University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.
THE COUSINS.

“Well, there, coz!” cried a thin, high-keyed
male voice, the moment the traveller had disappeared.
“I declare I never knew you to be
guilty of improper conduct before!”

Looking around, Miss Silby saw an odd
figure coming out of a cluster of bushes farther
down the stream. It was a tall, slender youth,
with a stoop in his shoulders, awkward arms,
and crooked legs. A long, droll face, a twinkling
gray eye, a foppish hat, worn with a onesided
inclination, and striped pants, very tight,
and strapped down with extravagant nicety,
made up a rather singular picture.

“What about improper conduct?” said Miss
Silby, with a smile.

“I didn't think it of you, Alice!” exclaimed
the young man, in the same squeaking voice.
“To talk with a beggar! and sitting on the
same bench with him, too! I declare! — and
when I think that he is a perfect stranger to
you! Alice Silby! you astonish me!”

“I astonish you frequently, Joseph,” said
Alice. “You think I am a strange creature,
no doubt. But with regard to that poor man
who has just left me, he is not a beggar, I
judge; and had he been, I should probably
have treated him the same. He was very
respectful, and I saw no reason for being unkind
to him.”

And Alice fixed her eyes once more upon
the book she had been reading.

“Now, coz,” exclaimed the young man, sitting
down by her side without ceremony,
“this isn't fair.”

“What is not fair, Joseph?”

“Why, just now you treated that beggarly
fellow like a gentleman, and now you treat me
like a beggar. Don't be reading always, when
I want to talk to you.”

“Any way to please you,” replied Alice,
closing the volume. “Come, now, what do
you want to say to me?”

“O, nothing in particular,” replied Joseph,
stroking his upper lip, on which there was a
faint shadow of an incipient moustache. “But
I want you to say something to me. You
haven't seen me, you remember, since yesterday.”

“Dear me:” laughed Alice, “I haven't!”

“Indeed you haven't, coz. And I have been
looking for you ever since your school was out.
I feel uneasy as a fish out of water if I don't
see you three times a day.”

Joseph Sorrel was excessively fond of his
fair cousin, and he was always making declarations
of extravagant devotion.

“It is your fault if you haven't seen me,”
said Miss Silby. “You went to a party last
night; and this morning, according to the
latest intelligence received before I went to my
school, you were snoring most vulgarly.”

“Now, don't say I snore,” exclaimed Mr.
Sorrel. “I declare I do not snore, Alice! I
never in my life woke up and caught myself
snoring. You should have said sleeping most
soundly, instead of snoring most vulgarly. If
you tease me, coz, you will break my heart.”

“Then you confess you slept late?”

“I can't deny that. Don't you think I am
getting a little dissipated, coz?” said Mr. Sorrel,
smiling, and stroking his upper lip. “I met
seventeen girls last night, and didn't come
home until two o'clock! But I wasn't happy,
Alice,” continued Joseph, in a melancholy tone.

“Seventeen handsome faces couldn't make me
forget you, coz.”

“You honored Miss Fantom with your attentions,
I believe,” said Alice.

“Yes,” replied Joseph; “that is, I didn't.
She honored me. She is a nice girl, is Miss
Fantom, coz — a splendid creature. Do you
think she'd make me a good wife?”

“Certainly, Joseph.”

“O, cruel creature! how could you say so?”
exclaimed Mr. Sorrel, dolefully. “She is a
magnificent girl, Alice; but there is another
who reigns in this bosom. You know it, coz!
and if you would accept my hand —”

“Thank you; I'd rather be excused,” replied
Alice, with a laugh.

Mr. Joseph Sorrel stroked his shadowy moustache,
and smiled queerly at his fair cousin.
This was the ninety-ninth time he had respectfully
offered Alice his hand and been coolly
rejected.

“Well, I can only express my regrets,” observed
Joseph, with an air of resignation.
“Then you think Miss Fantom would make
me a good wife?”

“Certainly, provided you love each other.”

“It is a doubtful case, then, cousin. I can't
say that I'm particularly partial to Miss Fantom,
although I might be devoted to her, if it
were not for my devotion to another, who shall
be nameless. But since that other refuses
me!” suggested Mr. Sorrel, in a pathetic tone.

“Does she love you?” cried Alice, who was
not ambitious of another opportunity to refuse
her cousin's hand.

“My mind is in a cloud of uncertainty on
that question. Last night, would you think it,
Miss Fantom was engaged every time when I
asked her hand to dance, except twice. There
wasn't a handsome gentleman in the room that
she didn't dance with, to my indescribable
annoyance. Rather ungrateful, I thought, after
I had escorted her to the party, and taken upon
myself the awful responsibility of protecting
her.”

“Awful responsibility, Joseph?”

