MISER FAREBROTHER WELCOMES PHOEBE'S FRIENDS.
Life is sweet and beautiful to a young and innocent girl when to her
heart is conveyed the assurance that she is beloved. Then is the world
in its spring-time, and all outward evidence is in harmony with the
tremulous joy which stirs her being. What sorrow lies in the past fades
utterly away in the light of a new-born happiness. She lives in the
present, which is imbued with a solemn and sacred tenderness. Strangely
beautiful are the time and scene: she loves, and is beloved.
To a pure and trustful heart no direct words are needed for such an
assurance; and between Fred Cornwall and Phoebe no direct words were
spoken as they walked together in a retired part of the grounds of
Parksides. How they had wandered there, and how they had come to be
alone, they did not know, and they did not stop to inquire. All that
they felt was the sweetness and the beauty of the hour. He spoke of many
things: of his tour, and the adventures he had met with; of the
occasions upon which some small incident brought her to his mind, of his
delight when he found himself back in London--"to be near you," he would
have said, but hardly dared yet to be so outspoken; of the resolution he
had formed to "get along" in spite of all the difficulties in his path.
"No easy matter," he said: "the ranks are so crowded; but when a man is
determined, and has a dear object to spur him on, he has already half
gained success."
She did not ask him what the dear object was; it was for him to speak
and for her to listen; and, indeed, he would have spoken more directly
had he felt himself in a position to marry. But there was the home to
make, and the clear prospect of being able to maintain it. He must be
able to go to her father and say, "I am in such and such a position, and
I love your daughter." Deeply in love as he was with the sweet girl
walking by his side, there was a practical side to his character which
augured well for his future. He was a proud and honourable young fellow,
and he shrank from presenting himself to Miser Farebrother as a beggar.
No; he must first win his spurs; must show the kind of stuff he was made
of, and that he was worthy of the treasure he aspired to win. He had
heard that Miser Farebrother was very rich and very grasping, and he was
aware that in dealing with such a man he was treading on delicate
ground. He did not dare to risk a refusal. To trade upon the prospect of
living upon the money Miser Farebrother might give his daughter was, in
Fred Cornwall's view, a base proceeding, and he could not lend himself
to it. "I wish the old gentleman was poor," he thought; "then I would
speak at once. But a few months will soon pass."
Meanwhile, this quiet hour with Phoebe assured him that he had won her
love, and that she would wait for him. He may be forgiven for being a
little sentimental; it is an old fashion, as old as hearts; and that
their hands should meet, and that the girl's pulses should thrill at the
touch of his, is natural and good when young people commune in innocence
and honour. The silence that fell upon them now and then was sweeter,
perhaps, than the words that were spoken.
Fanny championed and guarded them, and kept intruders off. The principal
would-be offender was Bob, and it needed all his sister's cleverness to
keep him by her side. It is to be feared, however, that if he had had
any suspicion of what was going on, he would have made a bold dash for
it; but a very unsuspicious mortal was Bob, and the last thought in his
mind was that any young gentleman would come wooing his pretty cousin.
Fanny was completely in her element, fencing and parrying questions
asked by her father and brother, saying: "Oh! she will be here
presently. Do you think she has no one to attend to but us?" Aunt Leth
was discreetly silent; she remembered the time when she herself was
young, and her dear husband came courting her. Once Mrs. Pamflett came
up, and asked, "Where is Miss Farebrother?"
Fanny promptly answered her: "Dear me! She was here but a moment ago! I
think she must have gone in that direction." (Pointing in front of her,
while Phoebe was in the rear.)
"And Mr. Cornwall," said Mrs. Pamflett, very quietly, "has he also gone
in that direction?"
"Oh no!" said Fanny, unblushingly; "he has gone to have a smoke. Men are
the selfishest creatures, are they not, Mrs. Pamflett?"
Mrs. Pamflett sighed a gentle endorsement of the declaration, and meekly
went the way indicated by Fanny. She turned off, however, when she could
no longer be seen by the Lethbridges, and by a devious path successfully
tracked Phoebe and Fred Cornwall, whom, from a distance, she watched
with lynx eyes, noting the manner of their association--Phoebe's head
modestly bent down, and Fred gazing upon her with looks of love.
