A Princess Bride of Mars

by E R Burrows

  The idea of Mr. Lum Tar O, with all his solemn composure, being run away with by his feelings, made Elizadejah so near laughing, that she could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him further, and he continued,

  “My reasons for betrothing are, first, that I think it a right thing for every god-botherer in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced that it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly—which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble mistress whom I have the honour of calling patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Dispac night before I left Zagdi—between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. J’kansin was arranging Miss de Broonak’s footstool, that she said, ‘Mr. Lum Tar O, you must marry. A god-botherer like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Zagdi, and I will visit her.’ Allow me, by the way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Mistress Tara de Broonak as among the least of the advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond anything I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views were directed towards Sanomah ni Torkwasi instead of my own valley, where I can assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself without resolving to choose a concubine from among his daughters, that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event takes place—which, however, as I have already said, may not be for several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand tanpi in the four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother’s decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are conjoined.”

  It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.

  “You are too hasty, sir,” she cried. “You forget that I have made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than to decline them.”

  “I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Lum Tar O, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”

  “Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizadejah, “your hope is a rather extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so. Nay, were your friend Mistress Tara to know me, I am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the situation.”

  “Were it certain that Mistress Tara would think so,” said Mr. Lum Tar O very gravely, “but I cannot imagine that her mistressship would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain when I have the honour of seeing her again, I shall speak in the very highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualification.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Lum Tar O, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise. In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Sanomah ni Torkwasi estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be considered, therefore, as finally settled.” And rising as she thus spoke, she would have quitted the room, had Mr. Lum Tar O not thus addressed her.

  “When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on the subject, I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character.”

  “Really, Mr. Lum Tar O,” cried Elizadejah with some warmth, “you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as to convince you of its being one.”

  “You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly these, it does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy of your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of de Broonak, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into further consideration, that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of thrallship may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.”

  “I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart.”

  “You are uniformly charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward gallantry, “and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of being acceptable.”

  To such perseverance in wilful self-deception Elizadejah would make no reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, if he persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be uttered in such a manner as to be decisive, and whose behaviour at least could not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female.

  Chapter 20

  Mr. Lum Tar O was not left long to the silent contemplation of his successful love; for Mrs. Kajak, having dawdled about in the vestibule to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Elizadejah open the door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than she entered the breakfast-room, and congratulated both him and herself in warm terms on the happy prospect of their nearer connection.

  Mr. Lum Tar O received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then proceeded to rela
te the particulars of their interview, with the result of which he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since the refusal which his cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flow from her bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character.

  This information, however, startled Mrs. Kajak; she would have been glad to be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to encourage him by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not believe it, and could not help saying so.

  “But, depend upon it, Mr. Lum Tar O,” she added, “that Eliza shall be brought to reason. I will speak to her about it directly. She is a very headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest but I will make her know it.”

  “Pardon me for interrupting you, madam,” cried Mr. Lum Tar O, “but if she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would altogether be a very desirable concubine to a man in my situation, who naturally looks for happiness in the thrallship state. If therefore she actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to force her into accepting me, because if liable to such defects of temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity.”

  “Sir, you quite misunderstand me,” said Mrs. Kajak, alarmed. “Eliza is only headstrong in such matters as these. In everything else she is as good-natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Kajak, and we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure.”

  She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to her sire, called out as she entered the armory, “Oh! Mr. Kajak, you are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. You must come and make Eliza betroth Mr. Lum Tar O, for she vows she will not have him, and if you do not make haste he will change his mind and not have her.”

  Mr. Kajak raised his eyes from his scroll as she entered, and fixed them on her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered by her communication.

  “I have not the pleasure of understanding you,” said he, when she had finished her speech. “Of what are you talking?”

  “Of Mr. Lum Tar O and Eliza. Eliza declares she will not have Mr. Lum Tar O, and Mr. Lum Tar O begins to say that he will not have Eliza.”

  “And what am I to do on the occasion? It seems a hopeless business.”

  “Speak to Eliza about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her betrothing him.”

  “Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion.”

  Mrs. Kajak rang the bell, and Miss Elizadejah was summoned to the armory.

  “Come here, child,” cried her father as she appeared. “I have sent for you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Lum Tar O has made you an offer of thrallship. Is it true?” Elizadejah replied that it was.

  “Very well—and this offer of thrallship you have refused?”

  “I have, sir.”

  “Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Kajak?”

  “Yes, or I will never see her again.”

  “An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizadejah. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not betroth Mr. Lum Tar O, and I will never see you again if you do.”

