gentle, tender, and more saintly then ever before.)Page 236: "begining" changed to "beginning" (said her father, beginning to think there might be method in this madness.)Page 238 and 240: "dispair" changed to "despair" (Reading no expression whatever in that "Book of Beauty" but the mildest sort of despair).Page 245: "its" changed to "it's" (it's the most peculiar).Page 245: "sunlght" changed to "sunlight" (the red rings of flame flashing out in the sunlight).Page 245: "deepy" changed to "deeply" (and in that moment fell more deeply, deplorably, and helplessly in love than ever.)Page 249: "microsope" changed to "microscope" (You may take a microscope and look from this until the week after next).Page 276: "remainded" changed to "reminded" (until the air would have reminded you of "Ceylon's spicy breezes,").Page 278: "hight" changed to "height" (as she drew herself up to her full height, and calmly said).Page 279: "hight" changed to "height" (as she stood drawn up to her full height.)Page 281: "gruffy" changed to "gruffly" (said the admiral, gruffly, putting it in his own mouth again.)Page 330: "have" added for sentence continuity (they would have made her a prisoner at once.)Page 339: "Day" changed to "Ray" (Dear Ray, do not look and speak so strangely.)Page 346: "at" added for sentence continuity (And they had to take and carry me off at such a contrary time).Page 348: "bread" changed to "beard" (contrasting with his jet-black hair and beard).Page 372: "stands's" changed to "stands" (There she stands the lost daughter and heiress of Lord De Courcy!)Page 372: "by" added for sentence continuity (He went over and took his place by Erminie.)Page 381: "how" changed to "now" (you can afford to wait a few moments longer now.)Page 382: "to" added for sentence continuity (with a sort of still, deep joy not to be expressed in words.)Page 384: "parent" changed to "parents" (the long-divided parents and child were reunited at last).Page 387: "Ermine" changed to "Erminie" ("Now, Pet, why? You can come if you like," said Erminie.)Page 388: "Ermine" changed to "Erminie" (As for Erminie, she wept audibly as the carriage rolled away).
Missing punctuation has been added and obvious punctuation errors have been corrected.Archaic, alternate and misspellings of words have been retained to match the original work with the exception of those listed below.Page 10: "Hr." changed to "Mr." (and I do assure you, Mr. Harkins, I hadn’t the faintest idea of hitting you that time.)Page 22: "sudder" changed to "shudder" (she said, with a convulsive shudder.)Page 61: "ad" changed to "and" (and he confessed he did that).Page 77: "Jernygham" changed to "Jernyngham" (he was joined by Jernyngham and Howard).Page 80: "Jernynham" changed to "Jernyngham" (Miss Clara Jernyngham had obtained the desire of her heart at last).Page 92: duplicate word "and" removed (numbing the sense of pain, and leaving nothing).Page 98: "these" changed to "there" (but her physician said there was no danger).Page 103: "women" changed to "woman" (Oh, woman! if there be one spark of human nature).Page 111: "catankerous" changed to "cantankerous" (and a cantankerous expression of countenance generally).Page 119: "Toospyegs" changed to "Toosypegs" for spelling consistency.Page 135: "yon" changed to "you" (let me tell you that!)Page 147: "feeling" changed to "feelings" (Somehow, my feelings are always relieved when I'm with you, Miss Minnie.)Page 163: "the" changed to "he" (as he held the candlestick aloft).Page 168: "shufling" changed to "shuffling" (setting that ominously-named animal off at a shuffling dog-trot).Page 174: "comet o" changed to "come to" (I hasn't lived forty odd years to come to dis in my old ages o' life.)Page 197: "them" changed to "then" (Well, come along then; I'll tell her.)Page 212: removed duplicate word "of" (Then the very demon of defiance sprung into the eyes of the elf).Page 218: "loss" changed to "lose" (Since Heaven willed we should lose one angel it gave us).Page 220: "befor" changed to "before" (it had made her gentle, tender, and more saintly then ever before.)Page 236: "begining" changed to "beginning" (said her father, beginning to think there might be method in this madness.)Page 238 and 240: "dispair" changed to "despair" (Reading no expression whatever in that "Book of Beauty" but the mildest sort of despair).Page 245: "its" changed to "it's" (it's the most peculiar).Page 245: "sunlght" changed to "sunlight" (the red rings of flame flashing out in the sunlight).Page 245: "deepy" changed to "deeply" (and in that moment fell more deeply, deplorably, and helplessly in love than ever.)Page 249: "microsope" changed to "microscope" (You may take a microscope and look from this until the week after next).Page 276: "remainded" changed to "reminded" (until the air would have reminded you of "Ceylon's spicy breezes,").Page 278: "hight" changed to "height" (as she drew herself up to her full height, and calmly said).Page 279: "hight" changed to "height" (as she stood drawn up to her full height.)Page 281: "gruffy" changed to "gruffly" (said the admiral, gruffly, putting it in his own mouth again.)Page 330: "have" added for sentence continuity (they would have made her a prisoner at once.)Page 339: "Day" changed to "Ray" (Dear Ray, do not look and speak so strangely.)Page 346: "at" added for sentence continuity (And they had to take and carry me off at such a contrary time).Page 348: "bread" changed to "beard" (contrasting with his jet-black hair and beard).Page 372: "stands's" changed to "stands" (There she stands the lost daughter and heiress of Lord De Courcy!)Page 372: "by" added for sentence continuity (He went over and took his place by Erminie.)Page 381: "how" changed to "now" (you can afford to wait a few moments longer now.)Page 382: "to" added for sentence continuity (with a sort of still, deep joy not to be expressed in words.)Page 384: "parent" changed to "parents" (the long-divided parents and child were reunited at last).Page 387: "Ermine" changed to "Erminie" ("Now, Pet, why? You can come if you like," said Erminie.)Page 388: "Ermine" changed to "Erminie" (As for Erminie, she wept audibly as the carriage rolled away).
