SIX!
[Can it be timidity, bashfulness, and all that sort of thing? Bosh! The widow Finnimore is not a blushing, timid maiden.]
SEVEN!
[Perhaps her watch is out of the way. But, then, on one's marriage-day, would not one see, first of all, that one's watch was right?]
EIGHT!
[Perhaps something is the matter with her bridal array. The dress might not have arrived in time. She may be waiting for her feathers.]
NINE!
[Not yet! Perhaps she is expecting Jack to go to her house and accompany her here. It is very natural Jack may have agreed to do so, and then forgotten all about it]
TEN!
[Perhaps there has been some misunderstanding about the hour, and the widow is not expecting to come till two.]
ELEVEN!
[Perhaps she is ill. Sudden attack of vertigo, acute rheumatism, and brain-fever, consequent upon the excitement of the occasion. The widow prostrated! Jack saved!]
TWELVE!!!
The last toll of the bell rolled out slowly and solemnly, and its deep tones came along the lofty church, and died away in long reverberations down the aisles and along the galleries. Twelve! The hour had come, and with the hour the man; but where was the woman?
Thus far Jack had been holding his face in his hands; but, as the last tones of the bell died away, he raised himself and looked around with some wildness in his face.
"By Jove!" said he.
"What?"
"The widow!"
"She's not here," said I.
"By Jove! Only think of it. A widow, and too late! By Jove! I can't grapple with the idea, you know."
After this we relapsed into silence, and waited.
The people in the pews whispered more vigorously, and every little while looked anxiously around to see if the bridal party was approaching. Old Fletcher closed his eyes, folded his arms, and appeared either buried in thought or in sleep--probably a little of both. Jack sat stolidly with his legs crossed, and his hands hugging his knee, looking straight before him at the opposite side of the chancel, and apparently reading most diligently the Ten Commandments, the Creed, and the Lord's Prayer, which were on the wall there. I was in a general state of mild but ever-increasing surprise, and endeavored to find some conceivable reason for such very curious procrastination.
So the time passed, and none of us said any thing, and the little company of spectators grew fidgety, and Jack still stared, and I still wondered.
At last old Fletcher turned to Jack.
"You said twelve, I think, sir," said he, mildly and benevolently.
"Twelve--did I? Well--of course; why not? Twelve, of course."
"The lady is rather behind the time, I think--isn't she?" said the reverend gentleman, with mild suggestiveness.
"Behind the time?" said Jack, fumbling at his watch; "why, so she is; why, it's twenty minutes to one. By Jove!"
"Perhaps you mistook the hour," hinted the clergyman.
"Mistook it? Not a bit of it," cried Jack, who looked puzzled and bewildered. "The hour? I'm as confident it was twelve as I'm confident of my existence. Not a bit of doubt about that."
"Perhaps something's happened," said I; "hadn't I better drive round to the house, Jack?"
"Yes; not a bad idea," said Jack. "I'll go too. I can't stand it any longer. I've read the ten commandments through seventy-nine times, and was trying to work up to a hundred, when, you interrupted me. Do you know, old chap--I feel out of sorts; that brandy's got to my head--I'd like a little fresh air. Besides, I can't stand this waiting any longer. If it's got to be--why, the sooner the better. Have it out--and be done with it, I say. A fellow don't want to stand all day on the scaffold waiting for the confounded hangman--does he?"
Jack spoke wildly, cynically, and desperately. Old Fletcher listened to these words with a face so full of astonishment and horror, that it has haunted me ever since. And so we turned away, and we left that stricken old man looking after us in amazement and horror too deep for words.
Jack's spirits had flushed up for a moment into a fitful light; but the next moment they sank again into gloom. We walked slowly down the aisle, and, as we passed down, the spectators, seeing us go out, rose from their seats with the evident conviction that the affair was postponed, and the determination to follow. Jack's carriage was at the door, and we drove off.
"Macrorie, my boy," said Jack.
"What?"
"You didn't bring your flask, I suppose," said Jack, gloomily.
"No," said I; "and it's well I didn't, for I think you've done enough of that sort of thing to-day."
"To-day? This is the day of all days when I ought. How else can I keep up? I must stupefy myself, that's all. You don't know, old boy, how near I am to doing something desperate."
"Come, Jack, don't knock under that way. Confound it, I thought you had more spirit."
"Why the deuce does she drive me mad with her delay?" cried Jack, a few minutes after. "Why doesn't she come and be done with it? Am I to spend the whole day waiting for her? By Jove, I've a great mind to go home, and, if she wants me, she may come for me."
"Do," said I, eagerly. "She's missed the appointment; why should you care?"
"Pooh! a fellow can't act in that sort of way. No. Have it out. I've acted badly enough, in a general way, but I won't go deliberately and do a mean thing. I dare say this sort of thing will wear off in the long run. We'll go to England next week. We'll start for New York to-night, and never come back. I intend to try to get into the 178th regiment. It's out in Bombay, I believe. Yes. I've made up my mind to that. It's the only thing to be done. Yes--it's the best thing--far the best for both of us."
"Both of you!"
"Both, yes; of course."
"What, you and the widow?"
"The widow? Confound the widow! Who's talking of her?"
"I thought you were talking of her. You said you were going to take her to England."
"The widow? No," cried Jack, peevishly; "I meant Louie, of course. Who else could I mean? Louie. I said it would be far better for me and Louie if I went to Bombay."
And with these words he flung himself impatiently back in the carriage and scowled at vacancy.