LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2041, 8 September 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MARRIED BY MISTAKE. [Abridged from “All the Year Bound.”] I have no desire to be hard on Smith, It is not in my nature to be hard on anybody, and Smith, of all men, has a lasting claim on my indulgence. But really Smith was one of the most consummate blockheadsjit has ever been my lot to know. Not because his name was Smith do I consider that he was one of the greatest fools of my acquaintance. Certainly not t I hope I am above that sort of prejudice. By-the-way, my name is Smith.

Bill Smith was his name. Now William, of all the names in our personal nomenclature, I consider one of the sweetest, most suggestive, and engaging. It is a trifle common, perhaps, but that only goes to prove the soundness of my opinion. It is not because my name is William—although th»t is my name —that I have such a predilection for it. Thank goodness, I have a mind above bias in these matters ! But most of ns have fancies for which there is no accounting, and my particular fancy is that there are few names, If any, to equal that of William Smith. But Bill Smith! He was a conceited little fool. His height in boots was barely five feet three. My height is just over five feet one ; bat then I am neatly built, and am considered, as I know to be the case, very imposing in figure. Whereas there was a looseness about Smith’s construction (which exactly tallied with his habits), and an inelegance about his general appearance, together with a vulgar familiarity in his manner, which indelibly stamped him as a fellow of low breeding. He had a peculiar knack of making friends; indeed, his circle of acquaintance was out of all proportion to his merits. How he managed it I never could make out, but he always moved in good society; and the number of girls that court? d his company was truly wonderful —a sufficient proof of the correctness of my assertion regarding his loose habits. My habits were always unimpeachable, though I say it. I never loved but two females in my life It was through no fault of mine that I did love two.

I admit a personal responsibility for one, the other was thrust upon me by fate. I never think of the Nemesis which visited me at the most critical period of my existence without a cold shudder. Not that fate was unfriendly to me in this instance ; thank heaven 1 it turned out quite the reverse. But the consequences which might have followed the strange fatality are almost too awful for contemplation. Bill Smith—l shall style him Bill Smith to distinguish him from myself, William Smith—was a clerk in a barrister’s office in the Temple. Even the fact that Smith was a law clerk does not prejudice me against the profession, which I con«ider a moat gentlemanly calling. I myself was a clerk in a barrister’s office in the Temple. In point of fact. Bill Smith and I were engaged together in the same office. I was engaged some time before Smith, and consequently looked upon him as my junior, although ha would never exhibit manliness enough to admit it. Certainly he drew a larger salary than I did, which he managed through worming himself into the good graces of the governor, who looked upon him as a prodigy, and as indispensable to the concern. I knew that Bill Smith was a mere dolt, with just enough veneer to h>'da his imperfections, and that was enough for me. One morning, as I was engaged copying drafts, Smith, who sat in the governor’s room, and had been scribbling away at some thing his vanity considered important, popped his head in at the door, and asked if I could spare him a few minutes, as he had an important communication to make me. * It’s awfully important, old boy,’ he said, sitting on tie table, and bending over me with offensive familiarity; ‘it’s a regular joke. I hope you’ll like it.’ I had experienced at different times several of Bill Smith’s jokes, and my general impression was that I did not like them. I was eager, however, to know the latest production of his brain, such as it was, and asked him to explain. • Tako care you don’t tumble off the seat, old fellow, when I tell you. I’m going to be married. ’

It was not easy to conceal my aston’shment, but I did it in a manner which must have led Bill Smith to suspect whether I did not know as much of the matter as he did.

