The Green Mummy - Fergus Hume (best love novels of all time txt) 📗
- Author: Fergus Hume
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“I’ll see if she really loves Hope,” thought the Professor, rubbing his plump hands. “If she doesn’t, there may be a chance of her throwing him over to become Lady Random. Then I can get the money. And indeed,” soliloquized the Professor virtuously, “I must point out to her that it is wrong of her to make a poor marriage, when she can gain a wealthy husband. I will only be doing my duty by my dear dead wife, by preventing her wedding poverty. But girls are so obstinate, and Lucy is a thorough girl.”
His amiable anxiety on behalf of Miss Kendal was only cut short by the entrance of the young lady herself. Professor Braddock then showed his hand too plainly by evincing a strong wish to conciliate her in every way. He procured her a seat: he asked after her health: he told her that she was growing prettier every day, and in all ways behaved so unlike his usual self, that Lucy became alarmed and thought that he had been
“Why have you sent for me?” she asked, anxious to come to the point.
“Aha!” Braddock put his venerable head on one side like a roguish bird and smiled in an infantine manner. “I have good news for you.”
“About the mummy?” she demanded innocently.
“No, about flesh and blood, which you prefer. Sir Frank Random has arrived back at the Fort. There!”
“I know that,” was Miss Kendal’s unexpected reply. “His yacht came to Pierside on the same afternoon as The Diver arrived.”
“Oh, indeed!” said the Professor, struck by the coincidence, and with a stare. “How do you know?”
“Archie met Sir Frank the other day, and learned as much.”
“What?” Braddock struck a tragic attitude. “Do you mean to say that those two young men speak to one another?”
“Yes. Why not? They are friends.”
“Oh!” Braddock became roguish again. “I fancied they were lovers of a certain young lady who is in this room.”
By this time Lucy was beginning to guess what her stepfather was aiming at, and grew correspondingly angry
“Archie is my sole lover now,” she remarked stiffly. “Sir Frank knows that we are engaged and is quite ready to be the friend of us both.”
“And he calls that love. Idiot!” cried the Professor, much disgusted. “But I would point out to you, Lucy - and I do so because of my deep affection for you, dear child - that Sir Frank is wealthy.”
“So is Archie - in my love.”
“Nonsense! nonsense! That is mere foolish romance, He has no money.”
“You should not say that. Archie had money to the extent of one thousand pounds, which he gave you.”
“One thousand pounds: a mere nothing. Consider, Lucy, that if you marry Random you will have a title.”
Miss Kendal, whose patience was getting exhausted, stamped a very neat boot.
“I don’t know why you talk in this way, father.”
“I wish to see you happy.”
“Then your wish is granted: you do see me happy. But I won’t be happy long if you keep bothering me to marry a man I don’t care two straws about. I am going to be Mrs. Hope, so there.”
“My dear child,” said the Professor, who always became paternal when most obstinate, “I have reason to believe that the green mummy can be discovered and poor Sidney’s death avenged if a reward of five hundred pounds is offered. If Hope can give me that money - “
“He will not: I shall not allow him to. He has lost too much already.”
“In that case I must apply to Sir Frank Random.”
“Well, apply,” she snapped, being decidedly angry; “it’s none of my business. I don’t want to hear anything about it.”
“It is your business, miss,” cried Braddock, growing angry in his turn and becoming very pink; “you know that only by getting you to marry Random can I procure the money.”
“Oh!” said Lucy coldly. “So this is why you sent for me. Now, father, I have had enough of this. You gave your consent to Archie being engaged to me in exchange for one thousand pounds. As I love him I shall abide by the word you gave. If I had not loved him I should have refused to marry him. You understand?”
“I understand that I have a very obstinate girl to deal with. You shall marry as I choose.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort. You have no right to dictate my choice of a husband.”
“No right, when I am your father?”
“You are not my father: merely my stepfather - merely a relation by marriage. I am of age. I can do as I like, and intend to.”
“But, Lucy,” implored Braddock, changing his tune, “think.”
“I have thought. I marry Archie.”
“But he is poor and Random is rich.”
“I don’t care. I love Archie and I don’t love Frank.”
“Would you have me lose the mummy for ever?”
“Yes, I would, if my misery is to be the price of its restoration. Why should I sell myself to a man I care nothing about, just because you want a musty, fusty old corpse? Now I am going.” Lucy walked to the door. “I shan’t listen to another word. And if you bother me again, I shall marry Archie at once and leave the house.”
“I can make you leave it in any case, you ungrateful girl,” bellowed Braddock, who was purple with rage, never having a very good temper at the best of times. “Look what I have done for you!”
