MR. BARRY AGAIN.
"Mr. Barry has given me to understand that he means to come down
to-morrow." This was said by Mr. Grey to his daughter.
"What does he want to come here for?"
"I suppose you know why he wants to come here?" Then the father was
silent, and for some time Dolly remained silent also. "He is coming to
ask you to consent to be his wife."
"Why do you let him come, papa?"
"I cannot hinder him. That, in the first place. And then I don't want to
prevent his coming."
"Oh, papa!"
"I do not want to prevent his coming. And I do not wish you now at this
instant to pledge yourself to anything."
"I cannot but pledge myself."
"You can at any rate remain silent while I speak to you." There was a
solemnity in his manner which almost awed her, so that she could only
come nearer to him and sit close to him, holding his hand in hers. "I
wish you to hear what I have got to say to you, and to make no answer
till you shall make it to-morrow to him, after having fully considered
the whole matter. In the first place, he is an honest and good man, and
certainly will not ill-treat you."
"Is that so much?"
"It is a great deal, as men go. It would be a great deal to me to be
sure that I had left you in the hands of one who is, of his nature,
tender and affectionate."
"That is something; but not enough."
"And then he is a careful man, who will certainly screen you from all
want; and he is prudent, walking about the world with his eyes
open,--much wider than your father has ever done." Here she only pressed
his hand. "There is nothing to be said against him, except that
something which you spotted at once when you said that he was not a
gentleman. According to your ideas, and to mine, he is not quite a
gentleman; but we are both fastidious."
"We must pay the penalty of our tastes in that respect."
"You are paying the penalty now by your present doubts. But it is not
yet too late for you to get the better of it. Though I have acknowledged
that he is not quite a gentleman, he is by no means the reverse. You are
quite a lady."
"I hope so."
"But you are not particularly good-looking."
"Papa, you are not complimentary."
"My dear, I do not intend to be so. To me your face, such as it is, is
the sweetest thing on earth to look upon."
"Oh, papa;--dear papa!" and she threw her arms round his neck and kissed
him.
"But having lived so long with me you have acquired my habits and
thoughts, and have learned to disregard utterly your outward
appearance."
"I would be decent and clean and womanly."
"That is not enough to attract the eyes of men in general. But he has
seen deeper than most men do."
"Into the value of the business, you mean?" said she.
"No, Dolly; I will not have that! that is ill-natured, and, as I
believe, altogether untrue. I think of Mr. Barry that he would not marry
any girl for the sake of the business, unless he loved her."
"That is nonsense, papa. How can Mr. Barry love me? Did he and I ever
have five minutes of free conversation together?"
"Unless he meant to love, would be nearer the mark; and knew that he
could do so. You will be quite safe in his hands."
"Safe, papa!"
"So much for yourself; and now I must say a few words as to myself. You
are not bound to marry him, or any one else, to do me a good turn; but I
think you are bound to remember what my feelings would be if on my
death-bed I were leaving you quite alone in the world. As far as money
is concerned, you would have enough for all your wants; but that is all
that you would have. You have become so thoroughly my friend, that you
have hardly another real friend in the world."
"That is my disposition."
"Yes; but I must guard against the ill-effects of that disposition. I
know that if some man came the way, whom you could in truth love, you
would make the sweetest wife that ever a man possessed."
"Oh, papa, how you talk! No such man will come the way, and there's an
end of it."
"Mr. Barry has come the way,--and, as things go, is deserving of your
regard. My advice to you is to accept him. Now you will have twenty-four
hours to think of that advice, and to think of your own future
condition. How will life go with you if you should be left living in
this house all alone?"
"Why do you speak as though we were to be parted to-morrow?"
"To-morrow or next day," he said very solemnly. "The day will surely
come before long. Mr. Barry may not be all that your fancy has
imagined."
"Decidedly not."
"But he has those good qualities which your reason should appreciate.
Think it over, my darling. And now we will say nothing more about Mr.
Barry till he shall have been here and pleaded his own cause."
Then there was not another word said on the subject between them, and on
the next morning Mr. Grey went away to his chambers as usual.
Though she had strenuously opposed her father through the whole of the
conversation above given, still, as it had gone on, she had resolved to
do as he would her; not indeed, that is, to marry this suitor, but to
turn him over in her mind yet once again, and find out whether it would
be possible that she should do so. She had dismissed him on that former
occasion, and had not since given a thought to him, except as to a
nuisance of which she had so far ridded herself. Now the nuisance had
come again, and she was to endeavor to ascertain how far she could
accustom herself to its perpetual presence without incurring perpetual
misery. But it has to be acknowledged that she did not begin the inquiry
in a fair frame of mind. She declared to herself that she would think
about it all the night and all the morning without a prejudice, so that
she might be able to accept him if she found it possible.
