'And so, Mabel, Wilfred Merton has proposed to you?' The speaker, as he
made this remark, laid down the paper which he had been reading, and
looked across the room at its other occupant, who was standing in one
of the windows chirping to a canary, and addressing it in that peculiar
language which is commonly supposed to be gratifying to the feelings of
the feathered tribe, however incomprehensible it may be to differently
constructed beings.
Mabel hearing herself spoken to, turned round, and leaving the bird to
its own meditations, came to the table, which was laid for breakfast.
'Yes, papa,' she said, beginning to pour out the tea as she spoke; 'and
what is more, I have accepted him.'
'Indeed! You didn't think it necessary then, to ask my permission in
the matter?'
'Well, you see I'm afraid I rather took that for granted, and so did
not think it necessary to ask for it beforehand. And then too you know
Wilfred and I have always meant to marry one another some day, and
that it really doesn't make any very great difference whether we call
ourselves engaged or not.'
'Oh, you have always intended it, have you? May I ask how long "always"
has been in this case?'
'Well, do you know, dear papa, I think we first settled it quite
definitely when we were five, when Wilfred gave me the ring out of a
wire button as an engagement ring,' answered Mabel, smiling brightly.
'That is a long time ago certainly; and I must congratulate you upon
the constancy that you have both shewn in the matter. But don't you
think that as it has gone on in this way very happily for such a long
time, it might go on in the same way still without any more binding
arrangement?'
'O no, papa; we want to have it admitted that we are engaged now.'
'But why, my dear? I thought you said a minute ago that it doesn't make
any real difference whether you are engaged or not?'
'Of course I meant to other people, not to ourselves.'
'I should have myself thought your remark was a sword that cut both
ways,' said Mr Colherne, smiling at his daughter's explanation. 'But I
really don't see that it will do you any particular good to be engaged
yet,' he went on more gravely; 'it seems to me that it is only tying
you down without any positive advantage.'
'I don't care so very much for it myself,' answered Mabel, looking more
serious than she had done yet, as she spoke; 'but Wilfred wishes it so
much, and I wish it for his sake. You see he hasn't such an indulgent
father as _you_ are darling, or such a happy home as I have; and he
says it will make him so much happier to feel that I am really his, and
admitted to be so.'
'Well, my child, I suppose you will have your own way in this as you
have in most things, you spoilt young monkey! But you can hardly expect
me to feel very much elated by the idea that I shall have to get on
some day without my Queen Mab.'
'O papa, now you are looking forward a long way! Why, we don't dream of
being _married_ yet, and shan't for ages.'
'This is by no means the first time that that remark has been made,
for the consolation and encouragement of unfortunate fathers, who have
nevertheless found themselves left alone before very long.'
'But then you know even when I do marry I don't mean to be separated
from you. Of course you will always live with us.'
'And feel myself constantly in the way,' said Mr Colherne, more
gravely than he had yet spoken. 'No, my pet,' he went on almost sadly;
'it is the fate of parents to lose their children just when they have
learnt to love them most, and I mustn't expect to escape the common
lot.'
Mabel went to him and kissed his forehead. 'Come, papa, don't be sad
just now; you will make me feel a nasty selfish creature for ever
thinking of marrying Wilfred or anybody else.'
'I'm sure I don't want to do that, my queen,' replied her father
cheerfully. 'But to return to our original subject. What is there in
this Wilfred Merton that makes him so particularly attractive?'
'What a question to ask me, papa! There's everything about him. In the
first place, he's so handsome!'
'Well, do you know I think he's very much like everybody else? It seems
to me, to quote your favourite Humpty Dumpty, that he has "two eyes
so, nose in the middle, mouth under." I must confess that he does not
strike me as very remarkable.'
'O papa! everybody thinks him good-looking; and I believe in reality
you do too, only you are so fond of teasing me. And then he is so
clever!'
'I don't know that "everybody" will agree with you there, at all
events. The public do not seem to think him so very clever!'