It was just an example of Bill Smith's meanness that he had been engaged for eighteen months without giving me the slightest wind of his secret. It is true that I had been pledged in marriage for a period of something like two years without informing Bill Smith of the fact; but then the circumstances of my case were quite exceptional, and Bill Smith wasn’t the sort of fellow I should care to entrust with my particular confidences. As he was bound, however, to know of my intentions sooner or later, and as ho had given me a good opportunity of breaking the nows, I thereupon informed him of my betrothed condition. In the matter of creating astonishment I had considerably the beat of It. Bill Smith was vulgar in most things ; he was inconceivably vulgar in his emotions ; and the degree of surprise he exhibited when made aware of my circumstances was positively shocking. But greater surprise was in store for both of

ns, and a strong suspicion that Bill Smith had succeeded in his joke pretty well, crossed me when he informed ma that tie name of the lady of his choice was Miss Lavinia Brown. Lavinia Br iwn was also the name of my choice. I soon got rid of any fears that I was the subject of Bill Smith|s joke; and his amazement when I told him of the strange coincidence wa< unbounded. The Miss Lavinia B-otrns were not in any way related, that was certain. It was equally certain that thev were unacquainted with each oth-r. Bill Smith’s Miss Brown was the daughter of a deceased East India merchant, who had left her almost sufficient money to start a private Bank with, by way of Indemnification for the want of any relations, which commodity he had not been able to p ocure for her. She had no relations whatever, except an old-bed ridden aunt, with whom she lived, and with whom Bill Smith was an especial favorite, a fact which accounted for the ittimacy between the young people. My Miss Brown was the daughter of a merchant in the east—that is, the east of I/ondon. Mr Brown was a short, starcpy man, with a large head and ideas in proportion, and his favorite and grandest idea waa to sea Lavinia well married. A baronet would have honored himself in Mr Brown’s opinion, by securing Lavinia for his wife. What might have happened had Miss Lavinia crossed a baronet’s path it is idle to conjecture. As it was, she and I—we first met at the house of a mutual friend—fell violently in love at first sight, and nursed our affection by strictly clandestine meetings ; for I was aware of Mr Brown’s rooted antipathy to barristers’ clerks, and was' un willing to cause him trouble in anticipation. In appearancs Lavinia did not take after her father, for she was a most hands'me girl, and had no end of admirers, of all of whom Mr Brown was terribly jealous. I had more love for Lavinia than I had ever before imagined I possessed, and she was most attached* to me. How to conciliate Mr Brown waa the question which often troubled us, and no amount of reasoning on the subject ever brought the faintest consolation. All this I told to Bill Smith, who listened to the story with much interest, and afterwards commiserated me on the difficulties of my courtship. ‘ Take my advice, old boy, ’ said he ; ‘go to old Brown and explain everything to him. He can’t refuse you his daughter. It he does, just let me know, and I’ll put yon up to a plan of getting rid of his o'-jectims.’ It was all very well for Bill Smith to talk of going to old Brown, as if it were only taking a stroll to see the Monument. I had heard enough of old Brown to know that the Monument waa not more deaf tc reason than he when the subject of argument was his daughter. As it was absolutely necessary, however, that overtures should be made to Mr Brown, and as the delay was causing me no inconsiderable anxiety I da'ermined to adopt Bill Smith’s suggestion (taking care to let him know that it was exactly what I had thought of doing), and to see old Brown. I have already protested against any desire on my part to vilify Smith. 1 can afford to dispense with that. But I never refl-ot on that visit to old Brown, to solicit the hand of his daughter without secretly anathematising Bill Smith, who prompted mo to adopt that course of action. My visit to Mr Brown was of short duration, and I left the house precipitately. However much I adored the daughter, I am bound to confess that my opinion of Brown personally was very poor. His mode of argument was vulgar in the extreme. I shall not revert to it.

