'I FELT SUCH A CULPRIT, YOU SEE'
'Still, it seems to me that love--true and profound love--should be
a source of light and calm, a religion and a revelation, in which
there is no place left for the lower victories of vanity.'--AMIEL.
It cannot be denied that Cyril Blake had rather a hard time of it in the
Doctor's study. Dr. Ross received him kindly; but his kindness was a
trifle iced as he shook hands with the young man, and then seated
himself in his big easy-chair. He groaned inwardly: 'I am an old fool,'
he thought, 'ever to have brought him here. How confoundedly handsome
the fellow is! if one could only honestly dislike him!' and then he
assumed a judicial aspect as he listened to the culprit.
On the whole, Cyril acquitted himself fairly; he was very pale, and
hesitated a little over his words; but he stated his case with
sufficient eloquence. His love for Audrey bore him triumphantly even
through this ordeal.
'You have reason to be angry with me,' he said with ingenuous frankness.
'I had no right to speak to Miss Ross until I had gained your permission
to do so.'
'It was certainly a grievous mistake, Mr. Blake.'
'You are very kind not to call it by another name; I will own frankly it
was a mistake. I must beg you to make allowances for a very strong
temptation. Under some circumstances a man is not always master of
himself.'
Dr. Ross half smiled. After all, this braw wooer was bearing himself
with manly dignity.
'I hope you will believe me,' continued Cyril earnestly, 'when I say
that I acted with no preconceived intention. My first declaration was
perfectly hopeless. I expected nothing, asked for nothing; on the second
occasion'--here he paused, and, in spite of his nervousness, a light
came in his eyes--'circumstances forced me to speak.'
'Circumstances can be controlled, Mr. Blake. If you had come to me, for
example----'
'It had been my intention to come to you, Dr. Ross, and to tender my
resignation. I had made up my mind that it was my duty to leave this
place. I had even spoken to my mother on the subject. "I love your
daughter, and therefore it will not be right for me to stay." These were
the very words I should have spoken to you, only--she--she--asked me not
to go;' and here the young man's voice trembled.
Dr. Ross's magisterial aspect relaxed a little; his good heart, yearning
only for his child's happiness, began to relent.
'I am quite sure of your affection for Audrey, Mr. Blake.'
'You may be sure of it. There is no proof you could ask that would be
refused by me. If I thought--that is, if you and she thought that this
would not be for her happiness, I should be ready, even now, to go
away.'
'Thank you! I can quite believe that you mean what you say; but I shall
not put you to so severe a proof. My child told me last night that her
mind was made up--indeed, I understand that you and she are already
engaged.'
'Only with your permission, sir.'
'I do not see how I am to withhold it when the girl tells me that her
happiness is involved. I will speak to you plainly, Mr. Blake. You are
certainly not in the position in which I should wish to see my future
son-in-law. A man of your age, at the very beginning of his career, has
no right to think of marrying.'
Cyril flushed.
'I do not think of it. I must work my way before such a thing would be
possible.'
'You mean because you are poor. Poverty is, of course, a serious
obstacle; but just then I was thinking more of position. I should hardly
be willing for my daughter to marry a junior classical master. Her
sister is in a far better position.'
'I shall hope not always to be a junior master, Dr. Ross.'
'True; and, of course, interest can do a great deal. I must speak to
Charrington, and see what is to be done in the future. Perhaps you know
that Audrey has a little money of her own?'
'I am sorry to hear it.'
'Their grandfather left them each five thousand pounds--as Audrey is of
age, she is, of course, her own mistress. It was my intention to give
her a couple of thousands on her marriage--Geraldine had it--anything
else will only come to them on my death.'
'I wish you had not told me all this.'
Dr. Ross smiled.
'You are young, Blake,' he said, in his old friendly manner, 'or you
would not be so romantic as to wish Audrey were penniless. You will find
a few thousands very serviceable by and by, when, in the course of time,
a house falls vacant. I am speaking of the future, mind--for I do not
mean you to have Audrey for at least a couple of years; we are in no
hurry to lose her, and you must make your way a little first. Now I
think we have talked enough for the present. I will just have a word
with Audrey, and send her to you.' Then he held out his hand, and Cyril
grasped it with a word or two of gratitude.
Meanwhile Audrey, seated close to her mother on the drawing-room couch,
was pouring out the whole story. She told it very comfortably, with her
face resting against her mother's shoulder, and only interrupted by a
tearful inquiry at intervals.
'Oh, Audrey! Oh, my darling child!' exclaimed Mrs. Ross, in a sighing
sort of voice, when the girl had finished her recital.
'Are you sorry, mother? Why do you speak in that tone? You know you have
always liked Cyril.'
