DICK THINKS OF THE CITY.
When Dick had uttered this audacious speech, Mr. Mayne started back,
and his expression of mingled wrath and dismay was so ludicrous that
under any other circumstances his son would have found it difficult to
keep his countenance.
"What! what!" he almost shouted, losing all sense of politeness, and
even of Nan's presence; "you young fool, what do you mean by trumping
up this nonsense and presuming to talk to me in this way?"
Dick thought it prudent to drop Nan's hand,--and, indeed, the girl
shrank away from them both in alarm at this outburst: nevertheless,
his countenance and bearing maintained the same admirable
_sang-froid_, as he confronted his angry parent:
"Now, father, what is the use of calling me names? When a fellow is of
age, and knows his own mind, he does not care a pin for being called a
fool. 'Hard words break no bones,' as our copy-leaves used to tell
us,--no, I have not got that quite right; but that is about my
meaning. Look here, father," he continued, in a coaxing, boyish voice;
"I have cared for Nan ever since she was a little creature so high,"
again reverting to the infantile measurement. "I have always meant to
marry her,--that is, if she would have me," correcting himself, as Nan
drew herself up a little proudly. "Money or no money, there is not
another girl in England that I would have for a wife. I would wait for
her if I had to wait half my life, just the same as she would wait for
me; and so, as I said before, when a fellow has made up his mind,
there is nothing more to say." And here Dick pursed up his lips for a
whistle, but thought better of it, and fell to twisting and untwisting
the ends of his sandy moustache.
Nan's downcast eyes revealed nothing. But if Dick could only have seen
the happy look in them! What eloquence could ever have been so dear to
her as that clear rough-and-ready statement of her lover's feelings
for her? "There is not another girl in England that I would have for a
wife." Could anything surpass the beauty of that sentence? Oh, how
manly, how true he was, this Dick of hers!
"Oh, indeed! I am to say nothing, am I?" returned Mr. Mayne, with
exquisite irony. "My son is to dictate to me; and I am to be silent!
Oh, you young fool!" he muttered under his breath; but then for the
moment words seemed to fail him.
In spite of the wrath that was boiling within him, and to which he did
not dare give vent in Nan's presence, in spite of the grief and
disappointment that his son's defiance had caused him, Dick's bearing
filled him with admiration and amazement.
This boy of his was worth something, he thought. He had a clear head
of his own, and could speak to some purpose. Was a likely young fellow
like this to be thrown away on that Challoner girl? Poor Nan! Pretty
and blooming as she looked, Mr. Mayne felt almost as though he hated
her. Why had she come between his boy and him? Had he a dozen sons,
that he could spare one of them? Was not Dick his only one,--the son
of his right hand, his sole hope and ambition? Mr. Mayne could have
wept as these thoughts passed through his mind.
It was at this moment that Nan thought it right to speak. Dick had had
his say, but it was not for her to be silent.
"Mr. Mayne, please listen to me a moment," she said, pleadingly. "No;
I must speak to your father," as Dick, much alarmed, tried to silence
her. "He must not think hard things of us, and misunderstand us."
"No, dear; indeed you had better be silent!" implored Dick, anxiously;
but Nan for once turned a deaf ear to him.
"I must speak," she persisted. "Mr. Mayne, it is quite true what Dick
says: we have been together all our lives, and have grown to care for
each other. I cannot remember the time,"--the tears coming into her
bright eyes--"when Dick was not more to me than a brother; it is all
of such long standing, it is far, far too late to stop it now."
"We shall see about that, Miss Nancy," muttered Mr. Mayne, between his
teeth; but the girl did not seem to hear him.
"Dick took me by surprise just now. I ought to have been more on my
guard, and not have given him that promise."
"What promise?" demanded Mr. Mayne, harshly; and Nan hung her head,
and returned, shyly,--
"That I would marry him some time; but indeed--indeed he made me say
it, and I was so taken by surprise. No, Dick; you must let me finish,"
for Dick was looking at her with piteous entreaty in his eyes. "I know
we were wrong to say so much without your leave; but indeed I will do
your son no harm. I cannot marry any one else, because I am engaged to
him; but as far as he is concerned he is free. I will never marry him
without your permission; he shall not come here if you do not wish;
but do not be so angry with us;" and here her lip quivered. "If you
did not mean this to happen, you should have kept us apart all these
years."
"Oh, hush, dear!" whispered Dick in her ear; but Mr Mayne almost
thrust him aside, and laid a rough grasp on the girl's wrist. "Never
mind him: answer me one question. Are you serious in what you say,
that you will never marry him without my permission?"
"Of course I will not," answered Nan, quite shocked. "Dick would not
ask me to do such a thing; he is far too honorable, and--and--no one
would think of such a thing."
