Captain Garth's second _petit verre_ of cognac almost dropped from
his fingers on its way to his lips in his astonishment at his young
friend's proposition.
"Laline," he repeated, blankly--"you marry Laline? Why, man, she's a
child--a baby!"
"She is sixteen," Armstrong repeated, coolly, "and she'd look older if
you dressed her properly. French girls of all classes marry at sixteen."
"So do English-factory-hands!" Garth broke in, bluntly. "But the
daughters of English gentlemen haven't left the schoolroom at that age."
"Your daughter has. What are you making of her? A household
drudge--nothing more or less! It's no good coming any of the parental
love-business with me, Garth. I've got to marry apparently, and my wife
must be a pretty, young English girl of blameless reputation, connected
with the clergy, and all that sort of thing. Well, from what you tell
me of your little girl, her mother brought her up in a way that would
be quite after my old psalm-singing uncle's heart. I don't pretend to
be in love with her; but I've never seen a prettier or sweeter face
than hers; and, even if she can't be a wife or a companion to me at
first, we shall no doubt grow as fond of each other in due time as most
married people. She has just the face and voice to get round Uncle
Alec. I'm hanged if I can understand how she comes to be your daughter?
She's not in the least like you, or, you may take my word for it, I
shouldn't want to marry her! Of course I don't expect you to agree to
anything that isn't to your own advantage. Your daughter can't be worse
off than she is here; and I'm ready to offer you compensation for the
loss of her services. Once she's married me, she's got to be an orphan,
and you've got to be a dead clergyman; but, as you'll be paid something
for keeping quiet, that won't matter."
Captain Garth glanced at his proposed son-in-law under his white
eyebrows, and his expression was by no means friendly. A lifetime of
snubs and shifts had not succeeded in destroying the man's conceit
and self-importance, and only the thought of old Alexander Wallace's
millions checked his desire to resent Mr. Armstrong's studied insolence
of tone and words. Even now he would at once have rejected the young
man's proposal from sheer personal dislike but for the fact that
the little household in Rue Planché was financially in a very bad
way indeed, and that the precarious living which the self-styled
captain earned as bookmaker, gambler, speculator in antiques and
curios, cicerone, and money-lender, had of late brought in less and
less grist to the mill. Yet somewhere in Randolph Garth's tortuous
mind there lurked an appreciation for what is good and pure, and he
heartily wished that some other man's daughter and not his own could be
sacrificed to Wallace Armstrong.
For it would be a sacrifice. Garth knew it, with his experience of the
seamy side of life and the worst qualities of his fellow-men. He could
read it in the fierceness and sullenness of Armstrong's expression, in
the puffiness of the skin under his eyes and their bloodshot whites, in
the shakiness of the strong brown hand which raised the glass to his
lips, and in the lips themselves, over-full and sensual in outline,
perpetually curving in an ugly sneer.
As if to emphasise the contrast between her and the man who had asked
her hand in marriage, Laline herself stopped on the opposite side
of the street and began talking and laughing with a group of French
children, comprising the little Bertins and others of her neighbours.
The little white-headed, brown-faced, toddling things pulled at her
hands; evidently they all wished her to go down again to the sands
with them, and she was as plainly pleading her household duties as her
excuse.
"_Voyons donc_, Laline! _Viens avec nous!_"
Laline laughed and shook her head. Her small, regular teeth shone white
as a child's between her parted red lips. The two Frenchmen beneath the
_café_ awning sat up, twirled their moustaches, and wasted many an ogle
over the road, tributes to her beauty which Laline was too shortsighted
to see, and which, if she had seen them, would have filled her with
wonder.
The sight of his daughter seemed to trouble Garth's conscience. It was
almost as though he heard the voice of her dead mother in his ear,
begging him to remember his trust and to guard Laline against such men
as the one who sat by his side.
"It is nonsense," he muttered, suddenly, "to talk of marrying a child
like that! It is not as if she were even precocious--she has scarcely
left off playing with her dolls. In a year or two's time it will be
quite early enough for her to think of sweethearts. Besides, she
wouldn't dream of leaving me and her home for a stranger; and the days
of a stern parent coercing his child into a hated marriage are over, if
they ever existed."
"Will you let me try and persuade her?" suggested Armstrong. "You don't
see the best side of me; but then I have an old grudge against you. And
I can be very nice when I choose."
Before Garth could answer, Armstrong had risen and crossed the sunny
street to where the girl stood talking to the laughing children. His
long shadow fell across Laline's face as she stooped to kiss the
youngest Bertin, and a sudden silence came upon the erstwhile animated
group.
"I wanted to know, Miss Garth," Wallace began, in a tone of genial
kindness, "whether you and your young friends would like some sweets
and pastry, because I am going to buy some myself at a certain
fascinating shop at the corner of the Rue de la Paix, and, as I am
certain to make myself ill if I go in all by myself, I propose that you
should all come with me and protect me."
The children's shyness vanished at such a proposition; and very soon
Captain Garth, from his seat before the _café_, saw a little procession
pass down towards the quay; in front, two little Bertin boys and
Maggie Royston, aged eleven, from No. 15, Rue Planché, and, a little
way behind them, Laline, leading two smaller Bertins by the hand,
while a younger Royston trotted contentedly by the side of the big
shabbily-dressed young man with the blue eyes and the black moustache,
and grasped his fingers confidingly.
After all, the Captain told himself, there must be a lot of good in
a man so fond of children as Armstrong appeared to be. He was still
little more than a boy, and would probably settle down now that he was
given another chance, and become quite a respectable member of society.
