WHAT NEXT?
Harry called early, and was informed that the colonel was not at home.
"Something's the matter, Mr. Armstrong," said Beeves. "Master's not at
home to you to-day, he says, nor any other day till he countermands the
order--that was the word, sir. I'm sure I am very sorry, sir."
"So am I," said Harry. "How's your mistress?"
"Haven't seen her to-day, sir. Emma says she's poorly. But she is down.
Emma looks as if she knew something and wouldn't tell it. I'll get it
out of her though, sir. We'll be having that old Wade coming about the
house again, I'm afeard, sir. _He's_ no good."
"At all events you will let your master know that I have called," said
Harry, as he turned disconsolately, to take his departure.
"That I will, sir. And I'll be sure he hears me. He's rather deaf,
sometimes, you know, sir."
"Thank you, Beeves. Good morning."
Now what could have been Harry's intention in calling upon the colonel?
Why, as he had said himself, to make an apology. But what kind of
apology could he make? Clearly there was only one that would satisfy
all parties--and that must be in the form of a request to be allowed to
pay his addresses--(that used to be the phrase in my time--I don't know
the young ladies' slang for it now-a-days)--to Adela. Did I
say--_satisfy all parties_? This was just the one form affairs might
take, which would least of all satisfy the colonel. I believe, with all
his rigid proprieties, he would have preferred the confession that the
doctor had so far forgotten himself as to attempt to snatch a kiss--a
theft of which I cannot imagine a gentleman guilty, least of all a
doctor from his patient; which relation no doubt the colonel persisted
in regarding as the sole possible and everlastingly permanent one
between Adela and Harry. The former was, however, the only apology
Harry could make; and evidently the colonel expected it when he refused
to see him.
But why should he refuse to see him?--The doctor was not on an equality
with the colonel. Well, to borrow a form from the Shorter Catechism:
wherein consisted the difference between the colonel and the
doctor?--The difference between the colonel and the doctor consisted
chiefly in this, that whereas the colonel lived by the wits of his
ancestors, Harry lived by his own, and therefore was not so respectable
as the colonel. Or in other words: the colonel inherited a good estate,
with the ordinary quantity of brains; while Harry inherited a good
education and an extraordinary quantity of brains. So of course it was
very presumptuous in Harry to aspire to the hand of Miss Cathcart.
In the forenoon the curate called upon me, and was shown into the
library where I was.
"What's that scapegrace brother of mine been doing, Smith?" he asked,
the moment he entered.
"Wanting to marry Adela," I replied.
"What has he done?"
"Called this morning."
"And seen Colonel Cathcart?"
"No."
"Not at home?"
"In a social sense, not at home; in a moral sense, very far from at
home; in a natural sense, seated in his own arm-chair, with his own
work on the Peninsular War open on the table before him."
"Wouldn't see him?"
"No."
"What's he to do then?"
"I think we had better leave that to him. Harry is not the man I take
him for if he doesn't know his own way better than you or I can tell
him."
"You're right, Smith. How's Miss Cathcart?"
"I have never seen her so well. Certainly she did not come down to
breakfast, but I believe that was merely from shyness. She appeared in
the dining-room directly after, and although it was evident she had
been crying, her step was as light and her colour as fresh as her lover
even could wish to see them."
"Then she is not without hope in the matter?"
"If she loves him, and I think she does, she is not without hope. But I
do not think the fact of her looking well would be sufficient to prove
that. For some mental troubles will favour the return of bodily health.
They will at least give one an interest in life."
"Then you think her father has given in a little about it?"
"I don't believe it.--If her illness and she were both of an ordinary
kind, she would gain her point now by taking to her bed. But from what
I know of Adela she would scorn and resist that."
"Well, we must let matters take their course. Harry is worthy of the
best wife in Christendom."
"I believe it. And more, if Adela will make that best wife, I think he
will have the best wife. But we must have patience."
Next morning, a letter arrived from Harry to the colonel. I have seen
it, and it was to this effect:
"My dear Sir,--As you will not see me, I am forced to write to you. Let
my earnest entreaty to be allowed to address your daughter, cover, if
it cannot make up for, my inadvertence of the other evening. I am very
sorry I have offended you. If you will receive me, I trust you will not
find it hard to forget. Yours, &c."
To this the colonel replied:
"Sir,--It is at least useless, if not worse, to apply for an _ex post
facto_ permission. What I might have answered, had the courtesies of
society been observed, it may be easy for me to determine, but it is
useless now to repeat. Allow me to say that I consider such behaviour
of a medical practitioner towards a young lady, his patient, altogether
unworthy of a gentleman, as every member of a learned profession is
supposed to be. I have the honour, &c."
I returned the curate's call, and while we were sitting in his study,
in walked Harry with a rather rueful countenance.
"What do you say to that, Ralph?" said he, handing his brother the
letter.
"Cool," replied Ralph. "But Harry, my boy, you have given him quite the
upper hand of you. How could you be so foolish as kiss the girl there
and then?"
"I didn't," said Harry.
"But you did just as bad. You were going to do it."
"I don't think I was. But somehow those great eyes of hers kept pulling
and pulling my head, so that I don't know what I was going to do. I
remember nothing but her eyes. Suddenly a scared look in them startled
me, and I saw it all. Mr. Smith, was it so very dishonourable of me?"
"You are the best judge of that yourself, Harry," I answered. "Just let
me look at the note."
I read it, folded it up carefully, and returning it, said:
"He's given you a good hold of him there. It is really too bad of
Cathcart, being a downright good fellow, to forget that he ran away
with Miss Selby, old Sir George, the baronet's daughter. Neither of
them ever repented it; though he was only Captain Cathcart then, in a
regiment of foot, too, and was not even next heir to the property he
has now."
"Hurrah!" cried Harry.
"Stop, stop. That doesn't make it a bit better," said his brother. "I
suppose you mean to argue with him on that ground, do you?"
"No, I don't. I'm not such a fool. But if I _should_ be forced to run
away with her, _he_ can't complain, you know."
"No, no, Harry, my boy," said I. "That won't do. It would break the old
man's heart. You must have patience for a while."
"Yes, yes. I know what I mean to do."
"What?"
"When I've made up my mind, I never ask advice. It only bewilders a
fellow."
"Quite right, Hal," said his brother. "Only don't do anything foolish."
"I won't do anything she doesn't like."
"No, nor anything you won't like yourself afterwards," I ventured to
say.
"I hope not," returned he, gravely, as he walked out, too much absorbed
to bid either of us _good morning_.
It was now more than time that I should return to town; but I could not
leave affairs in this unsatisfactory state. I therefore lingered on to
see what would come next.