But at the same time there was present to her a high, black stone wall,
at one side of which stood she herself while Mr. Barry was on the other.
That there should be any clambering over that wall by either of them she
felt to be quite impossible, though at the same time she acknowledged
that a miracle might occur by which the wall would be removed,
So she began her thinking, and used all her father's arguments. Mr.
Barry was honest and good, and would not ill-treat her. She knew nothing
about him, but would take all that for granted as though it were
gospel,--because her father had said so. And then it was to her a fact
that she was by no means good-looking,--the meaning of which was that no
other man would probably want her. Then she remembered her father's
words,--"To me your face is the sweetest thing on earth to look upon."
This she did believe. Her plainness did not come against her there. Why
should she rob her father of the one thing which to him was sweet in the
world? And to her, her father was the one noble human being whom she had
ever known. Why should she rob herself of his daily presence? Then she
told herself,--as she had told him,--that she had never had five minutes
free conversation with Mr. Barry in her life. That certainly was no
reason why free conversation should not be commenced. But then she did
not believe that free conversation was within the capacity of Mr. Barry.
It would never come, though she might be married to him for twenty
years. He too might, perhaps, talk about his business; but there would
be none of those considerations as to radical good or evil which made
the nucleus of all such conversations with her father. There would be a
flatness about it all which would make any such interchange of words
impossible. It would be as though she had been married to a log of wood,
or rather a beast of the field, as regarded all sentiment. How much
money would be coming to him? Now her father had never told her how much
money was coming to him. There had been no allusion to that branch of
the subject.
And then there came other thoughts as to that interior life which it
would be her destiny to lead with Mr. Barry. Then came a black cloud
upon her face as she sat thinking of it. "Never," at last she said,
"never, never! He is very foolish not to know that it is impossible."
The "he" of whom she then spoke was her father, and not Mr. Barry. "If I
have to be left alone, I shall not be the first. Others have been left
alone before me. I shall at any rate be left alone." Then the wall
became higher and more black than ever, and there was no coming of that
miracle by which it was to be removed. It was clearer to her than ever
that neither of them could climb it. "And, after all," she said to
herself, "to know that your husband is not a gentleman! Ought that not
to be enough? Of course a woman has to pay for her fastidiousness. Like
other luxuries, it is costly; but then, like other luxuries, it cannot
be laid aside." So, before that morning was gone, she made up her mind
steadily that Mr. Barry should never be her lord and master.
How could she best make him understand that it was so, so that she might
be quickly rid of him? When the first hour of thinking was done after
breakfast, it was that which filled her mind. She was sure that he would
not take an answer easily and go. He would have been prepared by her
father to persevere,--not by his absolute words, but by his mode of
speaking. Her father would have given him to understand that she was
still in doubt, and therefore might possibly be talked over. She must
teach him at once, as well as she could, that such was not her
character, and that she had come to a resolution which left him no
chance. And she was guilty of one weakness which was almost unworthy of
her. When the time came she changed her dress, and put on an old shabby
frock, in which she was wont to call upon the Carrolls. Her best dresses
were all kept for her father,--and, perhaps, accounted for that opinion
that to his eyes her face was the sweetest thing on earth to look upon.
As she sat there waiting for Mr. Barry, she certainly did look ten years
older than her age.
In truth both Mr. Grey and Dolly had been somewhat mistaken in their
reading of Mr. Barry's character. There was more of intellect and merit
in him than he had obtained credit for from either of them. He did care
very much for the income of the business, and perhaps his first idea in
looking for Dolly's hand had been the probability that he would thus
obtain the whole of that income for himself. But, while wanting money,
he wanted also some of the good things which ought to accompany it. A
superior intellect,--an intellect slightly superior to his own, of which
he did not think meanly, a power of conversation which he might imitate,
and that fineness of thought which, he flattered himself, he might be
able to achieve while living with the daughter of a gentleman,--these
were the treasures which Mr. Barry hoped to gain by his marriage with
Dorothy Grey. And there had been something in her personal appearance
which, to his eyes, had not been distasteful. He did not think her face
the sweetest thing in the world to look at, as her father had done, but
he saw in it the index of that intellect which he had desired to obtain
for himself. As for her dress, that, of course, should all be altered.