'Ah, but they will some day, when they have their eyes open, and have
seen more of his paintings. But I didn't mean clever in his profession
only; he says such clever things.'
'Which means, I suppose, that he says he is very fond of you; eh, Mab?'
said her father, pinching her ear as he spoke. Then seeing that she did
not seem inclined to reciprocate his lively manner, he went on: 'Never
mind what I say, my darling; I can't help being a little jealous of the
fellow that proposes taking you from me some day. But as I suppose you
must be taken away by somebody sooner or later, I would rather it were
Wilfred than anybody else, for I believe him to be a good fellow at
heart, and honestly fond of you. I must say too, that it is decidedly a
recommendation in my eyes, that as he has not a penny, he will not be
able to take you till "later." But I must be off now, my child; I am
dreadfully late as it is; you see you have kept me talking so, that I
have not noticed the time. Good-bye, Queen Mab; take care of yourself
while I am away. But I daresay you will have somebody to help you to do
that,' he added mischievously as he kissed his pet and left the room.
Mr Colherne and his daughter were living in a house towards the West
End of London. He had been a widower for some years, and Mabel was
his housekeeper and companion. He was justly proud of his child, and
thought her and everything she did, perfection; and Mabel returned this
love with all she could spare from Wilfred.
Mabel Colherne was by no means a beauty. Her eyes were not of the dark
flashing order that thrills everybody at whom they look; nor were
they of that soft melting kind that infuses tenderness into the most
unimpressionable at the first glance; roses and lilies had nothing to
fear from her complexion as a rival to their charms. Sculptors could
have looked at her nose and mouth without feeling the slightest desire
to reproduce them in marble; and her throat would not have been
remarked upon as swan-like. But she was a thoroughly honest, healthy,
happy looking English girl; and saying _that_, is equivalent to
something very pleasant to look at. She looked particularly bright and
happy now as she bustled about the room, performing various little acts
of household arrangement; humming snatches of airs as she went about
her business, and stopping at intervals to continue the conversation
with the canary, which had been interrupted before breakfast. Suddenly
she stopped in the middle of her avocations as the knocker sounded, and
a look of merry mischief coming over her face, she got close behind
the door of the room, so that when it was opened she would be hidden.
Knowing well whose knock it was, she could not resist the temptation
of teasing Wilfred by concealing herself. This might perhaps be
considered a somewhat undignified way of receiving a young gentleman
who was coming to the house for the first time in his new capacity of
an accepted lover; but in extenuation of Mabel's conduct it must be
remarked that she and Wilfred Merton had known one another intimately
ever since they were children, and that their engagement made but
little difference to them.
She had hardly more than time to ensconce herself behind the door when
Wilfred opened it and came a little way into the room. He seemed a good
deal surprised to find the room empty, as Mabel's habits were very
methodical and regular, and he was generally sure of finding her here
at this time; and was just on the point of going away again to look for
her elsewhere, when a suppressed laugh fell upon his ear, and looking
round at the place whence the sound came, he espied Mabel standing
there. Shutting the door quickly, he pounced upon her, and seizing the
maiden by the wrists, took a lover's revenge for her conduct in the
shape of more kisses than one. She did not resist very vigorously, and
suffered herself to be escorted to the sofa with a very tolerable grace.
'Well, Mabel,' Wilfred said, as he sat down by her side, 'have you told
your father?'
'Yes, Wilfred,' she answered demurely.
'And what does he say?'
'Oh, he won't hear of our being engaged,' she said, speaking very
solemnly.
A look of such blank disappointment and astonishment came over her
lover's face, that Mabel burst out laughing. 'Why, you silly boy,' she
said gaily, 'to take it in, and look so dreadfully unhappy! You don't
suppose that I mean it, do you?'
'Well, you looked very grave as you spoke,' returned Wilfred, seeming
half-disconcerted at having believed Mabel's nonsense; 'and I could not
be quite sure that you were joking.'
'Solemn old fellow! Have you ever known papa say no to me when I wanted
anything? And besides, was my reception of you of a kind to lead you to
believe that I was feeling depressed?'
