Frivolous Cupid | Page 8

at Colonel Holborow's. Dinner was
over--had, in fact, been over for some time--the hour of smoke, whisky,
and confidence had arrived, and we had been telling one another the
various reasons which accounted for our being unmarried, for we were
all bachelors except the colonel, and he had, as a variety, told the
reasons why he wished he was unmarried (his wife was away). Jack
Dexter, however, had not spoken, and it was only in response to a
direct appeal that he related the following story. The story may be true
or untrue, but I must remark that Jack always had rather a weakness for
representing himself on terms of condescending intimacy with the
nobility and even greater folk.
Jack sighed deeply. There was a sympathetic silence. Then he began:
"For some reason best known to herself," said Jack, with a patient

shrug of his shoulders, "the Duchess of Medmenham (I don't know
whether any of you fellows know her) chose to object to me as a suitor
for the hand of her daughter, Mary Fitzmoine. The woman was so
ignorant that she may really have thought that my birth was not equal
to her daughter's; but all the world knows that the Munns were yeomen
two hundred years ago, and that her Grace's family hails from a stucco
villa in the neighborhood of Cardiff. However, the duchess did object;
and when the season (in the course of which I had met Lady Mary
many times) ended, instead of allowing her daughter to pay a series of
visits at houses where I had arranged to be, she sent her off to
Switzerland, under the care of a dragon whom she had engaged to keep
me and other dangerous fellows at a proper distance. On hearing of
what had happened from George Fitzmoine (an intimate friend of mine),
I at once threw up my visits and started in pursuit. I felt confident that
Lady Mary was favorably inclined (in fact, I had certain proofs
which--but no matter), and that if I won her heart I could break down
the old lady's opposition. I should certainly have succeeded in my
enterprise, and been at this moment the husband of one of the most
beautiful girls in England, but for a very curious and unfortunate
circumstance, which placed me in an unfavorable light in Mary's eyes. I
was not to blame; it was just a bit of bad luck.
"I ranged over most of Switzerland in search of Lady Mary. Wherever I
went I asked about her, and at last I got upon the track. At Interlaken I
found her name in the visitors' book, together with that of a Miss Dibbs,
whom I took to be the dragon.
I questioned the porter and found that the two ladies had, the afternoon
before, hired a carriage and driven to a quiet little village some fifteen
miles off, where there was a small but good inn. Here they evidently
meant to stay, for letters were to be sent after them there for the next
week. The place was described to me as pretty and retired; it seemed,
therefore, an ideal spot for my purpose. I made up my mind at once. I
started the next day after luncheon, took the journey easily, and came in
sight of the little inn about seven o'clock in the evening. All went well.
The only question was as to the disposition of Miss Dibbs toward me. I
prayed that she might turn out to be a romantic dragon; but, in case she
should prove obstinate, I made my approaches with all possible caution.
When my carriage stopped at the door I jumped out. The head waiter, a

big fellow in a white waistcoat, was on the steps. I drew him aside, and
took a ten-franc piece from my pocket.
"`Is there a young lady staying here?' I asked. `Tall, fair, handsome?'
and I slid the piece of gold into his palm.
"`Well, yes, sir,' he said, `there is a young lady, and she is all that you
say, sir. Pardon me, Monsieur is English?'
"`Yes,' said I.
"`Ah,' said he, smiling mysteriously. `And it is Wednesday.'
"`It is certainly Wednesday,' I admitted, though I did not see that the
day of the week mattered much.
"He came close to me and whispered:
"`The lady thought you might come, sir. I think she expects you, sir. Oh,
you can rely on my discretion, sir.'
"I was rather surprised, but not very much, for I had hinted to George
Fitzmoine that I meant to try my luck, and I supposed that he had
passed my hint on to his sister. My predominant feeling was one of
gratification. Mary loved me! Mary expected me! There was complete
mental sympathy between Mary and myself!