"Very well; that is all I wanted to know;" and he released her, not
over-gently: "the rest I can settle with Master Dick himself.
Good-morning, Miss Nancy: under the circumstances I do not think I
will wait to see your mother. I am not quite in the mood for ladies;
perhaps, later on, I may have something to say to her."
"Don't you mean to shake hands with me, Mr. Mayne?" asked poor Nan,
much distressed at the evil temper of Dick's father; but there was no
sign of softening.
"Yes; I will shake hands with you, and gladly, if you will promise to
be sensible and send this boy of mine about his business. Come now,
Nan; own for my comfort that it is only a bit of boy-and-girl
nonsense, that means nothing. I am not over-particular, and do not
object to a bit of flirting with young folk."
"You had better go with your father, Dick," returned Nan, with much
dignity, and quite ignoring this speech.
Dick seized the little hand that had been so rudely rejected, and
kissed it under his father's eyes.
"I will see you again somehow," he whispered, and Nan was quite
content with this promise. Dick would keep his word, she knew: he
would not leave Hadleigh without seeing her.
A very unpleasant hour ensued for poor Dick. Mr. Mayne in one of his
worst tempers; he had conducted himself to Nan in an ungentlemanly
manner, and he knew it; as Dick said to himself,--
"It is very hard on a fellow when one's father acts like a cad."
Mr. Mayne had shown himself a cad. No gentleman by birth or breeding
would have conducted himself in that offensive way. Bad temper had
broken down the trammels of conventionality: never before in his life
had Dick felt so utterly ashamed of his father. Mr. Mayne was
conscious of his son's criticism, and it made things worse.
It spoke well for Dick's prudence and self-command that he let the
storm of his father's anger break over his head, and said no word. Mr.
Mayne ranted and raved; I am afraid he even swore once or twice,--at
least his language was undesirably strong,--and Dick walked beside him
and held his peace. "Poor old boy, he is terribly cut up about this!"
he thought once.
Mr. Drummond saw them coming along, and wondered at the energy of the
older man. Was it the visit to the Friary that had put him out? and
then he fell anew into cogitation. Who were these people who were so
curious about the Challoners? At least that sulky young fellow had
taken no apparent interest, for he had made an excuse to leave them;
but the other one had persisted in very close investigation. Perhaps
he was some relation,--an uncle, or a distant cousin; evidently he had
some right or claim to be displeased. Archie determined to solve the
mystery as soon as possible.
"Well, sir, have you nothing to say for yourself?" demanded Mr. Mayne,
when he had fairly exhausted himself. He had disinherited Dick half a
dozen times; he had deprived him of his liberal allowance; he had
spoken of a projected voyage to New Zealand: and Dick had only walked
on steadily, and thought of the cold trembling little hand he had
kissed. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?" he vociferated.
Dick woke up at this.
"Oh, yes, I have plenty to say," he returned cheerfully; "but two
cannot talk at once, you know. It was right for you to have the first
innings, and all that; and I say, father,"--his filial feelings coming
to the surface,--"I am awfully sorry, and so is Nan, to see you so
vexed."
"Speak for yourself," was the wrathful answer. "Don't mention that
girl's name in my hearing for the present."
"Whose name?--Nan's?" returned Dick, innocently. "I don't see how we
are to keep it out of the conversation, when the row is all about her.
Look here, father: I say again I am awfully sorry you are vexed; but
as N--she says, it is too late to mend matters now. I have made my
choice, for better for worse, and I am sorry it does not please you."
"Please me!" retorted Mr. Mayne; and then he added, venomously: "The
girl said you would not marry without my permission; but I will never
give it. Come, Dick, it is no use thwarting me in this: you are our
only child and we have other plans for you. Pshaw! you are only a boy!
You have not seen the world yet. There are dozens of girls far
prettier than this Nan. Give this nonsense up, and there is nothing I
will not do for you; you shall travel, have your liberty, do as you
like for the next two or three years, and I will not worry you about
marrying. Why, you are only one-and-twenty; and you have two more
years of University life! What an idea,--a fine young fellow like you
talking of tying yourself down to matrimony!"
"There is no use in my going back to Oxford, father," returned Dick,
steadily; "thank you kindly all the same, but, it would be sheer waste
of money. I have made up my mind to go into the City; it is the
fashionable thing nowadays. And one does not need Greek and Latin for
that, though, of course, it is an advantage to a fellow, and gives him
a standing; but, as I have to get my own living, I cannot afford the
two years. Your old chums Stanfield & Stanfield would give me a berth
at once."
