I shall always say I did ought to have married Gregory Sweet when my
husband dropped, and nobody can accuse me of not doing my bestest to that
end. In a womanly way, knowing the man had me in his eye from the funeral
onwards, and before for that matter, I endeavoured to make it so easy for
him as I could without loss of self-respect; and he can hear me out, and
if he don't the neighbours will.
But there it was. Gregory suffered from defects of character, too prone to
show themselves in a bachelor man after the half century he turned. He
pushed caution to such extremes that you can only call ungentlemanly where
a nice woman's concerned, and I never shall know to my dying day what kept
him off me. A man of good qualities too, but a proper slave to the habit
of caution, and though I'd be the last to undervalue the virtue which
never was wanted more than now, yet, when the coast lies clear and the
sun's shining and the goal in sight, and that goal me, 'twas a depressing
thing for the man to hold back without any sane reason for so doing.
Being, as you may say, the centre of the story, for Milly Parable and my
son, Rupert, though they bulk large in the tale, be less than me, it's
difficult to set it out. And the affair itself growed into such a proper
tangle at the finish that my pen may fail afore the end; but I'll stick so
near as memory serves me to the facts, and, though others may not shine
too bright afore I finish, the tale won't cast no discredit upon me in any
fairminded ear.
I married at twenty and had four children and they was grown up, all but
Albert, before I lost John Stocks, my first husband. Albert, top flower of
the basket, he died as a bright child of ten year old. His brain was too
big for his head and expanded and killed him. And that left Jane, my
first, married to Ford, the baker, and John, called after his father, and
known to me as 'Mother's Joy,' and Rupert, who got to be called 'Mother's
Misfortune,' because he was a shifty and tolerable wicked boy with lawless
manners and no thought for any living creature but self. John was good as
gold, but a thought simple. He married and had five childer in four years
and never knew where to turn for a penny. But the good will and big heart
of the man was always there, and if he could have helped his parents and
come by money honest, he'd have certainly done it. A glutton for work and
in church twice every Sunday; but his work was hedge-tacking and odd jobs,
and he never done either in a way to get any lasting fame. I wouldn't say
I was proud of him, and yet I knew he went straight and done his duty to
the best of his poor powers. His wife was such another--the salt of the
earth in a manner of speaking, if rightly understood, but no knack of
making her mark in the world--in fact a very godly, unnoticeable, unlucky
fashion of woman. I knew they'd be rewarded hereafter, where brains be
dust in the balance, but meantime I'd sometimes turn to mark Rupert
flourishing like the green bay tree and making money and putting it away
and biding single and keeping his secrets close as the grave.
I never saw none of his earnings and more didn't his father. He was
under-keeper to Tudor Manor and very well thought on; but a miser of
speech, as well as cash, and none knew what was in his heart. He lived at
the north lodge of the big place and woke a lot of curiosity, as secrecy
will; but at eight-and-twenty years of age he was granted to be a man very
skilled in his business, and the head-keeper, Mr. Vallance, thought a lot
of him, and the two men under him went in fear. So also did the poachers,
for he was terrible skilled in their habits, and only his bringing up and
a patient father and mother had turned the balance and made him the
protector of game instead of a robber himself. So there it was: my eldest
had a heart of gold and no intellects, as often happens, while Rupert
hadn't no heart at all, but the Lord willed him wits above ordinary. He'd
come to supper of a Sunday and eat enormous; though never did we get
anything in return but emptiness and silence. He'd listen to his father
telling, and my John, being a hopeful man, never failed to hint that a few
shillings would help us over a difficult week and so on; but Rupert only
listened. My John, you see, was one of they unfortunates stricken with the
rheumatism that turns you into a living stone, so his usefulness was
pretty undergone afore he reached sixty and but for my little bit, saved
in service, and an occasional food-offering from my daughter's husband, it
would have gone hard with us. This my eldest son well understood and often
the tears would come into his eyes because he couldn't do nothing; but no
tear ever came into Rupert's eyes. Once I saw him stuff his father's pipe
out of his own tobacco pouch and only once; and we thought upon that
amazing thing for a month after and wondered how it happened.
