Rensselaer Republican, Volume 15, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 January 1883 — THE MAJOR'S MISTAKE. [ARTICLE]

THE MAJOR'S MISTAKE.

“Dash it, I’ll save her life!”,said the Major, suddenly. The Major had jußt laid a covering of snow-white lather on that tract of chin which was still sacred from the incursions of his luxuriant beard. As he gave vent to this remarkable resolution he inadvertently wounded himself with his razor, so as to compel a resort to a towel and cold sponging, which put an end to I> is reflections for a time. Maj. Majoribanks was an active, clean-ly-built man, rather below the average height. He had an eye like a hawk’s, beautiful hair and whiskers, but no other striking feature. His hands and feet were small and finely formed, and a front tooth which nature had taken from him had been exquisitely supplied by the hand of art. The great feature of the Major’s character was determination; when he said a thing he meant it. In the Crimea, if Maj. Majoribanks had said that a post shonld be carried its fall was looked upon as certain. Zerlina, the Major’s vicious little mare, knew it was useless to try and refuse if once her master £ut her head straight for an obstacle. tike the late Mr. Assheton Smith, he would quietly “ride for a fall,” if the leap were impracticable without one; and no one knew better how to fall deftly than the Major. But a life spent, as it were, in a succession of pitched battles, does not pass without leaving marks of wear snd tear, and the Major after his third bottle of hair-dye, began to take very serious views of life. Short and decisive were his ruminations, and with characteristic promptness he determined on marriage as his next achievement. For this purpose he selected a young lady of remarkable wealth and considerable attractions, and devoted himself to the sacrifloe like a second Iphigenia—barring the sex. Perhaps it was the very difficulty of the achievement that impelled the dauntless Major to the attack. Diana Harford had already refused two Baronets, a banker and four minor deities before the Major’s appearance in the field, and still continued to ride across the country with as much enthusiasm as if her whole life was to be devoted to that occupation. People began to say that she would never marry. “The right man has not spoken,” was the general opinion; and the Major, as he gnawed his mustashe, resolved with an inward oath that he would prove himself that man, -or perish in the attempt.

Not that the Major was wholly devoid of that unpractical machine called a heart. Down in a little villa near a country village lived a little lady of 20, who could have told strange tales of the Major’s sentimentality. Oh. Major, Major! were not all your flocks apd herds sufficient, that you must needs make this innooent ewe-lamb a captive to vour bow and spear ? But let us do the Major justice. In this matter he was not altogether a free agent. From the moment he met Patty Itoseneath he had felt himself fascinated by her, in spite of all his attempts to persuade himself of the contrary. That a quiet, almost timid little provincial beauty, with a general unsopliisticatedaess of tone and manner, should have any power to enchant the Major of a thousand battles seemed to him too ridiculous an idea to be entertained for a moment. It did not occur to him that it was perhaps this very difference from the woman he had been acc s.omed to flirt with that constituted her charms. Reviewing the matter that morning in the so itude of his oliamber, the M>ijor looked back on this love-passage with a thankful sense of escape. “I was mighty near making a fool of myself that time,” said the Major to himself as he tied his cravat. But though the Major congratulated himself on being so safely off with the old love, he was far from feel ng so eom ortable with regard to his prospects with the new. Miss Harford’s heart seemed to be impregnable even to this experience 1 besieger. The Major, who never committed the error of ove rating his advan ages, confessed to himself that he had done all he knew. He had studied the -fortress with all the paraphernalia of sapping and mining, a gzags and parallels, and still the flag of liberty floated mockingly above the

nnoonquered bastions. There was but one hope—a forlorn hope, he confessed to himself—and it was with a serious, though determined spirit that the Major resolved on an attack by-storm. He pronounced this resolution in the memorable words which commence this story. “Dash it!” said the Major, “I’ll save her life.” Perhaps, had the Major known who it was that had arrived as a guest to Miss Harford on the previoas evening, it might have disturbed his calculations. But there is no reason why we should not listen to tke conversation of Diana and her guest, as they sit by the bedroom fire in their elegant deshabille. Miss Harford was a girl of considerable individuality of character. Without affecting any of the airs of a “blue” or an eccentric, she generally thought for herself on many subjects, and would state her opinions pretty strongly on occasion. This caused her to be regarded with suspicion and dislike by most of her own sex and the weaker of ours. She was nnnsnally—prudes said improperly—well-read in the drama of the last century, and actually preferred the school of Sheridan to the school of Schneider.