He imagined that he could easily become so far master of his wife as to
make her wear fine clothes without difficulty. But then he did not know
Dolly Grey.
He had studied deeply his manner of attacking her. He would be very
humble at first, but after a while his humility should be discontinued,
whether she accepted or rejected him. He knew well that it did not
become a husband to be humble; and as regarded a lover, he thought that
humility was merely the outside gloss of love-making. He had been
humble enough on the former occasion, and would begin now in the same
strain. But after a while he would stir himself, and assume the manner
of a man. "Miss Grey," he said, as soon as they were alone, "you see
that I have been as good as my word, and have come again." He had
already observed her old frock and her mode of dressing up her hair, and
had guessed the truth.
"I knew that you were to come, Mr. Barry."
"Your father has told you so."
"Yes."
"And he has spoken a good word in my favor?"
"Yes, he has."
"Which I trust will be effective."
"Not at all. He knows that it is the only subject on which I cannot take
his advice. I would burn my hand off for my father, but I cannot afford
to give it to any one at his instance. It must be exclusively my
own,--unless some one should come very different from those who are
likely to ask for it."
There was something, Mr. Barry thought, of offence in this, but he could
not altogether throw off his humility as yet. "I quite admit the value
of the treasure," he said.
"There need not be any nonsense between us, Mr. Barry. It has no special
value to any one,--except to myself; but to myself I mean to keep it. At
my father's instance I had thought over the proposition you have made me
much more seriously than I had thought it possible that I should do."
"That is not flattering," he said.
"There is no need for flattery, either on the one side or on the other.
You had better take that as established. You have done me the honor of
wishing, for certain reasons, that I should be your wife."
"The common reason:--that I love you."
"But I am not able to return the feeling, and do not therefore wish that
you should be my husband. That sounds to be uncivil."
"Rather."
"But I say it in order to make you understand the exact truth. A woman
cannot love a man because she feels for him even the most profound
respect. She will often do so when there is neither respect nor esteem.
My father has so spoken of you to me that I do esteem you; but that has
no effect in touching my heart, therefore I cannot become your wife."
Now, as Mr. Barry thought, had come the time in which he must assert
himself. "Miss Grey," he said, "you have probably a long life before
you."
"Long or short, it can make no difference."
"If I understood you aright, you are one who lives very much to
yourself."
"To myself and my father."
"He is growing in years."
"So am I, for the matter of that. We are all growing in years."
"Have you looked out for yourself, and thought what manner of home yours
will be when he shall have been dead and buried?" He paused, but she
remained silent, and assumed a special cast of countenance, as though
she might say a word, if he pressed her, which it would be disagreeable
for him to hear. "When he has gone will you not be very solitary without
a husband?"
"No doubt I shall."
"Had you not better accept one when one comes your way who is not, as he
tells you, quite unworthy of you?"
"In spite of such worth solitude would be preferable."
"You certainly have a knack, Miss Grey, of making the most unpalatable
assertions."
"I will make another more unpalatable. Solitude I could bear,--and
death,--but not such a marriage. You force me to tell you the whole truth
because half a truth will not suffice."
"I have endeavored to be at any rate civil to you," he said.
"And I have endeavored to save you what trouble I could by being
straightforward." Still he paused, sitting in his chair uneasily, but
looking as though he had no intention of going. "If you will only take
me at my word and have done with it!" Still he did not move. "I suppose
there are young ladies who like this kind of thing, but I have become
old enough to hate it. I have had very little experience of it, but it
is odious to me. I can conceive nothing more disagreeable than to have
to sit still and hear a gentleman declare that he wants to make me his
wife, when I am quite sure that I do not intend to make him my husband."
"Then, Miss Grey," he said, rising from his chair suddenly, "I shall bid
you adieu."
"Good-bye, Mr. Barry."
"Good-bye, Miss Grey. Farewell!" And so he went.
"Oh, papa, we have had such a scene!" she said, the moment she felt
herself alone with her father.
"You have not accepted him?"
"Accepted him! Oh dear no! I am sure at this moment he is only thinking
how he would cut my throat if he could get hold of me."
"You must have offended him then very greatly."
"Oh, mortally! I said everything I possibly could to offend him. But
then he would have been here still had I not done so. There was no other
way to get rid of him,--or indeed to make him believe that I was in
earnest."
"I am sorry that you should have been so ungracious."
"Of course I am ungracious. But how can you stand bandying compliments
with a man when it is your object to make him know the very truth that
is in you? It was your fault, papa. You ought to have understood how
very impossible it is that I should marry Mr. Barry."