Varney the Vampyre 129Mrs. Meredith’s Consultation with Mr. Twissel, and Her Resolve
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Literature · Horror
Varney the Vampyre 129
Mrs. Meredith’s Consultation with Mr. Twissel, and Her Resolve
RymerEnglish
Mrs. Meredith’s arrival was very opportune, for it broke off the interview; and Margaret descended to the parlour, where her mother she knew would repair the moment she had freed herself from her dress. Margaret was now left alone for a few moments. She felt all the exultation of success in a strategy, and all the exhilaration of spirits that such a prospect of wealth and riches floating before her eyes, and all the natural consequence upon such possessions would give rise to.
“I shall be rich,” she thought. “Aye, I shall not only be rich, but very rich—I know I shall. Well, he is old—no matter; better be an old man’s darling, than a young man’s slave. Yes; I shall know how to use wealth. I shall be able to spend a little of his countless hoards, and he will not thwart me, I am sure. He will be too fond—too doting, by far. I shall be indulged like a spoiled child, I am sure.”
Margaret smiled at the thought of what length the colonel might not be induced to carry his fondness for her.
“He will not set any value upon what will give me pleasure. I am sure he will give me all I ask. I have but to ask him for what I want, and he must comply. I am sure he is too easy—too quiet and generous to make a moment’s hesitation.”
The colonel, too, was left to his reflections, but as to what they were we know not. He sat long, silently gazing at the fire.
Mrs. Meredith now entered the apartment, and, looking at her daughter, she said,—
“Eh? something been said, Margaret? I can see by your eye that the colonel has said something to you. Am I not right, my dear?”
“Yes, ma’; you are right.”
“Well, my love, and what did he say? I am dying with curiosity.”
“It will be quite impossible to do that; but he has been quite explicit enough, without any hesitation at all, or any reserve—quite candid and open.”
“He has offered?”
“Yes; he wishes for your consent; for I told him I could not possibly decide without your consent and countenance. He did not disapprove of that, only he wished to propitiate you in his favour, and begged me to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that he had my good wishes, and that I could look upon him in a warmer light than a mere friend.”
“Which I hope you did?”
“Yes, ma’. I let him imagine that I was not indifferent to his good opinion; but, at the same time, I would not commit myself, but left him to infer a good deal. I think I know, ma’, how to manage such an affair well—I may say, very well.”
“Exactly, my love. I was sure you would.”
“Yes, ma’; I should think I did. For when I found he had proceeded a certain distance, I was resolved that he should speak out plump at once; and when I found he paused, I paused too, and he was compelled to explain; but he betrayed no unwillingness, or anything like hesitation at all, but he has fairly proposed himself to me.”
“And you have not committed yourself?”
“Not in the least.”
“Very well. I must be cautious, too not to do so; because I must have some conversation with Mr. Twissel, so that we may proceed in a safe manner, and not commit ourselves in any way as we shall repent of afterwards.”
“How do you mean?”
“Why, child, you would not marry the colonel if he was not a rich man.”
“Not exactly; though I must admit, ma’, he is a very nice man—a very nice man, and I should be entitled to a widow’s pension, if nothing more, and that I might not have under some circumstances; even you yourself have been left worse off, you see.”
“Yes, my child; but circumstances alter cases. I had a better prospect when I first married, else I would not have done so, you may depend upon it. However, we can always retrace our steps, and he cannot. But I will get Mr. Twissel to come and see into matters a bit for us.”
“Well, ma’, you shall do as you think fit—only, take care not to throw away a good chance because you have greater hopes.”
“Has he said anything about his property?”
“Not a word, except it was to intimate it was large, and he had won it very hardly, with great danger; but he did not say what it consisted of. Of course I could not ask.”
“Oh, dear, no.”
“But he intimated he would keep a carriage, and a country house, as well as a town house, besides several other matters, which makes it plain enough he has been used to plenty; besides, as he spoke to me in describing some scenes in India, he appeared so much animated that I am sure he must be what he appears to be, and what he says he is.”
“Ah, well, I think myself it is all quite right, and that we shall have nothing to repent there; but we will let all go on but the naming of the day—that must not be named, for, if we do, we shall not be able to retract.”
“Oh, no, we shall not have any occasion to do that, I think; but I dare say he will speak to you to-night, as there is time at supper especially.”
“No doubt. You may as well retire early, so that you may be absent, and that will give us greater liberty to talk than if you were present, my dear. I wish Mr. Twissel were here; but it can’t be helped; and when he does come, I must have some conversation with him, and I must, in the meantime, learn what I can for him to inquire about afterwards.”
Thus resolved, Margaret went to bed early, leaving her mother to attend upon the colonel, who sat looking at the fire without any change of posture since the last time he was seen by the girl; but Mrs. Meredith caused him to break the steady gaze and deep thought he was indulging in.
“I hope you have been quite well, colonel, since I left?”
“Yes, quite well, Mrs. Meredith.”
“What would you choose for supper?”
“Margaret——”
“Eh?” said Mrs. Meredith, amazed.
“I beg your pardon; I did not know you were near—at least, I did not know I spoke at the moment; but, pray, what did you desire to know?”
“What you would have for supper, sir?”
“Oh, whatever you have at hand; some of what we had for dinner—I think I should like it as soon as you feel disposed to have it. I am ready—quite ready.”
“Then it shall be had at once, sir,” said Mrs. Meredith; “I will order it up immediately, for it is later than I intended to have stopped out; but the hours so soon ran away, and there were so many motives to forget the time that was flying so fast.”
The supper was soon laid, and the colonel and Mrs. Meredith alone sat down to it, at his earnest request. Indeed, they used to have meals much in common; for the colonel professed to be very fond of female company, and was desirous of their company, which they translated into a desire for the presence of Margaret herself.