'Yes, my dear,' but here Mrs. Ross sighed again; 'how can one help
liking him, when he is so lovable? But, Audrey, what will your sister
say--and Percival?'
'Poor dear mother! So that was the reason of that dolorous voice? Well,
do you know,' with an engaging air of frankness, 'I am afraid we shall
have a bad time with Gage; she will want me put in a strait-waistcoat
and fed on a cooling diet of bread and water. Father will have to assure
her that there is no insanity in the family; and as to Percival--oh,
Percival's face, when he hears the news, will be a joke!'
'I must say I don't see the joke, Audrey. I am really afraid they will
both be dreadfully shocked. You must tell them yourself. I would not
take the news to Hillside for the world--and just now, too, when dear
Geraldine ought to be spared all agitation.'
Audrey did not dare laugh; her mother was far too much in earnest.
'You must go yourself, Audrey,' she repeated; 'and I hope you will be
very, very careful.'
'Don't you think it would be better to write, mother? I am so sure that
Gage will disapprove and say cutting things--and of course it will not
be pleasant. If I were to write her a sisterly little note, just telling
her the news, and saying I would go to her to-morrow?'
And, after a good deal of consideration, Mrs. Ross was brought to own
that this plan would be the best.
Mrs. Ross was so oppressed by the fear of Geraldine's disapproval that
she could hardly give her attention to Audrey; and yet her motherly
heart was stirred to its foundations. Audrey pretended to be hurt at
last.
'Oh, do not let us talk any more about Gage!' she said impatiently; 'we
must give her time to come round. I want you to think about me and
Cyril. "Cyril"--is it not a nice name? And you must be very fond of him,
and treat him like your own son. He is to be a second Michael.'
'Dear me, Audrey! I wonder what Michael will say; he can never have
guessed anything before he went away.'
'I don't know, mother. Michael is very sharp, you know. It struck me
once or twice that he was watching Cyril; but he liked him--he always
liked him;' and here Audrey's voice was full of gladness. Michael's
approval was necessary to her happiness: whoever else might choose to
cavil at her choice, it must not be Michael--dear old Michael!
'I wish he would come back,' she said softly; for she felt a strange
sort of longing to see his kind face again. She must write to him; she
must tell him everything, just as though he were her brother. 'Mother,'
interrupting herself, 'I want to tell you something very pretty that
Cyril said yesterday. I was talking of you and father, and he said I
must not be hurt, but he had fallen in love with you first. He thinks
you the sweetest woman he has ever seen.'
'Dear fellow!' murmured Mrs. Ross; for the little compliment pleased
her.
With all her loyalty to Geraldine's husband, there were times when he
was a little formidable to her. Perhaps, in her secret heart, she felt
herself too young to be the mother-in-law of a man of forty; and, in
spite of Mr. Harcourt's real liking and respect for his wife's mother,
he had never been guided by her. It had not been with him, as with
younger men, to say, 'Your mother thinks so-and-so should be done.'
Indeed, if the truth be told, Geraldine very rarely quoted her mother's
opinions--she was so certain that Percival would contradict them.
'We are surely able to make up our own minds without consulting your
parents, my dear,' he would say, in rather a crushing tone; for
prosperity had fed his self-confidence, and it needed the discipline of
trouble to teach him humility.
At that moment Dr. Ross entered the room, and at the first sight of his
face Audrey sprang up, and he opened his arms to receive her.
'Oh, daddy, is it all right?'
'Well, it is as far right as it can be,' he replied, in rather an
inexplicable voice. 'Emmie, my dear, this girl of ours has taken the bit
between her teeth. Geraldine never gave us this trouble. She fell in
love with the right man at the right time, and everything was arranged
properly.'
'And now the right man has fallen in love with me,' whispered Audrey in
her father's ear.
'But you have given your consent, John?' returned his wife, in a
pleading tone. In spite of her fears about Geraldine, her sympathies
were by this time enlisted on the side of the lovers. 'Of course, Mr.
Blake is a poor man; but I daresay Dr. Charrington will push him when he
knows how things are; and he is so nice and pleasant and clever, and
dear Audrey really loves him.'
'Are you sure of that?' trying to catch a glimpse of his daughter's
face. 'Girls make mistakes sometimes.' And then, as a faint protest
reached him: 'Well, you will find the fellow in my study, if you want to
talk to him. Perhaps you had better bring him in to see your mother.'
And Audrey withdrew, blushing like a rose.
'She is very fond of him, John,' observed Mrs. Ross, with a trace of
anxiety in her tone, as though her husband's manner did not quite
satisfy her. 'She has been talking to me for the last hour. Audrey never
cared for anyone before. You remember young Silverdale and Fred
Langton--they were both in love with her, and would have spoken if she
had given them the chance; but she was as distant as possible.'