Well, that's how it stood when the Almighty released my husband and in a
manner of speaking me also. He had been comforted by good friends during
his long illness and not only our eldest son, John, would often make time
to sit by him and have a tell, but there was the Vicar also and his
wife--peaceful and cheerful people, that my poor sufferer was always glad
to see. And besides them Mr. Sweet often came in and passed the news,
though owing to his high gift of caution he'd seldom tell you anything
that wasn't well known a month before. And Arthur Parable was not seldom
at the bedside, for he was among our oldest friends and tolerable cheerful
along with John, because the sight of a sick person had a way to cheer him
and make him so bright as a bee. He'd be very interested to hear about my
husband's pangs and said it was wonderful what the human frame could
endure without going under. But a nice, thoughtful man who had seen pecks
of trouble himself and could spare a sigh for others. He'd often bring my
husband a pinch of tobacco, or an old illustrated newspaper; and he liked
to turn over the past, when his wife was alive and he'd many times been
within a touch of taking his own life.
Arthur was a handsome fellow, and might well have wed again, but no desire
in that direction overtook him, and when Dowager Lady Martin at Tudor
Manor took sick and had two nurses, his daughter Minnie, gived over her
work, which was lady's maid to the old lady, and come home to look after
her father. I'd say to Mr. Parable sometimes that, at his age and with his
personable appearance, he might try again in hope; but "No," he said.
"I've had my little lot and there's Minnie. My girl would never neighbour
with a step-mother and I don't want no more sour looks and high words in
my house."
"Girl" he called her, but in truth Minnie Parable was five-and-thirty and
far ways from being girlish in mind or body. Old for her age and one of
they flat, dreary-minded females with a voice like the wind in a winter
hedge, eyes without no more light in 'em than a rabbit's, and a moping,
down-daunted manner that made the women shrug their shoulders and the men
fly. Not a word against her, and the fact she was lady's maid for ten full
years to the Dowager can be told to prove her virtues; but then again, the
Dowager was a melancholy-minded old woman, along of family misfortunes,
and no doubt Minnie's gift for looking at the dark side suited that
ancient piece, who always did likewise.
But there it was. With her melancholy nose, thin shoulders and
sand-coloured hair, Minnie woke up no interest in the men, and there was
only one person surprised to find it so, and that was herself.
She told me once, in her poor, corncrake voice, that she'd never had an
affair in her life, though she'd saved money. "I'd always thought to have
a home of my own some day," she told me, "for it ain't as though I was one
of them women that shun the male and plan to go through life without a
partner; but they hold off, Mrs. Stocks, and the younger girls get
married."
"Plenty of time," I said--to pleasure her--though knowing only too well
there would never be the time for Minnie. "You wait," I said. "All things
come to them who wait."
Little did I guess I was speaking a true word, but I went on:
"Them as marry for the eye often find they're mistook, and with your
homely looks, my dear, you've always got the certainty no man will snatch
at you like he would at a pretty flower. When he comes, your husband will
look beneath the surface and there he'll find what's better than pink
cheeks and a glad eye. So you wait," I said, "for a chap who's past the
silly stage and wants a comfortable home and a good cook and helpmate
who'll look at both sides of sixpence before she spends it."
'Twas well meant, but like a lot of other well-intending remarks, fell a
good bit short to the hearer. In fact the woman's reply threw a bit of
light on character and showed me a side of Minnie's mind I had not
bargained for. She flickered up as I spoke and stared out of her faded
eyes, and for a passing moment there comed a glint in 'em, like the sun on
a dead fish.
"I didn't know I was so plain as all that!" she snapped out. "There's
uglier than me in the village, unless I can't see straight, and whether or
no, when I marry, it'll be for love, let me tell you, Mary Stocks, and not
to count my husband's sixpences!"
"May he have more than you can count, my dear, when he do come," I said,
for the soft answer that turns away wrath has mostly been my motto. And
then I left her, champing on the bit, so to say; and I wondered where the
poor soul had seen a less fanciable maiden than herself in our village, or
any other. But 'tis the mercy of Providence to hide reality from us where
'tis like to hurt most, and no doubt if our neighbours knew the naked
truth of their queer appearances and uncomfortable natures, there would
come a rush of them felo-de-sees and a lot of unhappiness that ignorance
escapes.
