Charley's Cure.

Otago Witness, Issue 1488, 22 May 1880, Page 25

Charley's Cure.

(Written for the Otago Witness.)

"That for granted, there always are, I believe, though in the present case I fancy they cannot be very serious ones ; perhaps you have not Been your "fate," or fear that the lady may bo obdurate ; is that it ?" " Not exactly," and Mr Charles Cavendish stroked his baby moustache, and smiled complacently ; " the fact is — but you must not think me vain."

" Certainly not, who could ? the insinuation would be outrageous."

Cavendish looked doubtful; could It be possible that his companion was "making fun " of him ? But no, Vernon Brooke's countenance was imperturbable and unruffled by the faintest smile, and the suspicion passed away as quickly as it had arisen. " You see, Veraon, the fact — "

" Jusfc so," said Brooke, " the fact— what ia the fact ? But I beg your pardon, do not lot me interrupt you. You were about to tell me why you do not comply with your uncle's wish, and take unto yourself a better half."

"My dear fellow, I can't ; and that's the truth. I have been so deuced attentive to three or four girls, gone so far that I have raised expectation, and — and — all that sorb of thing, deuced awkward, jou know."

"You don't mean to say that you have been making lovo to three or four girls at the same time ? Why, Charley, you are a parfeot Don Juau."

" A little in that way I must own ; but then—"

" When a fellow is bo handsome, and young ladies are so impressionable, what else oau

By Fabian Bell,

Author of "Stella." "The Big Nugget, &c" L, Charley, since that is the case, and your uncle ia desirous that you should marry I cannot conceive why you do not comply with his wish." •' There are objections, Vernon, my boy."

be expected ? Is not that what you would say ?" " Really, now, you are deuoed hard on a fellow, Vernon, Ton my life I mean nothing that is not quite commt il faut," " Of course not; but tell me, Charley, who are these damsels who wait so humbly for the toss of your handkerchief. Do I know any of them ?" "l am not sure. There are Clara Mayfield and Polly Strahan, and one or two others." " Indeed ! and so you say that these ladies are in love with you?" " Yes, certainly, they— l, but you won t split, Vernon ? Hang it all, .there is nothing meaner than to 'kiss and tell' It would not be fair to them, you know." " There is nothing to tell, to far as I can see," returned Brooke. "When is your uncle coming to England ?" " I don't know ; he has already left Australia, and may drop down upon us at any time. It will be rather awkward too, for I shan't: know the old boy from Adam : he left England when I was a baby." " And will line your pocket 3 pretty well when he returns ?"

" I expect bo ; but he is a bit crotchety, I fancy. However, I must contrive to fall in with his whims."

" Even to the extent of marrying one of your fair charmers to please him ! How you must wish to be a Turk or a Mormon, Charley, then you might wed the whole lot, and be saved the embarrassing choice ! Ah ! a happy thought occurs to me.^ Suppose we put up a lottery, and invite Jail the ladies to take tickets, the prize-holder to have the honour of becoming Mrs Charles Cavendish ?"

" Drop it, Vernon ! You needn't chaff a fellow like that ; I can't help it ; if the girla will fall in love with me, its not my fault, you know." "It's your misfortune, however, and that ia worse," laughed Brooke. "But tell me what you think of Voltigeur's ohances for the Sb. Leger." And the conversation drifted into another direction.

An hour later and Vernon stood in Miss Straban's morning- room.

" Well, Folly," he said, after oertain warm speeches and lover-like greetings had passed between him and his cousin— and promised bride, " and how long have you been suffering from an unrequited affection ?" "Unrequited? Oh I Vernon, what do you mean ?" And Polly flushed an indignant scarlet; "Ah ! you may well look confused ; it is a serious charge that I have jußt heard against you. That you haye — not broken a gentleman's heart : nothing half so decorous — but thrown away your own unasked and, I suppose I may add, undesired. Oh ! Polly, Polly ! how you have deceived me 1 I thought you true, and now — " " Vernon, you deserve to have your whiskers pulled. Bo talk sensibly for one moment, if you can." " I assure you, my dear, I never do anything else. Sir Walter's celebrated advice is quite thrown away upon me ; I have such a stock of sense, that no economy in the use of it is required." " Torment that you are 1" retorted Polly ; " don't you know I hate to be teased ?" " And I would not do anything you hated for all the world."