'Yes; and Fred Langton has fifteen hundred a year, and his father is a
Member of Parliament. He is a nice fellow, too--only a little too stout
for so young a man; but he is not the sort Audrey would fancy. Blake is
a good fellow, and I liked him from the first,' continued the Doctor, in
a musing tone; 'but I never should have picked him out for Audrey.'
'Perhaps you think him too young?' hazarded his wife.
'Yes; I should have liked her to have married an older man. They are too
much of an age, and Audrey, with all her good-nature, has a will of her
own. Blake is by no means a weak man; on the contrary, I should say he
is strong; but he will have to give in to her.'
'Oh, I hope not!' for Mrs. Ross held the old-fashioned doctrines of
wifely submission and obedience.
'They will not find it out for a little; but, if I am not mistaken,
Blake will discover in time that he is somewhat handicapped. The girl
has too much on her side: there is her position, her little bit of
money, and her equality as regards age. Blake will have to steer his way
prudently, or he will find himself among shoals.'
Mrs. Ross looked distressed; her husband's opinion was infallible to
her. It never occurred to her that he might be occasionally wrong in his
premises.
'Percival and Geraldine will be dreadfully shocked,' she replied. 'I
quite dread the effect on Geraldine.'
Then Dr. Ross's mood changed.
'It is no business of hers, or of Harcourt's either,' he said, rather
sharply. 'If Audrey has her parents' consent, she need not trouble
herself about other people's opinions.'
Then Mrs. Ross knew that, whatever stormy discussion might be in store
for her, she must not expect her husband to come to her assistance. He
had more than once hinted that his son-in-law took rather too much upon
himself, and on one occasion he had gone so far as to say that it was a
pity Geraldine had married a man so much older than herself.
'Harcourt is a clever fellow, but he plays the autocrat rather too much.
A man has a right to be master in his own house, but Woodcote is not
Hillside.' And this speech had alarmed Mrs. Ross dreadfully.
'I wish your father cared for Percival as much as he does for Michael,'
she said once a little plaintively to Audrey. 'Nothing Michael says or
does is ever wrong in his eyes.'
'But there could not be two Michaels, mother,' returned Audrey; 'and
really, Percival does lay down the law far too much. I don't wonder
father was a little put out, for of course he is the older man.'
Meanwhile, the lovers were enjoying themselves after their own fashion.
When Audrey entered the study, Cyril was standing in the bay-window with
his back towards the door; but at the sound of her footstep he turned
round quickly and crossed the room. As he took her hands he looked at
her for a moment without speaking, and she saw at once that he was
deeply moved. Then he put his arm round her very gently and kissed her.
Somehow that silent caress touched Audrey, it was so much more eloquent
than words; and when he did speak, his speech was very grateful to her
ears.
'Your father has been so good to me.'
'Yes, I know. I told you yesterday how good he would be.'
'Ah, but I had a rather bad time of it at first,' he replied, shaking
his head. 'Do you see that chair?' pointing to the high-backed oaken
chair that always occupied the corner by the writing-table. 'Dr. Ross
sat there, and I stood leaning against the mantelpiece, just opposite to
him.'
'Do you mean that father did not ask you to sit down?'
'Oh no; he more than once pressed me to take a seat; but I felt it would
be unbecoming for a culprit not to stand before his judge. I felt such a
culprit, you see. When a man steals another man's dearest possession
without asking his leave, he must regard himself as a sort of traitor.'
Audrey smiled; but as Cyril drew her gently down beside him on the wide
cushioned window-seat, she made a faint protest.
'I think mother will be looking for us,' she said a little shyly.
'But not just now,' he pleaded. 'You will stay with me for a few
minutes, will you not, darling? I could not talk to you before your
mother, and I want to tell you what Dr. Ross said. In spite of my
presumption, he has treated me most generously; but, Audrey,' half
whispering her name, as though it thrilled him to say it, 'he says that
he will not spare you to me for at least two years.'
'Oh no, of course not; I could not leave father and mother for a long,
long time,' returned Audrey, somewhat troubled by this allusion to her
marriage. It was one thing to be engaged and to make Cyril happy, but to
be married was a far more serious consideration. 'If I had been asked, I
should have said at least three years,' she added quickly.
For one instant the young lover felt himself wounded, but his good sense
enabled him to hide this from her.
'You are right, dearest,' he said quietly. 'It would be mere selfishness
for me to wish to take you away from this beautiful home until I have
made one that shall in some degree be fitting for you. You will not
expect a grand one; you know you have linked your lot to a poor man.'
