Yes, with Pelham the dream was over, the fairy palace had crumbled. The heavenly music had dissolved in air. The world had suddenly grown bleak and cold and commonplace, but pride and common sense still remained.
“It seems to me,” said Pelham, in a quiet voice, after a pause, “that there isn’t much left for me to do. You and—Miss Brandon have agreed, and the Ambassador can no doubt get you two weeks more leave—” Pelham stopped with a choking in his throat which he had never felt before in all his life.
“But why don’t you congratulate me?” cried Darrell. They had been like brothers all their lives, and Pelham was to Darrell his other self; while Darrell was to Pelham a younger brother whose excellence of heart and delicacy of soul made up for a very meagre understanding.
“I do congratulate you,” said Pelham, grasping Darrell’s hand, the old habit of love and brotherly kindness overwhelming him. “I think Miss Brandon the most charming girl I ever knew. Any man is fortunate to get her. But I don’t think you are half good enough for her, Jack.”
“That is just what I think,” answered Darrell, with perfect sincerity. “But no man is good enough for her as far as that goes, and I am not the man to be running away from an angel; but there are lots of things to be attended to. I must give my whole time to Elizabeth, and I cannot ask the Ambassador to see about transportation, tickets, and transferring luggage. You must do that, and pay for it all; and I will pay you back when we get our respected aunt’s fortune—fifty years or more from to-day.”
“Of course I shall do all that is necessary,” replied Pelham, “and there will be plenty to do. Getting married is heavy business, and taking a girl away to India at a fortnight’s notice—How did you have the courage to ask so much of such a woman?”
“I don’t know. It happened, that’s all, and I was in heaven. I shall be there again to-morrow morning at eleven o’clock, when I shall see Elizabeth.” He spoke her name as if it were a saint’s name.
The two men sat talking for an hour or two. Darrell’s manner in speaking of his acceptance by Elizabeth was not gushing, but expressed a deep and sincere passion, which he told Pelham, with perfect simplicity, was the first and only love of his life; and Pelham believed him. After parting from Darrell, Pelham sat up until dawn, wrestling with his own heart; but when the day broke he had conquered his anguish. He saw that Elizabeth had possibly entered upon a thorny path by marrying Darrell. He saw all the pitfalls which awaited a young and beautiful woman, the wife of a subaltern in a foot regiment in India. He foresaw that Elizabeth’s charming freedom of manner, her flattering attitude towards men of all sorts and conditions, which might answer well enough in America, would probably be misunderstood by others more or less strict than herself, and he determined to be her friend, and felt sure that she would soon need one. Darrell was the best fellow alive, but he was not the man to manage that complicated problem, a pretty, vivacious, innocent, intelligent, admiration-loving American girl, without family or friends, cast loose at an Indian station.
In the afternoon of that day, Pelham paid his first call on Elizabeth as the prospective bride of Darrell. He thought her more love-compelling in her new relation of a promised bride than he had ever seen her before; her shyness, her pallor, her tears, her deep feeling, her constant remembrance of what her father would suffer, endeared her to Pelham, and yet her willingness, like the Sabine women of old, to go with the man she loved was deeply touching. It was a deliciously old-fashioned love match, both Elizabeth and Darrell looking forward to an uninterrupted honeymoon for the rest of their lives—Elizabeth quite as much so as Darrell. Pelham at this interview was kindness and sympathy itself, and even in the midst of her dream of love Elizabeth felt the serious value of such a friendship as this quiet, silent, rather ugly young officer, sparing of words, but full of tact, was offering her.