A MARINE MISTAKE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 50, 12 December 1891, Page 679

A MARINE MISTAKE.

Y ’VE got it,’ suddenly exclaimed Freddie Delamaine, Hinging away his cigarend, and bringing down his hand heavily on his friend’s knee. : ' • Got what?’ said the other, ejeing him doubtfully, and shifting his chair so as to i''A- put a little additional space between them. \ ‘ Why, an idea, of course. Look here, KffijlS dear boy. There's no other way out of the t mess you’re in. You must marry !’ i f ‘ Marry be hanged !’ replied Mr Marmap'TrW duke Mooney, peevishly. ‘ Who the ' i deuce will marry me, with the Jews at my heels, and less than a “monkey” to call my own in the world ?’ * Have you tried your uncle again !’ • Yes, I told you I had. The old brute is immovable. First he swore I shouldn’t have another sixpence while he lived, then he raved for half an hour about dissipation and the rest of it, and ended at last by showing me the door. He looked beastly well, too, confound him ; so it’s all up in that direction.’ ‘ Very well, old man ; you are at the end of your tether. As I said before, you must marry.’ ‘ And, as I said before, who the deuce will marry me ?’

* Oh, lots of girls. You’re not such a bad-looking chap, you know', Manny, although you do curl up a bit when a woman looks you in the face. But any sort of girl won’t do for you—you want one with money, and that’s what you have to find.’

‘That’s what I have to find,’ repeated Marrny, grinning incredulously. * Oh, you’d never find her, if you were left to yourself ; somebody will have to do it for you, so I suppose I must.’ ‘ You, Freddie ?’ • Yes, dear boy. I rather think I can put my hand on the very thing you want. You remember old Covington ?’ ‘ ‘ Rather; rum old chap, beastly rich. Died last year, didn’t he ?’

‘Yes, that’s the man. Well, he left a lot of his money in trust for his niece, who was under age when he died. This year she has come into her money, and I happen to know that she is staying at Eastbourne with my friends the Wilsons. She’s your girl, Marmy; the very thing.’ ‘ Yes, yes, old chappie, it sounds all very well; but what will she say about it ? Suppose we shall have to consult her first, eh ?’ And Marmy chuckled feebly at his own powers of sarcasm.

* Oh, that’ll be all right, dear boy. Faint what d’you-call-it never won fair what’s-its name. There’s nothing to do but to go in and win.’ • But I don’t even know the girl.’

• What a fellow you are for raising obstacles ! I know her, don’t I ? It’s all easy enough. Come down with me to Eastbourne, and I’ll call on the Wilsons and introduce you. Wish I could stay to see you through ; but you know I’ve promised to be off to the moors with old Grindley next week, so we’d better start at once. If you don’t pull it oil', it will be your own fault, mind, not mine.’

The next day found the two friends comfortably quartered at the Queen’s at Eastbourne, and in due course the Hon. Frederic Delamaine paid his respects to his friends the Wilsons at their pretty villa in Devonshire Place, and introduced to them and to Miss Ethel Covington his special and particular chum, Mr Marmaduke Mooney. Having thus accomplished his friendly mission, and having remained a day or two to watch over the ripening of the acquaintance he had been at such pains to initiate, Freddie took himself oil' to fulfil his engagement with Grindley and the moors.

•Stick to it, Marmy, old chappie,’ he said, as he shook hands with his friend at the railway station. ‘ Only your confounded shyness of women can stand in the way now. You’ve got the field all to yourself, and if you only make the most of your opportunities you’ll be able to send me news of victory before I come back from Scotland. Ta ta, and good luck !’ To do Marmy justice he did make the most of his opportunities. At a seaside place, where everyone congregates morning after morning upon the same half-mile of promenade, there is no difficulty in bringing about daily accidental rencontres with unfailing regularity, and Mr Mooney, despite a certain invincible nervousness in the presence of ladies, soon contrived to ingratiate himself with the Wilson party. He found Miss Covington an agreeable and decidedly good-looking girl, whose only perceptible drawback was a certain staid and rather prim air that did not render

