"Why don't you like him?"
It was the next morning, and Mrs. Greatorex, lounging on a sofa
in her bedroom, was regarding Agatha with a rather stern air.
Dr. Darkham, true to the promise he had made to himself, had gone
to Rickton Villa the previous night, had sought a private
interview with her, and told her all: of his admiration for her
niece, of his fear of losing her unless he spoke at once, of his
belief that Dillwyn was in love with her also, and of the
settlements he was prepared to make.
These last were very handsome. For the past twenty years of his
successful life, he had saved far more than he had spent--
refusing to go much into society or to entertain, because of his
wife's deficiencies, though by his marriage with that wife he had
been made a rich man. There had been no settlements on his
marriage with her, and all her fortune was now within his grasp.
It was with that, indeed, he intended to buy Agatha.
Mrs. Greatorex's ambitious heart rose to the bait. The sum he
proposed to settle on Agatha was considerably more than she had
even hoped for, and during the past week or two she had been led
by Darkham to understand that he loved her "niece," as she always
called Agatha.
Darkham, watching her, half smiled to himself--she was so
easily read, and so sordid, and so mean, with all her absurd
aristocratic airs and hints at the greatness of her family that
did not know her.
He went on carefully. He fought his way with ease. He even
ventured to tell her in a subdued whisper that he had never
really cared for his first wife--it was a boyish infatuation,
and she was older than he was--and--well, the same old vulgar
story that we all know by heart and despise and don't believe in.
Mrs. Greatorex chose to believe it, however. At the last she gave
him to understand that she would urge her niece by every means in
her power to accept his offer. Her refusal of him that afternoon
was probably mere girlish embarrassment, she said. As for that
suggestion about Dr. Dillwyn, she was quite positive there was
nothing in it.
She was looking now at the "dearest girl"--who was looking back
at with anxious eyes. She did not appear "shy," however--only
very anxious and unhappy.
She did not answer, so Mrs. Greatorex went on,---
"He told me he had spoken to you yesterday, and that you had
refused him. You must have been out of your senses when you did
that. He is prepared to make splendid settlements---"
"I shouldn't object to settlements if--if I didn't object to--
him," said Agatha in a low voice.
"To him! To Dr. Darkham? What can you see to object to in him? He
is handsome--clever---"
"He is old," said Agatha, trifling with the question as if to
gain time.
"_That_ is the last epithet to apply to him. My dear Agatha,
consider. He is clever, as I say, and learned, and so kind and
thoughtful. I'm sure his goodness to me during my illness--- Now,
what further objection can you make?"
"I can't bear him," said Agatha, suddenly, which, indeed, was the
conclusion of the whole matter.
"My dear! At your age! I _beg,_ Agatha, that you will cease to
consider yourself a baby. Such a speech as that, if you _were_ a
baby, might pass muster, but for a girl who has seen her
twentieth year it sounds simply foolish. Why, when I was your age
I had had six proposals. And you--have you had a single
proposal, save this most fortunate one?"
She paused. Agatha did not answer. Meantime, Mrs. Greatorex
waited relentlessly.
"Well?" she said.
"No." The answer was very faint, and it awoke in Mrs. Greatorex's
mind a suspicion. Was the girl deceiving her? Was there an
actual engagement between her and Dr. Dillwyn?
"No? Are you sure, Agatha? It seemed to me that you hesitated. I
hope there is nothing in a certain absurd report I have heard
about you and Dr. Dillwyn."
"There is nothing to say," said she in a low, anguished voice.
Oh, that there _had_ been!
"I am at liberty, then," said her tormentor, "to tell Dr. Darkham
that you are absolutely _free_--that you care for nobody---
that your heart is still your own to dispose of? I may tell him
that you have never felt so much as a passing fancy for this
young man, Dr. Dillwyn, who has been sent here through a whim of
Reginald Greatorex--to starve, as far as I can see; for Dr.
Darkham, as you know, has all the paying practice, and Reginald
Greatorex"--bitterly--"as you also know, is a false friend,
and a man that would rather die than part with a penny. I may
tell Dr. Darkham that?"
Agatha, pale as death, lifted up her eyes and looked at her.
"Not that," she said; "do not tell him that. I---" she grew
whiter and whiter, but she was true to herself and her own heart
to the last--"I love Dr. Dillwyn."
"Agatha!" Mrs. Greatorex rose, and stood before her, filled with
wrathful horror. To tell the truth, she was genuinely shocked.
Her narrow prejudices could not conceive such a thing as this.
"When he has never spoken to you--never---"
"I know. It is--it _sounds_ dreadful," said the girl wildly.
"But"--folding her hands upon her breast--"he will speak. He
_will_."
There was silence.
"I trust not. I believe not," said Mrs. Greatorex at last. Here
tone was cold, and there was a certain element of disgust in it
that hurt the girl to her very soul. Why--_why_ had she spoken?
And yet to deny him! She would suffer for it, but hers was the
nobler part, and in the end she would be placed above shame. But
if he _never_ spoke! A cold wind seemed to creep over her,
chilling her through and through. It was her one doubt of him,
and it died at birth, but she always repented herself for it. "In
the meantime, Agatha, you must permit me to say that I am
horrified beyond words at your confession."
"I shall never marry Dr. Darkham," said the girl slowly,
miserably, but with great courage. "Let me leave you, Aunt Hilda.
Let me go out in the world as a governess. I could make my own
way, perhaps--and---"
"Don't talk to me like that, Agatha. You--my niece! Do you
think I am going to have you spoken of by the people here as a
_paid person?_ No, you shall stay here." She rose to her feet and
pointed imperiously to the door. "You shall stay here and marry
Dr. Darkham, and thank God for your good fortune. Now go; leave
me." She pointed again to the door, and Agatha, sad and sick at
heart, went out of the room.
When she was gone, Mrs. Greatorex tried to rest again upon her
lounge, but failed. That slip of a girl to refuse such an offer
as this! A girl who was literally penniless! She stormed and
raged as she walked up and down her small room. As a fact, she
had grown honestly fond of Agatha--as fond as she could be of
anything outside herself; but she was fonder still of her
ambition--and to see Agatha married to a man without position
or money....