'I will write to your uncle Aylwin at once. I will tell him you are
going to marry that miscreant's daughter, and he will disinherit
you.'
'In that case, mother,' I said, rising from the table, 'I need not
trouble myself to finish my letter; for I was writing to him, telling
him the same thing. Still, perhaps I had better send mine too,' I
continued. 'I should like at least to remain on friendly terms with
him, he is so good to me'; and I resumed my seat at the
writing-table.
'Henry,' said my mother, after a second or two, 'I think you had
better _not_ write to your uncle; it might only make matters worse.
You had better leave it to me.'
'Thank you, mother, the letter is finished,' I replied as I sealed it
up, 'and will be sent. Good-bye, dear,' I said, taking her hand and
kissing it. 'You knew not what you did, and I know you did it for the
best.'
'When do you return, Henry?' asked she, in a conquered and sad tone,
that caused me many a pang to remember afterwards.
'That is altogether uncertain,' I answered. 'I go to follow Winifred.
If I find her alive I shall marry her, if she will marry me, unless
permanent insanity prove a barrier. If she is dead'--(I restrained
myself from saying aloud what I said to myself)--'I shall still
follow her.'
'The daughter of the scoundrel!' she murmured, her lips grey with
suppressed passion.
'Mother,' I said, 'let us not part in anger. The sword of Fate is
between us. When I was at school I made a certain vow. The vow was
that I would woo and win but one woman upon earth--the daughter of
the man who has since violated my father's tomb. I have lately made a
second vow, that, until she is found, I shall devote my life to the
quest of Winifred Wynne. If you think that I am likely to be deterred
by fears of being disinherited by your family, open and read my
letter to my uncle. I have there told him whom I intend to marry.'
'Mad, mad boy!' said my mother. 'Society will--'
'You have once or twice before mentioned society, mother. If I find
Winifred Wynne, I shall assuredly marry her, unless prevented by the
one obstacle I have mentioned. If I marry her I shall, if it so
please me and her, take her into society.'
'Into society!' she replied, with ineffable scorn.
'And I shall say to society, "Here is my wife.'"
'And when society asks, "Who _is_ your wife?'"
'I shall reply, "She is the daughter of the drunken organist who
desecrated my father's tomb, though that concerns you not:--her own
speciality, as you see, is that she is the flower of all girlhood."'
'And when society rejects this earthly paragon?'
'Then I shall reject society.'
'Reject society, boy!' said my mother. 'Why, Cyril Aylwin himself,
the bohemian painter who has done his best to cheapen and vulgarise
our name, is not a more reckless, lawless leveller than you. And,
good heavens! to him, and perhaps afterwards to you, will come--the
coronet.'
And she left the room.