A Precipitated Courtship.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 416, 2 November 1889, Page 6

A Precipitated Courtship.

My mission to the readers of the Sunday 'Chat' is like Mark Antony's traditional attitude to the populace — to tell them that which they themselves do know t and when I tell them that which they do not know, and which I do not know either, the results range from tragedy to comedy. Last January, in the * Chat's ' social department, of ' which I, Priscilla Plume, am the editor, appeared the following. •Among the engagements which rumour says are soon to be announced, is that of Miss Ethel Arlington, of New York, daughter of Mr Francis K. Arlington, formerly of this city, and Mr Theodore G. Wiggswell. Mr Wiggswell is a nephew of the Hon. George P. Giltedge.' Also : ♦Major Peleg Wiggins entertained a number of friends at a masquerade ball on New Year's eve at his beautiful country residence in Walnut paik. Among the guests from the city were the Hon. George P. Giltedge and family.' I congratulated myself that I should have an ' exclusive ' on those items ; that they would nob appear in our rival, the Saturday 1 Mail.' I was right ; they did not appear in the Saturday ' Mail.' On Sunday morning I was .looking ove.r the * Chat,' and admiring the discrimination with which the printer interspersed among my notes upon the aristocracy such information and advice as, •Allemand & Co.'s malt whisky is the best,' • Buy your spring overcoat at Smoothly's,' * For Indigestion take De Whittier's Little Pepsin Pills,' ' Try Smoothly's suspenders and neckties,' when a visitor was announced. Mr John Spruce entered, said 'Good- i morning,' and immediately observed, 'I always did advise you to try your hand at fiction, Priscilla.' • Well ?' I inquired. • Short stories are an excellent beginning in a literary way. I always felt sure that you bad a. vivid imagination, 5 he continued, reflectively, * and I really felt hurt that you never took my advice. I've told you again and again, when you are hard up for copy, to make it up out of your own head. Now this new departure — ' 'Oh dear !' I interrupted, as the meaning of these remarks began to dawn upon me, and I picked up the paper. ' What is it? Which is it ?' 1 Don't be agitated,' he replied, pointing to the two items I quoted above. ' Yqu have often said that more literary tone, and les3 hard, dry chronicling of facts would improve this sort of work. Now there are no hard, dry chronicling of facts about those paragraphs. If originality and imagination are qualities of literary tone, there you have it.' • I suppose you mean that they are mistakes,' I said. ' Pure fiction,' he replied, unsympathetically. ' I told you about the Peleg Wiggins fancy dress ball myself, I remember, and I said that Jjiii Giltedge told me, bufc I did not say that the Giltedges were- there. It happens that they and the Wiggins family are sworn enemies. It's a regular Montague and Capulet feud. I have done considerable law business for Hon. George P. Giltedge in connection with the matter, and I know all about it. I will try to convince him that this item of yours was a mistake and not a practical joke. But you will probably hear from Wiggins. Really it was an enterprising bib of speculation to conclude that the Giltedges went to that ball. And about the engagement: Wiggswell is a cousin of my friend Jim Giltedgo, and I happen to know that he has not the pleasure of Mis 3 Arlington's acquaintance. Still, it might be a good match. I suppose you thought it over carefully before you selected her for his wife." 'I mean to write Sumner Bothwell instead of Mr Wiggswßll ; they do say that he and Miss Arlington are engaged,' I interposed ; but John Spruce paid no attention and mused on : ' Wiggswell is an obliging young fellow. Perhaps he will marry her, since you think best. Now I wonder how your plan strikes Miss Arlington?' • I think that you had better accept a position on our funny column,' I said bitterly ; • and unless you stop laughing, and think of some way to help me out of this fix, beware ! I have not yet announced your engagement, but I may select some eligible young woman for you,- and pub your name in next week's "Chat." Please tell me what to do. Of course I can announce -in next week's paper that my statements were incorrect, bub ibis so very humiliating, so stupid, so absurd ;' and I blurred a tinware advertisement with a few tear 3. Only a few, however, for I knew that John Spruce was more sympathetic than he seemed, and would help mo in this predicament as he had done in otheEß. From pur childhood, when we had placed together ; through our school days, Svm^-he had 4 helped me get my lessons, procured bhe snakes and tadpoles which I insisted upon having for my zoological re- - searches, rescued me from drowning when I skated, into air-holes and fell out of boat?, and from being killed when I attempted to ride an unruly horse ; through the sad time of a few months ago when my father had failed in business and soon .after died of heart 'disease — we had been friends. He