‘That’s a young fellow, a captain from somewhere,’ continued my mate, ‘who is going to marry Miss Cleabyrn. He has got a lot of money. So has she. Sam Powell, who drives the night-mail, knows him, and told me all about it.’
As the speaker had no idea of the absurd state I was in, he took no particular notice of me, but changed the subject, and went on with some indifferent topic.
I was glad he did so, for although I had an utter contempt for myself and for my folly in allowing the conduct or the future of Miss Cleabyrn to excite me, yet I could not have conversed on such a theme as her marriage; while the knowledge that the person to whom I had been ridiculed—I felt sure of that—was her avowed lover, seemed to increase the bitterness of the sting tenfold.
I had ample opportunity of seeing that the report which I had heard was likely, at anyrate, to be founded in fact, as the stranger, the ‘captain from somewhere,’ remained a guest at Elm Knoll for fully a fortnight, during which time not a day passed without my seeing both him and Miss Cleabyrn, and sometimes more than once each day. So I came to know him by sight as well as I did her. He was a frank, handsome, young fellow; that I could see, and was obliged to own; and in his speech he was pleasant. This was shown by his stopping on two or three occasions, when riding alone, to ask me some questions, as I opened the gate for him.
I was sure he made these occasions, and at first disliked him for it; but I could not continue to bear ill-will against a man of such kindly open manners, so I relented, and, ere he left the neighbourhood, used to look forward with pleasure to seeing him. This was a sad falling-off from my previous lofty mood, and so was my accepting a cigar from him as he rode through. In fact, although I have no doubt ‘written myself an ass,’ as our old friend Dogberry would have said, yet at the worst I was not without some glimmering of sense, which saved me from making an absolute example of myself.
Even during the short time in which the captain—I did not know his name—was visiting at Elm Knoll, the heat and surge of my absurd passion had perceptibly moderated, and just then several circumstances combined to restore me to a right frame of mind.
After the captain’s departure, Miss Beatrice left home on a prolonged visit, so that I did not see her; and at the same time I met Patty Carr, who was, in her way, quite as pretty as Beatrice Cleabyrn, although not nearly so haughty; and my heart being specially tender and open to impression just then, I suppose, I speedily thought more of her than of the young lady at Elm Knoll. Indeed we were married the next year.
At the time I speak of, a good many things were in vogue, or at least had not died out, which have quite vanished now, and among these was duelling. Every now and then, a duel was fought; but the ridicule which attended bloodless meetings, and the greater activity of the police in cases where harm was done, were diminishing them greatly; yet still, they did occasionally happen. A great stir was made by a violent quarrel among some officers of a regiment quartered in Lancashire, in which a challenge to fight a duel had been given and refused. It was called in the papers of the day, ‘The Great Military Scandal,’ and arose in the following manner. A certain Major Starley had offered a gross insult to a young lady, on whom, it appeared, he had been forcing his attentions for some time; and her only relative, a half-brother, was in the same regiment with the major. The details were not pleasant, and it was no wonder that Captain Laurenston challenged the major; but the latter declined the challenge on some professional grounds; and when the parties met, high words passed. These commenced, it appeared, with the captain; but each became violent in the dispute, until at last the captain thrashed his antagonist in the presence of several officers. This was not a make-believe beating; a ‘consider-yourself-horsewhipped’ affair, but a right-down ‘welting,’ the major being badly cut and bruised. This was serious enough, anyhow; but what made it worse was that the officers were on duty at the time; and by the strict letter of military law, the captain would certainly be punished with death.
He had expected, it seems, that after so public and such a painful humiliation, he would infallibly receive a challenge from the injured officer; but it was not so. He was placed in arrest in the barracks, and expected to be brought to a court-martial. He heard, however, from some friendly source that it was intended to hand him over to the civil power, when he would be charged with an assault with intent to kill.
In those days, almost anything was transportable, and as Major Starley belonged to one of the most influential families in the kingdom, there was no doubt that the captain would be sent to a convict settlement. There was also no doubt that the prosecution would be conducted in the most vindictive spirit and pushed to the bitterest end.