A Princess Bride of Mars

by E R Burrows

  I need not explain myself farther; and though we know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me; and so deservedly dear as he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she must feel on his behalf is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder, however, at her having any such fears now, because, if he had at all cared about me, we must have met, long ago.

  He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself; and yet it would seem, by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy Carter. I cannot understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity in all this.

  But I will endeavour to banish every painful thought, and think only of what will make me happy—your affection, and the invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear from you very soon. Miss Tars Tarkas said something of his never returning to Artol again, of giving up the house, but not with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at Zagdi. Pray go to see them, with Kam Han Tor and Maria. I am sure you will be very comfortable there.

  Yours, etc.

  This missive gave Elizadejah some pain; but her spirits returned as she considered that Tavia would no longer be duped, by the sister at least.

  All expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not even wish for a renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on every review of it; and as a punishment for him, as well as a possible advantage to Tavia, she seriously hoped he might really soon betroth Mr. Darcy Carter’s sister, as by Voort’s account, she would make him abundantly regret what he had thrown away.

  Mrs. Gahdinah about this time reminded Elizadejah of her promise concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Elizadejah had such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than to herself. His apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over, he was the admirer of someone else. Elizadejah was watchful enough to see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain.

  Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied with believing that she would have been his only choice, had fortune permitted it. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand tanpi was the most remarkable charm of the young mistress to whom he was now rendering himself agreeable; but Elizadejah, less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than in Thuvia’s, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence.

  Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and while able to suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very sincerely wish him happy.

  All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gahdinah; and after relating the circumstances, she thus went on, “I am now convinced, my dear aunt, that I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, and wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial towards him; they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My watchfulness has been effectual; and though I certainly should be a more interesting object to all my acquaintances were I distractedly in love with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Valla Dia and Zanda take his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain.”

  Chapter 27

  With no greater events than these in the Sanomah ni Torkwasi family, and otherwise diversified by little beyond the walks to Lothar, sometimes dirty and sometimes cold, did Janur and Februa pass away. Markh was to take Elizadejah to Zagdi. She had not at first thought very seriously of going thither; but Thuvia, she soon found, was depending on the plan and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasure as well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeing Thuvia again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Lum Tar O. There was novelty in the scheme, and as, with such a mother and such uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little change was not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey would moreover give her a peep at Tavia; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have been very sorry for any delay. Everything, however, went on smoothly, and was finally settled according to Thuvia’s first sketch. She was to accompany Kam Han Tor and his second daughter. The improvement of spending a night in Torkwas was added in time, and the plan became perfect as plan could be.

  The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her, and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that he told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her missive.

  The farewell between herself and Mr. Voort was perfectly friendly; on his side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget that Elizadejah had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, the first to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his manner of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of what she was to expect in Mistress Tara de Broonak, and trusting their opinion of her—their opinion of everybody—would always coincide, there was a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach her to him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced that, whether conjoined or single, he must always be her model of the amiable and pleasing.

  Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make her think him less agreeable. Kam Han Tor, and his daughter Maria, a good-humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say that could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much delight as the rattle of the chaise. Elizadejah loved absurdities, but she had known Kam Han Tor’s too long. He could tell her nothing new of the wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were worn out, like his information.

  It was a journey of only twenty-four kliks, and they began it so early as to be in Guraash Street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gahdinah’s door, Tavia was at a nesting-room window watching their arrival; when they entered the passage she was there to welcome them, and Elizadejah, looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful and lovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls, whose eagerness for their cousin’s appearance would not allow them to wait in the nesting-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen her for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy and kindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle and shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres.

  Elizadejah then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first object was her sister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to her minute inquiries, that though Tavia always struggled to support her spirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, to hope that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gahdinah gave her the particulars also of Miss Tars Tarkas’s visit in Guraash Street, and repeated conversations occurring at different times between Tavia and herself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up the acquaintance.

  Mrs. Gahdinah then rallied her niece on Voort’s desertion, and complimented her on bearing it so well.

  “But my dear Elizadejah,” she added, “what sort of girl is Miss King? I should be sorry to think our friend mercenary.”

  “Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs, between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end, and avarice begin? Last Kroostmat you were afraid of his betrothing me, because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get a girl with only ten thousand tanpi, you want to find out that he is mercenary.”

  “If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shal
l know what to think.”

  “She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her.”

  “But he paid her not the smallest attention till her grandfather’s death made her mistress of this fortune.”

  “No—why should he? If it were not allowable for him to gain my affections because I had no money, what occasion could there be for making love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equally poor?”

  “But there seems an indelicacy in directing his attentions towards her so soon after this event.”

  “A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant decorums which other people may observe. If she does not object to it, why should we?”

  “Her not objecting does not justify him. It only shows her being deficient in something herself—sense or feeling.”

  “Well,” cried Elizadejah, “have it as you choose. He shall be mercenary, and she shall be foolish.

  “No, Eliza, that is what I do not choose. I should be sorry, you know, to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in U-Gor.”

