Old friends and new fancies

by Sybil G. Brinton

"Is it true then," asked Fitzwilliam, summoning all his fortitude, "that Sir Walter Elliot is going to be married?"

"Perfectly true," rejoined Captain Ross and his companion, "and you know to whom—that lady in the box with him now."

Colonel Fitzwilliam had no need to look; it was enough to know that the worst he dreaded was about to befall. His friends seemed to notice nothing in his agitated manner of asking "Are you sure?" in such haste were they to pour out their information.

"Yes, it has been talked of for a long time, but is quite settled now. I was in the club last night when Elliot was having supper there, and he told us all to drink to his health to-day, for he would be the happiest man in the world. So that party up there is doubtless celebrating the betrothal."

"Besides, do you not recollect," added Captain Ross, "that when I met Miss Elliot the other night she told me her father would probably have some legal business to arrange, when Mr. Crawford returned from Paris, and then, she hoped, would come the announcement of a happy event? Crawford is there now, you see."

"The legal business in this case may include a settlement to be made on Elliot himself," laughed the other officer. "Can you understand people advertising their affairs so freely beforehand? He must have had reason to feel pretty confident. Well, I shall always think it a great shame. Miss Crawford is much too good for him, but it is not the first time she has played with a man in this way, and now, I suppose she finds herself too much involved to draw back, or Elliot has been sharp enough to make sure of her, unlike that dilatory young Bertram."

"Why, yes, besides being presumably a better bargain than a mere country parson," added Captain Ross. "I imagine they will live at Kellynch. When I last saw Wentworth he told me his sister, the tenant, was just leaving."

Fitzwilliam felt as if he could not bear more of this, but, making a great effort, he turned once more to Mr. Palmer and asked if he thought the rumour to be true. Mr. Palmer looked at him in some surprise.

"Yes, certainly, why not? There is not the slightest reason to doubt it. We have the evidence of our eyes and the word of one of the principal parties. My wife and her mother are going to call to-morrow and offer their congratulations."

Colonel Fitzwilliam hardly knew how he got away, what his three friends thought of him, or what General Stuart, whom he had met outside the lobby, could comprehend of his excuses for his abrupt departure. He only knew that he could not return to his place, watching the woman who possessed his whole heart in the company of the lover to whom she had promised herself. He must be alone, in the darkness and silence, to brace himself to endure the shock of what he had heard and realize all that would follow from it. He hastened through the streets, and shut himself up in his rooms, conscious only that this was a defeat, not a mere repulse such as he had received at Bath, but a defeat the completeness and finality of which admitted no rally on the losing side. Long he paced his room, struggling to fight down the anguish of his mind and to see clearly through his utter wretchedness what had happened and how. Even in the midst of his sufferings it was not difficult for him to piece together all the items of his knowledge into a connected whole. She had wearied of him at Bath; that must have been the beginning of it; he had not been able to gain her affection in a sufficient degree for it to be proof against Lady Catherine's attack. That catastrophe had swept him, equally with his cousins, away from whatever place he had held in Mary Crawford's esteem; and when he met her again in London, and could resume his efforts to recover that place, it was already occupied.