“Egad! I never thought of that, sir,” said Mr. Kendal, after a pause. “I fear that I have placed her in a very awkward position.”
“Ay, sir; and the consequences may be that she will be snapped up by some adventurous person before you can put your fate to the test,” said the naval man, raising a warning finger. “I have heard of ladies throwing themselves into the arms of the next comer out of sheer chagrin at being disappointed by the man on whom they had set their affections.”
“That is a possibility that should not be neglected,” said Garrick. “But it was only on Monday that you fled. By rapid posting you may yet prevent such a calamity.”
He was beginning to tire of his game now that he had succeeded so well in it and so easily. The fooling of the man who had so completely succumbed to his art had no further interest for him. He only wanted to get rid of him. He was as capricious and as fickle as a child over the toys of its nursery.
“I shall lose no moment, be assured,” said Mr. Kendal. “I may still be in time. My hope in this direction is increased when I remember that the lady has been a widow for some years—to be exact, without being uncomplimentary, nine years. I remember when Mr. Nash died. 'Twas of pleurisy.”
“Do not reckon too confidently on that, sir,” said young Burney. “Nine years have not passed since she faced the company at the Wells, every one of which was surely pointing at her and asking in mute eloquence, 'What has become of Mr. Kendal?' But by posting without delay you may yet retrieve your error. Still, I confess to you that I have known of a lady who, out of sheer impatience at the delay of a lover whom she had hoped to espouse, married his rival after the lapse of twenty-four hours—ay, and when the belated gentleman arrived just after the ceremony, he furnished the wedding party with a succulent feast. She was the Queen of one of the islands that we visited in the company of Captain Cook, and the cockswain of our galley kept the pickled hand of the belated lover for many a day—the very hand which he had designed to offer the lady.”
“This simple and affecting narrative proves more eloquently than any phrases of mine could possibly do how a man may miss the happiness of his life by a hair's breadth,” said Garrick. “And the lesson will not be lost upon you, I am certain, sir.”
“Lud, Mr. Garrick, you do not mean to suggest that——”
“That the lady may make a meal off you on your late return, sir? Nay, Mr. Kendal. The Wells are still the Wells, not the South Seas; but on the whole I am disposed to believe that the scheme of revenge of the woman scorned is fiercer, though perhaps not, at first sight, so primeval, in the region of Chalybeate Waters than in a cannibal island of the South Seas. Therefore—there is no time to be lost. Fly to your charmer, sir, and throw yourself at her feet. She may be thinking over some punishment for your having placed her in a false position for some days; but do not mind that. You can always console yourself with the reflection that a rod in pickle is much more satisfactory than a hand in pickle. Fly, my dear friend, fly; every moment is precious. Take my word for it, joy awaits you at the end of your journey.”
“'Journeys end in lovers meeting,'” remarked Dr. Burney, with a slight suggestion of the setting of the words of the lyric by his old master, Dr. Arne.