Originally published in The Keepsake for 1828 (Hurst, Chance, and Co.; Nov 1827).
In the village of Cripplesingleit lived Miss Bridget Sibthurdle, and Miss Dorothy Marchmyrtle. The villagers were apt to call them, when speaking of them, Mrs.; but in retaining the prefix Miss I have the sanction of their own invariable custom, and surely they had a right to decide on their own appellation.
These two old maids had long been the stockfish of the village. They were a sort of landmarks, and were supposed by the juvenals of the place to be coeval with the market-cross. That this however was not the case appeareth from the register of the parish church of Garryminster, wherein is recorded the baptism of Bridget, daughter of Humphry and Bridget Sibthurdle, baptized, May 3, 1765; and of Dorothy, dau. of John and Sismunda Marchmyrtle, April 10, in the same year.
We can most truly and seriously assure our readers, that the sin of oldmaidenhood did not lie at the door of either of these ladies. On the contrary, their efforts to divorce themselves from celibacy had been numberless. The learned professions had encountered the full display of their charms. Two successive vicars had obtained dispensations, and left to their curates the cure of souls. Two curates were married men. Two succeeding ones had resigned their situations. The Ollapods and Briefwits were besieged in vain. One by one the apothecaries evaporated, and the attorneys would not plead, though there was every chance of an "O yes" from the respondents.
Fate at length directed tothe village Jonah Elderberry, Esquire, a younger son's younger son, who retired in his fifty-ninth year to Cripplesingleit, on a gold-headed cane, and a life annuity of one hundred and nineteen pounds, odd shillings, odd pence, the bequest of an old aunt, for whom Jonah had invented a tooth powder equally choice and cheap.
Jonah Elderberry, Esquire, was a little man and a great beau—(on his arrival in the vicinity of the two spinsters he was called the beau with two strings). He wore a little wig, very neat, and always appeared in a cinnamon-coloured coat and a faded apple-bloom complexion. He carried age well; he also carried, on damp days, a small silk umbrella with an ivory handle. He wore silk stockings with long clocks, and being inside of the clocks he was sometimes called Bell-hammer, which accounts for his striking harmony with the two spinsters. They heard of the name given him, and changed it to Bel-amour.
To Mr. Elderberry accordingly both ladies laid siege. They besieged him, in hopes that he would beseech them, or one of them; but each flattered herself with the hope of being the lucky she, and of disappointing the other. This was a powerful by-motive, for they were bosom friends.
However, Mr. Elderberry's conduct was sufficiently ambiguous, not that he failed in paying the most decided attentions to either lady; on the contrary, he was equally assiduous to both, and here was the mischief. So equally did he divide himself, that he ran a chance of being cut dead, a catastrophe which was only prevented by the great scarcity of bachelors in the village. To recur once more to the simile of the clock (which is making the most of time), he was like a pendulum, so impartial were his vibrations between "the two parties."
At length, however, it appeared, that things were coming to a crisis.
Miss Dorothy Marchmyrtle had had certain supernatural indications, that something was going to come. For three several mornings the coffee grounds had given mysterious hints; bride-cake appeared in her dreams, and cradles bounced from the fire. The rind of an orange, thrown over her shoulder, arranged itself into a true love knot. That of a turnip, to be sure, had represented an H; and why might not Elderberry be spelt with that letter? and even if it were not the first letter of Elderberry, it was certainly the last of Jonah.
On the morning of the fourth day came a little flourish on the knocker, at the door of Miss Dorothy's dwelling; and a small single knock by way of peroration, a sort of miniature town knock, or London rap in a consumption.
The door opened, and Miss Marchmyrtle's handmaiden announced Mr. Elderberry. So "enter Jonah."
There was somewhat more of constraint in Miss Dorothy's manner than usual, as she motioned Mr. Elderberry to a chair; a degree of consciousness which looks very well at sixteen; but is perhaps reversed when the figures are reversed. This something, it has no name in the living tongue, was not however exclusively confined to the spinster. It seemed even still more to occupy and overwhelm the bachelor.
Several ahems.—Information given and received on that recondite subject, the state of the weather. Lapdog very well?—Lapdog not very well, sick of a surfeit, occasioned by eating too many stewed oysters, poor dear thing.—Friend Miss Sibthurdle well?—Miss Sibthurdle quite well.—
So passed half an hour. At the expiration of this period the conversation, after a sort of Rubicon-like pause, was renewed. A new key was touched, and a mystery unlocked.
"I have ventured to wait on Miss Marchmyrtle in consequence of—of—" a period or full stop.
"No need of assigning any cause. Mr. Elderberry's visits always acceptable!"
"Very good—very kind—very kind indeed. But the occasion of my present visit is one of so peculiar a nature, one in which my happiness is so materially a subject, that my dear Miss Marchmyrtle must excuse any want of connexion in the detail of what it is impossible, perhaps, explicitly to detail."
"I believe, I think, I imagine, I understand, your meaning, sir. Beg you will compose yourself."
"Then, madam, this—this-the attachment of which I would speak, you are acquainted with?"
"I confess, Mr. Elderberry, to show you the frankness, with which I mean—with which it is my wish to speak, I own I have suspected it. Be quiet, Cupid."
