"Then he sha'n't!--I won't let him! Mamma, you mustn't let him!"
"It's all very well for you to say that, and goodness knows I have done
my best; but you might as well talk to a wooden figure-head as to your
father when he is in one of his moods. He's gone already."
"Gone! Mamma!"
"He said that if he was not back at twelve he would meet you at the
church door at half-past; but you know how he may be relied upon to
keep an appointment of that kind; especially as he went out of his way
to inform me--not for the first time--that the whole business is a pack
of rubbish."
There are fathers, no doubt, who take the tenderest interest in
everything which concerns their children; especially when they have
only two, and both of them are daughters. But if my father has any
tenderness in him he manages to conceal the fact from the knowledge of
his family. And as for interest, I doubt if he takes any real interest
in either of us. When George was coming to the house about seven times
a week mamma dropped a hint to papa to sound George as to what was the
object of his dropping in so often. But papa could not be induced to
take it.
"Don't you try to induce me to ask the man if he intends to make a fool
of himself, because I won't do it." That was all that papa could be
induced to say.
When, after all, without any prompting from anyone, George put to me
the question on which hinged so much of my life's happiness, it was
ever so long before anyone said a word about it to papa. As to
referring George to him, as some daughters, more fortunately situated,
might have done, I knew better. At last, one evening, when I was alone
with him in the drawing-room after dinner, I managed to find courage
enough to tell him.
"Papa, I think you ought to know that I am engaged to be married."
He looked up from the book which he was reading.
"What's that? Rubbish!"
He looked down again. It was a promising beginning.
"It may be rubbish, but it is a simple fact. I am engaged to be
married."
"How old are you?"
"I should have thought you would have known my age. I was eighteen last
birthday."
"In another ten years it will be time enough to think of nonsense of
that sort."
"Ten years! I am going to be married in six weeks from to-day."
"Be so good as not to interrupt me when I'm reading with nonsensical
observations of that kind."
That was the form my father's congratulations took. It may easily be
imagined what trouble we had with him. He could not be brought to
regard things seriously. It was not merely because he thought I was too
young; if I had been fifty it would have been exactly the same. It was
simply because he hated being bothered. And yet when, after repeated
trials, it was driven home to his understanding that I was going to be
married, and that George was a respectable person, he surprised me by
the generosity which he all at once displayed. One morning, as he was
leaving the breakfast-table to start for the City, he slipped a piece
of paper into my hand.
"That's to buy clothes."
When I had looked at it, and saw it was a cheque, and the figures which
were on it, I jumped up and ran after him into the hall, and kissed
him.
"What's that for?" he demanded. I explained. Putting his hand on my
shoulder he turned me towards the light and looked me up and down. Then
he remarked, "Perhaps, after all, that young man's not such a fool as I
thought him." It was the nearest approach to a compliment he had ever
paid me.
What we had to endure from him on the great question of the wedding!
His ideas on the subject were barbarian.
"Let us all go in a four-wheeler--we can put the young man on the
box--and drive round the corner to the nearest registrar. It will all
be done in a business-like manner inside ten minutes."
That was his notion of what a wedding ought to be. I need scarcely say
that mine was entirely different. I had made up my mind to have a
really pretty wedding. May Harvey had been married the year before.
Hers was a pretty wedding; I had resolved that mine should be prettier
still. Mamma, Eveleen and I arranged everything. By degrees we
persuaded him, if not exactly to agree, then at least to wink at what
was going to happen. On one point I was firm--that he should give me
away. He promised that he would. But when he began to realise what a
pretty wedding really meant he became restless and more and more
trying, and he said the most horrid things. And now on the very day
itself he had gone off to the City! If I could have relied on his
returning at twelve, or even on his meeting me at the church at
half-past, I should not have minded. But I was perfectly aware that if
business was at all pressing he would think nothing of sending one of
his clerks to take his place; on some absolutely essential matters I
knew to my cost that he had not the slightest sense of propriety. As,
however, all I could do was to hope for the best, there was nothing
left but to appear resigned.
"I presume if my own father doesn't care enough about me to trouble
himself to be present at my marriage it's not of the slightest
consequence."
Just as I was about to sigh Eliza, the housemaid, appeared in the
doorway, addressing mamma.
"If you please, ma'am, cook's going."
Mamma turned round to her with a start.
"Cook's going--where?"
"She's leaving the situation."
"Eliza! What do you mean?"
"If you please, ma'am, Mary and she have been having words about who it
was left the drawing-room window open last night; and then Mary she
said she believed as how it was cook's young man who broke in and stole
Miss Maud's presents; and then cook, she said that after that she
wouldn't stay with her in the same house not another minute; so she's
gone upstairs to put her things together."
Off went mamma to interview cook. I turned to Eveleen, who was still
sitting on the side of my bed with an air of complete unconcern, as if
nothing whatever mattered. I always did say that she was almost too
much like papa.
"It seems as if everything was going wrong--everything! Eveleen, what
is the time?"
"Just past ten."
"Past ten! Has my dress come?" She shook her head with an air of the
utmost nonchalance. If it had been her dress! "But Mme. Sylvia promised
that I should have it before ten! And I've had no breakfast!"
"There is breakfast waiting for you downstairs."
"As if I wanted any breakfast! As if I could eat, feeling as I do! You
know that I had arranged to commence dressing at ten! Eveleen, what am
I to do?"
"You mean about the dress? It's only just past ten; it may come still."
"May come! Eveleen, do you want me to--to hit you? Eliza or someone
must go at once and fetch it, finished or not."
"I daresay Eliza can go, if you think it necessary. If you take my
advice you won't excite yourself."
"Won't excite myself! If it were your wedding and your dress you'd talk
in a different strain."
"I should have made different arrangements."
"You would have made--" I bit my lip till it nearly bled; I had to do
something to stop myself. "I know how nice you can be if you like; but
I don't mean to quarrel with you, to-day of all days, if I can help
it." As I was speaking Eliza reappeared in the doorway. "Eliza, I want
you to get a hansom and to tell the man to drive you to Mme. Sylvia's
as fast as he can. I'll give you a note to her. You're to bring my
dress back with you. I'll write the note while you're putting on your
hat. Do be as quick as you can."
"If you please, miss, Miss Mackenzie's downstairs."