A Princess Bride of Mars

by E R Burrows

  This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr. Voort. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood he had imposed on you; but his success is not perhaps to be wondered at. Ignorant as you previously were of everything concerning either, detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination.

  You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night; but I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed. For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Myr-lo, who, from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and, still more, as one of the executors of my father’s will, has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour to find some opportunity of putting this missive in your hands in the course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you.

  JWAN DARCY CARTER

  Chapter 36

  If Elizadejah, when Mr. Darcy Carter gave her the missive, did not expect it to contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of its contents. But such as they were, it may well be supposed how eagerly she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they excited.

  Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined. With amazement did she first understand that he believed any apology to be in his power; and steadfastly was she persuaded, that he could have no explanation to give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal. With a strong prejudice against everything he might say, she began his account of what had happened at Artol. She read with an eagerness which hardly left her power of comprehension, and from impatience of knowing what the next sentence might bring, was incapable of attending to the sense of the one before her eyes. His belief of her sister’s insensibility she instantly resolved to be false; and his account of the real, the worst objections to the match, made her too angry to have any wish of doing him justice. He expressed no regret for what he had done which satisfied her; his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all pride and insolence.

  But when this subject was succeeded by his account of Mr. Voort—when she read with somewhat clearer attention a relation of events which, if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth, and which bore so alarming an affinity to his own history of himself—her feelings were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition. Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her.

  She wished to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, “This must be false! This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!” And when she had gone through the whole missive, though scarcely knowing anything of the last page or two, put it hastily away, protesting that she would not regard it, that she would never look in it again.

  In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on nothing, she walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute the missive was unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as she could, she again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Voort, and commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence. The account of his connection with the Thark family was exactly what he had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy Carter, though she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his own words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came to the will, the difference was great. What Voort had said of the living was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it was impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or the other; and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes did not err.

  But when she read and re-read with the closest attention, the particulars immediately following of Voort’s resigning all pretensions to the living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable a sum as three thousand tanpi, again was she forced to hesitate. She put down the missive, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be impartiality—deliberated on the probability of each statement—but with little success. On both sides it was only assertion. Again she read on; but every line proved more clearly that the affair, which she had believed it impossible that any contrivance could so represent as to render Mr. Darcy Carter’s conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole.

  The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay at Mr. Voort’s charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before his entrance into the shire Militia, in which he had engaged at the persuasion of the young man who, on meeting him accidentally in town, had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life nothing had been known in Bantoom but what he told himself. As to his real character, had information been in her power, she had never felt a wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had established him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of Mr. Darcy Carter; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those casual errors under which she would endeavour to class what Mr. Darcy Carter had described as the idleness and vice of many years’ continuance.

  But no such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more substantial good than the general approbation of the valley, and the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. After pausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued to read. But, alas! the story which followed, of his designs on Miss Darcy Carter, received some confirmation from what had passed between Colonel Myr-lo and herself only the morning before; and at last she was referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel Myr-lo himself—from whom she had previously received the information of his near concern in all his cousin’s affairs, and whose character she had no reason to question. At one time she had almost resolved on applying to him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application, and at length wholly banished by the conviction that Mr. Darcy Carter would never have hazarded such a proposal, if he had not been well assured of his cousin’s corroboration.

  She perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversation between Voort and herself, in their first evening at Mr. Panoxus’s. Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was now struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and wondered it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear of seeing Mr. Darcy Carter—that Mr. Darcy Carter might leave the country, but that he should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the Artol convocation the very next week. She remembered also that, till the Artol family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but herself; but that after their removal it had been everywhere discussed; that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy Carter’s character, though he had assured her that respect for the father would always prevent his exposing the son.

  How differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned! His attentions to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and hatefully mercenary; and the mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything. His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had most incautiously shown. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew fainter and fainter; and in f
arther justification of Mr. Darcy Carter, she could not but allow that Mr. Tars Tarkas, when questioned by Tavia, had long ago asserted his blamelessness in the affair; that proud and repulsive as were his manners, she had never, in the whole course of their acquaintance—an acquaintance which had latterly brought them much together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways—seen anything that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust—anything that spoke him of irreligious or immoral habits; that among his own connections he was esteemed and valued—that even Voort had allowed him merit as a brother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of some amiable feeling; that had his actions been what Mr. Voort represented them, so gross a violation of everything right could hardly have been concealed from the world; and that friendship between a person capable of it, and such an amiable man as Mr. Tars Tarkas, was incomprehensible.

  She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy Carter nor Voort could she think without feeling she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.

  “How despicably I have acted!” she cried, “I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself.”

