Tales and Novels Volume IX Part 40

Though he seemed to have talked without any design, except to amuse himself and the company in general, yet in all he had said there had been a prospective view to his object. He chose his means well, and in Mademoiselle he found, at once, a happy dupe and a confederate. Without previous concert, they raised visions of Parisian glory which were to prepare the young lady's imagination for a French lover or a French husband. M. de Connal was well aware that no matter who touched her heart, if he could pique her vanity.

After dinner, when the ladies retired, old Mr. Connal began to enter upon the question of the intended union between the families--Ormond left the room, and Corny suppressed a deep sigh. M. de Connal took an early opportunity of declaring that there was no truth in the report of his going to be married in England: he confessed that such a thing had been in question--he must speak with delicacy--but the family and connexions did not suit him; he had a strong prejudice, he owned, in favour of ancient family--Irish family; he had always wished to marry an Irish woman--for that reason he had avoided opportunities that might have occurred of connecting himself, perhaps advantageously, in France; he was really ambitious of the honour of an alliance with the O'Shanes.

Nothing could be more fortunate for him than the friends.h.i.+p which had subsisted between his father and Mr. O'Shane.--And the promise?--Relinquish it!--Oh! that, he a.s.sured Mr. O'Shane, was quite impossible, provided the young lady herself should not make a decided objection--he should abide by her decision--he could not possibly think of pressing his suit, if there should appear any repugnance: in that case, he should be infinitely mortified--he should be absolutely in despair; but he should know how to submit--cost him what it would: he should think, as a man of honour, it was his part to sacrifice his wishes, to what the young lady might conceive to be for her happiness.

He added a profusion of compliments on the young lady's charms, with a declaration of the effect they had already produced on his heart.

This was all said with a sort of nonchalance, which Corny did not at all like. But Mademoiselle, who was summoned to Corny's private council, gave it as her opinion, that M. de Connal was already quite in love--quite as much as a French husband ever was. She was glad that her brother-in-law was bound by his promise to a gentleman who would really be a proper husband for her niece. Mademoiselle, in short, saw every thing _couleur de rose_; and she urged, that, since M. de Connal had come to Ireland for the express purpose of forwarding his present suit, he ought to be invited to stay at Corny Castle, that he might endeavour to make himself acceptable to Dora.

To this Corny acceded. He left Mademoiselle to make the invitation; for, he said, she understood French politeness, and _all that_, better than he did. The invitation was made and accepted, with all due expressions of infinite delight.

"Well, my dear Harry Ormond," said Corny, the first moment he had an opportunity of speaking to Harry in private, "what do you think of this man?"

"What Miss O'Shane thinks of him is the question," said Harry, with some embarra.s.sment.

"That's true--it was too hard to ask you. But I'll tell you what I think: between ourselves, Black Connal is better than White, inasmuch as a puppy is better than a brute. We shall see what Dora will say or think soon--the aunt is over head and ears already: women are mighty apt to be taken, one way or other, with a bit of a c.o.xcomb. Vanity--vanity! but still I know--I suspect, Dora has a heart: from me, I hope, she has a right to a heart. But I will say no more till I see which way the heart turns and _settles_, after all the little tremblings and variations: when it points steady, I shall know how to steer my course. I have a scheme in my head, but I won't mention it to you, Harry, because it might end in disappointment: so go off to bed and to sleep, if you can; you have had a hard day to go through, my poor honourable Harry."