Well, my poor John went, but before he'd done so it was plain to mark that
our old and valued friend, Gregory Sweet, had me upon his mind. Never a
word he said while there was a spark of life in John and never a word he
said afterwards either for a full year, and I liked him the better for it;
but though cautious, he was not a concealer, and never attempted to hide
his regard and hope where I was concerned. A woman knows without words,
being gifted by nature to understand signs and signals, whether of danger,
or the reverse; and so I knew Gregory was very much addicted to me and
only waiting the appointed time to offer. For a long while I thought he
would put the proposal in a letter, and then, remembering his caution and
his terror of the written word, I guessed he'd never so far commit himself
as to set it down. But I was ready and willing, for Greg had a tidy little
greengrocer's business and they counted him a snug man. A bachelor of
sixty-two he was--clean as a new pin of a Sunday and very well thought
upon. A bearded man, with a wrinkled brow and eyes that looked shifty to a
stranger; but 'twas only his undying caution made them so. As straight as
any other greengrocer, and straighter than some. And I was tolerable poor,
but not lacking in gifts to shine, given the chance; and I knew Gregory
inside out, you may say, and felt that in the shop and the home, he'd be a
happier man for my company.
So, when the year was out and he still kept hanging on, though never a day
passed but he looked in, or brought a bunch of pretty fresh green stuff, I
felt the man's hand must be strengthened.
"I'll save him from himself in this matter," I thought. "He's got a way of
thinking time and eternity be the same thing, and he's looked all round
the bargain for more'n a year, so 'tis up to me to help him in the way he
very clearly wants to go." And I set about him and made it easy for him to
see he wouldn't get "No" for an answer when he brought himself to the
brink. I made it so clear as a woman could that I cared for Sweet, and I
aired my views and dropped a good few delicate-minded hints, such as that
he didn't look to be getting any younger and more didn't I; and when the
Rev. Champernowne preached a very fine performance on the words, "Now is
the accepted time," I rubbed it in fearlessly when Mr. Sweet next came for
a smoke and talk after his supper.
"Time don't stand still with the youngest," I said, "and for my part it
seems to go quicker with the middle-aged than anybody; and many a man and
woman too," I said, "have lived to look back and see what a lot they
missed, through too much caution and doubt. 'Nothing venture, nothing
have,' is a very true word," I said, "and when a man have only got to open
his mouth to win his heart's desire, he's a good bit of a fool, Greg, to
keep it shut."
I couldn't say no more than that, and he nodded and answered me that he
didn't know but what I might be right.
"There's not your equal for sense in the parish," he told me, and being
worked up a bit that evening, I very near gave him an impatient answer;
but that ain't my way: I just held in and told him that I was glad he
thought so, and I believed he weren't the only one. Then he took a curious
look at me and said "Good evening," and went on his way.
And, strange to tell, that last word of mine gave me an idea. Looking back
I can see what tremendous things was hid in that chance speech, for it
decided my life in a manner of speaking. Of course when I told Greg he
weren't the only one, I used a figure of speech and no more, because there
weren't none else and never had been; but now, as I unrayed for bed, I
asked myself how it would be if there was another after me, and though
very well knowing that no such thing could possibly happen, I let the
thought run, pictured myself with another string to my old bow, and
wondered what Mr. Sweet would do then.
I certainly paid the man the compliment of feeling sure, when he heard
that, he'd throw caution to the winds and go for me; and since there
wasn't in sober truth another as had looked upon me with any serious
resolves, I had to set about the matter. The Lord helps those who help
themselves, but not if they be up to anything underhand or devious, as a
rule, and though I might have invented a tale to hoodwink Gregory Sweet,
that must have got back on my conscience, besides being a dangerous thing.
Deceived, the poor man had to be--for his own good, but my story must be
made to hold water and ring true, else, with his doubting and probing
nature, I well knew he'd ferret out the facts and very like leave me a
loser.
But one man there was, who could well be trusted to play his part in this
difficult matter, and he knew the circumstances and had already asked me
time and again when Gregory was going to take the plunge. So I went to
Arthur Parable and explained the situation and hoped, as an old friend and
a well-wisher and a man far above suspicion, he'd lend a hand.
