Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXVII, No. 1 — page 67: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Why the Major never married. 71 * held rank under her brother for the past thirty years. Beginning when a girl of sev- enteen, a bold, wild madcap, as our older officers described her, and when the colonel was a captain in India, she had been a devoted attache of whatever corps he was assigned to, whenever and wherever the presence of ladies was either possible, desirable, or even toler- ‘able. There was hardly a general or field- officer in the service who had not waltzed and flirted with her in those days, in some quarter of the globe, when they were captains and subs; and during all these thirty years, she had sedulously pursued the darling object of her heart—the winning of a husband from the service. Atsuch times as the exigences of campaigns forbade her presence with us, she would retire to an old home in Dublin; and upon the first opportunity she would be sure to rejoin us, more ardent than ever in the pursuit. Poor woman! I could pity her, were it not that she was at the bottom of all my misery. The years slipped away, taking from her the bloom of her youth, and bringing not the recompense of a _ husband, until she came to Malta, thinner, more angular, and more wrinkled as to her sallow face, than ever before; but with a set of curls which none of us had ever seen her wear before, teeth which Captain Burnet said were un- questionably hers, if they were paid for, and that stereotyped, languishing smile, which ought to have melted the stony heart of some #0n of Mars before most of us were born. To me, the old creature was positively insuffer- able. For the last three years, or ever since I had served with the —7th, I had seen her dangling upon it, a perfect nightmare to the older men who had escaped her fascinations in times past, and a terror to the newer ones, upon whom she ever brought to bear her most powerful fascinations. And under- Standing her as well as I did, it surprised me to hear from Mag that she might help us vastly, at this juncture, if she would. “She has an immense influence over father,” she explained. “I believe she has more than mother has. Mamma can govern him, but can’t coax him a particle, when he gets into one of his set ways. Now I’m pretty sure that if Aunt Deb can be made to go to work at him in good earnest, she can drive all those odd notions of members of parlia- ment out of his stubborn head, and make him think well of you for a—well, no matter; I shan’t use that compound word any more.” | “But I doubt if she will think well of it herself,” I suggested. “Botheration, Jack Martin! don’t you think I can coax Aunt Deb into anything? Just wait till to-morrow, and I'll tell you what she says.” And on the morrow she did tell me. Aunt Deb had received her confession with positive affright; had lifted up her hands, protesting that Mag was a wicked, wicked girl, and she didn't really know what would become of her; that her brother would be fearfully angry, and never would consent; and in fact she did not approve of it herself. And then Mag had soothed and calmed her, and after half an hour’s skillful manipulation, had brought her to say that she would dare even her brother's displeasure for her dear Mag, and that she would do all that could possibly be done by any one to help us. But there was one thing must be done first. She wasn’t entirely satis- fied about Lieutenant Martin. She wanted to think well of him; she must like any one that her dear Mag liked; but she had an old grudge against Lieutenant Martin. He had used her most shabbily a year ago, at the grand review at Dover, and had never ex- plained it at all. She wasn’t the person to be slighted by any subaltern of the —7th, and when Lieutenant Martin made amends for his ungentlemanly conduct, it would be quite time for her to intercede with Colonel Max well for him. “What did you do, Jack?” Mag asked. “The Lord knows; I’m sure I don’t. No doubt she’s right about it; I must have snubbed her unmercifully half a dozen times. But that shall be made right, Mag; only ar- range an interview for me, and she shall think me the very nicest young Briton alive. I'll manage her!” Mag went straightway to her aunt, and begged her to grant me an audience immedi- ately. Miss Deborah demurred; she didn’t wish to do anything imprudent, and she was afraid this would be. What would Colonel Maxwell think, if he knew she had seen me privately? But for the sake of her dear Mag —yes; for her sake, she would take even as creat a risk as this. She would meet me at ten o'clock that night, down by the oak tree at the sea-wall. And I went, unsuspecting gosling as I was. Ned, my boy, you’re pretty smart, for a young one, and think you know considerable; and you would have done just as I did—and thrust yourself into the trapjustiasT did. Its.