had laughed at my mistakes, regarded my mishaps as excellent jokes, bub had been in fact generous and sympathetic. To my appeal he replied : • Well, since you were doing your best to follow my advice in these little literary ventures of yours, I shall have to stand by them. I will see to - day what people are saying about it, and decide accordingly whether you had better bury "these unhappy paragraphs in oblivion or explain them. Say that some of the Giltedges were at the ball, although the Hon. George P. could nof be present, and as to the engagement, don't commit yourself further than to look wise and say thab bime will j toll whether or not it i§ true. Just insist, comme toujoura, thab you are right Now I am going to call on Theodore Giltedge Wiggswell, and give him my blessing and a bunch of flowers.' Following is what passed v when John made his call, and he afterwards described it to me : . • " 1 Theodore,' he began, *my dear friend, my feelings were hurt to learn the happy news from the newspapers instead of from your own lips; but I congratulate you. Accept my blessing and my boutonniere. Miss Arlington is a charming girl.' ' By Jove ! Spruce,' exclaimed Wiggswell, 'what does this mean? Is it some joke thab you are at bhe bobtom of ? It may be funny, but it's gebting me inbo deep waber* Whab's the poiub ?' 'I do not wish to be intrusive, Theodore, but if you announce your engagemenb to Miss Arlington in the Sunday "Chab"l suppose an old friend may be permibted to wish you joy.' Wiggswell actually burned pale. *Is thab in bhe paper ?' he gasped. ' Why, Ido nob know Miss Arlington— at least I didn't. Is it possible thab—' He seemed too much overcome to get on for a minute, and then said :. * It's a queer piece of business. Those society reporters find out everything and jump at conclusions, and have it printed and illustrated while the pa/tfa interested are making up their minds. {

' Yes, they do jump at conclusions,' John admitted. • Then I inter that you are not engaged to Miss Arlington ?' •No ; but I wish — that is, I was just going to tell you. lam just home from a dinner at the Copleys'. Mrs Copley remarked, as we took our places at the table, that two vacant places were for Mrs Arlington and Miss Ethel, whom she expected later, and then she got off something about being surprised at learning the news from the papers, and congratulated me.' ' You denied it, ot course ?' said Spruce. • Well, no, I didn't ; that's the trouble. I was so staggered I couldn't say a word.' ' Why, ,man, what a position to leave Miss Ailington in ? What happened when ; she arrived ! Where is your carefully and expensively acquired savo ; r - faire 1 Why didn't you say something giaceful about its being a mistake, a rumour, which you wished wore founded on fact ? What did they say when JV'iss Arlington* denied it, after you had complacently accepted the situation ?' 'Well, as soon as my' head stopped swimming and I, got my breath I was going to correct the mistake. It would have been deuced awkward then, but I was going to do it. Then Miss Arlington came. • Talk about savoir-faire ! I said i was ill, and left, 1 explained the unfortunate Wiggswell. 'This is a nice mess.!' ejacujateq\ John Spruce. ' V • It is a fix,' continued the p^her, ' and I've rather made a fool of uiyself. The idea of calmly accepting congratulations in that public way, and leaving as soon as my fiancee came ! It looks like a rude thing. It looks as if I wanted to give the idea that we are engaged, and left when she came so that I should not have co deny it. No matter how much I deny it now, it's deuced complicated. Why, every one w-^s there — the Miltons, and the Maypoles, some of the Giltedges, and the Gil lings. It will be talked all over the town before night.' • Were there any Wigginses there ?' inquired Spruce. •No — on account of the GiltedgeWiggins feud— only Mrs Arlington and Miss Arlington,' he replied. 'What! you don't mean that Miss Arlington is a Wiggins ? Another Wiggi'nsGiltedge complication ?' " • She is a niece of Peleg Wiggins, Ido not quite understand you, Spruce.' • A Montague and a Capulet,' murmured Spruce. Wiggswell reddened. ' What do you mean, John ? Have you heard— you were not at the masquerade, were you ?' 'No; were you? What has that to do with it ? Come, T see there are more compli-cations-in this affair than I thought. Make a clean breast of it now, Theodore.' While Theodore hesitated, there came a hasty knock on the door, and Jim Giltedge entered, elegant, conventional, congratulatory. 'Ah, Theodore, this is a surprise. I had hardly expected that any of us would marry into the Wiggins family. I read the uotice in the paper this morning, but supposing you would have consulted my father if it were true, passed it over as one of Chat's atrocious blunders. But hearing you accept congratulations at dinner, and then Miss Arlington accepted the situation, very prettily, too. By George, I quite admire your taste, Theodore ?' ' Miss Arlington denied it, of course !' exclaimed Spruce and Wiggswell in concert. ' Denied it ? why, no. Mrs Copley spoke of having congratulated you, and Miss Arlington blushed very prettily and said she supposed you denied it ; and when Mrs Copley said no, that you seemed quite overcome with your good fortune, Miss Arlington looked confused and charming, by George ! I saw that she did not know just what to say, so I rose to the occasion with something graceful, you know, and, the conversation turned. 