My Interview with Brown having failed in its object, I betook myself to Bill cmith, as in that contingency arranged. * Well, my boy,’ said he, when I had given him a full account of my visit to Brown, ‘ there’s only one course open to you now ; you’ll have to elope with the girl; if she ia as attached to you as ycu say, where’s the difficulty ? Once get married and the thing’s past undoing ; old Brown will have to make the best of it, and he’ll bless you b.th, ard you’ll all live happily together whenever the honeymoon is over.’ I told Bill Smith that his idea had exactly coincided with my own (a'thongh I had really never dreamt of such a suggestion), and that if he considered there was not too much risk in the proceeding, I was quito prepared to figure in a clandestine marriage ceremony, provided, of course, the lady had no objection. _ * I’ve got an excellent idea,’ eaid Smith, when ha had sufficiently applauded my courage aud determination to baulk old Brown and secure his daughter. ‘ Our marriage will be celebrated in about six weeks’ time ; it will be as private as it is possible to imagine, for Lavinia has taken it into her head to have the ceremony perfectly private, and she objects to have even a bridesmaid ; 1 had marked yon out for my groomsman, bat we can easily dispense with that formality; now, what I propose is this ; that we get married together—two knots in one operation ; I’ve selected a nice little church a few miles out of town ; an old silverheaded parson to officiate ; an antiquated, one legged sexton, and the pew opener, his wife, to witness the proceedings ; and what more do you want ? ’ Nothing could be better. All that was wanted now was Lavinia’s consent and a special license. The consent I obtained at our first interview, after I had assured Lavinia that there was no alternative to running away but the separation of two fond hearts. The license was readily procurable. How slowly the weeks passed by ! Even the occupation of hunting after eligible furnished lodgings, and the many other duties incidental to an approaching marriage, did not hasten the, time to my setisfsetion. But the day arrived at last. What a flutter of excitement I was in, and how glad I was when I alighted with Lavinia at the little railway-station where we were to meet Bill Smith and his bride, to find that old Brown was not yet on our track ; and that even should he arrive by the next train wo should be united beyond his powers of separation ! Bill Smith was awaiting ns with his Miss Lavinia Brown. How plain she looked beside my Lavinia ! I thought her positively ugly ; but I was aware of Smith's taste in these matters, and moreover had some doubt about the union being entirely a love affair ; and was, therefore, not astonished. Nop was I ageeeahly struck with her manner, which appeared to me unwarrantably retiring and exclusive. The two giris, however, understood each other at once, and were very soon good friends. By comparison I loved my Lavinia more than ever. Never was man more in love than I as we walked up to the little church, the two Lavinias, linked together, some distance in front, and Bill Smith and I bringing nyo the rear. Had old Brown appeared on the scene then, and attempted to frustrato cur designs, I believe there would have beea more immediate necessity for a magistrate than a clergyman. I assured Bill Smith that my Livinia was the darling of my affections, the very sine qua non of my existence. Smith, to all appearance, was vastly enamoured of his Lavinia. He assured me that she was the very idol of his heart, the sole object of his happiness, and that life without her would be a miserable blank. We soon arrived at the little church, where the old clergyman, the one-legged sexton, and the sedate pew-opened avvaited us. It was Bill Smith’s fault. I leave it to any unprejudiced individual to cay whether, under the circumstances, Smith was justified in escorting my bride into the vestry, and leaving me to take in his. How were the sexton and pew-opener to know that the lady whom Smith led so graciously into church was my Miss Brown, an i that the lady who claimed my courtesy belonged to Smith? Anybody with an ordinary amount of common sense might have foretold tue consequences of such recklessness. But Smith was always such a confounded fool. It fortunately happened that, as he deserved to be, he was the greater sufferer by the accident; but it might easily have been the other way, so no thanks to Smith. After the usual preliminaries in the vestry, we all followed the clergyman to the altar. Smith was visibly agitated, as were both the ladies. The fear that old Brown might possibly drop in and disturb the ceremony wis sufficient justification for gentle excitement in my case. Therefore, that there might be no hitch in the proceedings, end consequent delay, I took the precaution, a* we were leaving the vestry, to whisper into the old pew-opener’s ear a request that she would arrange us all after the old orthodox fashion at the altar with as much expedition os possible, jog our memories where defective ia the marriage service, and generally prompt ns during the ceremony, all of which services, in anticipation of certain substantial considerations, she promised most willingly tc perform

{To be continued)