'Perhaps you wouldn't have felt depressed even if Mr Colherne _had_
said no,' returned Wilfred in a misanthropical tone of voice.
'I'm not going to answer such nonsense as that seriously,' said Mabel;
'perhaps I shouldn't: most likely not, I think.'
'Then he has consented?'
'Of course he has, Wilfred.'
'My darling,' he said, drawing her closer to him, 'now that I know you
are mine, I shall not feel unhappy any more!'
'Why, Wilfred, how gravely you speak, and how solemn you look. You are
not a bit like your usual bright self this morning. What is the matter
with you?'
'It's too bad of me to be out of sorts this morning, my pet, when I
ought to be so happy; but I really can't help it. You must forgive me,
Queen Mab.'
'But what is it makes you so, Wilfred, dear? Do tell me. You know you
always do tell me your troubles; and I have more right to hear them now
than ever. Besides, I can't bear being kept in the dark about things,
especially when they concern you.'
'Oh, it's nothing very interesting or very new; only another row with
the governor.'
'What about?'
'Nothing but a recapitulation of the old grievances; the same thing
over again that we've been quarrelling about for I don't know how
long--as to what a fool I've been to become an artist, instead of
entering that detestable counting-house.'
'I suppose he did not describe it in that way,' Mabel could not help
interrupting.
'I am so sick of it all, that I don't know what to do with myself,'
Wilfred went on, without taking any notice of her remark.
'What led to the talk on the subject? Something, I suppose.'
'The fact that another picture has been refused admission. It's quite
bad enough never to get any success, without his incessantly throwing
it in my teeth. I declare I get so discouraged sometimes, I haven't the
heart to work at all; and then that makes another trouble.'
'But you can't expect to meet with much success yet; you haven't
had time. Almost everybody who has succeeded in the world has been
unsuccessful at first.'
'Of course; I know that. But then it's so much easier to bear the fact
that other people were disappointed, than it is to bear disappointment
one's self. It is so much pleasanter to remember some great artist who
wasn't appreciated at first, than it is to have one's own paintings
perpetually refused admission everywhere. I feel so sure too that I
have got the ability in me.'
'The greater reason for hoping and steadily persevering. But you know
you have such a dreadful disadvantage to fight against in being so
nearly self-taught as you are: you haven't started fair.'
'Of course not. I told my father so to-day when he was pitching into
me; and it seemed to open up quite a new idea to him. He thought a
little, and then said that he did not want to be responsible for my
failing in the profession I had persisted in choosing--you see he takes
my failing quite for granted,' Wilfred added bitterly--'and that if I
intended working, he would send me to Paris for a year and pay for my
studying there.'
'Wilfred! And are you going?'
'Really I hardly know. I think it is not knowing how to make up my mind
about that, added to the bother of my father's everlasting grumbling,
that has made me down so this morning. Of course I should very much
like the advantage it would give me; but then comes the pang of parting
from you, and particularly just now.'
'Does your father know that our engagement is settled?'
'Yes; I told him so.'
'And what does he think of it?'
'He says that it is ridiculous nonsense for me to be engaged to
anybody; though of course he prefers you to any one else, as he likes
you better than anybody. But darling,' he burst out passionately,
'don't mind what he or any one else thinks or says on the subject:
my only chance of getting on and doing anything worth doing, is the
certainty that I can think of you as mine!'
'You know, Wilfred, that my heart always has been yours, and that
it always will be, whatever happens. But I wish Mr Merton had not
suggested this Paris scheme; I don't like the idea of it.'
'You have only to command me to stay at home, Queen Mab, and I will
throw every other consideration to the winds.'
'No; I don't wish that. Act as you would if you did not know me at all;
I could not bear to feel that I had put any obstacle in the way of your
success.'
Their talk during the rest of the time they were together was grave and
sedate, quite unlike the usual conversation of two young lovers.
When Wilfred had gone, Mabel was more sad than she cared to admit; the
interview seemed to have altered matters very materially.