"It's like this, Arthur," I said. "I can trust you with my secrets, you
being a man never known to talk and also a great friend of poor John's."
And then I explained how it was with Mr. Sweet and how he only wanted just
a clever push from outside to propose and be done with it.
Arthur heard me in silence, then he spoke. "You don't want me to tell the
man to offer for you?" he asked, and I replied:
"No Arthur--far from it; but I want you to fall in with a little plot.
There's nothing quickens a man like Gregory so fast as finding he isn't
the only pebble on the beach; and if he was to hear my praises on your
lips, or find us two taking a walk by the river, or drop in and see you
drinking your dish of tea along with me once and again, I'm tolerable sure
that he'd find the words. It won't throw no shadow on you," I said, "if
you was to pretend a little interest in me; but when Gregory found out you
was doing so, and heard the name of Mary Stocks in your mouth, and guessed
you find your mind occupied with me off and on, then 'twould be the match
to the powder in my opinion; and I should never forget your great goodness
and bless your name."
He took a good long time before he answered, and I was feared of my life
he would refuse to have any hand in the affair. He cast his eyes over me
that searching that I felt I might have gone too far; but then he grinned,
which was an expression of pleasure very rare indeed with Arthur, and his
brow lifted, and he went so far as to wink one of his pale grey eyes, the
one with a drooping lid.
"For John's sake," I said.
"As to John," he answered, "I never heard him say he was particular
anxious for you to take another, and many husbands feel rather strong on
that subject, as you can see when you hear their wills after they be gone;
but as poor John hadn't nothing to leave, he couldn't make no conditions
to hamper your freedom of action, and for my part I see no reason why you
shouldn't marry Gregory Sweet if you want to."
"I do," I said. "He's a man you could trust, and you put safety first at
my time of life."
Well, Arthur dallied a bit and didn't throw himself into it exactly; but
none the less, before I left him he promised to do his part and make Mr.
Sweet jealous if he could without casting any reflections upon himself.
For I found that Arthur had his share of caution also, and before we
parted he made me sign a paper acknowledging the cabal in secret against
Greg.
"You shall have it back the day he offers for you," promised Arthur
Parable, "and I only require it so that if any hard things was said of me,
or I was accused of toying with your finer feelings, or anything like
that, I can show by chapter and verse under your signature that the man's
a liar. And meantime I'll sound your praises if I see Sweet and say you'd
teach him the meaning of true happiness, and so on. And I'll come to tea
Sunday."
Well, I thanked the man from my heart and since one good turn called for
another I asked after him and his girl and hoped Minnie was being a kindly
daughter to him and so on. But he didn't speak very fatherly of her.
"She's a melancholy cat in a house," he said, "and women will be
melancholy in her stage of life. She's terrible wishful to leave me and
find a husband--so set on it as yourself--but of course with no chance
whatsoever; for no self-respecting man would ever look at a creature like
her. As a rule, with her pattern, they have got sense enough to give up
hope and take what Nature sends 'em in a patient spirit. But not Minnie.
Hope won't die and, in a word, she's a plaguey piece and she's got a sharp
tongue too, and when I'm too old to hold my own she'll give me hell."
"Why don't she go into one of them institutions?" I asked, "There's plenty
of places where good work is being done by ugly, large-hearted women,
looking after natural childer, or nursing rich folk, and so on. Then she'd
be helping the world along and forget herself and lay up treasure where
moth and rust don't corrupt."
"You ax her," answered Arthur. "You give her a hint. I'd pay good money to
man or woman who could tempt her away from looking after me. And if she
thought I was minded to take another wife, I'd get the ugly edge of her
tongue up home to my vitals, so us must watch out."
"Don't you let her in the secret, however," I prayed the man, "because if
she knew she'd spoil all."
"Fear nothing," he answered; "I can take her measure."
But unfortunately for all concerned, Arthur over-praised himself in that
matter, and before a fortnight was told, while we developed our little
affair very clever, and I smiled on Arthur in the street afore neighbours,
and now and again he invited himself to tea--if Minnie didn't dash in and
put the lid on! What I felt I can't write down in any case now, things
happening as they did after; but at the time, I'd have wrung the woman's
neck for a ha'porth of peas. But she thought she knew the circumstances,
and being filled with hateful rage that her father was thinking on
another, she struck in the only quarter that mattered and, before I knowed
it, I was a lone woman and hope dead.