"Is the boy mad? What on earth do you mean by all this tomfoolery?"
demanded Mr. Mayne, unable to believe his ears. His small gray eyes
opened widely and irately on his son; but Dick took no notice. He
walked on, with his shoulders looking rather square and determined;
the corners of his mouth were working rebelliously: evidently he did
not dare to look at his father for fear of breaking into
incontrollable laughter. Really the dear old boy was getting too
absurd; he--Dick--could not stand it much longer. "What in the name of
all that is foolish do you mean, sir?" thundered Mr. Mayne.
Dick executed a low whistle, and then he said, in an aggrieved
voice,--
"Well, father, I don't call you very consistent. I suppose I know what
being disinherited means? In plain language, you have told me about
half a dozen times that if I stick to Nan I am not to expect a
shilling of your money. Now, in my own mind, of course I call that
precious hard on a fellow, considering I have not been such a bad
sort of son after all. But I am not going to quarrel with you about
that: a man has a right to do as he likes with his own money."
"Yes; but, Dick, you are going to be sensible, you know, and drop the
girl?" in a wheedling sort of tone.
"Excuse me, father; I am going to do nothing of the kind," returned
Dick, with sudden firmness. "I am going to stick to her, as you did to
my mother; and for just as long, if it must be so. I am not a bit
afraid that you will not give your permission, if we only wait long
enough to prove that we are in earnest. The only thing I am anxious
about is how I am to get my living; and that is why I will not consent
to waste any more time at the University. The bar is too uphill work;
money is made quickest in the City: so, if you will be good enough to
give me an introduction to Stanfield & Stanfield,--I know they are a
rattling good sort of people,--that is all I will trouble you about at
present." And Dick drew in a long breath of relief after this weighty
speech.
"Do you mean this, Dick?" asked Mr. Mayne, rather feebly.
They had reached the hotel now, and, as they entered the private room
where their luncheon was awaiting them, he sat down as though he had
grown suddenly old and tired, and rested his head on his hand, perhaps
to hide the moisture that had gathered under his shaggy eyebrows.
"Yes, father, I do," returned Dick; but he spoke very gently, and his
hand touched his father's shoulder caressingly. "Let me give you some
wine: all this business has taken it out of you."
"Yes, I have had a blow, Dick,--my only boy has given me a blow,"
returned Mr. Mayne, pathetically; but as he took the wine his hand
trembled.
"I am awfully sorry," answered Dick, penitently: "if there were
anything else you had asked me but this--but I cannot give up Nan."
And, as he pronounced the name, Dick's eyes shone with pride and
tenderness. He was a soft-hearted, affectionate young fellow, and this
quarrel with his father was costing him a great deal of pain. In
everything else he would have been submissive to his parents; but now
he had a purpose and responsibility in his life: he had to be faithful
to the girl whom he had won; he must think for her now as well as for
himself. How sweet was this sense of dual existence, this unity of
heart and aim!
Mr. Mayne fairly groaned as he read the expression on his son's face.
Dick's youthful countenance was stamped with honest resolution. "I am
going to stick to her, as you did to my mother."--that was what he had
said. If this were true, it was all over with Dick's chances with the
pretty little heiress; he would never look at her or her thirty
thousand pounds; "but all the same he, Richard Mayne, would never
consent to his son marrying a dressmaker. If she had only not
disgraced herself, if she had not brought this humiliation on them, he
might have been brought to listen to their pleading in good time and
at his own pleasure; but now, never!--never!" he muttered, and set his
teeth hard.
"Dick," he said, suddenly, for there had been utter silence for a
space.
"Yes, father."
"You have upset me very much, and made me very unhappy; but I wish you
to say nothing to your mother, and we will talk about this again.
Promise me one thing,--that you will go back to Oxford at least until
Christmas."
"What is the good of that, sir?" asked his son, dubiously.
"What is the good of anything? for you have taken every bit of
pleasure out of my life; but at least you can do as much as this for
me."
"Oh, yes, father, if you wish it," returned Dick, more cheerfully;
"but all the same I have fixed upon a City life."
"We will talk of that again," replied his father; "and, Dick, we go
home to-morrow, and, unless you promise me not to come down to
Hadleigh between this and Christmas, I shall be obliged to speak to
Mrs. Challoner."
"Oh, there is no need for that," returned Dick, sulkily.
"You give me your word?"
"Oh, yes," pushing aside his chair with a kick. "It would be no use
coming down to Hadleigh, for Nan would not speak to me. I know her too
well for that. She has got such a conscience, you know. I shall write
to her, but I do not know if she will answer my letters; but it does
not matter: we shall both be true as steel. If you don't want me any
more, I think I will have a cigar on the beach, for this room is
confoundedly hot." And, without waiting for permission, Dick strode
off, still sulky and fully aware that his father meant to follow him,
for fear of his footsteps straying again down the Braidwood Road.