The last words were spoken to the lapdog, and not to Mr. Elderberry.
"And may I then venture—may I dare to hope—that this too, too tender penchant of my heart for one of the most deserving of her sex merits Miss Marchmyrtle's approbation? If so, my happiness will be complete."
"Sir, I protest, I am not prepared. Cupid, I say, how you tease me! I am not at this moment capable, my agitation is such; pardon me, sir."
"How kind," said Mr. Elderberry, "how compassionate! Yet, forgive me, if I cannot leave this place without knowing the sentiments of one whose judgment is so paramount."
The maiden sighed, sidled, bridled, looked amiable, said; "Sir, if I must answer—if you will take advantage of my agitation, I do own, your merit requires it. Your proposal has my concurrence.""
"I am the happiest of men," exclaimed the lover. "Your approbation only was wanting to perfect my felicity; without that, I could not have ventured to complete the union, dear as it is to my heart."
"Of course not!" said the lady, whom this singular truism rather amazed.
"Forgive me, madam, if now I leave you—you know a lover's feelings, and I must hasten to expedite matters." And the gentleman vanished, leaving Miss Dorothy astonished, that he should be in such haste to procure the license before the day was fixed.
An hour had not elapsed when Miss Bridget Sibthurdle was announced. She was introduced to her friend's dressing-room.
"My dear Dorothy, who do you think has just left me? Ah! I see you guess! But of course you must, he told me he had just left you."
"If you mean Mr. Elderberry, my dear friend, certainly it is not long since he was here."
"Yes, I know he has opened all to you; he told me he had."
"Indeed! He was in a vast hurry to impart his tidings. Yet he seems so happy one cannot but pardon him."
"Well, but my love, you know I have a favour to beg, which I am sure you will not refuse; our friendship will ensure its being granted."
"I think I guess," replied Miss Dorothy; "well but speak, my dear."
"Why you know there must be a bride's maid on this occasion."
"Precisely what I was thinking of."
"Now I should be very happy, my dear Marchmyrtle—"
"Ah! I understand you; yes, my dear friend, you certainly in preference to every other shall be my bride's maid."
"Your bride's maid! Miss Marchmyrtle!"
"Certainly, I promise it you."
"Oh! that is when you are married: yes, then, certainly, you shall return me the compliment!"
"When I am married! My dear Bridget, you are bewildered. Did not you just ask to accompany me as my bride's maid?"
"When! where! what do you mean?" cried the bewildered Bridget.
"Madam, this is no jesting matter, I assure you, I look on your conduct as unfriendly."
"Miss Marchmyrtle, your conversation is unintelligible—is strange—unaccountable. In a word, do you wish to appear as my friend on my approaching union with Mr. Elderberry, or not?"
"Your union, ma'am!"
"Yes, ma'am! Mr. Elderberry has, as you know, this morning made proposals—"
"Yes, to me," interrupted Miss Marchmyrtle. Did not you this moment say he had told you of it?"
"His affection for me, he certainly told me he had, though without consulting me, informed you of; a liberty which I overlooked in him at the time. Had he known, that I was to be thus insulted, he would have placed his confidence elsewhere."
"Woman! it is false!" exclaimed Miss Marchmyrtle, unable to suppress the torrent of her rage.
"You! marry you!" retorted the other, "you old—you ugly wretch!"
"Come along! this instant, come along!" screamed Dorothy, and seizing her quondam friend by the arm, she dragged her away. The chair in which Miss Bridget had arrived was at the door, into it they both got; they were not very corpulent, and the vehicle was of easy dimensions.
"To Mr. Elderberry's!" and to Mr. Elderberry's they were carried.
The honour of this visit not a little surprised the gentleman in question, who was arranging a quantity of white kid gloves, with which his table was covered.
"Mr. Elderberry, you did me the honour of a visit this morning," said Miss Marchmyrtle, smoothing down her features as much as in her lay.
"I had certainly that felicity, and never, madam, did a visit at your dwelling confer more pleasure."
"You spoke, sir, of—of—an intended—a desired,—on your part, I say,—desired union."
"Desired, ma'am; I trust, nay, I know, on both sides."
"Indeed, sir!" with a toss: " may I inquire, for the satisfaction of my friend and myself, the present name of the future Mrs. Elderberry?"
"Are you not acquainted with it!" exclaimed the astonished bachelor. "I understood as much this morning, when I waited to gain your approval of the intended event; that is, of my marriage with my beloved Mary Murray."
"Mary Murray! vile deceiver," exclaimed Miss Sibthurdle.
"Mary Murray! you basest of men," cried Miss Marchmyrtle.
"Oh, Dorothy! oh, Bridget! deceived, betrayed, undone!" wept, sobbed, and said both ladies in concert.
"Mr. Elderberry, did you not this morning ask me, if I were acquainted with your attachment?"
"To Mary, I did: I went to acquaint you, and afterwards Miss Sibthurdle, with the circumstance; by each I was told, that you were already acquainted with it."
The ladies were dumbfounded. The question of approbation they had construed as a question of acceptance. Their hopes were ruined, and the bachelor lost.
They departed—were reconciled, and joined in hatred to the new couple. They went home, Miss Sibthurdle to fondle her cat; Miss Marchmyrtle to vent her spleen upon Cupid.