The supper was laid and over before the colonel said anything; but appeared to be absorbed in deep thought, from which it was difficult to arouse himself. But at length, after looking around once or twice, and not seeing Margaret at table, he said to Mrs. Meredith,—
“I hope I have not driven your daughter away.”
“Oh, no, sir; she complains of headache, and has gone to bed somewhat earlier than usual.”
“I fear I must lay the blame on myself.”
“She did not say you were the cause,” replied Mrs. Meredith, “of her ailment; and, therefore, I think you must be free from blame; for she would have said so, if it had so happened. She generally speaks the truth in such matters, at least, and, I believe, in every other.”
“No doubt; but I have been speaking upon a subject that concerns my own happiness to her, and perhaps the excitement may have caused her some evil of that sort. She would not, perhaps, name it to you, Mrs. Meredith; but I will. You have been a wife yourself, and know that a few candid words are better, and more to the purpose, than a long desultory courtship.”
“Yes, sir; it certainly is so.”
“There is some difference, too, in our ages,” said the colonel. “I have not overlooked that matter, at all events; but I hope that will be no cause of impediment or objection.”
“It cannot be, sir, in such a case as your own, for instance.”
“Well, then, I have proposed for her husband. I wish to make her my wife. I am yet hale and hearty, and have some few years yet which I could wish to pass in happiness, and which I will use to make her happy. And if I die early, I have ample means of providing for her—of leaving her a most handsome and ample fortune. Not more than she deserves; but possibly more than she might have thought of seeking.”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Then I wish for your consent to our future happiness.”
“You may have my good wishes,” said Mrs. Meredith.
“You are very good,” said the colonel; “and I trust your daughter will live long to make you happy by making her own apparent to you.”
“Of course,” said Mrs. Meredith, “this is rather a sudden affair; you will not think of hurrying it to a conclusion, but permit her to become acquainted with you, and to know her own mind.”
“Certainly, I do wish it pushed on to a conclusion; but not so much so as to cause any dissatisfaction. I am anxious to call her wife. My feelings are those of an ardent lover.”
“I do not dispute it.”
“Still you and she must be the best judges of all this. You will not, I hope, punish me by compelling me to a longer probation than you are compelled to put me to. I am not like a young man who has a fortune, or rather a living to earn; but I have one ready, a handsome one, and my wife will be a lady of fortune when I die.”
“Do not think of dying at such a moment, sir.”
“Why, it is not desirable,” said the colonel, who did not deem it necessary to carry the conversation on any further that night; thinking, possibly, enough had been said for the first occasion of revealing his passion, and he, no doubt, considered his success signal.
The supper then passed off in the usual style, and Mrs. Meredith left the colonel, and wished him good night, with feelings somewhat akin to triumph, and returned to her own daughter’s room, there to cogitate and sleep upon what had that evening taken place.
The next day she determined to send to Mr. Twissel, and arrange the meeting she desired; and, at the same time, she resolved that she would not push matters to the extremity, of making a point of knowing what his property were, for she might lose all; she was convinced that the colonel must be a man of large property; how could such a man live if he were not.
That was a speculation she could not help indulging in. She knew that a man in Colonel Deverill’s line of life was quite able to support himself; besides, the jewels he had about him were worth a large sum of money; putting all things together, she considered it was not worth while to lose so good, so excellent an opportunity as the present for making a brilliant, at least, an excellent settlement for her daughter, and a home for herself.
“There can be no fear,” she muttered; “there can be no fear; her widow’s pension will be a better support to her than the livelihood of some.”
Mr. Twissel was sent for; and, the papers she desired to find for him, she was fortunate enough to discover, and laid them by at once. The attorney came willingly enough, and was well pleased when he was informed of the success of the search after the papers, and produced the bond, by which she agreed to give him one hundred pounds for his assistance in the marriage affair.
However, he did not seem to agree with her, that she should not be over particular about the colonel’s property; he thought that there must be some inquiries made respecting it, to ascertain if there were any or none.
“But,” suggested Mrs. Meredith, “the colonel is a kind, but a proud man, and he would, probably, take great and deep offence at any inquiry being made into his pecuniary affairs.”
“Hardly, my dear madam; don’t you see, love would be strong enough to counterbalance that; he would make some allowance for paternal anxiety and love.”
“There is much reason in all that; yet I have heard so much of these nabobs, that one is afraid to lose a good chance by inadvertently touching their weak points; for, the kind of society and company they have, theirs is so different to what they find here.”
“Yes, that is very true; but we should like to know that it is true. What service has he been in—I think, though, you said in the East India Service?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, I will make some inquiries at the house; they will answer my inquiries, and no one will even be the wiser for it; they will, at least, tell me if there is such a person in the service, and, perhaps, I can learn something more.”
“Very well, that may be done. Will you come round with me to tea this evening, as I will contrive to bring you in the presence of Colonel Deverill, whom you will then see and converse with? I am not sure of it, but I will try to do so.”
“I will be here,” said the attorney; “and, in the mean time, I will make the necessary inquiries.”
They parted upon this mutual good understanding; and the attorney, in high spirits, for the papers were of great value to him, and the promised reward was a stimulus to a greater exertion on behalf of Mrs. Meredith and her daughter, for he thought he could do business for the Colonel, after this affair was settled—such an opportunity of increasing his connection did not offer every day.
Mrs. Meredith redoubled her assiduity about the person of Colonel Deverill; and, at the same time, lost no opportunity of putting her daughter forward; nor was that daughter a bit disinclined to take such opportunity as was offered her, of making the most of herself on this occasion, to appear amiable, and in some new and languishing position, or to perform some new service for the colonel.