< ' Ah ! that's what you men always say. You promise what you never mean to perform, and offer what you have nob got. ''

"As I did when I offered you my heart some days back. Graceless coz ! to taunt me now with having offered you that which you had already stolen from me. But, alas ! why did you not tell me then that your heart was another's ?" "Another's? Whose?" "Charley Cavendish's, to be sure." A clear ringing laugh broke from Folly's lips. " How absurd !"

"You are not, however, the only martyr to his fascinations," continued her cousin, with much gravity. " Clara Mayflower is a fellow-victim, and— and one or two others." And in the last words the imitation was so perfect, the drawl, and the soft lisp so unmistakable, that Mi6sStrahan'fl merriment increased, and her companion was forced to join in it, aud then to tell her the story with full particulars. Folly waa amused, and at the same time indignant, for, as her cousin well knew, neither she nor her friend were in any way guilty or capable of the implied forwardness.

"He is an insolent, conceited puppy ! how dare he speak of us in such a manner ; how I wish we could make him suffer for it," cried both the girls, for Clara Mayfield was quickly summoned to the meeting. "That may be easily done. Listen !" and Vernon unfolded a plan which he had hastily formed, and which promised much fun for the conspirators, and no slight penance for the object of their displeasure. " It will do ! it will do;! I ' cried Polly, clapping her hands gleefully; "my Irish nurse, Biddy, will help us, and it will be a great success. Let us call her now, and arraDge the whole affair."

The same day, at evening. — Curtains were drawn over tha darkening windows, and bright lights burned over the table upon which the remnants of desert were still visible.

Charles Cavendish, the irresistable, the fascinating, the charming — in his own esti-mation—i-at cracking walnuts, and appeared lost in thought. Fortunately, or unfortunately, as the case may be, the power of reading unspoken thought is not possessed by the present writer, or I make little doubt that the sentiments of the solitary gentleman would have proved a highly enter taiaing, if not instruotlve, study, turning as they did upon unpaid bills in the present, and great expectations from the Australian uncle in the future ; varied by recollections of his many conquests, and of maidens breaking their hearts (of what brittle materials, like unbaked china, aome people's hearts rnuet be made) for his sweet sake.

Prom such day- dreams, an after-dinner nap proved a natural transition, and out of this Mr Cavendish was rudely awakened by the entrance of his man ; who, with sin unmistakable grin on his ugly face, announced : " A lady to see you, sir."

And ushering in the visitor, at once closed the door. Plainly dressed and closely veiled, the stranger at the same time invited and repelled the curiosity of her host, who, rising languidly from hia chair requested to know to what happy circumstance he " owed the honour of the fair lady's visit," " Sure an' if it's an honour, it's one ye're heartily welcome to," replied a soft Irish voice.

Tones so sweet and a figure so light must surely belong to a young and charming person even if her station were not the most distinguished ; and ere she proceeded to unfold her business, Charles entreated that she would put aside her veil. " Nay, honey. It's not to show me face I'm come, though may happen there's some uglier in Kerry, for that's me counthry."

" I cannot for a moment doubt that you are fair as you are young," returned the gentleman, gallantly ; "but why not bless one with the light of the bright eyes which are hidden behind that envious veil ?"

A slight tremor passed through her frame, and her voice quivered with some unrepressed emotion as she answered, " Oohone, yer honour, it's not becoming a gentleman like you, to palaver every girl you meet. What would the misthress say ?"

"Your misthress, my charmer, and who is Bhe?" "Ah now, ye know well enough, ye're only poking yer fun at me." " Not I, in truth ; I never jest." " Ah but ye're jesting now — not know my misthress, indade, and she to send me here wid a letter for ye. For says she ' Biddy, the post, and the .postman ain't safe to keep a saoret, but ye are,' says she, ' And give it into his own dear hands,' says she."

" A letter !" cried Charles - with some excitement. "An adventure ! a letter — give it to me."

"Ah but that won't do at all at all. If you don't know my misthres3 the letter can't be for ye, and I've brought it to the wrong Misther Cavendish, may toe."