A good bit happened first, however, and Arthur played up very clever
indeed. He'd come along and pass the time of day and I'd look in his
cottage to give an opinion on some trifle; and when he came to a tea on
which I'd spent a tidy lot of thought, he enjoyed it so much and welcomed
the strength of it and the quality of the cake so hearty that once or
twice us caught ourselves up.
"Dammy!" said Arthur, "we'm going it, Mary. Us had better draw in a
thought, or our little games will end in earnest."
"Not on my side," I said, and that vexed him I believe, for a man's a man.
However, I reminded him of his first, and that always daunted his spirit,
so he soon went off with his tail between his legs.
But all the same, I couldn't help contrasting Arthur with Gregory, and
though Greg might be called the more important and prosperous man, yet
there was always a barrier he wouldn't pass, while Arthur, though brooding
by nature, could get about himself now and again, and in them rare
moments, you felt there was a nice, affectionate side to him that only
wanted encouraging.
It was three days after that tea and his praises of my hand with a plum
cake, that I found myself left.
It came like a bolt from the blue sky, as they say, and I was messing
about in my little garden full of an offer I'd got to let my cottage, or
sell it, and wondering if I should tell Gregory, when the man himself came
in the gate and slammed it home after him. And I see when I looked in his
determined eyes that the time had come. His jaws were working, too, under
his beard, and I reckoned he'd got wind of Arthur and was there to say the
word at last. And I was right enough about Arthur, but cruel wrong about
the word.
"I'll ax you to step in the house," he said. "I've heard something."
"I hope it's interesting news," I answered. "Come in by all means,
Gregory. Always welcome. Will you drink a glass of fresh milk?"
For milk was his favourite beverage.
"No," he answered. "I don't take no milk under this roof no more."
So then I began to see there was something biting the man, though for my
life I couldn't guess what.
However, he soon told me.
He sat down, took off his hat, wiped his brow, blew his nose and then
spoke.
"I've just been having a tell with Minnie Parable--old Parable's
daughter," he said.
"Have you?" I said. "Would you call him old?"
"Be damned to his age," he answered. "That's neither here nor there. But
this I'd wish you to understand. I've respected you for a good few years
now."
"Why not?" I asked, rather short, for I didn't like his manner.
"No reason at all till half an hour agone," he replied. "But now I hear
that, while you well knew my feelings and my hopes and might have trusted
a man like me to speak when he saw his way, instead of following my lead
and remembering yourself and calling to mind the sort of woman such as I
had the right to expect, and waiting with patience and dignity for the
accepted hour, you be throwing all thought of me to the winds and rolling
your eyes on the men and axing them to tea, and conducting yourself in a
manner very unbecoming indeed for the woman I'd long hoped to marry."
I felt myself go red to the bosom; but I done a very clever thing, for
though a thousand words leapt to my tongue, I didn't speak one of 'em; but
kept my mouth close shut and looked at him. Nought will vex an angry man
more than to be faced with blank silence after he's let off steam and
worked up to a fine pitch; and now Greg expected me to answer back; and it
put him out of his stride a lot when I didn't.
I dare say we was both dumb for three minutes; then he got up off his
chair and prepared to go.
"And--and," he began again "--and I want you to understand here and
now--here and now--that it's off. You've played with my affections and
made me a laughing stock--so Minnie Parable tells me--and I hope you'll
live to repent it--yes, I do. And I'll say good evening."
"Good evening, Mr. Sweet," I said, "and may God forgive you, because I
never won't. You've put the foul-mouthed lies of that forgotten creature
before a faithful, wholesome woman and listened to libellious falsehoods
spoke against me behind my back, and talked stuff I might have you up for.
And 'tis you are disgraced, not me; and when you find a straighter,
cleaner-minded and more honourable creature than what I am, and one as
would make you a finer partner, or had more admiration and respect for
your character and opinions than what I had until ten minutes ago, then I
shall be pleased to wish her luck."