Reformed rakes proverbially make the best husbands; and it was not so
easy nowadays to marry a girl without a penny to her name that she
could afford to be over-particular as to the character of her suitors.
Besides, what was there against Armstrong? A little over-partiality
for cards, for drink, and for fast society, a little mistake as to a
certain signature on a certain cheque; mere trifles these, such as
could easily be lived down and forgotten by any man with a decent
balance at his banker's. Laline would be kindly treated--Alexander
Wallace would see to that. The old gentleman was clearly longing
to fold a daughter to his heart; and, once Laline was installed in
his house, there was little doubt but that she would soon become
indispensable to his happiness.
"She's a good girl, an excellent little girl," the Captain said to
himself; "and, 'pon my soul, I think it's the best thing I can do for
her! She seems quite to take to the fellow. He's a gentleman, and may
some day be worth his twenty-five thousand a year. She's getting too
tall and too pretty for those childish pinafore frocks, and I can't
afford to dress her well. I wonder how much he means to offer me?
He's deucedly hard and sharp for a young man; but, if I let him marry
Laline, he couldn't surely think of putting me off with less than
three pounds a week, to be raised to two hundred a year later on. I
must have it all down in black and white, though, for it's my belief
he's a slippery customer. Curse his impudent airs!"
From which soliloquy it may be gathered that Captain Garth was
gradually reconciling himself to the prospect of parting from his only
child.
He did not attempt to join his daughter and her companions. If
Armstrong really could contrive to impress Laline favourably, he should
have a fair field and no favour; and, with this idea in his mind, the
Captain presently betook himself to his favourite billiard-table in
the town, where he talked largely to his customary acquaintances of
his young friend Wallace Armstrong, godson and favourite nephew of old
Alexander Wallace the banker, and certain heir to his vast fortune;
and, on the strength of Armstrong's future wealth, he succeeded in
borrowing five francs from one of the _habitués_ of the table.
At a quarter to seven it occurred to him that Wallace Armstrong must
stand him a dinner out of his uncle's cheque; so, putting down his
billiard-cue, he thrust his fingers jauntily through his white curls
before a looking-glass, set his hat a little on one side, and sallied
forth on his young friend's track. He judged that Laline and the
children had probably gone home, and was therefore greatly surprised
at hearing his own name cried from a _fiacre_ which was being driven
through the principal street of the town with the rapid and zigzag
course of the Gallic cabman. Within were seated Wallace Armstrong and
Laline in the places of honour, and on Wallace's knee was placed the
youngest Mademoiselle Bertin, hugging a new doll and eating sweets from
a paper bag. Three more children with their backs to the horses, and
the eldest Bertin boy on the box, all looked equally hot, tired, and
happy, and laden with sweets and toys, while Laline's eyes shone like
stars in her excitement and delight.
The toys and sweets had not cost very much, and even the enchanting
drive was not an unreasonably-priced item. But this good fairy of a
Mr. Armstrong had confided to Laline that he owed her father a great
deal of money, and had been by him authorised to spend a part of it
upon her. As a result, she was wearing her first beautiful shop-made
hat of black open-work straw and black lace, with a wreath of small,
pink rosebuds outlining her fresh, young face, and other rosebuds
decorating the crown. Fifteen francs had been the price of this triumph
of millinery; and in all her life afterwards Laline never again derived
from any clothes the absolute joy the wearing of this first smart hat
afforded her.
Sweets and cakes, too, she loved, as do all girls of sixteen; and,
most of all, she enjoyed having her small friends about her to
participate in these unexpected favours of fortune. Her frank gratitude
made Wallace wince more than once; and, when she thanked him for his
goodness, he interrupted her almost roughly.
"Don't, Miss Garth, please! I am not good, and I don't like it!"
At his tone a startled look came into her eyes, and, seeing it, he bent
towards her, speaking very gently.
"The fact is, I am very fond of children--small ones like these, and
grown-up ones like you."
"Oh, but you wouldn't call me grown up, even in this hat, would you?"
she asked, with a happy little laugh. "I think I'm a tiresome sort of
age--neither the one thing nor the other."
"And which would you rather be?"
"A child, if I could be a child as I used to be. I was so happy! But
that seems a long time ago. I shouldn't like to be a child again as
things are now!"
He noted the sadness of her tone, and instantly divined that she was
thinking with regret of the old days when her mother was still alive.
But he was too tactful to try to seek her confidence as yet.
"I suppose you don't often have treats, since such simple things please
you?" he presently suggested.
"Oh, never!" she answered, promptly. "You see papa has to work very
hard, and cannot afford it. But this has been a most beautiful
birthday; and, thanks to you, Mr. Armstrong, I feel a regular
Cinderella, and you are the good fairy."
"I would rather be the prince."
"Would you?"
"Yes. You see he married Cinderella."
His tone was so entirely playful that Laline attached no importance
to his words, though she remembered them long afterwards. Her freedom
from self-consciousness interested and pleased him. He began to feel
regretful that he could not wait until this sweet, childish frankness
developed into a maturer charm. This was a school-girl to pet and
caress, not a woman to love as a wife. But, half-fledged bird as
she was, she was yet the prettiest thing he had ever seen; and to
Armstrong, who had no domestic tastes, the idea of an unworldly,
unsuspicious little creature, who would obey implicitly, exact nothing
in return, and contentedly spend her time alone with her needlework by
her own fireside, was more agreeable than the prospect of the love and
companionship of the wisest and the most helpful and devoted wife ever
sent by Heaven to bless a lonely man's career.