And poor honourable Harry had many hard days to go through. He had now to see how Dora's mind was gradually worked upon, not by a new pa.s.sion, for Mr. Connal never inspired or endeavoured to inspire pa.s.sion, but by her own and her aunt's vanity. Mademoiselle with constant importunity a.s.sailed her: and though Dora saw that her aunt's only wish was to settle in Paris, and to live in a fine hotel; and though Dora was persuaded, that for this, her aunt would without scruple sacrifice her happiness and that of Harry Ormond; yet she was so dazzled by the splendid representation of a Parisian life, as not to see very distinctly what object she had herself in view. Connal's flattery, too, though it had scarcely any pretence to the tone of truth or pa.s.sion, yet contrasting with his previous indifference, gratified her. She was sensible that he was not attached to her as Harry Ormond was, but she flattered herself that she should quite turn his head in time. She tried all her power of charming for this purpose, at first chiefly with the intention of exciting Harry's jealousy, and forcing him to break his honourable resolution. Harry continued her first object for some little time, but soon the idea of piquing him was merely an excuse for coquetry. She imagined that she could recede or advance with her new admirer, just as she thought proper; but she was mistaken: she had now to deal with a man practised in the game: he might let her appear to win, but not for nothing would he let her win a single move; yet he seemed to play so carelessly, as not in the least to alarm, or put her on her guard. The bystanders began to guess how the game would terminate: it was a game in which the whole happiness of Dora's life was at stake, to say nothing of his own, and Ormond could not look on without anxiety--and, notwithstanding his outwardly calm appearance, without strong conflicting emotions. "If," said he to himself, "I were convinced that this man would make her happy, I think I could be happy myself." But the more he saw of Connal, the less he thought him likely to make Dora happy; unless, indeed, her vanity could quite extinguish her sensibility: then, Monsieur de Connal would be just the husband to suit her.

Connal was exactly what he appeared to be--a gay young officer, who had made his own way up in the world--a pet.i.t-maitre, who had really lived in good company at Paris, and had made himself agreeable to women of rank and fortune. He might, perhaps, as he said, with his figure, and fas.h.i.+on, and connexions, have made his fortune in Paris by marriage, had he had time to look about him--but a sudden run of ill-fortune at play had obliged him to quit Paris for a season. It was necessary to make his fortune by marriage in England or Ireland, and as expeditiously as possible. In this situation, Dora, with her own and her aunt's property, was, as he considered it, an offer not to be rashly slighted; nor yet was he very eager about the matter--if he failed here, he should succeed elsewhere. This real indifference gave him advantages with Dora, which a man of feeling would perhaps never have obtained, or never have kept.

Her father, though he believed in the mutable nature of woman, yet could scarcely think that his daughter Dora was of this nature. He could scarcely conceive that her pa.s.sion for Harry Ormond--that pa.s.sion which had, but a short time before, certainly affected her spirits, and put him in fear for her health--could have been conquered by a c.o.xcomb, who cared very little whether he conquered or not.

How was this possible? Good Corny invented many solutions of the problem: he fancied one hour that his daughter was sacrificing herself from duty to him, or complaisance to her aunt; the next hour, he settled, and with more probability, that she was piqued by Harry Ormond's not showing more pa.s.sion. King Corny was resolved to know distinctly how the matter really was: he therefore summoned his daughter and aunt into his presence, and the person he sent to summon them was Harry Ormond.

"Come back with them, yourself, Harry--I shall want you also."

Harry returned with both the ladies. By the countenance of Cornelius O'Shane, they all three augured that he had something of importance to say, and they stood in anxious expectation. He went to the point immediately.

"Dora, I know it is the custom on some occasions for ladies never to tell the truth--therefore I shall not ask any question that I think will put your truth to the test. I shall tell you my mind, and leave you to judge for yourself. Take as long or as short a time to know your own mind as you please--only know it clearly, and send me your answer by your aunt. All I beg is, that when the answer shall be delivered to me, this young man may be by. Don't interrupt me, Dora--I have a high opinion of him," said he, keeping his eye upon Dora's face.

"I have a great esteem, affection, love for him:" he p.r.o.nounced the words deliberately, that he might see the effect on Dora; but her countenance was as undecided as her mind--no judgment could be formed from its changes. "I wish Harry Ormond," continued he, "to know all my conduct: he knows that, long ago, I made a foolish promise to give my daughter to a man I knew nothing about."

Mademoiselle was going to interrupt, but Cornelius O'Shane silenced her.

"Mademoiselle--sister O'Faley, I will do the best I can to repair that folly--and to leave you at liberty, Dora, to follow the choice of your heart."

He paused, and again studied her countenance, which was agitated.

"Her choice is your choice--her father's choice is always the choice of the good daughter," said Mademoiselle.

