111.
CHAPTER CXI.
THE WEDDING-DAY FIXED, AND THE GUESTS INVITED.
When she was to receive so handsome a reward for the intelligence that
she had wrung a reluctant consent from Helen to be the baron's bride, it was
not likely that Mrs. Williams would let a long time elapse before she
communicated that fact to him, and, accordingly, she started to do so
personally.
It would appear that the baron fully expected her, for he made no remark
at all expressive of surprise, but received her with that courtly grace which
Mrs. Williams attributed to his intercourse with the highest and the noblest.
He did not seem so impatient as any one would have supposed a very ardent
lover would have been, and, before he would allow Mrs. Williams at all to
enter into the object of her visit, he requested her to be seated, and would
insist upon placing before her some of the very choicest refreshment.
Indeed, as often as she then attempted to enter into the subject-matter
which had brought her there, he interrupted her with some remark of a
different nature, so that she found it very difficult to say anything
regarding it.
At length, however, when he had satisfied the claims of hospitality, he
said, —
"I presume that I shall have the pleasure of listening to something
particularly pleasant and delightful to me, inasmuch as it will convey to me
the realization of my dearest hopes."
"Why, my lord baron, I must confess," said Mrs. Williams, "that
notwithstanding the extremely liberal offers of Admiral Green—"
"Admiral Green, madam? This is the first moment I have heard of such a
personage."
"No doubt—no doubt; but for all that, since we have had the honour of
your offer for the hand of Helen, Admiral Green has made one, and such a
liberal one that it's quite distressing to refuse him."
"Then allow me to say, madam, that I hope you won't distress yourself
about it, but accept of Admiral Green at once. I should be very sorry indeed
to stand in the way of any advantageous arrangement, and, therefore, I beg you
will close with Admiral Green."
The adage about coming to the ground between two stools forcibly
presented itself to the memory of Mrs. Williams, and she replied, in a great
hurry, —
"Oh, no, baron, certainly not—certainly not. I have refused the
admiral on your account. I told him, most distinctly, I could not think of
entertaining his offer for a moment, and I refused him at once."
"Then why trouble me about him, madam?"
"Oh, I thought I would only merely mention it, because the admiral said
he would have great pleasure—which, of course, was a very liberal thing of
him—in handing me a cheque for two thousand pounds."
"Oh, now I understand," said the baron. "I give you credit, madam, for
having a good reason for making this report to me. You think that I may be
induced to emulate the munificence of Admiral Green; but when I assure you
that I have not the remotest intention of so doing, probably you will think
that it would have been just as well if the matter had never been mentioned."
The baron was right; for Mrs. Williams did think so; and she felt all
that bitterness of disappointment which wonderfully clever people do feel when
they find that some pet scheme has most signally failed, leaving behind it all
the consequences of a failure: and, whatever people may say to the contrary,
failures do always have bad consequences, and never leave the circumstances
exactly where they were.
There was rather an awkward pause of some moments' duration, and then
Mrs. Williams thought she would get over the baron completely, for she put on
the most amiable smile she could, and said, —
"My dear baron, I am sure we shall all be the most happy and united
family that can possibly be imagined; and it is the greatest pleasure to me to
be able to give you the intelligence that my daughter has consented to become
yours."
"Madam, I am much obliged."
"And, although Admiral Green did say that if I would bring him similar
intelligence he would there and then, on the spot, without any further delay,
hand me two thousand pounds, I said to him, —'Admiral Green, I am only to
get five hundred pounds from the Baron Stolmuyer of Saltzburgh, and that five
hundred pounds he has likewise promised to pay me down.' Down—you
understand, baron?"
"Madam, I am not deaf."
"But you understand—down?"
"Oh, I begin to see; you want the money. Why could you not say so at
once? It's of no use hinting things to me; but if you had said to me at once,
—'Baron, I have brought you the consent to the marriage, and now I expect
at once the five hundred pounds that I am to receive for so doing,' I should
have understood you, and said at once, —'Oh, certainly, madam; here is the
money,' —as I do now. You will find that check drawn for the amount."
"What a charming thing it is," said Mrs. Williams; "what a charming thing
it is to do business in such a real business sort of way; but there are so few
people, baron, with your habits, and upon whom one can so thoroughly depend,
as one can upon you."
