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Trumps: A Novel, a novel by George William Curtis |
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Chapter 39. A Field-Day |
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_ CHAPTER XXXIX. A FIELD-DAY "Now, Nancy, tell me about this thing," said Mrs. Dagon, when the husband was gone. But Nancy had nothing to tell. "I don't like his running away with her--that looks bad," continued Mrs. Dagon. She pondered a few moments, and then said: "I can tell you one thing, Nancy, which it wasn't worth while to mention to Boniface, who seems to be nervous this morning--but I am sure Fanny proposed the running off. Alfred Dinks is too great a fool. He never would have thought of it, and he would never have dared to do it if he had." "Oh dear me!" responded Mrs. Newt. "Pooh! it isn't such a dreadful thing, if he is only rich enough," said Aunt Dagon, in a consoling voice. "Every thing depends on that; and I haven't much doubt of it. Alfred Dinks is a fool, my dear, but Fanny Newt is not; and Fanny Newt is not the girl to marry a fool, except for reasons. You may trust Fanny, Nancy. You may depend there was some foolish something with Hope Wayne, on the part of Alfred, and Fanny has cut the knot she was not sure of untying. Pooh! pooh! When you are as old as I am you won't be distressed over these things. Fanny Newt is fully weaned. She wants an establishment, and she has got it. There are plenty of people who would have been glad to marry their daughters to Alfred Dinks. I can tell you there are some great advantages in having a fool for your husband. Don't you see Fanny never would have been happy with a man she couldn't manage. It's quite right, my dear." At this moment the bell rang, and Mrs. Newt, not wishing to be caught with red eyes, called May, who had looked on at this debate, and left the room. While Mrs. Dagon had been so volubly talking she had also been busily thinking. She knew that if Alfred were a fool his mother was not--at least, not in the way she meant. There had been no love lost between the ladies, so that Mrs. Dagon was disposed to criticise the other's conduct very closely. She saw, therefore, that if Alfred Dinks were not rich--and it certainly was a question whether he were so really, or only in expectation from Mr. Burt--then also he might not be engaged to Hope Wayne. But the story of his wealth and his engagement might very easily have been the ruse by which the skillful Mrs. Dinks meant to conduct her campaign in New York. In that case, what was more likely than that she should have improved Fanny's evident delusion in regard to her son, and, by suggesting to him an elopement, have secured for him the daughter of a merchant so universally reputed wealthy as Boniface Newt? Mrs. Dagon was clever--so was Mrs. Dinks; and it is the homage that one clever person always pays to another to believe the other capable of every thing that occurs to himself. In the matter of the marriage Mrs. Budlong Dinks had been defeated, but she was not dismayed. She had lost Hope Wayne, indeed, and she could no longer hope, by the marriage of Alfred with his cousin, to consolidate the Burt property in her family. She had been very indignant--very deeply disappointed. But she still loved her son, and the meditation of a night refreshed her. Upon a survey of the field, Mrs. Dinks felt that under no circumstances would Hope have married Alfred; and he had now actually married Fanny. So much was done. It was useless to wish impossible wishes. She did not desire her son to starve or come to social shame, although he had married Fanny; and Fanny, after all, was rather a belle, and the daughter of a rich merchant, who would have to support them. She knew, of course, that Fanny supposed her husband would share in the great Burt property. But as Mrs. Dinks herself believed the same thing, that did not surprise her. In fact, they would all be gainers by it; and nothing now remained but to devote herself to securing that result. The first step under the circumstances was clearly a visit to the Newts, and the ring which had sent Mrs. Newt from the room was Mrs. Dinks's. Mrs. Dagon was alone when Mrs. Dinks entered, and