"I believe she is a good daughter, and that is the particular reason I am determined to be as good a father as I can to her."

Dora wept in silence--and Mademoiselle, a good deal alarmed, wanted to remove Harry Ormond out of the young lady's sight: she requested him to go to her apartment for a smelling-bottle for her niece.

"No, no," said King Corny, "go yourself, sister O'Faley, if you like it, but I'll not let Harry Ormond stir--he is my witness present. Dora is not fainting--if you would only let her alone, she would do well. Dora, listen to me: if you don't really prefer this Black Connal for a husband to all other men, as you are to swear at the altar you do, if you marry him--"

Dora was strongly affected by the solemn manner of her father's appeal to her.

"If," continued her father, "you are not quite clear, my dear child, that you prefer him to other men, do not marry him. I have a notion I can bring you off without breaking my word: listen. I would willingly give half my fortune to secure your happiness, my darling. If I do not mistake him, Mr. Connal would, for a less sum, give me back my promise, and give you up altogether, my dear Dora."

Dora's tears stopped, Mademoiselle's exclamations poured forth, and they both declared they were certain that Mr. Connal would not, for any thing upon earth that could be offered to him, give up the match.

Corny said he was willing to make the trial, if they pleased.

Mademoiselle seemed to hesitate; but Dora eagerly accepted the proposal, thanked her father for his kindness, and declared that she should be happy to have, and to abide by, this test of Mr. Connal's love. If he were so base as to prefer half her fortune to herself, she should, she said, think herself happy in having escaped from such a traitor.

Dora's pride was wakened, and she now spoke in a high tone: she always, even in the midst of her weaknesses, had an ambition to show spirit.

"I will put the test to him myself, within this hour," said Corny; "and before you go to bed this night, when the clock strikes twelve, all three of you be on this spot, and I will give you his answer. But stay, Harry Ormond, we have not had your opinion--would you advise me to make this trial?"

"Certainly, sir."

"But if I should lose half of Dora's fortune?"

"You would think it well bestowed, I am sure, sir, in securing her from an unhappy marriage."

"But then she might not, perhaps, so easily find another lover with half a fortune--that might make a difference, hey, Harry?"

"Impossible, I should think, sir, that it could make the least difference in the affection of any one who really--who was really worthy of Miss O'Shane."

The agitation into which Harry Ormond was thrown, flattered and touched Dora for the moment; her aunt hurried her out of the room.

Cornelius O'Shane rang, and inquired where Mr. Connal was? In his own apartment, writing letters, his servant believed. O'Shane sent to beg to see him, as soon as he was at leisure.

At twelve o'clock Dora, Mademoiselle, and Ormond, were all in the study, punctually as the clock was striking.

"Well, what is M. de Connal's answer?" cried Mademoiselle.

"If he hesitate, my dear Dore, give him up dat minute."

"Undoubtedly," said Dora: "I have too much spirit to do otherwise.

What's his answer, father?"

"His answer, my dear child, has proved that you knew him better than I did--he scorns the offer of half your fortune--for your whole fortune he would not give you up."

"I thought so," cried Dora, triumphantly.

"I thought so," echoed Mademoiselle.

"I did him injustice," cried Ormond. "I am glad that M. de Connal has proved himself worthy of you, Dora, since you really approve of him--you have not a friend in the world, next to your father, who wishes your happiness more sincerely than I do."

He hurried out of the room.

"There's a heart for you!" said Corny.

"Not for me," said Mademoiselle: "he has no pa.s.sion in him."

"I give you joy, Dora," said her father. "I own I misjudged the man--on account of his being a bit of a c.o.xcomb. But if you can put up with that, so will I--when I have done a man injustice, I will make it up to him every way I can. Now let him, he has my consent, be as great a c.o.xcomb as ever wore red heels. I'll put up with it all, since he really loves my child. I did not think he would have stood the test."

Nor would he, had not he been properly prepared by Mademoiselle--she had, before M. de Connal went to Corny, sent him a little billet, which told him the test that would be proposed, and thus prevented all possibility of her dear niece's being disappointed in her lover or her husband.