Miss Kendal could have pointed out that her Stepfather had done nothing save attend to himself. But she disdained such an argument, and without another word opened the door and walked out. Almost immediately afterwards Cockatoo entered, much to the relief of the Professor, who relieved his feelings by kicking the unfortunate Kanaka. Then he sat down again to consider ways and means of obtaining the necessary mummy and still more necessary money.
Sir Frank Random was an amiable young gentleman with - as the saying goes - all his goods in the shop window. Fair-haired and tall, with a well-knit, athletic figure, a polished manner, and a man-of-the-world air, he strictly resembled the romantic officer of Bow Bells, Family Herald, Young Ladies’ Journal fiction. But the romance was all in his well-groomed looks, as he was as commonplace a Saxon as could be met with in a day’s march. Fond of sport, attentive to his duties as artillery captain, and devoted to what is romantically known as the fair sex, he sauntered easily through life, very well contented with himself and with his agreeable surroundings. He read fiction when he did read, and those weekly papers devoted to sport; troubled his head very little about politics, save when they had to do with a possible German invasion, and was always ready to do any one a good turn. His brother-officers declared that he was not half a bad sort, which was high praise from the usually reticent service man. His capacity may be accurately gauged by the fact that he did not possess a single enemy, and that every one spoke well of him. A mortal who possesses no quality likely to be envied by those around him is certain to belong to the rank and file of humanity. But these unconsidered units of mankind can always console themselves with the undoubted fact that mediocrity is invariably happy.
Such a man as Random would never set the Thames on fire, and certainly he had no ambition to perform that astounding feat. He was fond of his profession and intended to remain in the army as long as he could. He desired to marry and beget a family, and retire, when set free from soldiering, to his country seat, and there perform blamelessly the congenial role of a village squire, until called upon to join the respectable corpses in the Random vault. Not that he was a saint or ever could be one. Neither black nor white, he was simply gray, being an ordinary mixture of good and bad. As theology has provided no hereafter for gray people, it is hard to imagine where the bulk of humanity will go. But doubts on this point never troubled Random. He went to church, kept his mouth shut and his pores open and vaguely believed that it would be all right somehow. A very comfortable if superficial philosophy indeed.
It can easily be guessed that Random’s somewhat colorless personality would never attract Lucy Kendal, since the hues of her own character were deeper. For this reason she was drawn to Hope, who possessed that aggressive artistic temperament, where good and bad, are in violent contrast. Random took opinions from books, or from other people, and his mind, like a looking-glass, reflected whatever came along; but Hope possessed opinions of his own, both right and wrong, and held to these in the face of all verbal opposition. He could argue and did argue, when Random simply agreed. Lucy had similar idiosyncrasies, inherited from a clever father, so it was just as well that she preferred Archie to Frank. Had the latter young gentleman married her, he would have dwindled to Lady Random’s husband, and would have found too late that he had domesticated a kind of imitation George Eliot. When he congratulated Archie on his engagement somewhat ruefully, he little thought what an escape he had had.
But Professor Braddock, who did not belong to the gray tribe, knew nothing of this, as his Egyptological studies did not permit him time to argue on such commonplace matters. He therefore failed in advance when he set out to persuade Random into renewing his suit. As the fiery little man afterwards expressed himself, “I might as well have talked to a mollusc,” for Random politely declined to be used as an instrument to forward the Professor’s ambition at the cost of Miss Kendal’s unhappiness. The interview took place in Sir Frank’s quarters at the Fort on the day after Hervey had called to propose a search for the corpse. And it was during this interview that Braddock learned something which both startled and annoyed him.
Random, at three o’clock, had just changed into mufti, when the Professor was announced by his servant. Braddock, determined to give his host no chance of denying himself, followed close on the man’s heels, and was in the room almost before Sir Frank had read the card. It was a bare room, sparsely furnished, according to the War Office’s idea of comfort, and although the baronet had added a few more civilized necessities, it still looked somewhat dismal. Braddock, who liked comfort, shook hands carelessly with his host and cast a disapproving eye on his surroundings.
“Dog kennel! dog kennel!” grumbled the polite Professor. “Bare desolation like a damned dungeon. You might as well live in the Sahara.”
“It would certainly be warmer,” replied Random, who knew the scientist’s snappy ways very well. “Take a chair, sir!”
“Hard as bricks, confound it!” Hand me over a cushion. There, that’s better! No, I never drink between meals, thank you. Smoke? Hang it, Random, you should know by this time that I dislike making a chimney of my throat! There! there! don’t fuss. Take a seat and listen to what I have to say. It’s important. Poke the fire, please: it’s cold.”
Random placidly did as he was told, and then lighted a cigar, as he sat down quietly.
“I am sorry
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