Elsie Refuses An Excellent Offer
Mr. Brandon had come home with the intention of marrying, and had
flirted a good deal during the six or eight months of his stay in
England, but he had seen so many young ladies that one had driven
another out of his head. He thought he might have fallen in love with
Miss Harriett Phillips, who, though not very young, would in all other
respects be very suitable, and who, he had no doubt, would accept him;
but still he could not manage to cultivate an attachment strong enough
to warrant such a desperate step as a proposal. Ever since he had seen
Elsie Melville at Mrs. Rennie's party, her face and form, and her
pleasant voice with its Scotch accent, recurred more frequently in his
thoughts than those of any woman he had seen. Her elegance, her
gentleness, her sprightliness, had struck him at sight, and her forlorn
condition was very interesting. Her poetical talents, of which he had
heard from Peggy, impressed him a good deal, and the manner in which
she had taken so industriously to the only means of earning a
livelihood open to her, though one which was so far beneath her, had
certainly called forth his respect.
The sight of Elsie again, though in diminished beauty, revived all
those sentiments of compassion and protection that he had felt for her
from first hearing of her misfortunes. Yes, he would marry her, and
then she would grow rosy and happy; and he would get her poems
published at his own expense, and have such a splendid copy for herself
to lay on her drawing-room table--for she should have a drawing-room at
Barragong, and every comfort, and even luxury, that Victoria in those
days could afford. He never would be ashamed to take Elsie to see any
of his friends or relatives, for she was a gentlewoman born and bred.
As for her being a milliner for the present, it was only so much the
more to be proud of.
These thoughts lay in Brandon's mind, and strengthened every day of his
short stay in Edinburgh; his strong-minded cousins thought Walter
Brandon was more contemptible than ever, for he did not seem to have an
idea in his head; whereas it was because he had one idea very strongly
in his head and heart that he was so disinclined for argument or
discussion. Peggy, who perceived Brandon's evident admiration, again
regretted her own burst of confidence in her autobiographical sketch,
but thought that now Miss Elsie was so downcast and so miserable, that
she would never think of refusing so excellent an offer as her old
master could make. She began to praise Mr. Brandon--to whose character,
however, she never did full justice, from not understanding many of its
best points. She liked Mr. Phillips much better, who was graver. Her
Scotch phlegmatic temperament could not appreciate the fine spirit and
unvarying good humour of Brandon, and his random way of talking she
thought flighty and frivolous. But yet she could, and did, praise him
for his kindness of heart and his want of selfishness, which he had
shown on many occasions, great and small, at Barragong. These
panegyrics were bestowed with discretion, not being told to Elsie
herself, but brought out incidentally in conversation with grandfather,
who thought highly of Brandon, and never ceased to extol his politeness.
Elsie and Brandon had a railway carriage to themselves for a
considerable part of the way; and he thought he never could have a
better opportunity of declaring himself; so, with rather less
stammering and hesitation than is usual on such occasions--for he had
not the least doubt of a favourable answer--he made Elsie understand
that he loved her, and asked for her love in return.
"No, no--oh, no!" said Elsie, covering her face with her hands.
"Why 'No,' Miss Alice? 'Yes' sounds a great deal prettier. I'll take
such good care of you, and I am sure you will like Australia. Peggy has
not given you a very dismal account of Barragong, and I have had it
very much improved since her time, and I will have a great deal more
done to it; and before we go I will have your book printed----"
"My book," said Elsie; "what book?"
"Your poems--I know they are beautiful--Peggy told me about them; and
we will have them brought out in the very best style, and I will be so
proud to think what a genius I have got for my own darling."
Elsie sighed deeply; tried to speak, but could not. It was a good sign,
Mr. Brandon thought--a sigh was ten times more encouraging than a
smile. He knew he had hit upon the right thing when he had spoken of
her poems; it was wonderful how discerning love had made him.
