"A COLD PROSPECT!"
Three days were allowed to Frank Houston to consider within his own
mind what he would say for himself and what he would propose finally
to do when he should see Miss Docimer on the appointed Sunday. He was
called upon to decide whether, after so many resolutions made to the
contrary, he would now at last bring himself to encounter poverty
and a family,--genteel poverty with about seven hundred and fifty
pounds a-year between himself and his wife. He had hitherto been very
staunch on the subject, and had unfortunately thought that Imogene
Docimer had been as firmly fixed in her determination. His theory had
in itself been good. If two people marry they are likely, according
to the laws of nature, to have very soon more than two. In the
process of a dozen years they may not improbably become ever so many
more than two. Funds which were barely enough, if enough, for two,
would certainly fail to be enough for half-a-dozen. His means were
certainly not enough for himself, as he had hitherto found them.
Imogene's means were less even than his own. Therefore, it was clear
that he and Imogene ought not to marry and encounter the danger of
all those embryo mouths. There was a logic about it which had seemed
to him to be unanswerable. It was a logic which applied to his case
above all others. The man who had a hope of earning money need not
be absolutely bound by it. To him the money might come as quickly
as the mouths. With the cradles would arrive the means of buying
the cradles. And to the man who had much more than enough for
himself,--to such a man as he had expected to be while he was looking
forward to the coffin of that iniquitous uncle,--the logic did
not apply at all. In defending himself, both to himself and to
Imogene, he was very strong upon that point. A man who had plenty
and would not divide his plenty with another might with truth be
called selfish. Rich old bachelors might with propriety be called
curmudgeons. But was it right that a man should be abused,--even by
a young lady to whom, under more propitious circumstances, he had
offered his heart,--when he declared himself unwilling to multiply
suffering by assisting to bring into the world human beings whom he
would be unable to support? He had felt himself to be very strong in
his logic, and had unfortunately made the mistake of supposing that
it was as clear to Imogene as to himself.
Then he had determined to rectify the inconvenience of his position.
It had become manifest to him whilst he was waiting for his uncle's
money that not only were his own means insufficient for married life
but even for single comfort. It would always come to pass that when
he had resolved on two mutton chops and half-a-pint of sherry the
humble little meal would spread itself into woodcock and champagne.
He regarded it as an unkindness in Providence that he should not have
been gifted with economy. Therefore, he had to look about him for a
remedy; and, as Imogene was out of the question, he found a remedy in
Gertrude Tringle. He had then believed that everything was settled
for him,--not, indeed, in a manner very pleasant, but after a fashion
that would make life possible to him. Sir Thomas had given one of
his daughters, with a large sum of money, to such a man as Septimus
Traffick,--a man more impecunious than himself, one whom Frank did
not hesitate to pronounce to be much less of a gentleman. That seat
in the House of Commons was to him nothing. There were many men in
the House of Commons to whom he would hardly condescend to speak.
To be the younger son of a latter-day peer was to him nothing. He
considered himself in all respects to be a more eligible husband than
Septimus Traffick. Therefore he had entertained but little doubt when
he found himself accepted by Gertrude herself and her mother. Then
by degrees he had learnt to know something of the young lady to whom
he intended to devote himself; and it had come to pass that the
better he had known the less he had liked her. Nevertheless he had
persevered, groaning in spirit as he thought of the burden with which
he was about to inflict himself. Then had come the release. Sir
Thomas had explained to him that no money would be forthcoming; and
the young lady had made to him a foolish proposition, which, as he
thought, fully justified him in regarding the match as at an end.
And then he had three days in which to make up his mind. It may be a
question whether three days are ever much better than three minutes
for such a purpose. A man's mind will very generally refuse to make
itself up until it be driven and compelled by emergency. The three
days are passed not in forming but in postponing judgment. In nothing
is procrastination so tempting as in thought. So it came to pass,
that through the Thursday, the Friday, and the Saturday, Frank
Houston came to no conclusion, though he believed that every hour
of the time was devoted to forming one. Then, as he ate his dinner
on Saturday night at his club, a letter was brought to him, the
handwriting of which was familiar to him. This letter assisted him
little in thinking.