“Certainly. You would think so, if you
knew half the difficulties with which I have
had to struggle!”

“How so?”

“The truth is,” said Mr. Sorrel, looking at
his boots with a thoughtful expression, “that

girl is always being insulted. I'll give you an
instance. The first time I ever took her to a
ball, which was last winter, I observed that she
frowned upon me severely; and when I spoke
to her, she looked over my head as if I had
been a dwarf, immeasurably beneath her notice.
`My dear Miss Fantom,' says I, `what
is the matter?'

“`A foolish question,' says she, `for a gentleman
to ask!'

“`I beg of you,' says I, `to explain yourself.
Have I offended you?'

“`Mr. Sorrel,' — these are the very words
she used, — `I didn't think you the man to see
a lady insulted, without — without knocking
the offender down, at least.'

“Only you, coz,” pursued Mr. Sorrel, “can
imagine my consternation. You understand
my remarkably peaceful disposition; you
know the bare idea of knocking a man down
inspires me with horror. I think I must have
turned a little pale when Miss Fantom so
very coolly insinuated that it was expected of
me to level with the floor some audacious
individual, who — I shuddered to think of it —
might be a little too much for me.

“`O,' says I, `nobody has insulted you, I
hope.'

“Now, think of Miss Fantom's reply! She
is a spirited creature, I declare.

“`If I'm not to be protected in this ball room,'
says she, `I'd thank you to take me home.'

“`O, my dear Miss Fantom,' says I, `you are
to be protected. I am your protector!' And
I stood up before her, and looked her in the
face in the most courageous manner. `Tell
me who has insulted you.'

“`Will you punish the offender?' says Miss
Fantom.

“I declare, Miss Alice, I never felt less ferocious
in my life. But I saw that Miss Fantom
expected me to say yes; and so I said yes, and
looked my fiercest.

“`Dear Joseph,' says she, — she actually
called me dear, — `you are a noble fellow, after
all. I wronged you to suspect your courage.
I am proud of your protection. Now, all I
ask of you is —'

“`What?' says I, with my heart where my
palate ought to have been.

“`Demand an apology,' says she, `of Major
Smith. He is the man who insulted me!'

“Believe me, cousin, I never felt quite so
streaked in my life. The major is the most
barbarous fellow I ever saw. And such a
bloody wicked eye he's got! I presume he
would make nothing of pitching a small man
like me out of a fourth story window, or down
the steepest of stairs. I'd sooner encounter a
lion than the terrible major. I felt too nervous
to express myself properly; but somehow I
managed to say that I didn't think so noble a
fellow as the major would insult any body.

“`Do you think I don't know when I'm
insulted?' cried Miss Fantom: a remarkably
spirited girl, to be sure! `Major Smith,' says
she, `trod on my toe in the last cotillon, and
he made no apology.'

“`O, indeed,' says I; `but what shall I do?'

“`Demand one!' says Miss Fantom.

“`But if he refuses to apologize?'

“`O, in that case,' — what an extraordinary
cool girl she is! — `in that case,' says Miss
Fantom, `you will knock him down!'

“You had better believe, coz, that this was
rather too cool — it was freezing! The thermometer
of my courage sank fifty degrees below
the fighting point in no time. But there was

no escape for me. So I marched up to the
major, and in the humblest manner, and the
most conciliatory tone I could command,
informed him of the fact that he had trodden
on Miss Fantom's toe.

“`What's that to you?' says the major, so
gruffly that he fairly startled me off my feet.

“`O, my dear sir,' says I, `don't be rash. I
don't want to make any fuss; indeed, this is a
remarkably unpleasant affair to me; but Miss
Fantom, you know, — nobody but Miss Fantom,
— feels hurt.'

“`Go to grass!' says the major. `If I
trod on Miss Fantom's toes, it was unintentional;
but if you come to me with any more
such errands, I shall tread on yours with an
intention.'

“And the major wheeled square about as if
he had been on parade, and walked off with
the blackest of savage scowls. Of course, I
didn't follow him; I am not ambitious of the
acquaintance of such men. I hurried back to
Miss Fantom, and told her that the major said
the insult was unintentional.

“`Ah! did he?' says Miss Fantom, with an
air of triumph. `I am glad of it!'

“`So am I,' says I. `It would have given
me pain to be obliged to knock him down

“Now, I thought this was the end of my
probation, and congratulated myself on having
exhibited great courage and achieved high
honors. Half an hour after, however, Miss
Fantom came to me breathless with indignation.
Another man had insulted her, and I
was expected to go and knock him down!
The other affair hadn't made me particularly
ferocious, and I really felt more peaceably
inclined at that moment than ever before.
However, I was to go and demand an apology
of Mr. Briggs, for running against Miss Fantom
when he was leading his partner to a seat.
In case he didn't apologize, I was instructed to
level him to the floor. To my unbounded
satisfaction, Mr. Briggs met me in the most
amicable manner, and seemed quite as little
inclined to pugilistic exercises as myself. Thus
he saved himself from a bruising by going to
Miss Fantom and personally expressing his regret
at a circumstance of which he was unconscious,
he said, at the time of its occurrence.”