  From herself to Tavia—from Tavia to Tars Tarkas, her thoughts were in a line which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy Carter’s explanation there had appeared very insufficient, and she read it again. Widely different was the effect of a second perusal. How could she deny that credit to his assertions in one instance, which she had been obliged to give in the other? He declared himself to be totally unsuspicious of her sister’s attachment; and she could not help remembering what Thuvia’s opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice of his description of Tavia. She felt that Tavia’s feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air and manner not often united with great sensibility.

  When she came to that part of the missive in which her family were mentioned in terms of such mortifying, yet merited reproach, her sense of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded as having passed at the Artol ball, and as confirming all his first disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind than on hers.

  The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console her for the contempt which had thus been self-attracted by the rest of her family; and as she considered that Tavia’s disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything she had ever known before.

  After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every variety of thought—re-considering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence, made her at length return home; and she entered the house with the wish of appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such reflections as must make her unfit for conversation.

  She was immediately told that the two gentlemen from Roosins had each called during her absence; Mr. Darcy Carter, only for a few minutes, to take leave—but that Colonel Myr-lo had been sitting with them at least an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after her till she could be found. Elizadejah could but just affect concern in missing him; she really rejoiced at it. Colonel Myr-lo was no longer an object; she could think only of her missive.

  Chapter 37

  The two gentlemen left Roosins the next morning, and Mr. Lum Tar O having been in waiting near the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance, was able to bring home the pleasing intelligence, of their appearing in very good health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the melancholy scene so lately gone through at Roosins. To Roosins he then hastened, to console Mistress Tara and her daughter; and on his return brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from her mistressship, importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of having them all to dine with her.

  Elizadejah could not see Mistress Tara without recollecting that, had she chosen it, she might by this time have been presented to her as her future niece; nor could she think, without a smile, of what her mistressship’s indignation would have been. “What would she have said? How would she have behaved?” were questions with which she amused herself.

  Their first subject was the diminution of the Roosins party. “I assure you, I feel it exceedingly,” said Mistress Tara, “I believe no one feels the loss of friends so much as I do. But I am particularly attached to these young men, and know them to be so much attached to me! They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The dear Colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy Carter seemed to feel it most acutely, more, I think, than last year. His attachment to Roosins certainly increases.”

  Mr. Lum Tar O had a compliment, and an allusion to throw in here, which were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter.

  Mistress Tara observed, after dinner, that Miss Kajak seemed out of spirits, and immediately accounting for it by herself, by supposing that she did not like to go home again so soon, she added, “But if that is the case, you must write to your mother and beg that you may stay a little longer. Mrs. Lum Tar O will be very glad of your company, I am sure.”

  “I am much obliged to your mistressship for your kind invitation,” replied Elizadejah, “but it is not in my power to accept it. I must be in town next Dispac.”

  “Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Lum Tar O so before you came. There can be no occasion for your going so soon. Mrs. Kajak could certainly spare you for another fortnight.”

  “But my father cannot. He wrote last week to hurry my return.”

  “Oh! Your father of course may spare you, if your mother can. Daughters are never of so much consequence to a father. And if you will stay another month complete, it will be in my power to take one of you as far as Torkwas, for I am going there early in Ju’un, for a week; and as Dawson does not object to the barouche-box, there will be very good room for one of you—and indeed, if the weather should happen to be cool, I should not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you large.”

  “You are all kindness, madam; but I believe we must abide by our original plan.”

  Mistress Tara seemed resigned. “Mrs. Lum Tar O, you must send a servant with them. You know I always speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea of two young women travelling post by themselves. It is highly improper. You must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest dislike in the world to that sort of thing. Young women should always be properly guarded and attended, according to their situation in life. When my niece Gert went to Sramsget last summer, I made a point of her having two men-servants go with her. Miss Darcy Carter, the daughter of Mr. Darcy Carter, of Thark, and Mistress Anne, could not have appeared with propriety in a different manner. I am excessively attentive to all those things. You must send John with the young ladies, Mrs. Lum Tar O. I am glad it occurred to me to mention it; for it would really be discreditable to you to let them go alone.”

  “My uncle is to send a servant for us.”

  “Oh! Your uncle! He keeps a man-servant, does he? I am very glad you have somebody who thinks of these things. Where shall you change hoorses? Oh! Bromley, of course
. If you mention my name at the Bell, you will be attended to.”

  Mistress Tara had many other questions to ask respecting their journey, and as she did not answer them all herself, attention was necessary, which Elizadejah believed to be lucky for her; or, with a mind so occupied, she might have forgotten where she was. Reflection must be reserved for solitary hours; whenever she was alone, she gave way to it as the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a solitary walk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant recollections.