Part 4 (1/2)
”Now, don't be sarcastic about Morris, uncle; I'd rather you went on abusing dad's window.”
”Certainly not, my dear, if it displeases you. But may I ask why he is to be considered sacred?”
”Why?” she answered, and a genuine note crept into her bantering voice.
”Because he is one of the few men worth anything whom I ever chanced to meet--except dad there and----”
”Spare me,” cut in the Colonel, with admirable skill, for well he knew that his name was not upon the lady's lips. ”But would it be impertinent to inquire what it is that const.i.tutes Morris's preeminent excellence in your eyes?”
”Of course not; only it is three things, not one. First, he works harder than any man I know, and I think men who work adorable, because I am so lazy myself. Secondly, he thinks a great deal, and very few people do that to any purpose. Thirdly, I never feel inclined to go to sleep when he takes me in to dinner. Oh! you may laugh if you like, but ask dad what happened to me last month with that wretched old member of the Government, and before the sweets, too!”
”Please, please,” put in Mr. Porson, turning pink under pressure of some painful recollection. ”If you have finished sparring with your uncle, isn't there any tea, Mary?”
”I believe so,” she said, relapsing into a state of bland indifference.
”I'll go and see. If I don't come back, you'll know it is there,” and Mary pa.s.sed through the door with that indolent, graceful walk which no one could mistake who once had seen her.
Both her father and her uncle looked after her with admiration. Mr.
Porson admired her because the man or woman who dared to meet that domestic tyrant his brother-in-law in single combat, and could issue unconquered from the doubtful fray, was indeed worthy to be honoured.
Colonel Monk for his part hastened to do homage to a very pretty and charming young lady, one, moreover, who was not in the least afraid of him.
Mary had gone, and the air from the offending window, which was so constructed as to let in a maximum of draught, banged the door behind her. The two men looked at each other. A thought was in the mind of each; but the Colonel, trained by long experience, and wise in his generation, waited for Mr. Porson to speak. Many and many a time in the after days did he find reason to congratulate himself upon this superb reticence--for there are occasions when discretion can amount almost to the height of genius. Under their relative circ.u.mstances, if it had been he who first suggested this alliance, he and his family must have remained at the gravest disadvantage, and as for stipulations, well, he could have made none. But as it chanced it was from poor Porson's lips that the suggestion came.
Mr. Porson cleared this throat--once, twice, thrice. At the third rasp, the Colonel became very attentive. He remembered that his brother-in-law had done exactly the same thing at the very apex of a long-departed crisis; indeed, just before he offered spontaneously to take over the mortgages on the Abbey estate.
”You were talking, Colonel,” he began, ”when Mary came in,” and he paused.
”I daresay,” replied the Colonel indifferently, fixing a contemptuous glance upon some stone mullions of atrocious design.
”About Morris marrying?”
”Oh, yes, so I was! Well?”
”Well--she seems to like him. I know she does indeed. She never talks of any other young man.”
”She? Who?”
”My daughter, Mary; and--so--why shouldn't they--you know?”
”Really, John, I must ask you to be a little more explicit. It's no good your addressing me in your business ciphers.”
”Well--I mean--why shouldn't he marry her? Morris marry Mary? Is that plain enough?” he asked in desperation.
For a moment a mist gathered before the Colonel's eyes. Here was salvation indeed, if only it could be brought about. Oh! if only it could be brought about.
But the dark eyes never changed, nor did a muscle move upon that pale, commanding countenance.
”Morris marry Mary,” he repeated, dwelling on the alliterative words as though to convince himself that he had heard them aright. ”That is a very strange proposition, my dear John, and sudden, too. Why, they are first cousins, and for that reason, I suppose, the thing never occurred to me--till last night,” he added to himself.
”Yes, I know, Colonel; but I am not certain that this first cousin business isn't a bit exaggerated. The returns of the asylums seem to show it, and I know my doctor, Sir Henry Andrews, says it's nonsense.