Part 15 (1/2)

”Certainly!”

”And you cultivate social relations with Farnaby and family, notwithstanding?”

”I have motives for being friendly with them, which--which I haven't had time to explain to you yet.”

Rufus stretched out his long legs on the floor, and fixed his shrewd grave eyes steadily on Amelius.

”My friend,” he said, quietly, ”in respect of personal appearance and pleasing elasticity of spirits, I find you altered for the worse, I do.

It may be Liver, or it may be Love. I reckon, now I think of it, you're too young yet for Liver. It's the brown miss--that's what 'tis. I hate that girl, sir, by instinct.”

”A nice way of talking of a young lady you never saw!” Amelius broke out.

Rufus smiled grimly. ”Go ahead!” he said. ”If you can get vent in quarrelling with me, go ahead, my son.”

He looked round the room again, with his hands in his pockets, whistling. Descending to the table in due course of time, his quick eye detected a photograph placed on the open writing desk which Amelius had been using earlier in the day. Before it was possible to stop him, the photograph was in his hand. ”I believe I've got her likeness,” he announced. ”I do a.s.sure you I take pleasure in making her acquaintance in this sort of way. Well, now, I declare she's a columnar creature!

Yes, sir; I do justice to your native produce--your fine fleshy beef-fed English girl. But I tell you this: after a child or two, that sort runs to fat, and you find you have married more of her than you bargained for. To what lengths may you have proceeded, Amelius, with this splendid and spanking person?”

Amelius was just on the verge of taking offence. ”Speak of her respectfully,” he said, ”if you expect me to answer you.”

Rufus stared in astonishment. ”I'm paying her all manner of compliments,” he protested, ”and you're not satisfied yet. My friend, I still find something about you, on this occasion, which reminds me of meat cut against the grain. You're almost nasty--you are! The air of London, I reckon, isn't at all the thing for you. Well, it don't matter to me; I like you. Afloat or ash.o.r.e, I like you. Do you want to know what I should do, in your place, if I found myself steering a little too nigh to the brown miss? I should--well, to put it in one word, I should scatter. Where's the harm, I'll ask you, if you try another girl or two, before you make your mind up. I shall be proud to introduce you to our slim and snaky sort at Coolspring. Yes. I mean what I say; and I'll go back with you across the pond.” Referring in this disrespectful manner to the Atlantic Ocean, Rufus offered his hand in token of unalterable devotion and goodwill.

Who could resist such a man as this? Amelius, always in extremes, wrung his hand, with an impetuous sense of shame. ”I've been sulky,” he said, ”I've been rude, I ought to be ashamed of myself--and I am. There's only one excuse for me, Rufus. I love her with all my heart and soul; and I'm engaged to be married to her. And yet, if you understand my way of putting it, I'm--in short, I'm in a mess.”

With this characteristic preface, he described his position as exactly as he could; having due regard to the necessary reserve on the subject of Mrs. Farnaby. Rufus listened, with the closest attention, from beginning to end; making no attempt to disguise the unfavourable impression which the announcement of the marriage-engagement had made on him. When he spoke next, instead of looking at Amelius as usual, he held his head down, and looked gloomily at his boots.

”Well,” he said, ”you've gone ahead this time, and that's a fact. She didn't raise any difficulties that a man could ride off on--did she?”

”She was all that was sweet and kind!” Amelius answered, with enthusiasm.

”She was all that was sweet and kind,” Rufus absently repeated, still intent on the solid spectacle of his own boots. ”And how about uncle Farnaby? Perhaps he's sweet and kind likewise, or perhaps he cuts up rough? Possible--is it not, sir?”

”I don't know; I haven't spoken to him yet.”

Rufus suddenly looked up. A faint gleam of hope irradiated his long lank face. ”Mercy be praised! there's a last chance for you,” he remarked.

”Uncle Farnaby may say No.”

”It doesn't matter what he says,” Amelius rejoined. ”She's old enough to choose for herself, he can't stop the marriage.”

Rufus lifted one wiry yellow forefinger, in a state of perpendicular protest. ”He cannot stop the marriage,” the sagacious New Englander admitted; ”but he can stop the money, my son. Find out how you stand with him before another day is over your head.”

”I can't go to him this evening.” said Amelius; ”he dines out.”

”Where is he now?”

”At his place of business.”

”Fix him at his place of business. Right away!” cried Rufus, springing with sudden energy to his feet.

”I don't think he would like it,” Amelius objected. ”He's not a very pleasant fellow, anywhere; but he's particularly disagreeable at his place of business.”