During those three days I kept up a brisk fire of telegrams with old
Blenkinsopp in Chancery Lane; and at the end of them I came mournfully
to the conclusion that I must either give up Ruby or give up the twelve
hundred a year. If I had been a hero of romance I should have had no
difficulty at all in deciding the matter: I would have nobly refused the
money off-hand, counting it as mere dross compared with the loving heart
of a beautiful maiden. But unfortunately I am not a hero of romance; I
am only an ordinary graduate of an English university. Under these
circumstances, it did seem to me very hard that I must throw away twelve
hundred a year for a mere sentimental fancy. And yet, on the other hand,
not only did I hate the name myself, but I couldn't bear to impose it on
Ruby; and as to telling Ruby that I wouldn't have her, because I
preferred the money, that was clearly quite impossible. The more I
looked the thing in the face, the more certain it appeared that I must
relinquish my dream of wealth and go back (with Ruby) to my
schoolmastering and my paltry three hundred. After all, lots of other
fellows marry on that sum; and to say the truth, I positively shrank
myself from going through life under the ridiculous guise of an
Aikin-Payne.
The upshot of it all was that at the end of the three days, I took Ruby
a little walk alone among the olive gardens behind the shrubbery.
"Ruby," I said to her, falteringly, "you're the most fantastic,
self-willed, imperious little person I ever met with, and I want to make
just one more appeal to you. Won't you reconsider your decision, and
take me in spite of the surname?"
Ruby grubbed up a little weed with the point of her parasol, and looked
away from me steadfastly as she answered with her immovable and annoying
calmness, "No, Mr. Payne, I really can't reconsider the matter in any
way. It was you who took three days to make your mind up. Have you made
it up yet or not, pray?"
"I _have_ made it up, Ruby."
"And you mean----?" she said interrogatively, with a faint little tremor
in her voice which I had never before noticed, and which thrilled
through me with the ecstasy of a first discovery.
"And I mean," I answered, "to marry you, Ruby, if you will condescend to
take me, and let my Uncle Aikin's money go to Halifax. Can you manage,
Ruby, to be happy, as a poor schoolmaster's wife in a very tiny
cottage?"
To my joy and surprise, Ruby suddenly seized both my hands in hers,
kissed me twice of her own accord, and began to cry as if nothing could
stop her. "Then you do really and truly love me," she said through her
tears, holding fast to my hands all the time; "then you're really
willing to make this great sacrifice for me!"
"Ruby," I said, "my darling, don't excite yourself so. And indeed it
isn't a very great sacrifice either, for I hate the name so much I
hardly know whether I could ever have endured to bear it."
"You shan't bear it," Ruby cried, eagerly, now laughing and clapping her
hands above me. "You shan't bear it, and yet you shall have your Uncle
Aikin's money all the same for all that."
"Why, what on earth do you mean, Ruby?" I asked in amazement. "Surely,
my darling, you can't understand how strict the terms of the will
actually are. I'm afraid you have been deluding yourself into a belief
in some impossible compromise. But you must make your mind up to one
thing at once, that unless I call myself Aikin-Payne, you'll have to
live the rest of your life as a poor schoolmaster's wife. The
next-of-kin will be sharp enough in coming down upon the money."
Ruby looked at me and laughed and clapped her hands again. "But what
would you say, Mr. Payne," she said with a smile that dried up all her
tears, "what would you say if you heard that the next-of-kin was--who do
you think?--why me, sir, me, Ruby Estcourt?"
I could hardly believe my ears. "You, Ruby?" I cried in my astonishment.
"You! How do you know? Are you really sure of it?"
Ruby put a lawyer's letter into my hand, signed by a famous firm in the
city. "Read that," she said simply. I read it through, and saw in a
moment that what Ruby said was the plain truth of it.
"So you want to do your future husband out of the twelve hundred a
year!" I said, smiling and kissing her.
"No," Ruby answered, as she pressed my hand gently. "It shall be settled
on you, since I know you were ready to give it up for my sake. And there
shall be no more Aikin-Paynes henceforth and for ever."
There was never a prettier or more blushing bride than dear little Ruby
that day six weeks.
_THE TWO CARNEGIES._