The letter was from Gertrude Tringle, and need not be given in its
entirety. There was a good deal of reproach, in that he had been so
fickle as to propose to abandon her at the first touch of adversity.
Then she had gone on to say, that, knowing her father a great deal
better than he could do, she was quite satisfied that the money would
be all right. But the last paragraph of the letter shall be given.
"Papa has almost yielded already. I have been very ill;"--here the
extent of her malady was shown by the strength of the underscoring
with which the words were made significant;--"very ill indeed," she
went on to say, "as you will understand if you have ever really loved
me. I have kept my bed almost ever since I got your cruel letter."
Bed and cruel were again strenuously underscored. "It has made papa
very unhappy, and, though he has said nothing to myself, he has told
mamma that if I am really in earnest he will do something for us."
The letter was long, but this is all the reader need see of it. But
it must be explained that the young lady had greatly exaggerated her
mother's words, and that her mother had exaggerated those which Sir
Thomas had spoken. "She is a stupid idiot," Sir Thomas had said to
his wife. "If she is obedient, and does her duty, of course I shall
do something for her some day." This had been stretched to that
promise of concession which Gertrude communicated to her lover.
This was the assistance which Frank Houston received in making up
his mind on Saturday night. If what the girl said was true, there
was still open to him the manner of life which he had prepared for
himself; and he did believe the announcement to be true. Though Sir
Thomas had been so persistent in his refusals, his experience in life
had taught him to believe that a parent's sternness is never a match
for a daughter's obstinacy. Had there been a touch of tenderness in
his heart to the young lady herself he would not have abandoned her
so easily. But he had found his consolation when giving up his hope
of Sir Thomas's money. Now, should he again take to the girl, and
find his consolation in accepting the money? Should he resolve upon
doing so, this would materially affect any communication which he
might make to Imogene on the following day.
While thus in doubt he went into the smoking-room and there he found
any thinking to be out of the question. A great question was being
debated as to club law. One man had made an assertion. He had
declared that another man had been seen playing cards in a third
man's company. A fourth man had, thereupon, put his hat on his head,
and had declared contumaciously that the "assertion was not true."
Having so declared he had contumaciously stalked out of the room,
and had banged the door after him,--very contumaciously indeed.
The question was whether the contumacious gentleman had misbehaved
himself in accordance with the rules of the club, and, if so, what
should be done to him. Not true is as bad as "false." "False,"
applied to a gentleman in a club, must be matter either of an apology
or expulsion. The objectionable word had, no doubt, been said in
defence of an absent man, and need not, perhaps, have been taken up
had the speaker not at once put on his hat and stalked out of the
room, and banged the door. It was asserted that a lie may be given
by the way in which a door is banged. And yet no club punishes the
putting on of hats, or stalking off, or the banging of doors. It was
a difficult question, and occupied Frank Houston till two o'clock
in the morning, to the exclusion of Gertrude Tringle and Imogene
Docimer.
On the Sunday morning he was not up early, nor did he go to church.
The contumacious gentleman was a friend of his, whom he knew that no
arguments would induce to apologise. He believed also that gentleman
No. 3 might have been seen playing cards with gentleman No. 2,--so
that there was no valid excuse for the banging of the door. He was
much exercised by the points to be decided, so that when he got into
a cab to be taken to Mrs. Docimer's house he had hardly come to
any other conclusion than that one which had arisen to him from a
comparison between the two young ladies. Imogene was nearly perfect,
and Gertrude was as nearly the reverse as a young lady could be with
the proper number of eyes in her head and a nose between them. The
style of her letter was abominable to him. "Very ill indeed;--as you
will understand, if you ever really loved me!" There was a mawkish
clap-trap about it which thoroughly disgusted him. Everything from
Imogene was straightforward and downright whether it were love or
whether it were anger. But then to be settled with an income of
£3,000 a year would relieve him from such a load of care!