Fanny, meanwhile, talking away vivaciously, suddenly stopped in the
middle of a sentence, and cried, "Oh!"
"Has a pin run into you?" asked Bob; but he too gasped as he saw Miser
Farebrother, leaning upon Jeremiah's arm, standing in front. Aunt Leth
was the first to speak to him.
"How do you do, Mr. Farebrother?" she said, holding out her hand.
"Weak and ill, as you see," said Miser Farebrother, shaking hands with
his sister-in-law; "a martyr to rheumatism and other pains. I'm growing
old, sister-in-law; I am growing old. Don't you see the change in me?"
"We are all growing old," said Mrs. Lethbridge, with a sympathizing
smile.
"But some can bear it better than others," groaned Miser Farebrother.
"Now, you are strong and can walk without assistance. Look at me: even
with my crutch-stick I cannot walk without human support. Don't go,
Jeremiah; I shall fall to the ground if you leave me. You know my
sister-in-law?"
"Yes," said Jeremiah, with a careless nod at Aunt Leth; "we had tea
together--a delightful tea."
He had been searching with his eyes for Phoebe, and not seeing her or
Fred Cornwall, had made a movement to leave his master.
"We have to thank you," said Aunt Leth to Miser Farebrother, "for a very
pleasant evening."
"Don't speak of it. We ought to see more of each other; you ought to
have been here oftener. One's flesh and blood--we are almost that, are
we not, sister-in-law?--should not desert one as you have deserted me."
"Indeed! indeed!" stammered Aunt Leth, somewhat confounded by this
reproach.
"Never mind, never mind," said Miser Farebrother, with a gentle air of
resignation. "We must say nothing but kind things to one another. If you
have deserted me, you have not deserted my dear child, who is always
full of praises of you."
"We love her," said Aunt Leth, "as well as we love our own."
"It is very good of you. Is that your husband? My eyesight is shockingly
weak. I'm breaking fast, I'm afraid."
Mr. Lethbridge came forward, and Miser Farebrother seized his hand and
gave it a cordial grasp. The kind-hearted man could find nothing better
to say than,
"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Farebrother."
"Not so glad to see me as I am to see you. It is quite like old
times--quite like old times. How is the world using you? But I need not
ask; I can see for myself. I am very pleased--very--very! You deserve
it. I wish the world used me as well; but we can't all be so fortunate.
When I was a young man, I used to hope that when I was as old
as I am now I should be able to keep a carriage. Young hopes,
brother-in-law--eh? Seldom realized, are they? I can hardly afford to
keep a--a wheelbarrow--eh, Jeremiah?"
"Yes, sir," said Jeremiah, obsequiously.
"We can't have all we wish," pursued Miser Farebrother; and Jeremiah,
although he was impatient to go in search of Phoebe, whom he now
looked upon as his property, could not help taking interest and pleasure
in his master's gentle and philosophic departure, which he, better than
any one of the other listeners, could appreciate at its true value. "In
a hundred years to come, a carriage and a wheelbarrow will be all the
same to us. Still, I am glad to hear of your good fortune." (Mr.
Lethbridge stared, and wondered whether he was awake or asleep, or
whether he had said anything of which he was unconscious.) "How well and
hale you look! Not a day older--not a day. You must tell me the secret;
though I fear it is too late for me. And this young gentleman"--turning
to Bob, who became suddenly very hot and uncomfortable--"your son,
eh?--your bright boy?"
"Yes," said Mr. Lethbridge; "our son Robert."
"How do you do, nephew?" said Miser Farebrother, giving Bob two fingers,
which, when Bob got them, he did not know what to do with. "And how is
the world using _you_?"
"Extremely well, sir, thank you," Bob blurted out, without in the least
knowing what he was saying; for, instead of the world using him
extremely well, it was not using him at all.
