TRUE FATHER.
NOW anybody may suppose, who looks at things too sensibly, that true
love never yet has chosen time and place more foolishly, for coming to
grand issue, and obtaining pledge for ever. The sour-faced woman might
have returned in the crisis of our doings, or the two young tyrants
might have broken forth, and made sport of us from the parlour. Whether
we knew these things or not, we never gave a thought to them; all we
thought of was one another, and the rest might think what they liked of
us. This is not a large way to look at things; and yet once in a life,
the largest.
My Kitty—as I called her now, and have never since wanted any other
name—was the first (as behoved the more sensitive one) to bring common
sense to bear on us.
“You must come and see my father, dear,” she whispered, with her hands
in mine; “I am sure that he loves me all he can. And if you have quite
made up your mind that you cannot do without me, we may trust him to
make the best of it; for he always makes the best of things.”
“Show me where he is,” I answered, scarcely yet believing that my
fortune was so glorious; while she looked at me as only one in the
world can ever look at us; “I fear that he will be sadly vexed; but he
is kind to every one.”
“He will not be vexed on his own account, nor yet on mine,” she
answered very quietly; “but nobody knows what he has to bear. Let us go
to him, while he is by himself. There is some one coming; we must be
quick.”
We hastened down the long stone passage, just in time to escape the
servant, who at last had found her mistress; and after passing several
doors, we came to one with an iron bar, and iron rails, in front of it.
“See how he has to protect himself! If somebody knew that I have this
key, it would very soon be torn from me. I dare say you are surprised;
such things are not done down at Sunbury. How I love that quiet place!”
“And you shall live there all your life,” I answered, as we passed
the barrier; “no one shall dare to insult you there; you shall be the
Queen, the Queen of all; and you know who will be your slave of slaves.”
“That is all very fine talk,” she said; “I believe it is the usual
style at first; and then we come to Bramah locks, and cold iron.”
But her smile, as she put her hand on my shoulder, proved that her own
heart taught her better.
“Let me go in first, and see what he is doing. Oh, Kit, you have taken
advantage enough. What right have you to say that it is your last
chance? I am sure I hope not. Oh, how mean of you to turn my own words
against me! Now have a little reason. Yes, yes, yes. For the fiftieth
time at least, in five minutes—I love you, and never will have anybody
else. Now let me go in first; sometimes he is too busy for even me to
interrupt him.”
Much against my will, I let her go, for half an hour later would have
done as well according to my judgment; and after securing the fence
behind us, which had wholly escaped my attention, she knocked at the
door of the inner room, and without being answered opened it.
Her father was sitting with his back to us, so intent upon some small
object that he did not hear our footsteps. Some instrument made of
brass and glass, but quite unlike a microscope, was in his left hand,
and with the other he was slowly revolving something. The appearance
of the room amazed me, with its vast multitude of things unknown to me
even by name or shape, but all looking full of polished mischief and
poisonous intelligence.
“This is why my Kitty weeps, and is starved and crushed by female
dragons,” I said to myself in bitter mood; and even the Professor’s
grand calm head, and sweet scientific attitude, did not arouse the
reverence which a stranger would have felt for him.
His daughter touched, as lightly as a frond of fern might touch it,
one of his wavering silver locks, and waited with a smile for him to
turn. But I saw that her bosom trembled, with a sigh of deeper birth
than smiles. Then he turned and looked at her, and knew from the eyes,
that were so like his own, and yet so deeply different, that she had
something he must hear.
“You have been crying again, my child,” he said as he kissed her
forehead; “they promised me you should be happy now.”
“Yes, if I let them do what they like. Father, you have no idea what
it is. I am never allowed to see you alone, except by stealth, and at
fearful risk. Father, come out of philosophy and science, and attend to
your own child.”
“But my dear, I do. It is the very thing that is in my mind
continually. I spoke very strongly not a week ago, and received a
solemn promise that you should have new clothes, and diet the same as
the rest, and everything I could think of for your good.”
“How many times have they promised it, father? And then I am beaten
and put on bread and water, for having dared to complain to you. But
all that is a trifle, a thing soon over. I must expect that sort of
thing, because I have no mother. But, father, what they are trying to
do to me is ten times worse than ragged clothes, or starvation, or
bodily punishment. They want me to marry a man I detest—an old man, and
a bad one!”
“My dear, I have promised you, and you know that you can rely on my
promises, that you shall not even be allowed to marry a man of doubtful
character. I have not been able, my darling Kitty, to do everything I
should have liked for you; but one thing is certain—if inquiries prove
that this gentleman—I forget his name—is a man of bad life and unkind
nature, you shall have nothing to do with him. You know how little I am
able now to go into what is called ‘Society,’ and most of my friends
are men of my own tastes. But I have taken particular trouble, at the
loss of much important time, to ascertain whether your opinion of
this person is correct. He is wealthy and of good family, I am told,
though that is merely a secondary point. He is likely to have outlived
youthful follies; and the difference of age is in your favour.”
“But not in his”—interrupted Kitty, with a smile, for which I could
have kissed her fifty times, it was so natural, and simple, yet
sagacious.
