Christmas came and brought with it Edward Morgan's gift to his fiancee,
a rope of pearls, so beautiful and costly that Prudence, on taking the
shining thing from its bed of velvet, and holding it in her hands, was
moved with a sense of remorse at the inadequacy of the return she was
making this man, who showered gifts upon her in token of his love. She
did not want his presents; they were an embarrassment and a distress.
The thought of wearing the pearls, as in the letter which accompanied
them he requested her to do, on Christmas night, was distasteful to her
on account of the continuous flow of witticism she would be forced to
meet from William, who already had revealed a new inventiveness on
presenting the registered package to her, and had manifested open
curiosity as to its contents, which she had failed to gratify. And she
dreaded the cold criticism of Bobby's appraising eye. Bobby would
possibly refrain from verbal comment, but his face would express the
more.
She locked the pearls away and decided that she would show them to no
one; she would ignore the request that came with them. In any case they
were too valuable to wear at a quiet dinner at home, at which the only
guests would be Matilda and her husband, who, still in uncertainty as to
his living, waited on in Wortheton in hopeful expectation. To wear the
pearls in Ernest's presence, and suffer William's sly pleasantries
unmoved, was more than she felt equal to. Ernest, through the medium of
his wife, had expressed amazement at her engagement, which he attributed
to worldly considerations.
"She is incapable of appreciating the seriousness of marriage," he had
told Matilda. "Her mind is light and inclines to frivolity, and
material advantages."
That his own inclination had been towards a comfortable income, was a
point he was apt to overlook.
Prudence found some difficulty in writing a sufficiently appreciative
acknowledgment of her lover's gift. She hated the necessity for
expressing a pleasure which she did not feel.
"Your present is much too beautiful," she wrote. "I don't know how to
thank you. I am overpowered. You give such wonderful things..."
She added nothing about locking the pearls away, but left it to his
imagination to picture her, as he had said he would do, shining in all
her girlish beauty with his pearls about her throat. She determined to
take them with her to Morningside when she went in April. If he wished
to see her wearing pearls, she would gratify him then.
The visit to Morningside hung over her like a nightmare. She was not
allowed to forget it; Mr Morgan continually referred to it in his
letters. He was having the whole place re-decorated for her; and he
wrote consulting her preference in the matter of wall-papers, and her
taste in tapestries. The furnishing of the house was Victorian; and he
feared she might consider it a little heavy and inartistic. He wanted
her to express her wishes in regard to furniture and other matters. But
Prudence, taking alarm at the thought of this responsibility, flung the
onus of everything on to him, and insisted that the furniture which had
sufficed hitherto would assuredly serve for her needs. She did not want
anything changed. This proved disappointing to him. He would have
liked her to show a greater interest in the home which was to be hers.
Her indifference chilled his enthusiasm in the plans he was making for
her pleasure; and the arrangements were left more and more in the
entirely capable hands of the decorator. "We can alter things later,"
he told himself. "And Prudence can buy any new stuff she wants."
The agreeable prospect of shopping with her compensated for the earlier
disappointment. It would be so much pleasanter to choose things
together.
When she first beheld Morningside Prudence thought it the ugliest house
she had ever been in; but later, when better acquainted with its solid
splendour, she decided that it had possibilities, and was really a nice
house made to look ugly. There was a dingy serviceable effect about
everything.
She arrived on a fine evening in April, soft and balmy, following a day
of intermittent showers and blazing sunshine. Mr Morgan accompanied
her. He had spent the week-end at Wortheton, and made the journey back
with her, as had been arranged. His manner during the journey was
kindly and attentive. He displayed great consideration for her comfort,
and, because she enjoyed fresh air, lowered one window a couple of
inches and buttoned his coat from fear of the draught. The absence of
lover-like attentions, which he had sufficient perception to see
disturbed her, reassured Prudence, and placed their relations on an
easier footing.
When she arrived at his home and was conducted to the drawing-room to be
received by his mother, she was conscious of a new feeling in regard to
him; he inspired her with a sense of support. She turned to him
instinctively as to some one reliable and familiar; and was grateful to
him when he slipped his hand within her arm and kept it there while they
advanced together down the long room to where old Mrs Morgan, stout and
severe of feature, sat in a big chair, quietly observant of her,
scrutinising her in the close disconcerting way peculiar to
short-sighted people.
"This is the daughter I promised you, mother," Edward Morgan said.
Mrs Morgan rose slowly and confronted them. She took the girl's
outstretched hand.
"What a child!" she said, and bent forward and kissed Prudence on the
cheek.