"You are mistaken, Mr. Brandon," said she with difficulty, scarcely
daring to raise her eyes to the level of his waistcoat; "I am no
genius, and my poems are not worth printing--poor, crude, empty
productions. I believe I can make caps and bonnets, but that is all
that I can do."
"That is only your opinion of yourself. But with my will, you shall
make no more frippery of the kind. It is quite beneath you."
"It is not beneath me to earn an honest livelihood."
"No; but it was cruel to make you have to do it. I have been so sorry
for you all these months, when Miss Melville told me how you were
employed."
"Do not say anything more about your pity for me; it pains me."
"It is not pity; it is love," said he, stoutly.
"Love born of pity; that will die when--I mean if--but it cannot be; I
never can be your wife--the most unsuitable, the most wrong thing that
I could do. Do not speak any more about it."
Elsie's real distress convinced Mr. Brandon of her sincerity, but it
set him on a wrong scent. There must be a rival; no doubt she must love
some one else, or she would have given him a hearing. It was not
possible that a girl would prefer poverty, solitude, and a position
like that which she held at Mrs. Dunn's, to marriage with a
good-looking, good-tempered fellow like himself, who would deny her
nothing, and who intended to be the kindest husband in the world--if
her heart was disengaged. Now poor Elsie was as heart-whole as a girl
could be, but her manner of refusing made him think of a number of
little signs which looked as if she were the victim of a hopeless
attachment. Her sadness, her poetry, her little sighs, her diffidence,
her pining away, were all due to the shameful conduct of one who in
happier days had sought her hand, and had deserted her when fortune
changed. His pity for her increased, but his love did not. If she had
the bad taste to prefer a sad memory to a living lover, she might do
so. He did not care to inquire as to the particulars of her unhappy
love, even if he had thought it honourable to do so. The truth is, that
Mr. Brandon did not love Elsie very much, though he thought he did so
when he asked her. If she had said yes--if she had looked at him with
grateful eyes, and told him that she would try to do her best to make
him happy, his love would have become real, and would have surprised
both himself and her by its strength and its steadiness. But he had
never dreamed of such a thing as a refusal, and he had hastened his
proposal, not from any feeling of insecurity, but from a desire to make
Elsie very happy, and to do it as soon as possible.
But he had been refused--positively refused. Elsie might have said more
of the obligation to him--might have been more grateful for the
compliment which he had paid to her--Walter Brandon thought it would
have been graceful to do so; but she said nothing of the kind. She sat
in a rigid, painful silence till they reached the next station, where
other passengers joined them, and put an end to a TETE-A-TETE which was
rather awkward for both parties. She felt that she had given pain and
mortification to a man who had meant well by her, and she did not dare
to open her lips in consolation or extenuation. She could not trust
herself to speak; she would not venture to renew any solicitation.
Forlorn and humbled as she was, she felt that she was in the greatest
danger; that it was a tremendous bribe that was offered to her. She had
Peggy's story ringing in her ears, and thought of Peggy's insight and
Peggy's courage. The weak and facile Mr. Brandon was apt to fall in
love, or to fancy that he did so, with any woman he came in much
contact with, and she was as unsuitable for him, even more unsuitable,
than Peggy was. The discipline of the last ten months had been too
severe for her; it had crushed her spirit, and injured her health. She
felt alarmed about her cough, and recently had been thinking more of
the blessedness of an early death than the happiness of an early
marriage. She felt herself to be sickly, low-spirited, wanting in
energy, no fit companion for any colonist, and especially unfit to be
the wife of a man of so little force of character. His offer appeared
to her to be rash and imprudent. What did he know of her to warrant him
in risking his life's happiness in such a way? But yet, though it was
foolish in him to ask her, and though it would have been very wrong in
her to accept of him, she was grateful, so grateful. How little Walter
Brandon could guess how grateful she felt, when, after their journey
was over, he took her cold, trembling hand, and placed her in the
carriage that was to take them to Dr. Phillips's.