"And so Tringle père does not see the advantage of such a
son-in-law," said Imogene, after the first greetings were over
between them. The greetings had been very simple,--just a touch of
the hand, just a civil word,--civil, but not in the least tender,
just an inclination of the head, and then two seats occupied with all
the rug between them.
"Yes, indeed!" said Frank. "The man is a fool, because he will
probably get somebody who will behave less well to his daughter, and
make a worse use of his money."
"Just so. One can only be astonished at his folly. Is there no hope
left?"
"A glimmer there is."
"Oh, indeed!"
"I got a letter last night from my lady-love, in which she tells
me that she is very ill, and that her sickness is working upon her
father's bowels."
"Frank!"
"It is the proper language;--working upon her father's bowels of
compassion. Fathers always have bowels of compassion at last."
"You will return then, of course?"
"What do you say?"
"As for myself,--or as for you?"
"As a discreet and trusty counsellor. To me you have always been a
trusty counsellor."
"Then I should put a few things into a bag, go down to Merle Park,
and declare that, in spite of all the edicts that ever came from a
father's mouth, you cannot absent yourself while you know that your
Gertrude is ill."
"And so prepare a new cousin for you to press to your bosom."
"If you can endure her for always, why should not I for an hour or
two, now and again?"
"Why not, indeed? In fact, Imogene, this enduring, and not
enduring,--even this living, and not living,--is, after all, but an
affair of the imagination. Who can tell but, that as years roll on,
she may be better-looking even than you."
"Certainly."
"And have as much to say for herself?"
"A great deal more that is worth hearing."
"And behave herself as a mother of a family with quite as much
propriety?"
"In all that I do not doubt that she would be my superior."
"More obedient I am sure she would be."
"Or she would be very disobedient."
"And then she can provide me and my children with ample comforts."
"Which I take it is the real purpose for which a wife should be
married."
"Therefore," said he,--and then he stopped.
"And therefore there should be no doubt."
"Though I hate her," he said, clenching his fist with violence as he
spoke, "with every fibre of my heart,--still you think there should
be no doubt?"
"That, Frank, is violent language,--and foolish."
"And though I love you so intensely that whenever I see her the
memory of you becomes an agony to me."
"Such language is only more violent and more foolish."
"Surely not, if I have made up my mind at last, that I never will
willingly see Miss Tringle again." Here he got up, and walking across
the rug, stood over her, and waited as though expecting some word
from her. But she, putting her two hands up to her head, and brushing
her hair away from her forehead, looked up to him for what further
words might come to him. "Surely not," he continued, "if I have made
up my mind at last, that nothing shall ever again serve to rob me of
your love,--if I may still hope to possess it."
"Oh, Frank!" she said, "how mean I am to be a creature obedient to
the whistle of such a master as you!"
"But are you obedient?"
"You know that well enough. I have had no Gertrude with whom I have
vacillated, whether for the sake of love or lucre. Whatever you may
be,--whether mean or noble,--you are the only man with whom I can
endure to live, for whom I would endure to die. Of course I had
not expected that your love should be like mine. How should it be
so, seeing that you are a man and that I am but a woman." Here he
attempted to seat himself by her on the sofa, which she occupied, but
she gently repulsed him, motioning him towards the chair which he had
occupied, "Sit there, Frank," she said, "so that we may look into
each other's faces and talk seriously. Is it to come to this then,
that I am to ruin you at last?"
"There will be no ruin."
"But there will, if we are married now. Shall I tell you the kind of
life which would satisfy me?"
"Some little place abroad?" he asked.