"How pleasant to hear!" exclaimed Miser Farebrother. "I feel like
rubbing my hands, but one has my crutch-stick in it, and the other is
leaning on Jeremiah. You come of a lucky stock; go on and prosper,
nephew. And this--" He turned to Fanny, who, in a feverish state, was
awaiting recognition. She was so confused that it was not until hours
afterward that her indignation was excited at being referred to as
"this"--as though she were a chattel.
"Our daughter Fanny," said Aunt Leth, observing that her husband was
incapable of speech.
"Kiss me, niece," said Miser Farebrother. He raised his wrinkled face,
and Fanny put her lips to it. He called a joyous look into his eyes, and
in a kind of rapture murmured: "The kiss of beauty! But don't be too
lavish of them, niece." He peered around as though he suddenly missed
somebody. "Where is your young gentleman, niece?"
Jeremiah chuckled quietly.
"_My_ young gentleman!" cried Fanny, flushing up.
Her mother gave her a warning look.
"Yes, your young gentleman. There is one here, isn't there? or did
Phoebe make a mistake?"
"You mean Mr. Cornwall," said Aunt Leth, in a gentle tone.
"I think that is the name Phoebe mentioned. A lawyer, isn't he?"
"Yes," replied Fanny, before her mother could speak, "and a very clever
one."
"Bravo! bravo!" exclaimed Miser Farebrother. "That is as it should be. I
am sure he is a very clever one; I hope we are not wrong in our opinion
of him--for your sake, niece, for your sake. Sister-in-law,
brother-in-law, I congratulate you. Niece, kiss me again."
Fanny held back, but her mother murmured, "Fanny!" and the girl kissed
the miser's wrinkled face again, upon which he smacked his lips and cast
up his eyes languishingly.
"And now," he said, "I must really go and find my dear Phoebe and the
very clever lawyer. _We_ must go; mustn't we, Jeremiah? See,
sister-in-law, Jeremiah brought some flowers for my dear child, and
happening to forget them when she left the table, she sent him back for
them. I am ashamed of myself for having detained him. Do you know where
Phoebe is?--this way--or that? That way? Thank you; I shall easily
find her. Remember what I said to you--we must really see more of each
other; you must come here oftener. And you, brother-in-law, and you,
niece. And hark you, nephew: when I asked you how the world was using
you, you answered, 'Extremely well, sir.' You did, did you not?"
"Yes, sir," said Bob, not knowing what was coming.
"You were wrong, and you are wrong again. Sister-in-law, too: you called
me 'Mr. Farebrother?'"
"Yes," said Aunt Leth, faintly.
"But why? why? Why 'sir' and why 'Mr.'? Everybody else calls me Miser
Farebrother. I like it; it tickles me. Pray call me that for the future,
like good-natured souls, as you are. Come, Jeremiah, come. Phoebe will
be impatient for your flowers."
He hobbled away, clinging to Jeremiah's arm, and presently said,
"Well, Jeremiah?"
"Thank you," said Jeremiah.
"Keep faith with me," said Miser Farebrother, fiercely, taking his hand
from Jeremiah's arm, and standing erect, "and I'll keep faith with you.
Trick me, deceive me, rob me, and I'll make England too hot to hold
you!"
"Why do you speak to me like that?" asked Jeremiah, in an injured tone.
"Because I know the world," retorted the miser; "because I know human
nature. Did I show it to them just now, or did I not? Did I compel them
to be honey to my face, while they hated me in their hearts? Play tricks
with me, and I'll serve you worse!"
"We have made a bargain," said Jeremiah, submissively, "and I will keep
to it, and be grateful to you all my life."
"That is what I want," said Miser Farebrother. "While I am alive I am
master. When I am gone, you will have your turn."
After that they walked on in silence; but Jeremiah's thoughts, fashioned
into words, may be thus construed: "When you are gone! You think I will
wait till then, do you? You old fool! you're not in it with me!"
For a few moments after Miser Farebrother left the Lethbridges they
gazed at each other in silence. Then said Fanny:
"Would you like to know what I think of Uncle--no--Miser Farebrother?
Well, I think he's a brute!"
"Hush, hush, Fanny!" said Mrs. Lethbridge. "For Phoebe's sake!"