CHAPTER LXXVIII

THE CAPTAIN CATCHES IT

One fine morning, as our hand-kissing friend came hopping, and grinning, and bounding upstairs, without giving Frederick the trouble of announcing him, what should he find, instead of dear smiling Letitia sitting at the receipt of custom, but stiff old Mamma, with her front well down over her care-worn, wrinkled brow, and her once smiling lips compressed into a very firm, resolute-looking mouth. Doleful started at the sight. He saw there was mischief. She didn’t look like herself.

“Good morning, my dear Captain,” said Mrs. Brantinghame, extending her two forefingers for a salute, a sort of instalment of what he might get if he was a good boy; “good morning, my dear Captain. Louisa Letitia will be down presently. But before she comes,” added she in a lower tone, “I should like to have a few words with you,” motioning the taken-aback Captain to a seat on the sofa by her side. “You see, my dear (hem) Captain,” recommenced she, sotto voce, as soon as he got settled; “you see, my dear Captain,” repeated she, with one of those nasty dry coughs with which old women generally preface their unpleasantness, “you see, my dear (hem) Captain,” added she for the third time, “though of course I’m extremely (hem) happy and (cough) pleased to see you (hem) here whenever you (cough—hem) like to come, yet the (hem) world is censorious, and when a (cough) young gentleman comes so often to the house where there is a (hem) young lady, ill-natured people will (cough) talk, and—” here she had recourse to her kerchief.

The Captain was non-plussed, for he had not calculated on overhauling time coming so soon; but, with the comfortable consciousness of having the wherewithal, he soon recovered his composure, very different to a young gentleman who feels that overhauling and kicking-out time will be all one.

Mrs. Brantinghame marked his countenance with satisfaction, and felt encouraged to go on; indeed, she had never known Sir Archy’s information fail, though she had not always been able to realize it. “Of course (hem),” continued she, smoothing out the corner of her kerchief, “of course I need not (hem) say that my (hem) daughter is very much (cough—hem) flattered and (cough) gratified by the (hem) partiality you have (cough) shown her, and I’m sure (cough—hem—cough),” simpered she, “I have every reason to show you (cough) confidence and esteem, as well on my brother Sir Archy’s account as on that of my poor dear child, but, considering the difficulty (hem) and the delicacy (hem) of my (hem) situation, I feel assured you will excuse a mother’s (hem) and (hem)”—the old lady checking herself, in the hope that the Captain would now take up the running.

In this, however, she was disappointed; for the Captain, having taken a careful survey of the ceiling during the earlier part of her discourse, and seen what he was almost sure was a spider’s web in the cornice above the door, now took to studying the roses, lilies, and convolvuluses of which the light-grounded carpet was composed.

In the course of his floricultural pursuit, the following ideas came to his assistance:—

First, that he was a very great man.

Secondly, that the old lady was in too great a hurry.

Thirdly, that he wouldn’t be bullied.

As he seemed likely to increase his stock of ideas, Mrs. Brantinghame resumed the appeal, ad misericordiam.

“People,” whimpered she, pretending to brush away a rising tear, “people may blame (hem) me for allowing my (hem) daughter’s (cough) affections to be (hem) engaged before the (cough—hem—cough) preliminaries are all arranged, but really, my dear (cough—hem) Captain, I have been placed in a very trying and difficult situation, and my great regard for my brother, Sir Archy, prompting (hem) me to show you every (cough) attention, without p’r’aps thinking or (cough—hem—cough) considering the great (cough) risk and (hem) danger I was exposing my poor dear child to.” Whereupon she went off full cry, burying her sobs in her kerchief.

During this second performance, the Captain’s thoughts had time to take another turn, and they served him thus:—

First, he recollected his ignominious expulsion from Great Coram Street.

Secondly, he thought he would like to show Belinda how soon he could suit himself, and that, too, with a great heiress.

Thirdly, he considered that the not having a brother was always as good as a thousand pounds to a girl, as sooner or later the brother would be sure to do him out of that sum.

Fourthly, that the old lady could not live for ever and, in addition to a very ladylike wife, he would come in for no end of property—plate and china.

Accordingly, by the time Mrs. Brantinghame was done heaving and sobbing, the Captain was gifted with the following powers of speech:—

“I’m sure, marm (hem)—I’m sure, marm (cough)—I’m sure, marm (sneeze)—” now looking up to the cornice for the spider’s web, “I am certainly—I may say undoubtedly—deeply—that is to say sincerely—sincerely, that is to say deeply—attached—to your very elegant and amiable, that is to say, amiable and elegant daughter, and,” looking at his rather ragged nails, “I flatter myself—that is to say—I have reason to believe—that your lovely and beautiful—that is to say amiable—and (cough) accomplished daughter is equally attached to me,” now looking down at his Molières.

“That I have no doubt of, my dear Captain,” interrupted Mrs. Brantinghame, glad to have got that admission from himself; “that I have no doubt of, my dear Captain,” repeated she. “If I had not been satisfied on that point, I should not have thought of troubling you to-day; but, standing almost alone in the world, and knowing the danger of allowing these sort of (cough) intimacies to ripen into (hem) friendships, without a little (hem) understanding, I felt it my duty as a mother to satisfy myself that your (cough) feelings are reciprocal, so that my (cough) child’s (hem) affections might not be (sneeze) sacrificed.”

The Captain grinned assent, whereupon a game at cross-purposes ensued between Mamma and himself, each wanting to find out what the other had; but, Mrs. Brantinghame having determined to make her daughter Mrs. Doleful at all hazards, she did not go so close to the wind as she would otherwise have done. They were both in a good deal of debt, and Mamma was determined to saddle the Captain with her daughter’s share.

This exciting discussion was at length interrupted by Frederick (who had been listening at the door for some time) entering the room, to announce that luncheon was ready, whereupon Mrs. Brantinghame, having gathered herself together, tendered Doleful her hand, saying emphatically, as she eyed his slightly flushed face, “Then we understand each other.” And the gallant officer having answered “Yes,” she replied, as she took his arm to go downstairs, “Then you shall have an opportunity after luncheon.”