"Oh, dear, no! No place to which you would be confined at all. If
I may remain as I am, knowing that you intend to marry no one else,
feeling confident that there is a bond binding us together even
though we should never become man and wife, I should be, if not
happy, at least contented."
"That is a cold prospect."
"Cold;--but not ice-cold, as would have been the other. Cold, but not
wretchedly cold, as would be the idea always present to me that I had
reduced you to poverty. Frank, I am so far selfish that I cannot bear
to abandon the idea of your love. But I am not so far selfish as to
wish to possess it at the expense of your comfort. Shall it be so?"
"Be how?" said he, speaking almost in anger.
"Let us remain just as we are. Only you will promise me, that as I
cannot be your wife there shall be no other. I need hardly promise
you that there will be no other husband." Now he sat frowning at
her, while she, still pressing back her hair with her hands, looked
eagerly into his face. "If this will be enough for you," she said,
"it shall be enough for me."
"No, by G----d!"
"Frank!"
"It will certainly not be enough for me. I will have nothing to do
with so damnable a compact."
"Damnable!"
"Yes; that is what I call it. That is what any man would call
it,--and any woman, too, who would speak her mind."
"Then, Sir, perhaps you will be kind enough to make your proposition.
I have made mine, such as it is, and am sorry that it should not have
been received at any rate with courtesy." But as she said this there
was a gleam of a bright spirit in her eyes, such as he had not seen
since first the name of Gertrude had been mentioned to her.
"Yes," said he. "You have made your proposition, and now it is only
fair that I should make mine. Indeed, I made it already when I
suggested that little place abroad. Let it be abroad or at home, or
of what nature it may,--so that you shall be there, and I with you,
it shall be enough for me. That is my proposition; and, if it be not
accepted, then I shall return to Miss Tringle and all the glories of
Lombard Street."
"Frank--" she said. Then, before she could speak another word, he had
risen from his seat, and she was in his arms. "Frank," she continued,
pushing back his kisses, "how impossible it is that I should not be
obedient to you in all things! I know,--I know that I am agreeing to
that which will cause you some day to repent."
"By heavens, no!" said he. "I am changed in all that."
"A man cannot change at once. Your heart is soft, but your nature
remains the same. Frank, I could be so happy at this moment if I
could forget the picture which my imagination points to me of your
future life. Your love, and your generous words, and the look out of
your dear eyes, are sweet to me now, as when I was a child, whom you
first made so proud by telling her that she owned your heart. If I
could only revel in the return of your affections--"
"It is no return," said he. "There has never been a moment in which
my affections have not been the same."
"Well, then,--in these permitted signs of your affection,--if it were
not that I cannot shut out the future! Do not press me to name any
early day, because no period of my future life will be so happy to me
as this."
"Is there any reason why I should not intrude?" said Mrs. Docimer,
opening the door when the above conversation had been extended for
perhaps another hour.
"Not in the least, as far as I'm concerned," said Frank. "A few words
have been spoken between us, all of which may be repeated to you if
Imogene can remember them."
"Every one of them," said Imogene; "but I hardly think that I shall
repeat them."
"I suppose they have been very much a matter of course," said Mrs.
Docimer;--"the old story repeated between you two for the fourth
or fifth time. Considering all things, do you think that I should
congratulate you?"
"I ask for no congratulation," said Imogene.
"You may certainly congratulate me," said Frank. After that the
conversation became tame, and the happy lover soon escaped from the
house into the street. When there he found very much to occupy his
mind. He had certainly made his resolution at last, and had done so
in a manner which would now leave him no power of retrogression. The
whole theory of his life had,--with a vengeance,--been thrown to the
winds. "The little place abroad,"--or elsewhere,--was now a settled
certainty. He had nearly got the better of her. He had all but
succeeded in putting down his own love and hers by a little gentle
ridicule, and by a few half-wise phrases which she at the moment had
been unable to answer; but she now had in truth vanquished him by the
absolute sincerity of her love.