"Oh no, that ia impossible, it must be for me, there is no other Mr Cavendish in this neighbourhood, so you had better hand it over at once."

"But if the miathress, bless her ! is unbeknown to ye ?" "Silly girl ! how can I tell whether I know her or not, until you tell me her name."

" Ah now, is it soft as butter ye think me? Ia it ? Will I spake theswate darlint's name, and she tell me to kape it sacret, no indade, I'd be worse than a Fenian." "But how can I know without ? " " Achushla ! yer honour's no that daft, ye know well enough." "I protest, 1 do not." "Ah then navoumeen, its laughing ye ate, gi' me the token, and the letter's yours." " A token ! what token ? The woman is mad. Who is your mistress ? who has sent you ? tell me at once ? I insist upon an answer. "

" Is it insist ye would. That's not beoommlng in a gintleman at all at all." And then drawing nearer to him, and linking her voice almost to a whisper, " ye might thrust me, I can kape a sacret." At this moment, and while the Irishwoman's head was suspiciously near to that of her companion, the door wan suddenly thrown open, and hastening to hia master, the servant exclaimed —

" Your uncle from Australia, sir ; he has arrived unexpectedly. I can't keep him down stairs; he is following me— he is here." This was a denouement. Charles started up, the woman threw herself upon her knees, ejaculating— " Hide me ? hide me ! don't let him find me."

" Get up and go — go instantly." "I can't — Idarn't. Don't cast me off— don't desert me," and she clung frantically to his coat.

"Halloa! halloa! What is all this? 1 ' cried a tall bearded stranger, who stood in the doorway, an amazed spectator of Charles confusion and his visitor's despair. "Upon my word, nephew Charles, this is a preity reception. What does all this mean ?" "I- 1 don't know, sir."

"Oh, indeed; but such mock innocence will not serve me. I can see as far into a millstone as most men. You have been making love to this young woman, is it not so ? " turning to her. "He called me young— and— and — charming," answered a trembling voice. " Just so, I thought so ; this is a pretty piece of work, Bir, very pretty." "Upon aay word, sir, I know nothing about this woman ; to the best of my belief I never saw her in my life before this evening." "Come, come, that is a good excuse; better own to your misdeeds honestly, like a man. I have heard of your libertine propensities, but I Ecarcely expected to see so speedy a proof of them. But even you would not be wicked enough to entice a complete stranger into your room. No, no ; bad as you are, I will not believe that. You have Been him before, my girl, have you not ? " "Often, often, yer honour!" and again she trembled. " And he has made love to you ? " " He called me a charmer, and— and — "

" I see, I see ; don't excite yourself, pray don't." • ' Sit down quietly there, while I talk to my nephew. This is a bad b isiness, sir ; a disgraceful, shameful business." " If you would only listen to me — if you would allow me to explain—"

" No, no, I will listen to no excuses— to no more falsehoods. I can see the whole case with half an eye. The girl has been deceived by you. One remedy remains — you must marry ber." "What ! jnarry an ignorant Irish Bervant, never."

" You forget yourself, sir. Those debts of which you have lightly spoken are, I hear, not very light in their amount. Do not think or hope that I shall Btand between you and dishonour, unless you obey my commands."

" What dishonour can equal the disgrace of such an alliance ?"

'' You should have thought of that before," was the atern reply. " But I swear to you I know nothing of her. I hive not oven seen her face," urged the exquisite.