Mrs. Dagon was by no means sure, whatever she said to Nancy, that Mrs. Dinks had not outwitted them all. As she entered Mrs. Dagon put up her glasses and gazed at her; and when Mrs. Dinks saluted her, Mrs. Dagon bowed behind the glasses, as if she were bowing through a telescope at the planet Jupiter. "Good-morning, Mrs. Dagon!" "Good-morning, Mrs. Dinks!" replied that lady, still contemplating the other as if she were a surprising and incomprehensible phenomenon. Profound silence followed. Mrs. Dinks was annoyed by the insult which Mrs. Dagon was tacitly putting upon her, and resolving upon revenge. Meanwhile she turned over some illustrated books upon the table, as if engravings were of all things those that afforded her the profoundest satisfaction. But she was conscious that she could not deceive Mrs. Dagon by an appearance of interest; so, after a few moments, Mrs. Dinks seated herself in a large easy-chair opposite that lady, who was still looking at her, shook her dress, glanced into the mirror with the utmost nonchalance, and finally, slowly drawing out her own glasses, raised them to her eyes, and with perfect indifference surveyed the enemy. The ladies gazed at each other for a few moments in silence. "How's your daughter, Mrs. Alfred Dinks?" asked Mrs. Dagon, abruptly. Mrs. Dinks continued to gaze without answering. She was resolved to put down this dragon that laid waste society. The dragon was instantly conscious that she had made a mistake in speaking, and was angry accordingly. She said nothing more; she only glared. "Good-morning, my dear Mrs. Dinks," said Mrs. Newt, in a troubled voice, as she entered the room. "Oh my! isn't it--isn't it--singular?" For Mrs. Newt was bewildered. Between her husband and Mrs. Dagon she had been so depressed and comforted that she did not know what to think. She was sure it was Fanny who had married Alfred, and she supposed, with all the world, that he had, or was to have, a pretty fortune. Yet she felt, with her husband, that the private marriage was suspicious. It seemed, at least, to prove the indisposition of Mrs. Dinks to the match. But, as they were married, she did not wish to alienate the mother of the rich bridegroom. "Singular, indeed, Mrs. Newt!" rejoined Mrs. Dinks; "I call it extraordinary!" "I call it outrageous," interpolated Mrs. Dagon. "Poor girl! to be run away with and married! What a blow for our family!" Mrs. Dinks resumed her glasses, and looked unutterably at Mrs. Dagon. But Mrs. Dinks, on her side, knowing the limitations of Alfred's income, and believing in the Newt resources, did not wish to divert from him any kindness of the Newts. So she outgeneraled Mrs. Dagon again. "Yes, indeed, it is an outrage upon all our feelings. We must, of course, be mutually shocked at the indiscretion of these members of both our families." "Yes, oh yes!" answered Mrs. Newt. "I do declare! what do people do so for?" Neither cared to take the next step, and make the obvious and necessary inquiries as to the future, for neither wished to betray the thought that was uppermost. At length Mrs. Dinks ventured to say, "One thing, at least, is fortunate." "Indeed!" ejaculated Mrs. Dagon behind the glasses, as if she scoffed at the bare suggestion of any thing but utter misfortune being associated with such an affair. "I say one thing is fortunate," continued Mrs. Dinks, in a more decided tone, and without the slightest attention to Mrs. Dagon's remark. "Dear me! I declare I don't see just what you mean, Mrs. Dinks," said Mrs. Newt. "I mean that they are neither of them children," answered the other. "They may not be children," commenced Mrs. Dagon, in the most implacable tone, "but they are both fools. I shouldn't wonder, Nancy, if they'd both outwitted each other, after all; for whenever two people, without the slightest apparent reason, run away to be married, it is because one of them is poor." This was a truth of which the two mothers were both vaguely conscious, and which by no means increased the comfort of the situation. It led to a long pause in the conversation. Mrs. Dinks wished Aunt Dagon on the top of Mont Blanc, and while she was meditating the best thing to say, Mrs. Dagon, who had rallied, returned to