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Philiberta: A Novel

Chapter XXIII. Still Harper Parkinsson

Chapter XXIII. Still Harper Parkinsson.

Despite Philiberta's protest, Miss Fitzroy began to read:

'"Beautiful Beloved One,

'"Since I saw you a few hours ago, your lovely face has haunted me, until my passionate heart can no longer control itself. I must pour forth my overwhelming, earnest admiration of you, my perfect devotion to you, though words are poor and worthless to express it. As I looked in your beautiful sweet eyes to-day, I thought I could read a most dear and precious secret—a little love for me, my darling; for poor unworthy me. It is that that has given me courage to write this note. You must care a little for me, or you would ere now, in your perfect truth and sincerity of heart, have rebuked and checked my evident adoration of you. I will not inflict upon myself the pain of doubting you; but oh, my darling, why do you leave my letters unanswered, and so steadfastly avoid ever being alone with me? Do you know that you have never yet given me a chance to tell you in words how madly I Love you? Cruel, cruel, darling, do you avoid me because of the cloud that hangs over me at present and darkens my career? The cloud of poverty. I do your noble nature an injustice in mentioning it, I know. Please forgive. But you will naturally rejoice to know that that cloud was but transient and is clearing away at last. Another month, and all will be refulgently bright and prosperous once more. My father advises me by the last mail of a trifling remittance (£5,000) already mailed to me by my father's banker. With that I am to return at once to the page 159luxurious home that sheltered me until, a year or two ago, my headstrong folly caused me to desert it. Yet it was a happy folly, since it led me to you, my sweet. I own that I have gone astray very much, quite as badly as a lost sheep or the prodigal sun of that old gentleman mentioned in the Bible. There is little doubt, too, that I should be still wasting my substance, as that young idiot did, but for your dear redeeming influence—and the fact that I haven't any more substance to waste. My lovely guiding star, you see I do not conceal from you my weaknesses and my unpleasant position as regards pecuniary matters, And were it not that I know full well that the temporary unpleasantness is almost at an end, I should never write in this strain to you, never disclose the passion that preys upon me."' (The words 'upon my damask' were carefully erased just here.) '"Whatever else may be laid to the unhappy charge of Harper Parkinsson, it can never be said that he deceived a woman. Dearest, the billows of adversity have dashed me cruelly against the rocks of despair during the last year or so, but now the beacon of your love shines out clear and radiant, and everything becomes suddenly bright. The thought of your love (and of that £5,000 remittance) buoys me up, darling, and makes me forget all save the brilliant promise of happiness fate holds out to me, I lie awake of nights thinking of you; I spend hours in day-dreams of you. I picture myself and my bride (my beautiful bride, who will turn every other woman mad with envy, and cause jealous men to meditate my violent death). I picture us proudly promenading the halls of my noble ancestors; gracefully entering our carriage, and going forth 'to give the girls a treat.' (Forgive the apparent frivolity and irregularity of the above, dear; since my editorship of the' Novel Notion' these phrases will drop inadvertently from my pen. I take it all back if you don't like it.) Sometimes—oh heaven, the rapture of it!—I have a vision of ourselves overhauling the best babylinen in London, and affectionately disputing with each other as to the relative beauty and becomingness of pink and blue pelisses. Darling, are you angry with me for being thus premature? How can I help my joyous imagination getting ahead of me, as page 160it were? But I must conclude now, darling, with an apology for the paper on which this is written, and an assurance that the greasy thumb-marks are not mine. Being out of note-paper, and in rather a hurry, I was compelled to borrow these sheets from my landlady—hinc illæ dabs of soot and mutton-fat! Darling, grant me a private interview soon, so that I may tell you verbally of my prospects, my friends, and the splendours to which it shall be my pride and happiness to introduce you. And, by the way, what is your particular taste in jewels? Pardon the bluntness of the question. Do you like diamonds? A tiara composed of that queen of precious stones would well become your regal beauty. But you would look well in sapphires too—sapphires and pearls! What say you, fairest lady? Do write me a line, and tell me a little about your especial tastes and caprices. You forget how little I know of your inner self and sentiments. For the present, my princess, farewell!

'"Yours through eternity,

'"Harper."

'That is one of several written in a similar strain,' remarked Miss Fitzroy, folding the epistle and looking at Philiberta, in whose countenance amusement and contempt were combined.

'Well, it is the most comical, absurd, and withal insulting thing I ever heard of. But why have you encouraged him to such presumption?'

'For amusement, dear; he is very amusing. And as for encouragement, it is astonishing how little goes for encouragement with some men. Anything short of forcible ejection from one's house will encourage them to the wildest hopes and actions. But Harper Parkinsson, though he has nothing to give me, though I have to feed him and obtain passes into the theatre for him, is very useful to me, I get numberless hints and suggestions from him that help me in burlesque. Apart from all that, he is an interesting study. He is the most remarkable specimen of his kind I ever met with. I shall be almost sorry when the episode of our acquaintance terminates, as it must shortly. There's a ring at the bell. A message or page 161letter from Harper almost certainly. He always writes a few hours after he has been here.'