Missing punctuation has been added and obvious punctuation errors have been corrected.
Archaic, alternate and misspellings of words have been retained to match the original work with the exception of those listed below.
Page 10: "Hr." changed to "Mr." (and I do assure you, Mr. Harkins, I hadn’t the faintest idea of hitting you that time.)
Page 22: "sudder" changed to "shudder" (she said, with a convulsive shudder.)
Page 61: "ad" changed to "and" (and he confessed he did that).
Page 77: "Jernygham" changed to "Jernyngham" (he was joined by Jernyngham and Howard).
Page 80: "Jernynham" changed to "Jernyngham" (Miss Clara Jernyngham had obtained the desire of her heart at last).
Page 92: duplicate word "and" removed (numbing the sense of pain, and leaving nothing).
Page 98: "these" changed to "there" (but her physician said there was no danger).
Page 103: "women" changed to "woman" (Oh, woman! if there be one spark of human nature).
Page 111: "catankerous" changed to "cantankerous" (and a cantankerous expression of countenance generally).
Page 119: "Toospyegs" changed to "Toosypegs" for spelling consistency.
Page 135: "yon" changed to "you" (let me tell you that!)
Page 147: "feeling" changed to "feelings" (Somehow, my feelings are always relieved when I'm with you, Miss Minnie.)
Page 163: "the" changed to "he" (as he held the candlestick aloft).
Page 168: "shufling" changed to "shuffling" (setting that ominously-named animal off at a shuffling dog-trot).
Page 174: "comet o" changed to "come to" (I hasn't lived forty odd years to come to dis in my old ages o' life.)
Page 197: "them" changed to "then" (Well, come along then; I'll tell her.)
Page 212: removed duplicate word "of" (Then the very demon of defiance sprung into the eyes of the elf).
Page 218: "loss" changed to "lose" (Since Heaven willed we should lose one angel it gave us).
Page 220: "befor" changed to "before" (it had made her gentle, tender, and more saintly then ever before.)
Page 236: "begining" changed to "beginning" (said her father, beginning to think there might be method in this madness.)
Page 238 and 240: "dispair" changed to "despair" (Reading no expression whatever in that "Book of Beauty" but the mildest sort of despair).
Page 245: "its" changed to "it's" (it's the most peculiar).
Page 245: "sunlght" changed to "sunlight" (the red rings of flame flashing out in the sunlight).
Page 245: "deepy" changed to "deeply" (and in that moment fell more deeply, deplorably, and helplessly in love than ever.)
Page 249: "microsope" changed to "microscope" (You may take a microscope and look from this until the week after next).
Page 276: "remainded" changed to "reminded" (until the air would have reminded you of "Ceylon's spicy breezes,").
Page 278: "hight" changed to "height" (as she drew herself up to her full height, and calmly said).
Page 279: "hight" changed to "height" (as she stood drawn up to her full height.)
Page 281: "gruffy" changed to "gruffly" (said the admiral, gruffly, putting it in his own mouth again.)
Page 330: "have" added for sentence continuity (they would have made her a prisoner at once.)
Page 339: "Day" changed to "Ray" (Dear Ray, do not look and speak so strangely.)
Page 346: "at" added for sentence continuity (And they had to take and carry me off at such a contrary time).
Page 348: "bread" changed to "beard" (contrasting with his jet-black hair and beard).
Page 372: "stands's" changed to "stands" (There she stands the lost daughter and heiress of Lord De Courcy!)
Page 372: "by" added for sentence continuity (He went over and took his place by Erminie.)
Page 381: "how" changed to "now" (you can afford to wait a few moments longer now.)
Page 382: "to" added for sentence continuity (with a sort of still, deep joy not to be expressed in words.)
Page 384: "parent" changed to "parents" (the long-divided parents and child were reunited at last).
Page 387: "Ermine" changed to "Erminie" ("Now, Pet, why? You can come if you like," said Erminie.)
Page 388: "Ermine" changed to "Erminie" (As for Erminie, she wept audibly as the carriage rolled away).