“What have I been doing lately?” said she, in answer to a question from her companion. “What am I always doing? I have danced the usual proEortion of dances, round and square ; I ave read the last new novel, and tried the last milk-and-water effnsion they call a ballad; and I have ridden over the usual number of plowed fields. What more would you have of a woman in my position ?” “What a queer girl you are, Di,” says the other lady, wistfully. “I always said you would never find any man to suit you exactly.” “That’s just what I’m wanting, my dear—a man. I see plenty of amatenr jockeys and polite letter-writers. What I want is a man—one that is not afraid to be natural, or ashamed to be in earnest. I really think our average dandy, with his cool self-snfficiency, and his insulting indifferenoe, the most unpleasant production of the age. There’s the Major now—” “Who is that?” "Maj. Majoribanks, my dear; the glory of his regiment, and the idol of all the horse-dealers, amateur actors, and fast yonng men for a circle of twenty miles. Why, Patty, you’re blushing! You don’t mean to say you know the man!” “I met him—that is—he is a friend of my, brother’s,” said the lady with some hesitation. “And you’ve been foqlish enough to believe all his nonsense, child, I dare say. Corile, now ?” “Well, he certainly is an extraordinary man,” pleaded Patty. “Oh, yes, very. He can ride a kicker or write a burlesque. But as for heart, —why, my dear child, he’d toss you aside, if it suited his purpose, with as much indifference as I toss that withered camellia. Now, don’t you waste a thought on him. I don’t intend to, though the wretched man has been making love to me in his quiet way ever since he came. I’m afraid every day he’ll propose, and I Shall have the trouble of refusing him without losing my temper.” “But I can’t help it,” said Patty, faintly. “Oh, yes, you can. You thought you couldn’t down in that dull place, with nothing else to think about, but you'll be under a different treatment here, I can assure you. I’ll tell you what—as a gr* at treat to-morrow you shall ride Crusader. We’ll take a quiet canter along the lanes.”

“Oh, but I can’t ride strange horses,” said Patty. “Oh, you’ll soon get acquainted. Mind, I consider this a great l'avor, and you mustn’t hurt my feelings by refusing. One of my habits will fit you nicely, and when you return you’ll feel spirit enough to defy twenty Majors.” “You are a darling girl,” said Patty, getting np and kissing her. “I’m afraid you’re in a minority, my dear,” said Diana. “Most people say I’m inienselydisagreeable. Goodnight, and don’t dream of the Major.” And the pair kissed again, and parted for the night. The next day was one of those mild, hazy November ones, which break out into a glimpse of sunshine toward noon, and then return to their former dullness. The two girls rode along the hedgerows, chatting pleasantly. “I’m sure I shall never be able to manage this animal,” said Patty timidly. “See how he tosses his head about.” “That’s because you let him*feel the ourb, dear: I had it put up sharp on purpose. Have power of punishment, but seldom use it; that’s the real secret of- managing horses, dogs and men. There now, you see he goes quietly enough on the snaffle. Now coax him a little, and give and take more; remember he isn’t a phlegmatic donkey, with a mouth like a deal board.” “Well, I must say I prefer quiet horses; one feels so much more at ease. ” “Pshaw, my dear! I wouldn’t give a guinea for a horse that any one could ride, that took no more notice of a steam-engine than of k haystack. They have just the same dead-level of indifference that is the ideal excellence of the young man of the period, who hears with equal apathy of a railroad accident or a revolution.” v 1 “Well, I suppose they only follow the fashion, just as in their coats and collars.” “ But what an age it must be that makes a dead calm its acme of good style, and substitutes Jack Poyntz for Banger or Charles Surface.” “Good heavens, Diana! Yon don’t

