VISITS OF CEREMONY.
Mr. Langton, on being informed that Mark Ashburn proposed to become
his son-in-law, took a painfully prosaic view of the matter: 'I can
quite understand the fascination of a literary career to a young man,'
he had observed to Mark in the course of a trying interview; 'indeed,
when I was younger I was frequently suspected myself of contributing
to "Punch;" but I always saw where that would lead me, and, as a
matter of fact, I never did indulge my inclinations in that
direction,' he added, with the complacency of a St. Anthony. 'And the
fact is, I wish my son-in-law to have a more assured position: you
see, at present you have only written one book--oh, I am quite aware
that "Illusion" was well received--remarkably so, indeed; but then it
remains to be proved whether you can follow up your success, and--and,
in short, while that is uncertain I can't consent to any engagement;
you really must not ask me to do so.' And in this determination he was
firm for some time, even though secretly impressed on hearing of the
sum for which Mark had already disposed of his forthcoming novel, and
which represented, indeed, a very fair year's income. It was Uncle
Solomon, after all, that proved the heavy piece of ordnance which
turned the position at the crisis; he was flattered when his nephew
took him into his confidence, and pleased that he should have 'looked
so high,' which motives combined to induce him to offer his influence.
It was a somewhat desperate remedy, and Mark had his doubts of the
impression likely to be produced by such a relative, but it worked
unexpectedly well. Mr. Lightowler was too cautious to commit himself
to any definite promise, but he made it abundantly clear that he was a
'warm' man, and that Mark was his favourite nephew, for whom he was
doing something as it was, and might do more if he continued to behave
himself. After the interview in which this was ascertained, Mr.
Langton began to think that his daughter might do worse than marry
this young Ashburn after all. Mrs. Langton had liked Mark from the
first in her languid way, and the fact that he had 'expectations'
decided her to support his cause; he was not a brilliant _parti_, of
course, but at least he was more eligible than the young men who had
been exciting her maternal alarm of late. And under her grandfather's
will Mabel would be entitled on her marriage or coming of age to a sum
which would keep her in comfort whatever happened.
All these considerations had their effect, and Mr. Langton, seeing how
deeply his daughter's heart was concerned, withdrew his opposition,
and even allowed himself to be persuaded that there was no reason for
a long engagement, and that the marriage might be fixed to take place
early in the following spring. He only made two stipulations: one,
that Mark should insure his life in the usual manner; and the other,
that he should abandon his _nom de plume_ at once, and in the next
edition of "Illusion," and in all future writings, use the name which
was his by birth. 'I don't like _aliases_,' he said; 'if you win a
reputation, it seems to me your wife and family should have the
benefit of it;' and Mark agreed to both conditions with equal
cheerfulness.
Mr. Humpage, as may be imagined, was not best pleased to hear of the
engagement; he wrote a letter of solemn warning to Mabel and her
father, and, this being disregarded, he nursed his resentment in
offended silence. If Harold Caffyn was polite enough when in his
uncle's company to affect to share his indignation to the full,
elsewhere he accepted Mark's good fortune with cheerful indifference;
he could meet Mabel with perfect equanimity, and listen to her
mother's somewhat discursive eulogies of her future son-in-law with
patience, if not entire assent. Since his autumn visit to the
Featherstones, there had been changes in his position which may have
been enough to account for his philosophy; he had gained the
merchant's good opinion to such an extent that the latter, in defiance
of his wife's cautions, had taken the unusual step of proposing that
the young actor should give up the stage and occupy a recently vacated
desk in Mr. Featherstone's own palatial City offices. Even if his
stage ambition had not cooled long since, Caffyn was not the man to
neglect such a chance as this; he accepted gratefully, and already the
merchant saw his selection, unlikely as it had seemed at first,
beginning to be justified by his _protégé's_ clear head and command of
languages, while Gilda's satisfaction at the change was at least equal
to her father's. And so, whether Harold was softened by his own
prosperity, and whether other hopes or distractions came between him
and his former passion for revenge, he remained impassive throughout
all the preparations for a marriage which he could have prevented had
he chosen. At Triberg the thought that Mark (who had, as he
considered, been the chief means of ruining his hopes of Mabel) was to
be his successful rival had for an instant revived the old spirit; but
now he could face the fact with positive contentment, and his feeling
towards Mark was rather one of contemptuous amusement than of any
actual hostility.
Mark's introduction of Mabel to his family had not been altogether a
success; he regretted that he had carelessly forgotten to prepare them
for his visit as soon as he pulled the bell-handle by the gate, and
caught a glimpse of scared faces at one or two of the windows,
followed by sounds from within of wild scurry and confusion--'like a
lot of confounded rabbits!' he thought to himself in disgust. Then
they had been kept waiting in a chilly little drawing-room, containing
an assortment of atrocities in glass, china, worsted, and wax, until
Mark moved restlessly about in his nervous irritation, and Mabel felt
her heart sink in spite of her love; she had not expected to find
Mark's people in luxurious surroundings, but she was unprepared for
anything quite so hideous as that room. When Mrs. Ashburn, who had
felt that this was an occasion for some attention to toilette, made
her appearance, it was hardly a reassuring one: she was not exactly
vulgar perhaps, but she was hard, Mabel thought, narrow and ungenial;
but the fact was that the consciousness of having been taken unawares
robbed her welcome of any cordiality which it might otherwise have
possessed. She inferred from her first glance at Mabel's pretty
walking costume a fondness for dress and extravagance, which branded
her at once as a 'worldling,' between whom and herself there could be
nothing in common--in which last opinion she was most probably right,
as all Mabel's efforts to sustain a conversation could not save it
from frequent lapses. Martha, from shyness as much as stiffness, sat
by in almost complete silence; and though Trixie, the only other
member of the family who appeared, was evidently won at once by
Mabel's appearance, and did all she could to cover the others'
shortcomings, she was not sufficiently at her ease to break the chill;
and Mark, angry and ashamed as he was, felt paralysed himself under
its influence.
On the way back he was unusually silent, from a fear of the impression
such an ordeal as she had gone through must have left upon Mabel; and
the fact that she did not refer to the interview herself did not
reassure him. He need not have been afraid, however; she was not in
the least deterred by what she had seen. The sight of the home in
which he had been brought up had filled her with a loving pity,
suggesting as it did the petty constraints and miseries, the
unloveliness of all surroundings, and the total want of appreciation
which he must have endured there. And yet all this had not soured him;
in spite of it he had produced a great book, strong, yet refined and
tender, and free from any taint of narrowness or cynicism. As she
thought of this and glanced at Mark's handsome face, so bright and
animated in general, but clouded now with the melancholy which his
fine eyes could express at times, she longed to say something to
relieve it, and yet shrank from being the first to speak in her fear
of jarring him.
Mark spoke at last. 'Well, Mabel,' he said, looking down at her with a
rather doubtful smile, 'I told you that my mother was a--a little
peculiar.'
'Yes,' said Mabel frankly; 'we didn't quite get on together, did we,
Mark? We shall some day, perhaps; and even if not--I shall have you!'
And she laid her hand on his sleeve with a look of perfect
understanding and contentment which, little as he deserved it, chased
away all his fears.