"I think nine-tenths of the trouble that attends married life--the
breakdowns and what not--come of an irrational effort to tighten the
marriage knot."
Still I said nothing.
"To imagine that two independent human beings can be tied together like
a couple of Siamese twins, neither to move without the other, living
precisely the same life, year in, year out . . . why, it's silly,
positively silly."
In my ignorance I could find nothing to say, and after another moment my
intended husband swished the loosened gravel with his stick and said:
"I believe in married people leaving each other free--each going his and
her own way--what do you think?"
I must have stammered some kind of answer--I don't know what--for I
remember that he said next:
"Quite so, that's my view of matrimony, and I'm glad to see you appear
to share it. . . . Tell the truth, I was afraid you wouldn't," he added,
with something more about the nuns and the convent.
I wanted to say that I didn't, but my nervousness was increasing every
moment, and before I could find words in which to protest he was
speaking to me again.
"Our friends in the library seem to think that you and I could get along
together, and I'm disposed to think they're right--aren't you?"
In my ignorance and helplessness, and with the consciousness of what I
was expected to do, I merely looked at him without speaking.
Then he fixed his monocle afresh, and, looking back at me in a curious
way, he said:
"I don't think I should bore you, my dear. In fact, I should be rather
proud of having a good-looking woman for my wife, and I fancy I could
give you a good time. In any case"--this with a certain
condescension--"my _name_ might be of some use to you."
A sort of shame was creeping over me. The dog was yawning in my face. My
intended husband threw it off his knee.
"Shall we consider it a settled thing, then?" he asked, and when in my
confusion I still made no reply (having nothing which I felt myself
entitled to say), he said something about Aunt Bridget and what she had
told him at luncheon about my silence and shyness, and then rising to
his feet he put my arm through his own, and turned our faces towards
home.
That was all. As I am a truthful woman, that was everything. Not a word
from me, nay, not half a word, merely a passive act of silent
acquiescence, and in my youthful and almost criminal innocence I was
committed to the most momentous incident of my life.
But if there was no love-making, no fondling, no kissing, no courtship
of any kind, and none of the delirious rapture which used to be
described in Alma's novels, I was really grateful for that, and
immensely relieved to find that matters could he completed without them.
When we reached the house, the bell was ringing for tea and my father
was coming out of the library, followed by the lawyers.
"So that's all right, gentlemen?" he was saying.
"Yes, that's all right, sir," they were answering; and then, seeing us
as we entered, my father said to Lord Raa:
"And what about you two?"
"We're all right also," said his lordship in his drawling voice.
"Good!" said my father, and he slapped his lordship sharply on the back,
to his surprise, and I think, discomfiture.
Then with a cackle of light laughter among the men, we all trooped into
the drawing room.
Aunt Bridget in her gold-rimmed spectacles and new white cap, poured out
the tea from our best silver tea-pot, while Nessy MacLeod with a
geranium in her red hair, and Betsy Beauty, with large red roses in her
bosom, handed round the cups. After a moment, my father, with a radiant
face, standing back to the fire, said in a loud voice:
"Friends all, I have something to tell you."
Everybody except myself looked up and listened, though everybody knew
what was coming.
"We've had a stiff tussle in the library this afternoon, but everything
is settled satisfactory--and the marriage is as good as made."
There was a chorus of congratulations for me, and a few for his
lordship, and then my father said again:
"Of course there'll be deeds to draw up, and I want things done correct,
even if it costs me a bit of money. But we've only one thing more to fix
up to-day, and then we're through--the wedding. When is it to come off?"
An appeal was made to me, but I felt it was only formal, so I glanced
across to Lord Raa without speaking.
"Come now," said my father, looking from one to the other. "The clean
cut is the short cut, you know, and when I'm sot on doing a thing, I
can't take rest till it's done. What do you say to this day next month?"