'Of course I know it,' she replied calmly; 'you need not trouble about
that, Cyril. I think I am different from other girls: I have never cared
for wealth or luxury in the least. Woodcote is my home, and I love every
stone of it; but I could be just as happy in a cottage.'
'If it were like the Gray Cottage, for example?'
'Oh, I have always been fond of the Gray Cottage!' she returned, smiling
at him; and the look of those sweet gray eyes made the young man's
pulses beat faster. 'I should be perfectly satisfied with a home like
that. Why,' as he interrupted her with a rapturous expression of
gratitude, 'did you think I should be hard to please? I am not a fine
lady, like Geraldine!'
'You are the finest lady in the world to me!' was Cyril's answer. It
took all his self-control to sit there, just holding her hand and
listening to her. He felt as though in his joy he could have been guilty
of any extravagance--as though he ought to be kneeling before her, his
lady of delight, pouring out his very soul in a tumultuous, incoherent
stream of words. But it spoke well for his knowledge of Audrey's
character that he restrained himself so utterly: any such passionate
love-making would have disturbed her serenity and destroyed her ease in
his society; her inborn love of freedom, and a certain coyness that was
natural to her, would have revolted against such wooing. Cyril had his
reward for his unselfish forbearance when he saw how quietly she rested
against his arm, how willingly she left her hand in his, as she talked
to him in her frank, guileless way.
'I suppose your mother is pleased about this?' she said presently.
'You would have said so if you had heard us talking last night, until
one o'clock in the morning! You have made more than one person happy,
dear; my mother will be your debtor for life.'
'I wonder she is not a little jealous of me,' returned Audrey. 'She has
had you so long to herself, I should think she would find me a little in
her way.'
'Oh no! she is too grateful to you for making me happy. My darling, it
would cause me utter misery if you and my mother did not get on. I have
been her one thought all these years; it is not right, of course,' as
Audrey's eyes expressed disapproval at this. 'I have had more than my
fair share; but I am only stating facts from her point of view. If you
had refused me--if we had gone away--she would have broken her heart; as
it is, she is ready to worship you for your goodness to me.'
'You must take me to her by and by,' returned Audrey gently; 'but now,
Cyril, indeed we must go to my mother;' and this time he made no
objection.
Mrs. Ross welcomed him very nicely.
'Audrey tells me that I am to have another son,' she said softly, as she
held out her hand to him.
'If you will only let me be one,' he returned gratefully, as he carried
the soft motherly hand to his lips.
Audrey might be forgiven if she regarded Cyril's behaviour as perfect.
As for Mrs. Ross, the tears started to her eyes at that act of
reverential homage. She told Audrey afterwards that she felt as though
she could have kissed him.
'What a pity you did not! I think Cyril would have liked it,' was
Audrey's quiet answer.
She heard her mother inviting him to dinner as she turned to the
tea-table, for the afternoon was nearly over. 'We shall be just by
ourselves, Mr. Blake.'
'Will you call me Cyril now?' he asked in almost a whisper, and a blush
came to Mrs. Ross's comely face.
'I will try and remember,' she said, in the kindest possible voice; and
then he joined Audrey at the tea-table, and made himself very busy in
waiting on them both, and they were soon as easy and comfortable as
possible.
'Would you like my mother to come and see you to-morrow?' he asked
presently, when lamps had been brought in and the October twilight had
been excluded; 'that will be the correct thing, will it not, Mrs. Ross?'
'I suppose so,' she assented; but Audrey, with her usual impulsiveness,
interrupted her:
'Why should you not take me across now?' she said; 'I think it is so
stupid thinking about etiquette. Your mother is older than I, and it is
for me to go to her.' Audrey spoke with decision, and Cyril looked
enchanted.
'I did not like to propose it,' he said delightedly; 'will you really
come? May I take her, Mrs. Ross?'
But Audrey did not wait for her mother's permission. She left the room,
and returned presently in her hat and jacket.
'I am quite ready,' she said, speaking from the threshold; but she
smiled as she said the words. Was she interrupting an interesting
conversation? Cyril was on the couch beside her mother, and he was
talking eagerly. Perhaps, though Audrey did not know it, he was making
up for his previous self-restraint by pouring out some of his pent-up
feelings.
'You understand?' he said as he stood up, and Mrs. Ross beamed at him in
answer.
'Are you two having confidences already?' observed Audrey happily, as
she looked on at this little scene; and Cyril laughed as he followed her
into the hall.
'She is the sweetest woman in the world but one,' he said, as they went
out together into the soft damp air; and Audrey, perhaps in gratitude
for these words, took his arm unasked as she walked with him through the
dark village street.