The Child Wife

The superscription was in the handwriting of a gentleman. It was new to him. There was nothing strange in that. An author fast rising into fame, he was receiving such every day.

But he started on turning the envelope to tear it open. There was a crest upon it he at once recognised. It was the crest of the Vernons!

Not rudely now was the cream-laid covering displaced but carefully, and with hesitating hand.

And with fingers that shook like aspen leaves, did he spread out the contained sheet, also carrying the crest.

They became steadier, as he read: —

“Sir, —

“Your last words to me were: – ‘I hope the time may come when you will look less severely on my conduct!’ Mine to you, if I remember aright, were ‘NOT LIKELY!’

“Older than yourself, I deemed myself wiser. But the oldest and wisest may be at times mistaken. I do not deem it a humiliation to confess that I have been so, and about yourself. And, sir, if you do not think it such to forgive my abrupt – I should rather say, barbarous – behaviour, it would rejoice me once more to welcome you as my guest. Captain Maynard! I am much changed since you last saw me – in the pride both of spirit and person. I am upon my deathbed; and wish to see you before parting from the world.

“There is one by my side, watching over me, who wishes it too. You will come!

“George Vernon.”

In the afternoon train of that same day, from London to Tunbridge Wells, there travelled a passenger, who had booked himself for Sevenoaks, Kent.

He was a gentleman of the name of Maynard!

Chapter Eighty Three.

Both Pre-engaged

Scarce a week had elapsed since that somewhat lugubrious interview between Count Roseveldt and Captain Maynard in the room of the latter, when the two men once more met in the same apartment.

This time under changed circumstances, as indicated in the countenances of both.

Both seemed as jolly and joyous as if all Europe had become republican!

And not only seemed it, but were so; for both of them had reason.

The Count had come in. The Captain was just going out.

“What luck!” cried the latter. “I was starting in search of you!”

“And I’ve come in search of you! Captain, I might have missed you! I wouldn’t for fifty pounds.”

“I wouldn’t have missed you for a hundred, Count! I want you in a most important matter.”

“I want you in one more important.”

“You’ve been quarrelling, Count? I’m sorry for it I’m afraid I shall not be able to serve you.”

“Reserve your regrets for yourself. It’s more like you to be getting into a scrape of that kind. Pardieu! I suppose you’re in one?”

“Quite the reverse! At all events, if I’m in a scrape, as you call it, it’s one of a more genial nature. I’m going to be married.”

“Mein Gott! so am I!”

“She’s consented, then?”

“She has. And yours? I needn’t ask who it is. It’s the yellow-haired child, I suppose?”

“I once told you, Count, that child would yet be my wife. I have now the felicity to tell you she will.”

“Mère de Dieu! it is wonderful. I shall henceforth believe in presentiments. I had the same when I first saw her!”

“Her? You mean the future Countess de Roseveldt? You have not told me who is destined for your honour?”

“I tell you now, cher capitaine, that she is the prettiest, dearest, sweetest little pet you ever set eyes on. She’ll give you a surprise when you do. But you shan’t have it till you’re introduced to her right in front of the altar; where you must go with me. I’ve come to bespeak you for that purpose.”

“How very odd! It was for that I was going to you.”

“To engage me for best man?”

“Of course; you once consented to be my second. I know you won’t refuse me now?”

“It would be ungrateful if I did – requiring from you a similar service. I suppose you consent to reciprocate?”

“By all means. You may count upon me.”

“And you upon me. But when are you to be ‘turned off’ as these Britishers term it?”

“Next Thursday, at eleven o’clock.”

“Thursday at eleven o’clock?” repeated the Count in surprise. “Why, that’s the very day and hour I am myself to be made a benedict of! Sacré Dieu! We’ll both be engaged in the same business then at the same time! We won’t be able to assist one another!”

“A strange coincidence!” remarked Maynard; “very awkward too!”

“Peste! isn’t it? What a pity we couldn’t pull together?”

Of the hundreds of churches contained in the great city of London, it never occurred to either, that they might be married in the same.

“What’s to be done, cher capitaine?” asked the Austrian. “I’m a stranger here, and don’t know a soul – that is, enough for this! And you – although speaking the language – appear to be not much better befriended! What’s to be done for both of us?”

Maynard was amused at the Count’s perplexity. Stranger as he was, he had no fears for himself. In the great world of London he knew of more than one who would be willing to act as his groomsman – especially with a baronet’s daughter for the bride!

“Stay!” cried Roseveldt, after reflecting. “I have it! There’s Count Ladislaus Teleky. He’ll do for me. And there’s – there’s his cousin, Count Francis! Why shouldn’t he stand up for you? I know you are friends. I’ve seen you together.”

“Quite true,” said Maynard, remembering; “Though I didn’t think of him, Count Francis is the very man. I know he’ll consent to see me bestowed. It’s not ten days since I assisted in making him a citizen of this proud British Empire, in order that he might do as I intend doing – marry a lady who ranks among the proudest of its aristocracy. Thank you, my dear Count, for suggesting him. He is in every way suitable; and I shall avail myself of his services.”

The two parted; one to seek Count Ladislaus Teleky, the other Francis, to stand sponsors for them in that ceremony of pleasant anticipation – the most important either had ever gone through in his life.

Chapter Eighty Four.