1 left as soon as possible, fearing you were seriously ill, else you would not have left in— excuse me--such an odd way.' ' Wigg3\vell always was eccentric,' murmured Spruce. 'By the way, Theodore,' continued his cousin, 'how are you now? You look flushed. Let me feel your pulse : very high. You had better take something cooling. Oh, yes. I was going to say I will go with you to see Miss Arlington any time you like, and I will- try to make the matter right with my father. The Hon. George P. hates Peleg Wiggins, but I dare say, when he knows that it's all settled, he will give you his blessing. I tell you, Theodore, you have fever ; I never saw you &o .flushed in my life.' • Oh, she i&n't— that is— Fin not, I mean, I haven't. It's all a mistake. There's no ground for it, Jim ; not the least,' cried Theodore desperately. 1 Well, perhaps not,' said- his cousin ; ' but you look it. High pulse, flushed face, eyes rather wild, mean fever. I'm on- my way to an appointment at the cluband will send Pilkins to see you as I pass his office ; you_ must have a doctor. I will call in asain to-night, and if you are no better then, I will stay ;' and before Theodore could protest, Mr Giltedge had gone on his way. John Spruce leaned back in his chair and laughed, but Theodore sat eying the cigar which he had allowed to go out in his hand in perplexed silence. Suddenly he exclaimed : ' Worse and worse ' It's too late to make Jim come back for an explanation, and he will tell all the fellows at the club that this engagement is, a fact. It looks as if I were doing my hesi to circulate the rumour. How can I ever explain it to Miss ArlingfconVor to any- one?' 'Perhaps no one will believe It anyway. There's a general impression that Miss Arlington is engaged to Sumner Bothwell.' j ' What ! you don't mean it ! — that insig- * nificant little fellow ! He's an artist, isn't he? Oh it's impossible —its preposterous !' exclaimed Wiggswell. - 'No, not ac all preposterous,' his friend replied. ' Bothwell is a rising artist. He will be famous in. a few- years. He' knew Miss Arlington abroad.' l The gloom deepened in Wiggswell's face. ' You see, John,' he said, •if they had said I was engaged to one of the girls in our set here, I should not have lost my presence of mind, and allowed the matter to get so complicated and misunderstood ; but there are circumstances about this case that— well, in fact, 1 have escaped for 28 years, John, but the game is up ; I am in love with Ethel Arlington, and if this development in the situation spoils the little chance I had, it will be the most serious thing in my life.' ' Why, where have you seen her ? You told^ me last week that you didn't, know Ethel Arlington, when I told you she was coming on from New York to visit friends here.' Wiggswell .unlocked an elaborate je* /el case which stood on the table, and t jok from ifca solitary resting place therein a i handkerchief. He carefully unfolded the bit^of embroidered linen and lace and gazed pensively at the initials in the corner. — E.A. 'You remember I went to New York for a visit about a year ago, John ? This is a souvenir of that occasion. My mother has a second cousin there, a Mrs Browning, whom I had never seen. I left a card at her house, to please my mother, and the next day found myself "honoured ivith the iafcrtaafcion that Mrs Browning was

home some evening or other, I forget the date now ; but I accepted, and went quite late on the evening mentioned. The rooms were rather crowded; ijo one in particular seemed to be receiving, and I saw no one whom I knew. Most of the ladies had on bonnets. Mrs Browning, being the hostess, must be one of those who had not. I figured a little mentally, compared her age with my mother's, and concluded ehe be past 50. I picked out a jollylooking little old lady with gray hair, who ] was talking to several men ; probably she was Cousin Browning, I advanced ; the men stopped talking ; she looked at me without a sign of recognition, but I expected that. I hold out my hand, and said : 11 My name is Wiggswell. 