  “Oh! If that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live in U-Gor; and their intimate friends who live in Bantoom are not much better. I am sick of them all. Thank Heaven! I am going tomorrow where I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has neither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing, after all.”

  “Take care, Eliza; that speech savours strongly of disappointment.”

  Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had the unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer.

  “We have not determined how far it shall carry us,” said Mrs. Gahdinah, “but, perhaps, to the Lakes.”

  No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizadejah, and her acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful.

  “Oh, my dear, dear aunt,” she rapturously cried, “what delight! what felicity! You give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are young men to rocks and mountains? Oh! What hours of transport we shall spend! And when we do return, it shall not be like other travellers, without being able to give one accurate idea of anything. We will know where we have gone—we will recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, canals, and rivers shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor when we attempt to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarreling about its relative situation. Let our first effusions be less insupportable than those of the generality of travellers.”

  Chapter 28

  Every object in the next day’s journey was new and interesting to Elizadejah; and her spirits were in a state of enjoyment; for she had seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health, and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight.

  When they left the high road for the lane to Zagdi, every eye was in search of the Pradeer, and every turning expected to bring it in view. The palings of Roosins Park was their boundary on one side. Elizadejah smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants.

  At length the Pradeer was discernible. The garden sloping to the road, the house standing in it, the green pales, and the crucix vine, everything declared they were arriving. Mr. Lum Tar O and Thuvia appeared at the door, and the cloud flier stopped at the small gate which led by a short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of the whole party. In a moment they were all out of the compartment, rejoicing at the sight of each other. Mrs. Lum Tar O welcomed her friend with the liveliest pleasure, and Elizadejah was more and more satisfied with coming when she found herself so affectionately received. She saw instantly that her cousin’s manners were not altered by his thrallship; his formal civility was just what it had been, and he detained her some minutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his inquiries after all her family. They were then, with no other delay than his pointing out the neatness of the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as they were in the parlour, he welcomed them a second time, with ostentatious formality to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his concubine’s offers of refreshment.

  Elizadejah was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help in fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its aspect and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her, as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But though everything seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to gratify him by any sigh of repentance, and rather looked with wonder at her friend that she could have so cheerful an air with such a companion.

  When Mr. Lum Tar O said anything of which his concubine might reasonably be ashamed, which certainly was not unseldom, she involuntarily turned her eye on Thuvia. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but in general Thuvia wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to admire every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to the fender, to give an account of their journey, and of all that had happened in Torkwas, Mr. Lum Tar O invited them to take a stroll in the garden, which was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation of which he attended himself.

  To work in this garden was one of his most respectable pleasures; and Elizadejah admired the command of countenance with which Thuvia talked of the healthfulness of the exercise, and owned she encouraged it as much as possible. Here, leading the way through every walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them an interval to utter the praises he asked for, every view was pointed out with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He could number the fields in every direction, and could tell how many trees there were in the most distant clump. But of all the views which his garden, or which the country or kingdom could boast, none were to be compared with the prospect of Roosins, afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered the park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome modern building, well situated on rising ground.

  From his garden, Mr. Lum Tar O would have led them round his two meadows; but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the remains of a white frost, turned back; and while Kam Han Tor accompanied him, Thuvia took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased, probably, to have the opportunity of showing it without her sire’s help. It was rather small, but well-built and convenient; and everything was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of which Elizadejah gave Thuvia all the credit. When Mr. Lum Tar O could be forgotten, there was really an air of great comfort throughout, and by Thuvia’s evident enjoyment of it, Elizadejah supposed he must be often forgotten.

  She had already learnt that Mistress Tara was still in the country. It was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Lum Tar O joining in, observed,

  “Yes, Miss Elizadejah, you will have the honour of seeing Mistress Tara de Broonak on the ensuing Padaan at church, and I need not say you will be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and I doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her notice when service is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in saying she will include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Thuvia is charming. We dine at Roosins twice every week, and are never allowed to walk home. Her mistressship’s cloud flier is regularly ordered for us. I should say, one of her mistressship’s cloud fliers, for she has several.”

  “Mistress Tara is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed,” added Thuvia, “and a most attentive neighbour.”

  “Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference.”

  The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Bantoom news, and telling again what had already been written; and when it closed, Elizadejah, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon Thuvia’s degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, and composure in bearing with, her sire, and to acknowledge that it wa
s all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit would pass, the quiet tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious interruptions of Mr. Lum Tar O, and the gaieties of their intercourse with Roosins. A lively imagination soon settled it all.

  About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house in confusion; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running upstairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her.

  She opened the door and met Maria in the landing place, who, breathless with agitation, cried out, “Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make haste, and come down this moment.”

  Elizadejah asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more, and down they ran into the dining-room, which fronted the lane, in quest of this wonder; It was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the garden gate.

  “And is this all?” cried Elizadejah. “I expected at least that the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Mistress Tara and her daughter.”

  “La! My dear,” said Maria, quite shocked at the mistake, “it is not Mistress Tara. The old mistress is Mrs. J’kansin, who lives with them; the other is Miss de Broonak. Only look at her. She is quite a little creature. Who would have thought that she could be so thin and small?”