mean to say yon read those horrid old plays ? Mamma would not let me study such things on any account.” “Nonsense! As if they could be worse than the French plays one sees now, or half a dozen English ones I could name. At least, I enjoy the nude characters more than in ours. They were infinitely more sparkling, and I don’t believe they were a bit wickeder at bottom.” “Ah, Di! I’m afraid yon will never get married at this rate.” “No, dear, As some one says of Morris, I shall die the serene martyr of a mean and melancholy time.” “Yon mnst have had plenty of offers ?” “Oh, dozens! all couched in the condescending brevity with which the preux chevalier of the day deigns to express his wishes, Now, jnst contrast the men we have been talking about. Worship commences by a shower of more or less readable verses, which you have the option of reading or committing to the flames. Yon oasually drop your handkerchief into a running stream or down a precipice, and yonr adorer throws himself after it, and restores it at the risk of his life. Alter a while he throws himself upon his knees—both knees, mind—and begs you to save him from destruction. You relent; on leaving yon he meets his rival; a glance is enough; swords flash out”—so did Diana’s eyes—“and wo to him who flinches.” “Horrible!” said Patty. “Will this suit you better? Strephon strolls lazily into the room; remarks on the weather; allows himself to recline into a seat by yonr side, and suggests that you become Mrs. Strephon. En sortant he meets his rival; treads on his toes; they-exchange abusive epithets, light cigars, and—oh, pathos! cut each other at the club.” “Well, that’s better than fighting,” said Patty. » “And infinitely safer. Well, my dear, perhaps after all yon are right. We mustn’t take our idea of the class from Sir Harry Wildair—there’s a darling name for you. They only show what was the thing. I daresay I am getting fearfully crabbed. You see when a girl has money she becomes the center of a circle of deception. Let’s change the subject. How well that habit fits you!” “It feels rather strange. You see I so seldom ride at home.”

“Ah, of course. Now to me habit is second nature, as some one says. I feel infinitely more comfortable in one than in a low dress. I purposely lent you my regular riding-hat, for I wanted to sea. how I should feel in this newfangled affair. I’m afraid it wouldn’t suit crashing through a bullfinch; one slants something stiffer for that What’s that?" she cried, as an indistinct sound came down the wind and both horses picked np their ears. “The hounds; they must have come all the way from Marlford.” “0 Patty,” said Diana, trembling with excitement, “I’d give anything to be with them.” “Then do go, dear,” said Patty with an effort at self-sacrifice that was enormous. “I shall be safe enough. Withers will take care of me." “Well, he’s just down in the road there. Keep along it, and you’ll just cross the line they are taking. I really must—oome, Terry;” and away went Diana, habit tossing and eyes glistening and vanished gloriously. Patty turned her horse’s head back toward the gate of the field they had turned into, and got safely out iqto the road. Some distance down it she could see Withers, the groom, who was having a little difficulty with his horse, which was plunging and curveting in a diagonal position, as is the manner of eager horses, performing an equine balance-step without advancing particularly. On Crusader catching sight of his companion in ill-doing, he proceeded to imitate his actions with a considerable amount of exaggeration. Patty, finding him bursting into a canter, attempted to take up the curb-rein, but only succeeded in getting both in an inextricable confusion. Then she clung in terror to them with both hands, on which the irritable Crusader fought himself into a confused canter, which developed itself into a smart gallop, dashed past the astonished Withers, and stampeded. Our friend the Major had been riding a line of his own for a short distance, and was separated from the rest of the field by the breadth of a pasture, when he heard the quick-repeated rattle of a horse going at full gallop in the road at the other side of the high hedge, parallel to which he was riding, and in another moment he saw through the twigs the horse he had looked in vain for at the meet tear past k m at mad speed, the blue habit streaming back as the wearer swayed in the saddle, holding the reins in both haads with the convulsive grasp of fear. “Runaway, by Jove!” said the Major, turning Zerlina’s head without the least hesitation at the quickset. Two or three intense strides —a rise and a crash of twigs—a rattle of horse-hoofs as they patter oa the hard road, as Zerlina just manages to save her knees and nose from damage by a olever recovery, and then the Major, as cool as if he had been hopping over a gutter instead of one of the ugliest drops in his experience, set her going in pursuit. About half a mile from the plaoe where this stern chase commenced, where the road was crossed by another at right angles, stood an inn, called the Cross Keys. The Major knew this, and also that on the other side of it the road dipped down into a rather steep hill, fie had got up some twenty yards nearer when the inn appeared in sight, and, keeping on the turf side of the road, that the noise of his approach might not add fresh speed to the runavray. he called oft* Zerlina smart y for a decisive effort.

