A Princess Bride of Mars

by E R Burrows

  While thus engaged, Elizadejah had a fair opportunity of deciding whether she most feared or wished for the appearance of Mr. Darcy Carter, by the feelings which prevailed on his entering the room; and then, though but a moment before she had believed her wishes to predominate, she began to regret that he came.

  He had been some time with Mr. Gahdinah, who, with two or three other gentlemen from the house, was engaged by the river, and had left him only on learning that the ladies of the family intended a visit to Gert that morning. No sooner did he appear than Elizadejah wisely resolved to be perfectly easy and unembarrassed; a resolution the more necessary to be made, but perhaps not the more easily kept, because she saw that the suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them, and that there was scarcely an eye which did not watch his behaviour when he first came into the room. In no countenance was attentive curiosity so strongly marked as in Miss Tars Tarkas’s, in spite of the smiles which overspread her face whenever she spoke to one of its objects; for jealousy had not yet made her desperate, and her attentions to Mr. Darcy Carter were by no means over. Miss Darcy Carter, on her brother’s entrance, exerted herself much more to talk, and Elizadejah saw that he was anxious for his sister and herself to get acquainted, and forwarded as much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side.

  Miss Tars Tarkas saw all this likewise; and, in the imprudence of anger, took the first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility, “Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the shire Militia removed from Lothar? They must be a great loss to your family.”

  In Darcy Carter’s presence she dared not mention Voort’s name; but Elizadejah instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; and the various recollections connected with him gave her a moment’s distress; but exerting herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, she presently answered the question in a tolerably detached tone. While she spoke, an involuntary glance showed her Darcy Carter, with a heightened complexion, earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome with confusion, and unable to lift up her eyes. Had Miss Tars Tarkas known what pain she was then giving her beloved friend, she undoubtedly would have refrained from the hint; but she had merely intended to discompose Elizadejah by bringing forward the idea of a man to whom she believed her partial, to make her betray a sensibility which might injure her in Darcy Carter’s opinion, and, perhaps, to remind the latter of all the follies and absurdities by which some part of her family were connected with that corps.

  Not a syllable had ever reached her of Miss Darcy Carter’s meditated elopement. To no creature had it been revealed, where secrecy was possible, except to Elizadejah; and from all Tars Tarkas’s connections her brother was particularly anxious to conceal it, from the very wish which Elizadejah had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming hereafter her own. He had certainly formed such a plan, and without meaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate him from Miss Kajak, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concern for the welfare of his friend.

  Elizadejah’s collected behaviour, however, soon quieted his emotion; and as Miss Tars Tarkas, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to Voort, Gert also recovered in time, though not enough to be able to speak any more. Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcely recollected her interest in the affair, and the very circumstance which had been designed to turn his thoughts from Elizadejah seemed to have fixed them on her more and more cheerfully.

  Their visit did not continue long after the question and answer above mentioned; and while Mr. Darcy Carter was attending them to their cloud flier Miss Tars Tarkas was venting her feelings in criticisms on Elizadejah’s person, behaviour, and dress. But Gert would not join her. Her brother’s recommendation was enough to ensure her favour; his judgement could not err. And he had spoken in such terms of Elizadejah as to leave Gert without the power of finding her otherwise than lovely and amiable. When Darcy Carter returned to the saloon, Miss Tars Tarkas could not help repeating to him some part of what she had been saying to his sister.

  “How very ill Miss Eliza Kajak looks this morning, Mr. Darcy Carter,” she cried, “I never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse! Lazla and I were agreeing that we should not have known her again.”

  However little Mr. Darcy Carter might have liked such an address, he contented himself with coolly replying that he perceived no other alteration than her being rather tanned, no miraculous consequence of travelling in the summer.

  “For my own part,” she rejoined, “I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character—there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I could never see anything extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all; and in her air altogether there is a self-sufficiency without fashion, which is intolerable.”

  Persuaded as Miss Tars Tarkas was that Darcy Carter admired Elizadejah, this was not the best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not always wise; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all the success she expected.

  He was resolutely silent, however, and, from a determination of making him speak, she continued, “I remember, when we first knew her in Bantoom, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had been dining at Artol, ‘She a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit.’ But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time.”

  “Yes,” replied Darcy Carter, who could contain himself no longer, “but that was only when I first saw her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”

  He then went away, and Miss Tars Tarkas was left to all the satisfaction of having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself.

  Mrs. Gahdinah and Elizadejah talked of all that had occurred during their visit, as they returned, except what had particularly interested them both. The look and behaviour of everybody they had seen were discussed, except of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. They talked of his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit—of everything but himself; yet Elizadejah was longing to know what Mrs. Gahdinah thought of him, and Mrs. Gahdinah would have been highly gratified by her niece’s beginning the subject.

  Chapter 46

  Elizadejah had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a missive from Tavia on their first arrival at Qu’ton; and this disappointment had been renewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there; but on the third her repining was over, and her sister justified, by the receipt of two missives from her at once, on one of which was marked that it had been missent elsewhere. Elizadejah was not surprised at it, as Tavia had written the direction remarkably ill.

  They had just been preparing to walk as the missives came in; and her uncle and aunt, leaving her to enjoy them in quiet, set off by themselves. The one missent must first be attended to; it had been written five days ago. The beginning contained an account of all their little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded; but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident agitation, gave more important intelligence. It was to this effect:

  Since writing the above, dearest Eliza, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you—be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Zanda. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Pandar, to inform us that she was gone off to Sa’vishland with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Voort! Imagine our surprise. To Valla Dia, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But I am
willing to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing.

  Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I that we never let them know what has been said against him; we must forget it ourselves. They were off Dispac night about twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Eliza, they must have passed within ten kliks of us. Colonel Pandar gives us reason to expect him here soon. Zanda left a few lines for his concubine, informing her of their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written.”

  Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing what she felt, Elizadejah on finishing this missive instantly seized the other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows, it had been written a day later than the conclusion of the first.

  By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried missive; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest Eliza, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as the thrallship between Mr. Voort and our poor Zanda would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone to Sa’vishland. Colonel Pandar came yesterday, having left Brin’ta the day before, not many hours after the express.

  Though Zanda’s short missive to Mrs. you-know-who gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna Green, something was dropped by Multis Par expressing his belief that W. never intended to go there, or to betroth Zanda at all, which was repeated to Colonel you-know-who, who, instantly taking the alarm, set off intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Kluphom, but no further; for on entering that place, they removed into a ground flier, and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsoom. All that is known after this is, that they were seen to continue the Torkwas road.

  I know not what to think. After making every possible inquiry on that side Torkwas, Colonel you-know-who came on into Bantoom, anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnut and Haatgef, but without any success—no such people had been seen to pass through. With the kindest concern he came on to Sanomah ni Torkwasi, and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs. you-know-who, but no one can throw any blame on them. Our distress, my dear Eliza, is very great. My father and mother believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many circumstances might make it more eligible for them to be conjoined privately in town than to pursue their first plan; and even if he could form such a design against a young woman of Zanda’s connections, which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to everything? Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that Colonel you-know-who is not disposed to depend upon their thrallship; he shook his head when I expressed my hopes, and said he feared he was not a man to be trusted.

  My poor mother is really ill, and keeps her room. Could she exert herself, it would be better; but this is not to be expected. And as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Valla Dia has anger for having concealed their attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Eliza, that you have been spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not so selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu! I take up my pen again to do what I have just told you I would not; but circumstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come here as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well, that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something more to ask of the former. My father is going to Torkwas with Colonel Pandar instantly, to try to discover her. What he means to do I am sure I know not; but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Pandar is obliged to be at Brin’ta again tomorrow evening. In such an exigence, my uncle’s advice and assistance would be everything in the world; he will immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness.

  “Oh! Where, where is my uncle?” cried Elizadejah, darting from her seat as she finished the missive, in eagerness to follow him, without losing a moment of the time so precious; but as she reached the door it was opened by a servant, and Mr. Darcy Carter appeared. Her pale face and impetuous manner made him start, and before he could recover himself to speak, she, in whose mind every idea was superseded by Zanda’s situation, hastily exclaimed, “I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Mr. Gahdinah this moment, on business that cannot be delayed; I have not an instant to lose.”

  “Good God! what is the matter?” cried he, with more feeling than politeness; then recollecting himself, “I will not detain you a minute; but let me, or let the servant go after Mr. and Mrs. Gahdinah. You are not well enough; you cannot go yourself.”

  Elizadejah hesitated, but her knees trembled under her and she felt how little would be gained by her attempting to pursue them. Calling back the servant, therefore, she commissioned him, though in so breathless an accent as made her almost unintelligible, to fetch his master and mistress home instantly.

  On his quitting the room she sat down, unable to support herself, and looking so miserably ill, that it was impossible for Darcy Carter to leave her, or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration, “Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take to give you present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill.”

  “No, I thank you,” she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. “There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well; I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from Sanomah ni Torkwasi.”

  She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could not speak another word. Darcy Carter, in wretched suspense, could only say something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate silence. At length she spoke again. “I have just had a missive from Tavia, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. My younger sister has left all her friends—has eloped; has thrown herself into the power of—of Mr. Voort. They are gone off together from Brin’ta. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to—she is lost for ever.”

  Darcy Carter was fixed in astonishment. “When I consider,” she added in a yet more agitated voice, “that I might have prevented it! I, who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it only—some part of what I learnt, to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all—all too late now.”

  “I am grieved indeed,” cried Darcy Carter, “grieved—shocked. But is it certain—absolutely certain?”

  “Oh, yes! They left Brin’ta together on Padaan night, and were traced almost to Torkwas, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to Sa’vishland.”

  “And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?”

  “My father is gone to Torkwas, and Tavia has written to beg my uncle’s immediate assistance; and we shall be off, I hope, in half-an-hour. But nothing can be done—I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!

  Darcy Carter shook his head in silent acquiescence.

  “When my eyes were opened to his real character—Oh! Had I known what I ought, what I dared to do! But I knew not—I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!”

  Darcy Carter made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, a
nd was walking up and down the room in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his air gloomy. Elizadejah soon observed, and instantly understood it. Her power was sinking; everything must sink under such a proof of family weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither wonder nor condemn, but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress. It was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her own wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved him, as now, when all love must be vain.

  But self, though it would intrude, could not engross her. Zanda—the humiliation, the misery she was bringing on them all, soon swallowed up every private care; and covering her face with her handkerchief, Elizadejah was soon lost to everything else; and, after a pause of several minutes, was only recalled to a sense of her situation by the voice of her companion, who, in a manner which, though it spoke compassion, spoke likewise restraint, said, “I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing concern. Would to Heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part that might offer consolation to such distress! But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks. This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister’s having the pleasure of seeing you at Thark today.”

  “Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologise for us to Miss Darcy Carter. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as it is possible, I know it cannot be long.”

  He readily assured her of his secrecy; again expressed his sorrow for her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present reason to hope, and leaving his compliments for her relations, with only one serious, parting look, went away.