his task any easier of accomplishment, and that threatened, at best, to ‘ prolong the agony ’ over an inconveniently protracted period. Marmy noticed this with some concern, for he could not afford to wait indefinitely for the prospective sharer of his fate and defrayer of his debts. However, despite her tendency to what. Mr Mooney, in a letter to his friend, described as the * maidenly reserve business,’ she at least showed no dislike for his society, and in the course of one or two excursions, in which he was invited to join the Wilson party, he managed to quietly show her a good deal of attention, which she did not appear by any means to resent. Afternoon tennis at Devonshire Park afforded him further opportunities, of which he was not slow to avail himself, and in the course of a fortnight he began to flatter himself that he was actually on the high road to success in the attainment of the object which his friend had set before him.

Just at this time, however, there was forwarded to him from town a letter of threatening import from one of his largest and most dreadful creditors, which convinced him that it was a case of * now or never,’ and that further delay would mean ruin to his chances. He must try his luck at once, he decided, as he flung the letter on the breakfast table and savagely decapitated an egg. Yesterday, amid the venerable bricks of Hurstmonceaux Castle, she had seemed to appreciate his attentions with more than ordinaiy cordiality ; and, besides, nothing but disaster could come of further postponement. Yes, it should be to-day. A couple of hours later he was nervously pacing up and down the hill by the Wish Tower, wondering how he should find or make an opportunity for the momentousdeclaiation. After much mental disturbance he decided that Devonshire Park in the afternoon would afl'ord the most likely chance for an unobserved tete-a-tete. In the meantime, he would

keep away from the Wilson party, lest his nervousness should somehow betray him. But what should he do to help kill the time? And he made his way down to the bathing-machines that stood in tempting array on the beach just below him. He had missed his usual ‘dip’ before breakfast that morning on account of the roughness of the sea. and a tussle with the waves now would invigorate him, and put him in good form for the fateful business of the afternoon.

The sea still looked a little angry as he stepped into his machine, and the hoarse voice of the charioteer who jolted him over the shingle warned him not to venture out far un less he was a good swimmer. The warning was a necessary one, for Marmaduke was not a good swimmer. As he climbed rather cautiously down the steps of the machine into the foaming billows below, he rather wished that he had hit upon some other way of passing his time. No sooner haa he reached the bottom of the steps than a big wave broke upon him, dashing him against the wheel of the machine with such violence as to leave him half-stunned. Before he could pull himself together, another wave took him, and he soon found himself receding from his machine and drifting helplessly through the surf, dazed by the buffeting he had received, and wholly unable to direct his course. To recover the machine and get back within its shelter at all cost was the object of his struggles, but being short sighted, and having taken off' his eyeglass with the rest of his ordinaiy apparel, it was difficult for him, with

the water streaming from his hair, to discover his exact whereabouts. At last, however, his desperate efforts were rewarded, for after what seemed a prolonged interval of battling with the rude waters, he found himself facing a machine with the number ‘ 5 ’ painted boldly above the portal. It was the number of his own machine, and, hailing the discovery with joy, he made his way with difficulty to the steps, climbed eagerly up them, and pushed open the door. As he did so, a sight met his gaze that seemed to petrify him with horror. Hanging from the various pegs, and scattered about the seats of the machine, were sundry dainty garments whose delicate laces and frills told of no masculine proprietor, and there, crouched in a corner, with a look of wild desperation on her face, a half stifled scienm on her lips, and a bath towel in the alaim of fear caught up, spread wide before her, was Ethel Covington, the uirl to whom he was to have proposed that afternoon. A little later in the day an express train conveyed to town a haggard, dejected looking wretch, who curled himself up in the corner of a compartment, and seemed to shrink from public notice. Since then, Mai madtike Mooney has been through the Bankruptcy Court, and Ethel Covington has become the wife of a Colonial Bishop.