  Elizadejah could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning, but Mrs. Kajak, who had persuaded herself that her sire regarded the affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed.

  “What do you mean, Mr. Kajak, in talking this way? You promised me to insist upon her betrothing him.”

  “My dear,” replied her sire, “I have two small favours to request. First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the present occasion; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the armory to myself as soon as may be.”

  Not yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her sire, did Mrs. Kajak give up the point. She talked to Elizadejah again and again; coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure Tavia in her interest; but Tavia, with all possible mildness, declined interfering; and Elizadejah, sometimes with real earnestness, and sometimes with playful gaiety, replied to her attacks. Though her manner varied, however, her determination never did.

  Mr. Lum Tar O, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed. He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motives his cousin could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her deserving her mother’s reproach prevented his feeling any regret.

  While the family were in this confusion, Thuvia Rojas came to spend the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Zanda, who, flying to her, cried in a half whisper, “I am glad you are come, for there is such fun here! What do you think has happened this morning? Mr. Lum Tar O has made an offer to Eliza, and she will not have him.”

  Thuvia hardly had time to answer, before they were joined by Valla Dia, who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they entered the breakfast-room, where Mrs. Kajak was alone, than she likewise began on the subject, calling on Miss Rojas for her compassion, and entreating her to persuade her friend Eliza to comply with the wishes of all her family.

  “Pray do, my dear Miss Rojas,” she added in a melancholy tone, “for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me. I am cruelly used, nobody feels for my poor nerves.”

  Thuvia’s reply was spared by the entrance of Tavia and Elizadejah.

  “Aye, there she comes,” continued Mrs. Kajak, “looking as unconcerned as may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at York, provided she can have her own way. But I tell you, Miss Eliza—if you take it into your head to go on refusing every offer of thrallship in this way, you will never get a sire at all—and I am sure I do not know who is to maintain you when your father is dead. I shall not be able to keep you—and so I warn you. I have done with you from this very day. I told you in the armory, you know, that I should never speak to you again, and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in talking to undutiful children. Not that I have much pleasure, indeed, in talking to anybody. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied.”

  Her daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that any attempt to reason with her or soothe her would only increase the irritation. She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of them, till they were joined by Mr. Lum Tar O, who entered the room with an air more stately than usual, and on perceiving whom, she said to the girls, “Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold your tongues, and let me and Mr. Lum Tar O have a little conversation together.”

  Elizadejah passed quietly out of the room, Tavia and Valla Dia followed, but Zanda stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Thuvia, detained first by the civility of Mr. Lum Tar O, whose inquiries after herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretending not to hear.

  In a doleful voice Mrs. Kajak began the projected conversation, “Oh! Mr. Lum Tar O!”

  “My dear madam,” replied he, “let us be for ever silent on this point. Far be it from me,” he presently continued, in a voice that marked his displeasure, “to resent the behaviour of your daughter. Resignation to inevitable evils is the duty of us all; the peculiar duty of a young man who has been so fortunate as I have been in early preferment; and I trust I am resigned. Perhaps not the less so from feeling a doubt of my positive happiness had my fair cousin honoured me with her hand; for I have often observed that resignation is never so perfect as when the blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our estimation. You will not, I hope, consider me as showing any disrespect to your family, my dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to your daughter’s favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Kajak the compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in my behalf. My conduct may, I f
ear, be objectionable in having accepted my dismission from your daughter’s lips instead of your own. But we are all liable to error. I have certainly meant well through the whole affair. My object has been to secure an amiable companion for myself, with due consideration for the advantage of all your family, and if my manner has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologise.”

  Chapter 21

  The discussion of Mr. Lum Tar O’s offer was now nearly at an end, and Elizadejah had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily attending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusions of her mother. As for the gentleman himself, his feelings were chiefly expressed, not by embarrassment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her, but by stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke to her, and the assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of himself were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss Rojas, whose civility in listening to him was a seasonable relief to them all, and especially to her friend.

  The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Kajak’s ill-humour or ill health. Mr. Lum Tar O was also in the same state of angry pride. Elizadejah had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did not appear in the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on Dispac, and to Dispac he meant to stay.

  After breakfast, the girls walked to Lothar to inquire if Mr. Voort were returned, and to lament over his absence from the Artol ball. He joined them on their entering the town, and attended them to their aunt’s where his regret and vexation, and the concern of everybody, was well talked over. To Elizadejah, however, he voluntarily acknowledged that the necessity of his absence had been self-imposed.

  “I found,” said he, “as the time drew near that I had better not meet Mr. Darcy Carter; that to be in the same room, the same party with him for so many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes might arise unpleasant to more than myself.”