"Take off your veil, girl," was the next command. Ie was done, and with a cry of horror Charles beheld, not the young fair countsnance, sparkling with Irish fun and beauty, he had expected ; but a plain, evea repulsive visage, scarred with the small-pox ; squinting eyes, cat-like in hue, and a tangled mop of reddish hair. "Aheml" muttered the uncle, "every man to his taste. She would not have been mine." " Nor is she mine. End this cruel joke, sir. Send her away." "As your bride, my boy, not otherwise. I wish we were in Scotland, that we could settle the matter at once. As it is I shall send for Jones, my solicitor, and make him draw up a solemn promise of marriage between you, something that shall bind yon tightly, slippery Lovelace as you are, and after three Sundays she shall be yours." Charles begged, entreated, protested, fairly wept. The Australian was obdurate. His favour, fortune, and a bride hideous as a gorgon on one side ; poverty, utter, irre* deemable, hopeless, dishonourable on the other. Charles yielded. Tha solicitor was sent for. "He will bind you tightly, never fear,' said the uncle." The unhappy young man sunk down in utter despair. " Better to die," he thought, but people cannot always die when life becomes inconvenient, neither could he. Hours passed on. The Anglo- Australian eat a good, dinner, and seemed to enjoy himself. The woman sat silent and watchful. A message was returned from the lawyer's that Mr Jones would ba with them in an hour. Charles made one more appeal. "Uncle, uncle, spare me, spare youMelf this dishonour." » The elder man thought for a moment, and then said quietly, "You have often boasted of your success with the sex, Charles ; now 'you Bhall put your f asoiuations to the test. If you oan induce one lady to promise you her hand tonight;, I will try and arrange thia matter some other way." Charles caught his hat. " Thanks, a thousand thanks, I have no fear, the difficulty is to choose. Polly, Clara, Mary, Fanny, either of them will be too glad to say yes. I will soon return with the good news." "Put down your hat, nephew Charles, write to the ladies each in turn, and to as many as you like, but you must not quit the room until this affair is settled." After some demur, the young man was obliged to yield, and sitting down be indicted a flaming love-letter to Miss Polly Strahan, offering his hand, heart, and fortune for her immediate acceptance. The answer speedily oame,;an unqualified refusal. " Try snother," suggested the unole. Charley did so, writing this time to Clara Mayfield, in a still more ardent strain. The delay in the receipt of this answer waa somewhat longer. The reply itself was more politely worded, but the substanoe was the same. "Miss (Mayfield deolined the honour." " Try again, my boy. You have over-rated your influence, it seems, or the ladies are not bo susceptible as you imagined." The letter now written, passionate and urgent as if every word ib contained had been true, was addressed to Fanny Morris. The answer was as the former ones had been, and crestfallen and ashamed, Charles deolined to try his fortune a fourth time. " Dear me, that is unfortunate ; but Jones will be here directly, he is later than his promise, but we may expect him now at any moment." " Fool that I have been," oried Charles, "but for my false vanity, and ridiculous boasting, thia would not have occurred. If ever a man deserved his fate, wretched as it is, I am the one." " That is just my opinion," said the uncle, "but if you were released from this dilemma you would be as vain and as boastful to-mor-row as you were yesterday." "Only try me." "I have a great mind to do so," returned the other, adding in a changed voice, " Charley, old fellow ; don't you know me ?" and in a moment a false beard and moustache were thrown aside, and Vernon Brooke stood confessed. " This is a sorry joke," said Charles, when the first excitement and confusion had passed away. "Nay," answered Brooke, in a serious tone; "it is but a slight revenge for the manner in which you have boasted to me and to others of your success with my affianced bride and her friends. Another man might have called you out, or brought an action. I could not so far forget the memory of our school- days, eld fellow, and preferred my own form of cure, which, I trust, will prove an effectual one." " And this woman, who is she ?" "Polly's old nurse. Both Polly and Clara were in the plot. Fanny, however, knew nothing, and her's was a bona fide answer. For the rest, I refer you to my fellow-con-spirators. It is just twelve, and too late for further explanations to-night. I fancy that after all, Mr Jones will not visit us. Come along, Biddy ; unless your handsome bridegroom wishes for a little more of your society. |No I that is bad taste, I protest ; good night, nephew Charles, and pleasant dreams to you ;" and with this Parthian shaft, Vernon Brooke's revenge was at an end. And thus Charley was cured of boasting, or if he was not, he ought to have been. A VENERABLE BISHOP. The oldeßt bishop in Catholic Christendom at present officiating— John, Archbishop of Tu&m, to wit— entered his 90bh year only on MoncUy last (writes " Atlas " in the World of March 17fch). And he still sails about the wild isles of the West, carrying his crozier, and preaching in the native tongue ; he holds hia monster stations on the hillsides, 'and takes care of the politics of hia archi3piscopal provinces I amS told that his Grace, who has lived and actod in more chapters of Hibernian history than any man of the age, is eDgaged in arranging his papers and his literary notes in snch a foroi that when— possibly early in the next century— he shall go over to the majority, hia memoirs may easily be written,