“Ha! ha!” laughed Alice. “Miss Fantom
suffered no more insults in one night, I hope?”

“Bless you!” exclaimed Mr. Sorrel, “she
was insulted three times after the affair with
Briggs. She made me the most miserable
of men. I didn't recover from the nervousness
and anxiety of mind she occasioned me in a
month. The last case was that awful man,
Major Smith, again. Says Miss Fantom, —

“`Mr. Sorrel,' says she, `if I was decently
protected, this wouldn't have happened. Every
body insults a woman who isn't protected.
Now, if you have any regard for me, make an
example of Major Smith. He looked at me
insultingly. Go and knock him down!'

“As the major had just gone into the
refreshment room, I felt safe in declaring that I
would show him no mercy. Thereupon I
rushed out with savage gestures, and dodged
the major and Miss Fantom for half an hour.
At length, to my inexpressible satisfaction, I
saw the awful major take his departure;
whereupon I rushed back to Miss Fantom,
foaming with rage, and declaring that Smith
had undoubtedly fled for his life, as he was
nowhere to be found!”

“And was Miss Fantom satisfied?” asked
Alice, laughing.

“O, perfectly! And she thinks now that I
am a bloodthirsty fellow! And all the time I
wouldn't have harmed a hair of Smith's wig
for the world!”

“You must be passionately fond of her, to
encounter such dangers for her sake, Joseph.”

“As I said before, I should be devoted to
her, if it were not for another, whom I need not
name,” said Mr. Sorrel, significantly. “And I
could readily forget her, if that other —”

“Upon my word, Joseph!” cried Alice, in
well-feigned surprise, “you have got something
on your upper lip!”

“Ah! that is my moustache!” said Joseph,
stroking the scanty sprouts of beard complacently.
“Hadn't you observed this ornament
to my physiognomy before?”

“Never, I am sure!”

“Why, coz, I have been cultivating a moustache
for two weeks. I am afraid my success
hasn't been extraordinary, for I haven't yet
received a single compliment on my improved
appearance. Even Miss Fantom, whose passionate
admiration of moustaches awakened in
me an ambition to raise one, has not deigned
to notice the beard my razor has spared for her
sake.”

“Don't be discouraged,” said Alice. “It
requires time to accomplish all things.”

“O, I am uncommonly patient, coz,” sighed
Joseph. “So far, I have watched the gradual
development of my moustache with the utmost
solicitude. I shall not abandon the
object of so much care and anxiety without a
fair trial. Yet, you know for whom I would
forsake Miss Fantom; and even now if you
dislike moustaches, and if you will give me the
least encouragement, — a word of consolation,
— I will not rest till I have shaved my upper
lip!”

“Pshaw!” cried Alice. “You are always
talking nonsense. How do you like Miss Fantom's
family?”

“They are very singular people; they have
such queer notions of being genteel. I believe
they do not receive half as much company as
they would like; but as it is, they make it
a point to refuse themselves to half the people
who call, because they think it appears aristocratic
to be `engaged' or `not at home.' By
the way, did you ever observe what rare specimens
of servant girls they always employ?
Nobody in that house, I believe, was ever guilty

of admitting a visitor within fifteen minutes after
the ringing of the door bell. I tell you what
it is, coz, every time I call on the Fantoms,
I ring the bell, run round the corner into the
shoemaker's shop, brush my boots, and get
back to the door just as the servant opens it.”

“An ingenious method of occupying your
time,” observed Alice. “But in case you are
in a hurry, you must suffer inconvenience.”

“To be sure! And if I ever do have occasion
to call there in a hurry, I shall hire a
boy to run on before me and ring the bell,
so that the door will be open when I get there.
On the whole, however, notwithstanding these
little peculiarities of the family, and Miss
Lucy's habit of being insulted, I think a connection
with the Fantoms desirable; and I
shall probably marry Miss Lucy — that is, if
another who reigns in my heart does not relent
and make me a thousand times happier by accepting
the hand which is at her disposal.”

And Mr. Joseph Sorrel looked wistfully at
his fair cousin, who only laughed and shook
her head, as she once more opened her book,
and, to Joseph's inexpressible regret, began to
read.

While Alice sits thus absorbed in the contents
of the hateful volume, — as Joseph considers
it, — and Joseph sits silently gazing at
her with unbounded admiration, we will take
occasion to make certain necessary explanations.