"It's all off, all the same," he said, and began to shamble down the path;
but he'd lost his fire.
"Yes," I said, following him to the gate. "It's off all right, and angels
from heaven wouldn't bring it on again. I never had it in my mind for an
instant moment to take any man but you, and if I haven't been patient and
long-suffering, waiting till your insulting caution was at an end, then
God never made a patient woman. But it's off, as you truly remark, and I'm
very well content to remain the relic of John Stocks, who valued me and
who died blessing my name."
He went out with his head down and his nose very near touching his
stomach; and after he'd gone I got in the house so limp as a dead rat. I'd
bluffed it all right to Gregory; but when my flame cooled, I found the
tears on my face and let 'em run for an hour. Then I calmed down and
licked my bruises, so to speak, and felt a terrible wish for to hear a
friendly fellow creature and get a bit of sympathy out of someone. For I'm
a very sociable kind of woman; so I put on my bonnet and was just going
round to see Mrs. Vincent and ask after the new baby and then tell my
tale, her being a dear friend to me and her family also, when another man
came to my door and there stood my son Rupert--him known as 'Mother's
Misfortune,' to distinguish him from my dear eldest one.
I wasn't in no mood for Rupert, and I told him so, but I marked he was
mildly excited, and that being a most unusual state for him, I stopped
five minutes and axed him what he'd come for.
"You'll laugh," he said sitting down and lighting his pipe.
"I ain't in a very laughing temper," I answered, "and if I laugh at
anything you say, it will be the first time in your life I ever have
done."
"Dry up," he said, "and listen. I've just come for a bit of a tell with
Minnie Parable."
Then I forgot myself.
"To hell with Minnie Parable!" I cried out. "I don't want to hear nothing
about that misbegot vixen."
For once Rupert was astonished, but he weren't so astonished as me a
minute later.
"I'm sorry you take that view," he replied; "because she'll be your
daughter-in-law in six weeks. I be going to marry her."
I never can stand more'n one shock a day, and now I felt myself getting
out of hand terrible fast. But I drawed in a deep breath of air and fell
on my chair.
"There's a good deal more in that woman than meets the eye," went on
Rupert. "Her face would frighten a hedge-pig, no doubt, and her shape be
mournful; but I ain't one to marry for decorations. She's a woman, and she
can cook and she knows the value of money, and also knows my opinions on
that subject. I didn't find her a bad sort by no means. She's got sense
and she ain't a gadder, and would rather work than play, same as me."
"But her temper, Rupert, her famous temper," I murmured to the man, "and
her woeful, craakin voice."
"Nobody won't hear no more about her famous temper," he said, "not after
she's married me. If I don't cast her temper out of her in a week, then I
ain't the man I count myself; and as for her voice, that won't trouble me
neither. I'm a peace-lover, and her voice will damned soon be stilled when
I'm home to hear it."
It didn't sound promising to my ear, and if it had been any other she but
Minnie Parable, I might have felt sorry for the woman.
"D'you mean she's took you?" I asked, still fluttering to the roots.
"She will," he answered. "I was waitin' till I happened to fall in with
her, and having done so, I said I wanted a wife, because it was time I had
one, and I told her that I saw the makings of a useful woman in her and
invited her to turn it over. She was a good bit surprised and couldn't
believe her luck for a bit. In fact, if I'd pressed her, or kissed her, or
anything like that, she'd have said 'Yes' instanter. But I bade her to
keep shut till to-morrow morning, and then be at the north lodge at
five-thirty with her answer. And she'll be there."
Rupert had never talked so much in his life afore, and I could see he was
tired. In fact he rose up after that last speech and went off without
another word. And I knew that Minnie would be up to time also, for she
weren't going to say "No" to the first and last as was ever like to offer
for her.
And I turned over the mystery and very soon felt in my bones there must be
something hidden. Rupert might have had a dozen girls, for there's lots of
meek women like his overbearing, brutal sort and would have been very well
content to take him, well knowing he spelled safety if no more; but for
him, a saver and dealer in the main chance to marry at all, let alone an
object like Minnie, meant far more than I could fathom out. He'd said
himself there was more to her than met the eyes, and no doubt there was;
but her promise was hidden from me, and I puzzled half that night and
three parts of the next day, though all in vain.