“You are flippant, my dear, in spite of all your troubles,” continued
her father, smiling also. “No length of discipline has entirely tamed
you. And now I will tell you why I am so anxious that you should have a
settled home, and some one to take care of you, as soon as can suitably
be arranged. I am likely to leave England, on a roving expedition,
for how long a time is as yet uncertain. It may be for a twelvemonth,
or even more, possibly for two years; and all that time, where will
you be, my darling child? I know that you are not happy now; though
my object in making this second arrangement was mainly to have you
protected and cared for. But things have not turned out exactly as I
hoped; and I fear that in my absence they may grow still worse. When I
heard that this gentleman was strongly attached to you, and wished you
to become his wife this winter, I hoped that I might be of some little
service to the cause of knowledge, without any neglect of my duty to
you. And I may tell you, my child, that through a long course of rather
extravagant habits, which I have failed to check, it is become of great
importance to me, so far as mere money goes—which is not much—to
accept the appointment which is offered me. I am often deeply grieved
at your condition, and do my very utmost to improve it; but am not
always allowed; as you know, my dear, and are very sweet and patient
with me—I am not always allowed to have my own way.”
“Don’t put it so, papa. That is not half the truth. Say that you never
have been allowed, never are, and never will be, to have so much as a
barleycorn of your own way.”
“Young people put things in too strong a light,” the man of science
answered gently. “But we will not go into that question now. Only you
will see, my dear, from what I have said, why I am so anxious that you
should be settled in a happy and peaceful home of your own, far away
from all those who worry you. This gentleman offers you a wealthy home;
but knowing your nature, I do not insist on that. Indeed I should be
quite satisfied with a very humble home for my darling, if it were a
happy one.”
“Very well, papa, nothing could be nicer. I can please you now exactly,
and meet all your wishes, though I cannot bear to hear of your leaving
me so long. But you will not leave me to the tender mercies”—here my
Kitty beckoned to me to come forward, which I had long been most eager
to do, but in obedience to her signals, had remained by the door and
behind a tall case of some wheel within wheel-work, almost as complex
as human motives—“father, you see that you need not leave me to the
tender mercies of anybody, except this gentleman, who saved my life at
Sunbury, as you know, and wishes to make it a part of his own, for the
rest of it.”
Captain Fairthorn looked at me with extreme surprise; my idea of his
character was that nothing upon or below the earth could surprise him.
But he had his glasses on; and these always seem to me to treble the
marks of astonishment in the eyes that stand behind them. In deference
to his large intellect, and fame, and great (though inactive) nobility
of nature, I waited for him to begin, though I am sure—now I come to
think of it—that he would have been glad for me to take the move.
“Kitty,” he said at last, with some relief at not having to fall upon
me yet, “I should like to know a little more of this story. I remember
this young man very well. But his name has escaped me for the moment.
He will not think me rude. It is one of the many penalties we pay for
undue devotion to our own little subjects. If he had been a zoophyte,
or a proboscidian, or even one of the constituents—”
“If he had been a zoophyte, papa, or anything else with a very
big name, and a very little meaning,” Miss Fairthorn exclaimed in
reproachful tones, “where should I be now? At the bottom of the Thames.
And perhaps you would enjoy dredging for me.”
“In spite of all training, she has a temper;” the father addressed
this remark to me. “Also she has a deep sense of gratitude—a feeling
we find the more largely developed, the further we travel from the
human order. But, my dear, you allow yourself vague discursions. In a
matter like this you have brought before me, my desire is always to be
practical. That great and original investigator, to whom we owe not
only knowledge, but what is even more important, the only true course,
by which to arrive—”
“My dear father, if you once begin on that—the knowledge we want, and
a quick course to it, is whether you will be so good and so kind, as
to make us both happy by your consent. This gentleman loves me; and I
love him. He is not wealthy; but he is good. You may leave me in his
care, without a doubt. I have not known him long; but I know him as
truly as if we had been brought up together. The only fault he has
is that he cannot praise himself. And his reverence for you is so
strong and deep, that it makes him more diffident than ever. You are
dreadfully diffident yourself, papa, you know you are; and that makes
me so despise all boastful people. Now fully understand that I won’t
have that horrible old Sir Cumbrous Hotchpot, and I will have this Kit
Orchardson; that is to say, with your leave, father. And you owe me
something, I should think, after all—but I have no right to speak of
that. Only, if you don’t give it, mind, I’ll—I’ll—” As a sample of what
she would do, she began to sob deeply; and I caught her in my arms.
“You see, sir,” I said—“oh, don’t, my darling; your father is the
kindest man in the world, and he will never have the heart to make you
unhappy—you see, sir, how good she is, and how simple, and ready to be
satisfied even with me. I am a poor man, and I have my way to make;
but with her I could make it to—to—” I was going to say “heaven,” but
substituted, “the top of the tree. And we have a pretty place, where
she would be happy as the day is long. And if I don’t protect her, and
cherish her, and worship her, and keep her as the apple of my eye, I
hope you will take me by the neck, Captain Fairthorn, and put me under
this air-pump.”
“How do you know that is an air-pump?” he asked, with admiration of my
cleverness.
“By the look, sir,” I replied; “I have seen them before.”
“Well, then, it isn’t; neither does it much resemble one. Kitty, you
see what his diffidence is; and another proof, I suppose, is, that he
has fallen in love with you?”
“Yes,” said my darling, with a smile so humble, and loving, and
confiding, that my eyes grew moist, and her father could not see
through his spectacles; “it is a sure proof of his diffidence; for he
deserves to have a better wife than I shall ever be; although I will do
my best to please him.”
“Well, after that,” replied Captain Fairthorn, “it seems to me, that my
opinion matters very little. You appear to have made up your minds; and
your minds appear to have been made for one another. I am wholly unable
to withstand such facts. Of course I shall make my inquiries, Master
Kit. But so far as I can see at present, I will not deny you what you
have won. If she is half as good to her husband as she always has been
to her father, you will be a happy man, God willing. There kiss me, my
pretty dear, and don’t cry any more, till he makes you.”