“An order from head-quarters to join my regiment immediately, to take command of a detachment to march within ten days for the Indian frontier—to put down an insurrection there!”
“No!” exclaimed the lady, in amazement.
“Yes, indeed, my good mother!” replied Archer Clifton, exultingly.
“No! You astonish me! Ordered upon active duty—upon distant and dangerous service at the very time you are about to be married! Call you that opportune—fortunate? I call it most inopportune, unfortunate!”
“Ah! madam, you do not know! What, and if my marriage were already broken off! Is it not lucky—I mean providential, that I can join my regiment immediately, and depart for a distant scene, and active service, in which I may forget the sorrow and the humiliation!”
“Your marriage broken off? What? Now, at the last moment? A marriage that has been looked forward to for so many years? To be broken off when every thing is ready! Impossible, it cannot be!”
“I assure you upon my word, madam, it is but too true!”
“Why—what—do you tell me?” exclaimed the lady, in increasing astonishment. “When did it happen? What caused it? Had Mr. Clifton anything to do with it?”
“It happened this evening after my return to Clifton. Mr. Clifton had nothing whatever to do with it—not having reached home at the time it occurred. It was occasioned by a most humiliating quarrel between myself and Miss Clifton!”
“Oh, a quarrel! A lovers’ quarrel! That is nothing! Though, in truth, it surprises me that the calm, proud Carolyn should descend to such a thing, as it does that my own son should deign to take a part in it. But it is really nothing! Such things occur in almost every courtship!”