There was my own sad case also, and, of course, a very painful duty lay in
front of me. But I ain't one to let misery fester and so, twenty-four
hours after my shocking adventure with Gregory, I went right over to
Arthur Parable and told him all.
He was a good bit amused, in fact I never heard him laugh so hearty, and I
got a thought hot about it; but he hadn't nothing much to say except I was
well rid of Mr. Sweet. "A man like that," said Arthur, "was never meant to
wed. Caution such as his in the home would mighty soon have drove you
daft. And there's the makings of a tyrant in Gregory, by your own showing,
for the man who resents freedom to his woman before marriage, may very
like lock her up afterwards."
"I weren't his woman," I said, "and I didn't take it lying down, neither.
He got the truth, and he didn't like it."
"I'd have give a finger off my hand to have heard you," declared Arthur,
and then he laughed again; and then he grew serious and offered hope.
"Mark me," he said. "He ain't done with you. This is no more than a fit of
silly temper and I dare say, though you think you're defeated, you'll find
you've conquered before a week's sped."
"I don't want to conquer," I answered. "I wouldn't take the man now if he
was twice what he is. Along with you I've found that there's better than
Greg. I've got over the shock and I won't take him now, even if he wants
me. There's a tyrant hid behind the man, as you say."
Arthur considered.
"I wouldn't swear but what you might be right," he declared.
And then I let drop a hint or two, though well within manners.
"If there was more like you," I told Arthur, "I might be tempted, but
since I've heard you, I very well know Mr. Sweet at his best never held a
candle to you."
"Once bit twice shy," said Parable, and strange to say, from that moment I
took a violent fancy to the man. However, he'd grasped my meaning, as his
answer showed, and next time I met him, he was happier than I'd ever known
him to be. Joy blazed in his face and he walked like a young man.
"'My, Arthur!" I said, "who's left you a fortune?"
"Better than that," he answered. "Your Rupert have offered for Minnie and
wants to be married in six weeks. It sounds like a fairy story; but
there's no doubt seemingly; and don't you put him off her, or I'll never
speak to you again, Mary."
"It would take more than me to put Rupert off anything he wanted," I
replied. "And, to tell truth, this is no surprise to me. He's very well
pleased with his bargain, and I do hope you see your way to give Minnie a
pinch of cash, for that will lighten Arthur's heart amazing and keep him
faithful till they be wed."
"So I thought," replied Arthur. "In fact I've gone so far as to name one
hundred pounds if they're man and wife afore Michaelmas."
"Then fear no more," I said. "It will happen."
The same night affairs rushed on to their amazing conclusion and Rupert
staggered me once more. For the first time in his life he willed to
pleasure me, and it showed the secret power of the man, that again he
talked as if a deed was already done afore the difficulties had been
faced.
Minnie had told him all about my adventures, indeed they was common
knowledge now, and many had heard how Mr. Sweet had fallen off. Some came
to say they was sorry, and some thought it a pretty good escape, and some
of his friends would never know me no more. But Rupert didn't waste no
time on Gregory; he was in a wonderful amiable mood and I could see
Arthur's hundred pounds had touched him in his tenderest spot. And then,
in his blunt way, he went to the centre of the situation and asked me if
I'd like to marry Arthur.
"Because," he said, "if you would, you shall!"
"You'll puzzle me to my dying day," I answered. "And how be it in your
power to give me Arthur Parable, supposing I was to want him? It's a
delicate subject," I said, "and he will never take another, having all he
wanted with his first."
"Don't jaw," my son answered me. "For once I can do you a turn; but if
you're going to bleat about it, I shall not. Do you want Arthur Parable,
or don't you?"
An indecent man was Rupert, and always above any of them nice shades in
conversation that manners point to and proper feeling expects. However,
that sort don't think the worse of you for sinking to their level, and I
well understood that he meant what he said and would be off if I didn't
answer straight.
"Between mother and son, I may speak," I answered Rupert, "and if you want
to know, though what business it is of yours I can't say, I should be
willing to take Mr. Parable if the idea got in his mind."
"Right then," answered Rupert. "It damn soon will get in his mind."
And he was gone.