"You seem afraid of me, Miss Alice," said he. "Do not think that I will
say another word on the subject, if it is painful to you. I know better
than to persecute a woman with my addresses, if I see she does not like
them. But do you REALLY not like them?"
"No, I do not," said Elsie, abruptly. "You will see hundreds of other
women who would suit you far better than I could do."
"If you would only love me, I should be quite satisfied with your
suiting me--but if you cannot, there need be no more said about it."
Jane was engaged with her pupils when her sister arrived, and Mrs.
Phillips, who had not been very regular in her attendance at school
lately, stayed in the room this morning in order to see and remark upon
Miss Melville's pretty sister. She could see little beauty in the sad
face, with the weary look about the eyes, and the lines round the
mouth, that had been the result of Elsie's real experience of life. The
figure, Mrs. Phillips confessed to her husband and to Mr. Brandon, was
rather good, but wanted development; it was too much of the
whipping-post order. The Misses Phillips said they really thought Jane
the better looking of the two girls, for she had such a beautiful
expression; while Mr. Phillips said that Elsie had fallen off sadly
since he saw her in Edinburgh at the new year. She had struck him then
as being very pretty, but he did not think so now, and, of course, in
every other respect but personal appearance she could not be compared
with her sister. Dr. Phillips said he must have her examined about her
cough, for it should not be trifled with. He hoped that it had not been
too long neglected. All these remarks, coming immediately after his
refusal by the object of them, made Brandon somewhat reconciled to the
circumstance, though if he had had a kinder answer, they would have
made no difference in his feelings towards Elsie, but would probably
have made him love her all the more.
When Harriett Phillips spoke in warm praise of Miss Melville's
excellent understanding, and her fine, open, intelligent, expression of
countenance, he thought he never saw her own countenance look so open
or so attractive. He felt disposed to be consoled, and he was very sure
that she was quite willing to console him.
Jane saw much amiss with her darling sister at the first glance, but
hoped that the change, and Dr. Phillips's advice, which he had said
would be at her service, and her own society, would benefit Elsie
greatly.
Elsie did not muster courage to tell Jane of the incident of the
railway journey till they had retired for the night.
"You know I could not answer otherwise, Jane; I did not love him; do
not be angry with me," said Elsie, apologetically.
"Angry with you my dear child! No, I honour you," said Jane.
"You see Jane, I have been so unhappy, so ill, and so low-spirited,
that I could easily have snatched at an escape from this dreary life,
and said I would marry him; but he would have been so disappointed when
he came to know me."
"You do not love him now, Elsie, but could you not have learned to love
him? It is not to be supposed that a girl has a ready-made attachment
to be given to the first man who sees fit to ask her; she must take a
little time."
"But, Jane, though he has been very kind to us, you know--you remember
Peggy, and what she said about him?"
Jane nodded assent.
"I know I have been rude about it. I ought to have said much that I
felt, but when girls say such things they either give more pain
afterwards, or get committed. Oh! Jane, tell me again that I have been
right."
"Right? yes," said Jane, thoughtfully. "Perhaps you ought to have a man
of more fixed principles, if he could be had. But Elsie, my darling, it
is not who we ought to have in the world, but who will have us; reflect
that you may never have such an offer, or, indeed, another offer of any
kind, again. I do not mean to bias your judgment, my own dear sister.
Only think--he has, as you say, been very kind. He is not faultless;
but who is? As for Peggy's story, that was many years ago; and, so far
as I can judge from our friends here, he bears an excellent character.
We should not condemn a man for life on account of something wrong
done, or, as in this case, only purposed, when very young, and in
circumstances of temptation which you and I, perhaps, can scarcely
appreciate. He took Peggy's first answer in a right spirit, and you can
see how he respects her. All I have seen of him since I came to London,
has disposed me to think favourably of him. His temper is the finest in
the world, I think."
