Part 62 (1/2)
”My dear father, I shall be most happy to obey in everything else, but in so serious a point as uniting myself for life, I think you must allow that a little discretionary power should be given to a son. All I can say is this, show me a young person who is eligible, and if I find that I can love her, I will not refuse to obey your wishes.”
”Well, sir, do as you please,” replied my father very angrily; ”but I think, sir, when I desire you to fall in love, it is your duty to obey.”
”Suppose I was to fall in love with a person you did not like, would you allow me to marry her?”
”Most certainly not, sir.”
”Then, sir, is it reasonable to expect me to marry without being in love?”
”I did not marry for love, sir.”
”No,” replied I, forgetting myself a little; ”and a pretty mess you made of it.”
”I did,” rejoined my father in a rage, ”by begetting an undutiful, good-for-nothing, graceless, insolent, ungrateful son.”
”My dear father, I was not aware that I had a brother.”
”I mean you, sir.”
”To prove to you how unjust you are, sir, and how little I deserve what you have called me, I now promise you to marry as soon as you wish.”
”Thank you, my boy, that's kind of you; but I will say that you are a comfort and a treasure to me, and I bless the day that brought you to my arms. Well, then, look about you.”
”No, sir, I leave it all to you; select the party, and I am willing to obey you.”
”My dear boy! Well, then, I'll talk the matter over with Mr Masterton to-morrow,” and the general shook me warmly by the hand.
The next day I picked up Harcourt, and proceeded to Park Street. A note from him had informed them of our intended visit, and other visitors had been denied. ”All has been explained, Cecilia,” said I, after the first greeting: ”I was very wrong, and very foolish.”
”And made me very miserable. I little thought that you, j.a.phet, would have made me cry so much; but I forgive you for it, as I would a thousand times as much more. Now sit down and tell us all that has happened since you left us.”
”Not yet, my dear Cecilia. You, as well as I, owe a reparation to poor Harcourt, whom, I think, you have treated cruelly. You were about to answer a question of vital moment when I broke in upon you, and you have since kept him in a state of cruel suspense for more than three weeks, refusing him an answer until he brought me into your presence. An hour of such suspense must be dreadful, and before we sit down, I wish everyone should feel comfortable and happy.”
”It was not altogether to stimulate Mr Harcourt to bring you back, which induced me to refuse to answer his question, j.a.phet. I considered that your return had rendered it necessary that it should be deferred until I saw you. I have not forgotten, j.a.phet, and never forget, what I was when you rescued me; and when I think what I might have been had you not saved me, I shudder at the bare idea. I have not forgotten how you risked, and nearly lost your life in Ireland for my sake--neither has my mother. We are beholden to you for all our present happiness, and I am eternally indebted to you for rescuing me from ignorance, poverty, and perhaps vice. You have been more, much more, than a father to me--more, much more, than a brother. I am, as it were, a creature of your own fas.h.i.+oning, and I owe to you that which I never can repay. When, then, you returned so unexpectedly, j.a.phet, I felt that you had a paramount right in my disposal, and I was glad that I had not replied to Mr Harcourt, as I wished first for your sanction and approval. I know all that has pa.s.sed between you, but I know not your real feelings towards Mr Harcourt: he acknowledges that he treated you very ill, and it was his sincere repentance of having so done, and his praise of you, which first won my favour. And now, j.a.phet, if you have still animosity against Mr Harcourt--if you--”
”Stop, my dear Fleta, I will answer all your questions at once.” I took Harcourt's hand, and placed it in hers. ”May G.o.d bless you both, and may you be happy!”
Cecilia threw her arms round me and wept; so did everybody else, I believe. It was lucky for Harcourt that I was in love with Susannah Temple. As soon as Cecilia had recovered a little, I kissed her, and pa.s.sed her over to her right owner, who led her to the sofa. Lady de Clare and I went out of the room on important business, and did not return for a quarter of an hour. When we returned, Cecilia went to her mother and embraced her, while Harcourt silently squeezed my hand. We then all sat down, and I gave them an account of all that had pa.s.sed during my second excursion--how I had nearly been hanged--how I had gone mad--how I had turned Quaker and apothecary--which they all agreed, with what had happened to me before, made up a very eventful history.
”And, j.a.phet, if it be a fair question about one so fair, was that Miss Temple who was at church with you yesterday?”
”It was.”
”Then, Cecilia, if ever she appears in the same circle, except in my eyes, your beauty will stand in some danger of being eclipsed.”
”How can you say except in your eyes, Mr Harcourt,” replied Cecilia, ”the very observation proves that it is eclipsed in your eyes, whatever it may be in those of others. Now, as a punishment, I have a great mind to order you away again, until you bring her face to face, that I may judge myself.”
”If I am again banished,” replied Harcourt, ”I shall have, a second time, to appeal to De Benyon to be able to come back again. He can produce her, I have no doubt.”
”And perhaps may, some of these days, Cecilia.”