8 j awfully kind of you to invite me, Mrs Browning." " Oh, lam not Mrs Browning. She is in the other parlour, I think," she replied. The men smiled, and I hurried into the noxt room. It was no use to guess which of the stolid, rather unhappy - looking women standing about was Mrs Browning ; so that this time I selected a different kind of hostesa-T-.a tall, severe-looking woman, bonnetless, and undoubtedly past 50. I approached her confidently and said : " Mrs Browning, is it not? My name is Wiggswell. So kind of you — " But I was down on my luck ; she wasn't Mrs Browning either. I think sho,., ,0091*0^ 'to find the hostess for me, "but I was disgusted, and went and leaned against- tlje wall. I was just weighing the claims $o the honour of being my hostjess'Of bwojbther women— "one tall and stout, gotten up in'a purple velvet, and the other small, and dressed in black, both without bonnets, and both past fifty — when I suddenly realised that a pretty girl opposite me 'had been watching me ever since I entered. .She was probably pretending to be amused at her companion's conversation, but I saw that she was laughing at me. I blushed, my collar felt limp, and I felt as if my clothes did not fit. I think my hair began to stand on end. I glared wildly around. Was it derision or sympathy in the young woman's smile ? Perhaps she was the hostess, although her youth and her bonnet seemed to forbid the idea ? And although I was so unhappy, and she evidontly thought me so absurd, I was vaguely wishing that she were Mrs Browning, and hence my cousin. Still, in that case she was married. '1 dare say that whilo 1 wns pursuing these calculations I looked as I were losing my mind, for she suddenly spoke to* an elderly lady near her, evidently her mother, and coming up to a lady who stood near me, said, quite pointedly, *' Mrs Browning, we will bid you good evening," and murmuring the usual thing about a pleasant evening, left the room. I shot a glance of gratitude and admiration at her as she spoke, succeeded by disappointment as she turned to go, though it has since occurred to me that she was obliged to go, having said good-bye. I paid my respects to Mrs Browning, who was very unlike any of the hostesses I had selected, and she was exceedingly kind ; but I could think of nothing but my deliverer, the beautiful girl with the merry, eyes and the sweet smile. I picked up a handkerchief which .lay at Mrs Browning's feet. It was not hers, she said, 'and-- 1- replied -that I would leave it in the dressing-room, that it would no doubt be called for. I knew that it belonged to my lovely protector, and I did not leave it; in the dressing-room. After the reception 1 assiduously made party calls on Mrs Browning, hoping to meet the beautiful being who had come to my assistance, but she did not appear. How should I find out about her? I did not know her name, only that the initials were E. A. She did not appear, and I began to fear that I should be reduced to saying to Mrs Browning, " Who was the young lady who said good-bye .to you 'just before I spoke to ,fou on the evoning of your reception ? Her initials are E. A. She is very beautiful, and evidently kind-hearted; with a well-developed sense of the ludicrous." But the happy thought cams to me to examine the photograph album. I opened it with trembling hands. There was her picture. "Ah!" I said, " who is this pretty girl, Cousin Browning ?" She replied: '-That is Ethel Arlington. She has gone to Europe, to be gone a year or more." That finished my series of party calls. I came home. Until 1 lately I did not know whether or not she had come back from Europe. Last Friday evening I went down to the Wiggins's fancy-dress ball.' 1 Then there were some Giltedges there,' remarked John Spruce, in an undertone. • What did you say, Spruce ? Nothing ? 1 just went down there tor fun — of course I wasn't invited — and I intended to slip away soon. It does not seem so much of a joke now.' 1 Well, Theodore, my boy, in the course of 28 years you ha\e been the hero of no end of unique exploits, but Ido not recall you ever doing anything &o meduuval as going unasked to a ball in a private house. But go on ; what else did you do in your rolo of modern Romeo ?' 'By Jove, John, you have hit it ! I found Juliet. I had no business to be there, much less to dance, but I did. I danced with a lovely girl in old Italian costume. There was something fascinating., about it. She seemed like someone" I knew, bat" I could not recognize her. I danced with her,, two or three times, , and suddenly she laughed and seemed to recognise me, though "she did not speak my name. When* the quadrille was finished we went into the conservatory. She took o/F her mask, and I was simply overcome to find that it was Ethel Arlington. I unmasked, of, course; and introduced myself, and : thatiked her foft coming to-my rescue at Mrs Brownings reception. She seemed glad to see me, and" we compared notes about what we had done since. She told me about her visit in Europe, and I told her that I had watched the steamer lists ever since to &cc when she returned, and nissed her flame after all. j I kept thinking that I oughtto go, but — ' • Parting is such sweet sorrow,' observed 'John. € Beg pardon, John ! You did not speak ? I had to tell her I had not been bidden to the feast, and when the company unmasked and I saw the Major and Mrs Wiggins : bearing down on us, I disappeared in the crowd to save Miss Arlington the embarrassment of presenting an uninvited guest. Now, in addition to having appeared in that erratic manner, comes this absurd item in the paper, and my subsequent idiotic behaviour at dinner. What do you think, John— is it a hopeless