Di front of the Gross Keys was a triangular patch of sodden turf, and as Crusader came upon this he slackened his speed very slightly; the Mtjor dashed alongside and seized the reins near the bit in his right hand, the horse, which was not a vicious one, stopping after a few struggles, as he felt the power at work on the ottrb; and the lady, falling, fainting, forward in a heap on his neck, would have fallen to the earth had not the ever-ready Major leapt froin his saddle and caught her in his arms. It would haye made a capital picture—the two horses, standing steaming and panting, and the Major staggering under the weight of the senseless damsel, whose chin hung over his shonlder, while her hair, released from its bonds in her wild flight through air, streamed down his scarletcoated back. With some difficulty the Major carried his lovely burden into the porch of the Cross Keys. “Show me a private room and get me a glass of brandy!” were the orders with which he stopped the month of the astonished landlady. “La! poor, dear yonng lady!” sawL, that female, in a voice of sympathy, as she brought the restoring fluid. “Can I do anything for her, sir ?” “No, I think not,” said the Major,decisively. “Leave her to me I’ve had some experience in cases of this kind,” and thrusting half a crown into the woman’s hand he shut the door in her face. “Well, how she could ha married he!” said the woman to herself, as she returned to the bar. She evidently thought from the Major’s want of sympathy that he must be the husband of the sufferer. The evening gloom was just closing in, and made the little back-parlor look more and more dismal and dingy. The Major raised the clinging veil sufficiently to thrust the edge of the class between the lips of the patient. Presently the color came back to her face, she drew a long, gasping breath, and felt for her pocket-handkerchief. It was in the pocket of her saddle—the Major instantly placed his snowy cambric in her trembling hand. Then she overflowed. The Major waited a little. Then he ventured to take the hand that was not occupied with his pocket-handkerchief, and said, in a tone of respectful tenderness : “Doh’t, pray don’t give way so! You’re quite safe now, I assure you.” Sob, sob. “If you knew how every slob you utter rends my” (“vitals,” the Major was going to say, then he thought of “breast,” and finally substituted) “heart, you—you wouldn’t keep on so!” Sob, sob. “You don’t know how I have hoped, have longed for a moment like this to hold your hand in mine, to feel that we are alone together, that you do not repulse me, that I am permitted” (kisses her hand), “that you do not forbid me.” (Buriness as before.) Sob, sob, sob. “ When will she stop ?” thought the Major. “You do not answer; speak tome—or hear me while I tell you what I have wished to say for long days past. Miss Harford—Diana, I love you!” • That was deucedly well put, thought the Major to himself. “SIR!” said the lady, suddenly becoming electrified into an erect posture. “Patty!—Miss Roseneath!” “Yes, Maj. Majoribanks, Miss Roseneath. Oh, take me home, take me home, and never, never dare to call me Patty again!” “The de-vil!” said the Major slowly, beneath his mustaches.

“You might have been satisfied with making a fool of a poor silly girl without insulting her afterward. Oh, how could you He so c—c—cruel?" “I say, Patty—listen a moment—don’t talk like that. You don’t suppose I meant to hurt your feelings. Hang it, I ain’t such a cad as all that comes to. I didn’t know it was you—l took you for—” “Oh, I know; you took me for Miss Harford. Dear Di! she told me you had been making love to her ever since you came. But I thought you had only been fl—fl—flirting,” said Patty, going off again. “Did she tell you that?” said the Major. “Yes; and she said you were a conceited man, and she was afraid every day you’d propose, because she would have the trouble of refusing you. I *ever told her all you said to me down at Rosewood. Silly that I was ever to believe in a Major.” Did pique and chagrin at the intelligence that he had just received prompt the Major’s next impulse? Or did his better angel whisper to him that a dinner of herbs with this little woman who really loved him, and for whom he was conscious of a feeling as nearly akin to that’ passion as he was capable of experiencing, would be better than a more splendid repast with her to whom he was indifferent ? Bitterly would he have derided such an idea from another; bitterly that morning would he have laughed at the thought of his present conduct. But few men act up to their principles, and it was with a ring of genuine feeling in his voioe that he sat down by Patty’s side and said—but we will not write his words; they were greatly devoid of that artistic fluency which generally distinguished the Major’s utterances to the fair sex; but to Patty they sounded like flowing honey. “And yon really will—and you’re not sorry for what has happened?” “Well,” said the Major, looking down into her eyes which gazed np through her te rs,. glistening with mingled light add tea V-drops, “perhaps

it wasn’t such an unfortunate mistake after all!” Would you he surprised to heasthat the Major makes a capital husbancf.He lives in an atmosphere of spuds and steam-plows,and county magistracy, and when on some summer’s eve the cloudcompelling cigar being lighted, h<s lies upon his lawn, and sees his young barbarians all at play, he really does not look unhappy. Sometimes a young lady, who is getting older, comes to see Mrs.. Majoribanks and the children. She it is who has given Fred his pony and Maurice his terrier. She is still unmarried, and intends to continue so. “And yet I always thought yon would marry, some time or another,” says Patty to her visitor, as the Major passes the window. , “And I know some one that thonght so tod, at least at one time.” “Ah, my dear,” says Diana, with a slight, coipical turn of her lip, “that was the Major’s mistake.”