the charge. "Of course," said she, "that is something that would hardly be said of the daughter of Boniface Newt." And Mrs. Dagon resumed the study of Mrs. Dinks. "Or of the grand-nephew of Christopher Burt," said the latter, putting up her own glasses and returning the stare. "Grand-nephew! Is Alfred Dinks not the grandson of Mr. Burt?" asked Mrs. Newt, earnestly. "No, he is his grand-nephew. I am the niece of Mr. Burt--daughter of his brother Jonathan, deceased," replied Mrs. Dinks. "Oh!" said Mrs. Newt, dolefully. "Not a very near relation," added Mrs. Dagon. "Grand-nephews don't count." That might be true, but it was thin consolation for Mrs. Newt, who began to take fire. "But, Mrs. Dinks, how did this affair come about?" asked she. "Exactly," chimed in Aunt Dagon; "how did it come about?" "My dear Mrs. Newt," replied Mrs. Dinks, entirely overlooking the existence of Mrs. Dagon, "you know my son Alfred and your daughter Fanny. So do I. Do you believe that Alfred ran away with Fanny, or Fanny with Alfred. Theoretically, of course, the man does it. Do you believe Alfred did it?" Mrs. Dinks's tone was resolute. Mrs. Newt was on the verge of hysterics. "Do you mean to insult my daughter to her mother's face?" exclaimed she. "O you mean to insinuate that--" "I mean to insinuate nothing, my dear Mrs. Newt. I say plainly what I mean to say, so let us keep as cool as we can for the sake of all parties. They are married--that's settled. How are they going to live?" Mrs. Newt opened her mouth with amazement. "I believe the husband usually supports the wife," ejaculated the dragon behind the glasses. "I understand you to say, then, my dear Mrs. Newt," continued Mrs. Dinks, with a superb disregard of the older lady, who had made the remark, "that the husband usually supports the family. Now in this matter, you know, we are going to be perfectly cool and sensible. You know as well as I that Alfred has no profession, but that be will by-and-by inherit a fortune from his grand-uncle--" At this point Mrs. Dagon coughed in an incredulous and contemptuous manner. Mrs. Dinks put her handkerchief to her nose, which she patted gently, and waited for Mrs. Dagon to stop. "As I was saying--a fortune from his grand-uncle. Now until then provision must be made--" "Really," said Mrs. Dagon, for Mrs. Newt was bewildered into silence by the rapid conversation of Mrs. Dinks--"really, these are matters of business which, I believe, are usually left to gentlemen." "I know, of course, Mrs. Newt," continued the intrepid Mrs. Dinks, utterly regardless of Mrs. Dagon, for she had fully considered her part, and knew her own intentions, "that such things are generally arranged by the gentlemen. But I think sensible women like you and I, mothers, too, are quite as much interested in the matter as fathers can be. Our honor is as much involved in the happiness of our children as their fathers' is. So I have come to ask you, in a purely friendly and private manner, what the chances for our dear children are?" "I am sure I know nothing," answered Mrs. Newt; "I only know that Mr. Newt is furious." "Perfectly lunatic," added Aunt Dagon, in full view of Mrs. Dinks. "Pity, pity!" returned Mrs. Dinks, with an air of compassionate unconcern; "because these things can always be so easily settled. I hope Mr. Newt won't suffer himself to be disturbed. Every thing will come right." "What does Mr. Dinks say?" feebly inquired Mrs. Newt. "I really don't know," replied Mrs. Dinks, with a cool air of surprise that any body should care what he thought--which made Mrs. Dagon almost envious of her enemy, and which so impressed Mrs. Newt, who considered the opinion of her husband as the only point of importance in the whole affair, that she turned pale. "I mean that his mind is so engrossed with other matters that he rarely attends to the domestic details," added Mrs. Dinks, who had no desire of frightening any of her new relatives. "Have you been to see Fanny yet?" "No," returned Mrs. Newt, half-sobbing again, "I have only just heard of it; and--and--I don't think Mr. Newt would wish me to go." Mrs. Dinks raised her eyebrows, and again touched her face gently with the handkerchief. Mrs. Dagon rubbed her glasses and