case?' • Hopeless ? Why, Theodore. I congratulate you once more. You ought to treasure that newspaper item, along with the handkerchief, in the jewel case. It has fought half the battle for you. By this time Miss Arlington has considered you as a possible fiance, and there's nothing like getting used to an idea. • Strike while the iron is hot ; go and make yourself master of the situation. The subject is opened up for you as gracefully as possible.' Then, dropping his usual jesting manner : ' I mean it, Theodore. Go and see her to-day, and propose to her as soon as possible. I wish you happiness, my dear fellow ;' and shaking him warmly by the hand, John Spruce left him without another word. On Sunday afternoon I walked up to the house where Miss Arlington was visiting, reflecting as I went on my reportorial misdeeds. On writing up lists of persons pies-

ent on notable occasions I had pufc in the i absent, the unasked, the dead, and left out ] personages of .stupendous ; _ I had once dubbed the Key.' Briestly ' Major,' and reported him on the wrong side of a temperance discussion ; I had dressed a debutante in black velvet, en Iraine, and her mother in white tulle ; I had reported the : inventor of a patent soup preparation, the chief of a hotel, as being prominent in a certain recherche social affair. These and similar crimes rose before me like Banquo's ghosts, and I had composed quite a cen-science-stricken apology for Miss Arlington's benefit by the time I found myself entering the drawing-room, in obedience to the servant's suggestion that Mies Arlington would bo there presently to see another visitor who awaited her. As I glanced around to see who the other visitor might be, I heard Miss Arlington's voice in the library adjoining. ' Ah, how do you do, Mr Wiggswell ? lam very glad to see you, Mamma and I were very sorry that you were obliged to leave the Copleys before we J came. How very strange this talk is,abou£ —about an engagement between us. Can you explain it at all ? It was oo very odd for us to appear in the Sunday " Chat." ' ' I cannot explain that, Miss Arlington, but I particularly want to apologize for seeming to confirm what I had no right to at dinner. It was stupid, very. I will tako pains to correct any false impressions I hear expressed to-morrow. It's all very awkward. I ' Suddenly his voice changed : ' Ethel, I wish it were true. I love you. Every one thinks we are engaged. (Suppose we don't deny it ?' ' Oh, we must deny it,' came the answer, in an astonished tone. Too bad I thought ; but then she added, so low that I scarcely hoard it, something which sounded like, At least for the present.' As I slipped out the door I glanced into the libraiy. Evidently Theodore had heard, and comprehended even better than I Ethel's confession, and it was not wholly the light of tho setting sun which had brought the colour to her cheeks. A ray of red gold sunshino fell like a happy omen on their clasped hands. On the doorstep I met John Spiuce, who asked why there were tears in my eyes, and at my suggestion turned to walk home with me instead of calling on Miss Arlington. ' John,' said I impressively, ' Ethel Arlington and Theodore Wiggswell will deny their engagement for the present !' ' What ! you don't mean that it's true, after all ? I know it isn't.' ' Yes,' I assured him ; ' their engage ment is soon to be announced. I was right, conwie toujours.' Then I explaiued mere fully and added, ' You see lam nob such a marplot- after all.' .John Spruce assured me that I- "was not a marplot, but he took the opportunity to urge me to give up my profession/ , and follow out other plans which he proposed. In fact, he said many things which suggested a state of mind similar to Mr ' Wiggswell's, and I found that changing the subject four times would not alter his train of thought. When we arrived home he accepted a far from pressing invitation to come in, de liberately -walked mtb the parlour, and said tvt v i i ' 1 Now, Priscilla Plume, it is no use to try to evade the SubjfecJ" an y longer. •' We have practi&eid^ about your ability to be indepervden**and mitre -to be patient long enough to have demonstrated them beautifully. 1 consider both propositions proved. I decline to act my role any more. You know lam going West next autumn. I want you to go with me. Shall we consider it "settled V I must have been thinking of Ethel Arlington to have replied, as John says I did, ' Well, yes, for the present. 5 He did not seem to think me nearly as obstinate as ysuaL an/1 when he said goo.d .evening, referred to some promise, which I suppose that there- ts' no doubt I had made, about tho last of June. -• i The months hastened by. In May I wrote a long description of the ' Wiggs-well-Arlington ' wedding. Tliat was my last reportorial woik. To-morrow, as the Sunday 'Chat' might please it, the marriage of Miss Pri»cilla Plume and "Mr John Spruce will be solemnized. -Mr-and Mrs Spruce will -go to the Adirondacks for a short trip, and next fall will settle in the West, where Mr Spruce will continue the practice of law.