"Madam, you do me too much honour. Of course, having promised you this
insignificant sum of money, it was not likely that I should but keep my word;
and now let me ask, when is to be the happy day?"
"If this day week will suit you, baron."
"Wonderfully well, madam—wonderfully well."
"Then, we will consider that as settled. I suppose you will have a
public marriage?"
"No—no, strictly private. I am resolved, madam, not to have more than
one hundred and fifty people, and to keep the expenses within in a thousand
pounds; so you see, I am going to do it in the plainest possible manner, and
make no fuss at all about it."
"Gracious Providence!" thought Mrs. Williams; "what would he call a
public marriage, if he considers a thousand pounds expense, and one hundred
and fifty guests, a private one, and making no fuss about it."
"On one of my former marriages—" said the baron, with an air of
abstraction.
"One of them?" said Mrs. Williams; "may I presume to ask how often you
have been married, my lord?"
"Oh, certainly. Let me see; I think eleven times."
"Eleven! and pray, sir, what became of your wives?"
"Why, really, madam, I cannot say. I hope the majority of them went to
Heaven; but there were one or two I most heartily wished at the other place."
"My gracious!" thought Mrs. Williams, "he is quite a bluebeard; but,
however, things have gone too far now; and I am not going to give up my cheque
if he had twenty wives; and, after all, it shows he must be a man of great
experience, and of great wealth, too, or so many women would not have had him;
but, if that little fact about all his wives should come to the ears of Helen,
I am really afraid she wouldn't have him, so I must caution him about it."
"My lord baron."
"Yes, madam."
"I think, between you and I, my lord baron, that it would be quite as
well to say nothing to my daughter about her being the twelfth wife; but just
let her quietly think she is the first, because, you know, my lord, young
people have prejudices upon those subjects, and she might not exactly like the
idea."
"Oh, certainly, madam, I shall not mention the little affairs that have
preceded her's. I assure you I am quite aware that it is likely there should
be a prejudice against a man who has had eleven wives; and people will think
that he smothered a few of them."
"Good gracious!" said Mrs. Williams; "you don't mean that, my lord baron.
I hope that nobody ever accused you of such a thing."
"Nay," said the baron; "how are the best of us to escape censure? You
know as well as I, Mrs. Williams, what a bad world it is we live in; and how
dreadfully selfish people are."
"Yes," said Mrs. Williams, "that's remarkably true; but it ain't often,
my lord baron, that one man has eleven wives."
"No; and it ain't often that such a man would exactly like to venture
upon a twelfth."
"Well, no, there is something in that; but I will now, my lord, take my
leave, entertaining no doubt whatever, but that this will be an extremely
happy marriage, and in every respect just what we might all of us desire."
Mrs. Williams left the baron with these words; but, to say that she
believed them, would be to make by far too powerful an experiment upon the
credulity of our readers.
When he was alone, the baron smiled a strange and ghastly smile.
"That woman," he said, "is so fond of gold, that she sells her child
without hesitation to me. If, upon hearing of my pretended marriages, she had
given me back my money, I should have thought some good of her; but no, that
she could not do. Money is her idol, and when once in her possession, she
could not dream of parting with it. But what is it to me? Have I not made up
my mind to this affair, let the consequences be what they may? Have I not
resolved upon it in every possible shape? Henceforward I will cast aside all
feelings of regret, and live for myself alone; for what have I now to hope,
and what have I now to fear, from mankind?"
"Hope! did I say I had nothing to hope? I was wrong; I have something to
hope; and it is a something I will have—it is revenge. Yes, it is revenge—
revenge! which I must and will have against society, that has made me what I
am; and the time shall yet come when my name shall be a greater terror than it
is, and that to some were needless, for it is such a terror already, that but
to mention it, would cause a commotion of frightful inquietude."
He looked from one of the windows of his house, and he saw Mrs. Williams,
as she proceeded down one of the garden walks, take his cheque from out her
reticule, where she had placed it, and look at it attentively.
"Ah!" he said, "now she is worshipping her divinity, gold. She knows
that that piece of paper carries weight with it, and that, flimsy as it looks,
it is sufficient to purchase her. Fool! fool! and she thinks she is buying
contentment."
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