waited, for she knew very well that Mrs. Dinks had not yet discovered what she had come to learn. The old General was not deceived by the light skirmishing. "I am sorry not to have seen Mr. Newt before he went down town," began Mrs. Dinks, after a pause. "But since we must all know these matters sooner or later--that is to say, those of us whose business it is"--here she glanced at Mrs. Dagon--"you and I, my dear Mrs. Newt, may talk confidentially. How much will your husband probably allow Fanny until Alfred comes into his property?" Mrs. Dinks leaned back and folded her shawl closely around her, and Mrs. Dagon hemmed and smiled a smile of perfect incredulity. "Gracious, gracious! Mrs. Dinks, Mr. Newt won't give her a cent!" answered Mrs. Newt. As she uttered the words Mrs. Dagon held the enemy in full survey. Mrs. Dinks was confounded. That there would be some trouble in arranging the matter she had expected. But the extreme dolefulness of Mrs. Newt had already perplexed her; and the prompt, simple way in which she answered this question precluded the suspicion of artifice. Something was clearly, radically wrong. She knew that Alfred had six hundred a year from his father. She had no profound respect for that gentleman; but men are willful. Suppose he should take a whim to stop it? On the other side, she knew that Boniface Newt was an obstinate man, and that fathers were sometimes implacable. Sometimes, even, they did not relent in making their wills. She knew all about Miss Van Boozenberg's marriage with Tom Witchet, for it was no secret in society. Was it possible her darling Alfred might be in actual danger of such penury--at least until he came into his property? And what property was it, and what were the chances that old Burt would leave him a cent? These considerations instantly occupied her mind as Mrs. Newt spoke; and she saw more clearly than ever the necessity of propitiating old Burt. At length she asked, with an undismayed countenance, and with even a show of smiling: "But, Mrs. Newt, why do you take so cheerless a view of your husband's intentions in this matter?" The words that her husband had spoken in his wrath had rung in Mrs. Newt's mind ever since, and they now fell, echo-like, from her tongue. "Because he said that, daughter or no daughter, she shall lie in the bed she has made." Mrs. Dinks could not help showing a little chagrin. It was the sign for Mrs. Newt to burst into fresh sorrow. Mrs. Dagon was as rigid as a bronze statue. "Very well, then, Mrs. Newt," said her visitor, rising, "Mr. Newt will have the satisfaction of seeing his daughter starve." "Oh, her husband will take care of that," said the bronze statue, blandly. "My son Alfred," continued Mrs. Dinks, "has an allowance of six hundred dollars a year, no profession, and expectations from his grand-uncle. These are his resources. If his father chooses, he can cut off his allowance. Perhaps he will. You can mention these facts to Mr. Newt." "Oh! mercy! mercy!" exclaimed Mrs. Newt. "What shall we do? What will people say?" "Good-morning, ladies!" said Mrs. Dinks, with a comprehensive bow. She was troubled, but not overwhelmed; for she believed that the rich Mr. Newt would not, of course, allow his daughter to suffer. Mrs. Dagon was more profoundly persuaded than ever that Mrs. Dinks had managed the whole matter. "Nancy," said she, as the door closed upon Mrs. Dinks, "it is a scheming, artful woman. Her son has no money, and I doubt if he ever will have any. Boniface will be implacable. I know him. He is capable of seeing his daughter suffer. Fanny has made a frightful mistake. Poor Fanny! she was not so clever as she thought herself. There is only one hope--that is in old Burt. I think we had better present that view chiefly to Boniface. We must concede the poverty, but insist and enlarge upon the prospect. No Newt ought to be allowed to suffer if we can help it. Poor Fanny! She was always pert, but not quite so smart as she thought herself!" Mrs. Dagon indulged in a low chuckle of triumph, while Mrs. Newt was overwhelmed with a vague apprehension that all her husband's wrath at his daughter's marriage would be visited upon her. _ |
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