'The messenger waits for an answer, miss,' said Himmons, entering with a somewhat bulky envelope.

'What sort of a messenger, Himmons?'

'A ragged boy, miss; and barefooted.'

'Then take him into the kitchen and give him something to eat while I attend to this. You see,' said Miss Fitzroy, addressing Philiberta apologetically, 'the poor little brat has probably been promised sixpence, which he won't get. He will bear his disappointment better on a full stomach.'

Philiberta laughed. 'I think you are something of an interesting study, too,' she said.

Miss Fitzroy began to read:

'"My soul's best treasure,

'"I am reluctantly forced to appeal to you as my only friend in this heartless hemisphere. Unless you immediately forward me £5—(as a loan, of course, which will be repaid a thousandfold as soon as I receive my long-delayed remittance)—I shall have to sleep on Collins Street's hard pavement, or on the Yarra's green banks (perhaps in the Yarra's green waters—who knows to what a man may be driven in his dire extremity?), or on the Queen's wharf, or in the Peripatetic Philosopher's favourite gas-pipe, this night. Forgive my incoherency, dear one of my heart—I am mad with humiliation and despair. My landlady's tender mercies and long-suffering forbearance are at an end. I have been expecting this, but have had hopes of preventing it—of clearing myself of my liabilities honourably and in time. My hopes are still in the bud, and meanwhile I have two alternatives: to quit my tiny attic apartment—the only roof I have to hide my aching, weary head beneath—or pay. Darling, I have striven desperately to spare you this knowledge of my distress. I have borrowed from everybody I had a chance at! I have pawned and sold every available article I possessed! I have wrought upon my landlady with soft speeches and mollifying promises! I have lived for days page 162on one threepenny glass of beer and a counter-biscuit per diem—save, beloved, when you graciously invited me to lunch! And all this to save you, my adored one, the pain of knowing my misery and humiliation. While if you—do not think, dear, that I intend this as a reproach—but if you had only been less coy and reserved, more amenable to my entreaties, we might have been married long ere this, and you would have been spared the anguish of this trouble of mine, the knowledge of which will, I know, wring tears of blood from your tender heart. But cheer up, darling; all will yet be well. Send me £5, and my landlady will be appeased until the arrival of the next English mail. Pride forbids me to press my love-suit upon you at this moment. That I do and ever shall adore you you know well enough. If it is your wish that I banish myself from the sunshine of your presence during the brief period that must elapse before my remittance arrives, why, I can but try to endure my sentence patiently. If it is your sweet will to call me to you and make me supremely happy with a glance or a word, why then, my own, I will fly to you like a bird, and never leave you more. But whatever you do, send me the £5.

'"And believe me to be, your very devoted

'"Harper."'

Miss Fitzroy replied with the utmost promptitude.

'Dear Mr. Harper Parkinsson,

'I don't care where you sleep. I don't care what you have to eat, or whether you have anything or nothing, I don't care if your landlady puts you in gaol. I don't care in the least anything at all about you. And I don't send you the £5.

'Madge Fitzroy.'

'Oh, but does not that sound cruel?' said Philiberta, to whom this letter, like the other, was read.

'I hope so. I intend it so,' said Miss Fitzroy, smiling malignantly. 'Men have no hearts to break, but they have feelings, selfish feelings, to wound; and how I love to wound them! How I love to disappoint and insult them! How I hate them all! How I hate them!'

page 163

'Oh, this is dreadful!' cried Philiberta; 'your face is not like your own at all. What bitter thing can ever have come to you to so spoil the good that I know is in you?'

'If ever there was any good in me,' said Miss Fitzroy, calming down a little; 'I never knew it. There is none in me now. Nothing in my nature but venomous antagonism against all humanity. The only good—if it were good—feeling I ever had in my life was turned, like a sharp bitter sword, against me. It brought to life all the evil dormant in me, and made me what I am. It is part of my general selfishness thus to trouble you, a stranger, with all this talk about myself; but if you will let me tell you some of my history, it will do me good. And then perhaps you will tell me whether anything kind, or gentle, or womanly—(except spite and treachery, which are both womanly)—could be well expected of me. It is an easy thing for women whose existence from the cradle to the grave is one long, smooth track of happiness; women who leave parents' loving arms for those of a loving husband; women who are sheltered from every cold wind; to whom nought of evil is permitted to enter because they are so strongly compassed round about with love and honour; who know nought of the temptations and bitter buffetings that come to such as I—it is an easy thing, I say, for these to prate of the beauty of truth and tenderness and forgiveness and goodness. But let them fight the battle I have fought, let them see and suffer as I have seen and suffered, and say then whether there is much else in life but gall and bitterness. Finish the evening with me, Miss Morven, and let me talk to you. Himmons shall get my special cabman to take you home. Say you will stay.'

'Yes, I will stay, if talking to me will really do you good. But don't you think speaking of trouble only renews the old bitterness?'

'That very fact makes it a pleasure to me,' said Miss Fitzroy. 'I do not wish to forget, because forgetting might make me less bitter.'