Part 50 (1/2)
”Ah, papa!” replied the young Creole, evidently unmoved by these promises of pomp and grandeur, ”I should not like it at all. I am sure I should not. I never cared for such things--you know I do not. They cannot give happiness--at least, not to me. I should never be happy away from our own home. What pleasure should I have in a great city?
None, I am sure; but quite the contrary. I should miss our grand mountains and woods--our beautiful trees with their gay, perfumed blossoms--our bright-winged birds with their sweet songs! Operas and b.a.l.l.s! I dislike b.a.l.l.s; and to be the belle of one--papa, I detest the word!”
Kate, at that moment, was thinking of the Smythje ball, and its disagreeable souvenirs--perhaps the more disagreeable that, oftener than once, during the night she had heard the phrase ”belle of the ball”
applied to one who had aided in the desolation of her heart.
”Oh! you will get over that dislike,” returned Mr Vaughan, ”once you go into fas.h.i.+onable society. Most young ladies do. There is no harm in b.a.l.l.s--after a girl gets married, and her husband goes with her, to take care of her--no harm whatever. But now, Kate,” continued the Custos, betraying a certain degree of nervous impatience, ”we must come to an understanding. Mr Smythje is waiting.”
”For what is he waiting, papa?”
”Tut! tut! child,” said Mr Vaughan, slightly irritated by his daughter's apparent incapacity to comprehend him. ”Surely you know!
Have I not as good as told you? Mr Smythje is going to--to offer you his heart and hand; and--and to ask yours in return. That is what he is waiting to do. You will not refuse him?--you cannot: you _must_ not!”
Loftus Vaughan would have spoken more gracefully had he omitted the last phrase. It had the sound of a command, with an implied threat; and, jarring upon the ear of her to whom it was addressed, might have roused a spirit of rebellion. It is just possible that such would have been its effect, had it been spoken on the evening before the Smythje ball, instead of the morning after.
The incidents occurring there had extinguished all hope in the breast of the young Creole that she should ever share happiness with Herbert Vaughan--had, at the same time, destroyed any thought of resistance to the will of her father; and, with a sort of apathetic despair, she submitted herself to the sacrifice which her father had determined she should make.
”I have told you the truth,” said she, gazing fixedly in his face, as if to impress him with the idleness of the arguments he had been using. ”I cannot give Mr Smythje my heart; I shall tell _him_ the same.”
”No--no!” hastily rejoined the importunate parent; ”you must do nothing of the kind. Give him your hand; and say nothing about your heart.
That you can bestow afterwards--when you are safe married.”
”Never, never!” said the young girl, sighing sadly as she spoke. ”I cannot practise that deception. No, father, not even for you. Mr Smythje shall know all; and, if he choose to accept my hand without my heart--”
”Then you promise to give him your hand?” interrupted the Custos, overjoyed at this hypothetical consent.
”It is _you_ who give it; not _I_, father.”
”Enough!” cried Mr Vaughan, hastily turning his eyes to the garden, as if to search for the insect-hunter. ”I _shall_ give it,” continued he, ”and this very minute. Mr Smythje!”
Smythje, standing close by the kiosk, on the _qui vive_ of expectation, promptly responded to the summons; and in two seconds of time appeared in the open doorway.
”Mr Smythje--sir!” said the Custos, putting on an air of pompous solemnity befitting the occasion; ”you have asked for my daughter's hand in marriage; and, sir, I am happy to inform you that she has consented to your becoming my son-in-law. I am proud of the honour, sir.”
Here Mr Vaughan paused to get breath.
”Aw, aw!” stammered Smythje. ”This is a gweat happiness--veway gweat, indeed! Quite unexpected!--aw, aw!--I am shure, Miss Vawn, I never dweamt such happiness was in store faw me.”
”Now, my children,” playfully interrupted the Custos--covering Smythje's embarra.s.sment by the interruption--”I have bestowed you upon one another; and, with my blessing, I leave you to yourselves.”
So saying, the gratified father stepped forth from the kiosk; and, wending his way along the walk, disappeared around an angle of the house.
We shall not intrude upon the lovers thus left alone, nor repeat a single word of what pa.s.sed between them.
Suffice it to say, that when Smythje came out of that same kiosk, his air was rather tranquil than triumphant. A portion of the shadow that had been observed upon Kate's countenance seemed to have been transmitted to his.
”Well?” anxiously inquired the intended father-in-law.
”Aw! all wight; betwothed. Yewy stw.a.n.ge, thaw--inexpwicably stw.a.n.ge!”