"Finer than Francis'?" said Elsie, who knew her sister's very great
regard for her cousin, and never fancied she could think any man his
superior in any point.
"Yes, sunnier than Francis'."
"But he is not half so clever or so cultivated," remonstrated Elsie.
"His cleverness lies in a different direction."
"I think him inferior to Francis in every way," said Elsie, "and that
weighed with me in giving my answer. You should think your husband the
very best person you ever saw."
"Perhaps when he is your husband you may, but I fancy that a girl who
has a good father and brothers, does not at once give a man this
preference when he asks for her hand. As I said before, he is not
faultless, but would not life with him be preferable to life as it is
for you now?"
"Don't, Jane; don't side with my cowardly self. To marry him, not
loving him, as he perhaps deserves to be loved--not honouring him as I
know I should honour my husband--but merely because I am miserable--how
cruel to him, how base in myself! I know, besides, that he only pities
me. Oh! Jane, if it were only life with you I could bear it better, but
I am so weary of that workroom at Mrs. Dunn's, and of seeing people
there whom I used to know, and getting a pitying sort of recognition
from them. The very girls in the workroom pity me, and Peggy pities me,
and even the children and their grandfather pity me. Oh! Jane, Jane, I
am tired, tired to death of all this pity. Nobody ever thought of
pitying you in your hardest times; you could hold up your head, and
mine seems as if I never could raise it more. It must have been only
pity in Mr. Brandon's case--what did he know of me to make him love me?"
"Have you forgotten that you are a very sweet, charming girl,
Elsie--that your eyes are both bright and true--that your voice is
pleasant, both in itself, and for the very pleasant things you can say?
My darling, you must not lose all pride in yourself in this way. I wish
half the offers of marriage that are made were founded on as much
respect as Mr. Brandon felt for you. Though he talked slightingly of
your work at Mrs. Dunn's, do not fancy but that he honours you for
doing it. Besides, though he is not very literary, he may admire your
talents. He meant to please you by speaking about your poems."
"If he thinks I could be brilliant in society, or do him any credit in
that way, he would be sure to be disappointed, and what a terrible
thing it must be to disappoint a husband! It is not so much his
deficiencies as my own, that weigh upon me. And, besides, Jane, I am
not well; I really think I am going into a consumption--the sooner the
better, if it were not for you, my dearest--and to marry any one with
such a conviction, would be positively wicked."
"Oh, you are not going into a consumption, Elsie, I hope and believe,"
said Jane, as cheerfully as she could. "Your apprehension of such a
thing shows that you are in no danger. You will see Dr. Phillips
tomorrow morning, and get something to set you to rights. I am glad you
are joining us here, for the sake of his advice. I like him so very
much, and I think him clever--perhaps not naturally so acute as Dr.
Vivian, but he has had a large practice so long, and so little wedded
to routine, and so willing to accept of any new light that can be
thrown on medicine, that his greater experience more than
counterbalances his son's greater talent. And he is cheerful, too; the
sound of his voice, and even of his step, is like a cordial to the sick
and the depressed, I think. I know it does me a great deal of good, and
it must benefit you."
"You are very happy here; honoured, and useful, and well paid," said
Elsie.
"Oh! yes, dear; I have a great deal to be thankful for, and in time we
will be able to be together always. In the meantime your holiday must
be enjoyed to the utmost."
So the sisters talked of their plans for the future, and of the routine
of their past life, as cheerfully as they could, and tried to banish
Mr. Brandon from their thoughts. Elsie was asleep first, and then Jane
anxiously lay awake, weighing the probabilities about her health and
her recovery, and also thinking with approval, but certainly with
regret, of Elsie's conscientious refusal of so excellent an offer as
she had that day received. Her own opinion of Mr. Brandon had risen
since she had known him better, and she believed that Elsie would have
suited him extremely well. She only hoped that he would not accept her
sister's answer as final, at least, if Dr. Phillips pronounced
favourably on the subject of her health.