She was, nor did she hide it altogether successfully, a little
disappointed. Edward had prepared her for a young daughter-in-law, but
she had not expected to see any one quite so youthful in appearance.
Comparing them as they stood side by side, the disparity in age struck
her unpleasantly.
"My dear," she said, "I had not realised you were so young."
"I don't think I realised it myself," Prudence returned, feeling her
courage oozing away before the hard scrutiny of those critical eyes,
"until to-day. I've an unfledged feeling since leaving home. But I'm
twenty."
Twenty! And the man who proposed to make her his wife might, had
circumstances so ordained it, have been her father.
"She'll grow up, mother," Mr Morgan observed, and pressed the girl's
arm reassuringly. "I must try to equalise matters by growing younger
myself."
But the old lady was not encouraging.
"You won't succeed, Edward. It's like planting a bulb the wrong way in
the soil; it grows against nature downwards, curves about, and works its
way to the surface, crooked. Prudence will have to grow to you; you
can't go backwards."
He reddened and laughed a little constrainedly.
"I feel as young as I did at twenty," he said. "Prudence will help to
rejuvenate me. I refuse to be discouraged."
He crossed to the tea-table, poured the girl out a cup of tea, and
brought it to her.
"We've had a tiring journey," he said. "I expect you'll be glad to go
to your room and rest. There's a family gathering to-night--in your
honour." He smiled down into the startled upraised eyes, and added:
"Just my brother and his wife. You'll find Mrs Henry amusing. She's
very eager to meet you."
"Rose always gushes over new acquaintances," Mrs Morgan interposed.
"She is making plans for Prudence's entertainment, although I told her
that Prudence was coming for the purpose of making our acquaintance, and
might prefer to avoid festivities. I think she might have waited to
consult her wishes."
"Oh!" cried Prudence, with a ring of pleasurable excitement in her
tones. "But that's awfully kind of her."
"You see," Mr Morgan said, enjoying the sight of her pleasure, and
feeling grateful to his sister-in-law for her forethought, "the idea is
not amiss. We are out for amusement and agreeable to anything that
offers. Rose's plan is excellent."
"Rose is glad of any excuse for gaiety," Mrs Morgan said. "It is
ridiculous for a woman of her age, with two big boys, to amuse herself
in the undignified manner in which she does. There is to be a dance
next week. She says it will introduce Prudence to the neighbourhood.
In reality it is an excuse for indulging in a form of exercise which she
has outgrown."
"Do you enjoy dancing, Prudence?" Mr Morgan asked.
Her sparkling eyes answered him.
"Oh! yes," she murmured eagerly, and was conscious from the expression
on Mrs Morgan's face, of giving offence. "I've never been to a dance--
a real dance in my life," she added.
"Too much thought is given to amusement nowadays," Mrs Morgan observed.
"When I was a girl we seldom went to evening parties. Late hours rob
young people of their freshness, and these modern dances are very
vulgar. Edward dislikes dancing."
"Oh! once in a way I can put up with that sort of thing," he interposed
quickly. "If Prudence enjoys it, I expect I shall get some pleasure out
of the evening."
Prudence gave him a grateful look, and, in reward for his consideration,
remarked:
"It's fortunate that I brought my pearls. It's such a splendid
opportunity for wearing them. You didn't prepare me for these
festivities."
"Upon my word," he returned, laughing, "I never gave it a thought." He
became aware of his mother's silence, her tight-lipped disapproval, and
turned the subject diplomatically. "There's a busy time ahead for you.
We've quite a lot of things calling for your attention. And my mother
is looking forward to showing you over the house, and letting you into
the inner mysteries. She is quite a wonderful housewife."
"Prudence is probably not domesticated," Mrs Morgan said. "Girls show
no interest in their homes nowadays. Things are left to servants."
"I've never had much chance," Prudence explained apologetically. "You
see, I am the youngest of six daughters. But I'd like to learn."
Mr Morgan considered her gentle submissiveness very sweet. He was
surprised at his mother's lack of response to this softly-voiced desire;
for himself, he felt a strong temptation to kiss the pretty timid face
of the speaker, but his natural shyness restrained him from obeying this
impulse.
"Six woman are too many in one household," Mrs Morgan vouchsafed.
"Some of you ought to have married."
"One of us has," Prudence answered.
"And another is going to," Mr Morgan put in, with a tentative smile at
his fiancee. She laughed softly.
"It suggests the rhyme of the ten little nigger boys," she said. "Six
women in one house; one of them married, and then there were five."
Later, when Prudence had gone upstairs to her room, Mrs Morgan voiced
her opinion of her to her son in a single expressive phrase.
"I am afraid, Edward, that your choice has fallen on a rather frivolous
girl."