Part 8 (1/2)
”I would gladly,” said he; ”but your father would never consent that a Faringfield--”
”Well, one need not always be a Faringfield,” she replied, looking him straight in the face, with a kind of challenge in her voice and eyes.
”Why--perhaps not,” said Phil, for the mere sake of agreeing, and utterly at a loss as to her meaning.
”You don't understand,” says she. ”A father's authority over his daughter ceases one day.”
”Ay, no doubt,” says Phil; ”when she becomes of legal age. But even then, without her father's consent--”
”Why, now,” she interrupted, ”suppose her father's authority over her pa.s.sed to somebody else; somebody of her father's own preference; somebody that her father already knew was going to England: could her father forbid his taking her?”
”But, 'tis impossible,” replied mystified Phil. ”To whom in the world would your father pa.s.s his authority over you? He is hale and hearty; there's not the least occasion for a guardian.”
”Why, fathers _do_, you know.”
”Upon my soul, I don't see--”
”I vow you don't! You are the blindest fellow! Didn't Polly Livingstone's father give up his authority over her the other day--to Mr. Ludlow?”
”Certainly, to her husband.”
”Well!”
”Margaret--do you mean--? But you can't mean _that_?” Phil had not the voice to say more, emerging so suddenly from the clouds of puzzlement to the yet uncertain suns.h.i.+ne of joy.
”Why shouldn't I mean that?” says she, with the prettiest laugh, which made her bold behaviour seem the most natural, feminine act imaginable. ”Am I not good enough for you?”
”Madge! You're not joking, are you?” He caught her hands, and gazed with still dubious rapture at her across the fence.
My sensations may easily be imagined. But by the time she had a.s.sured him she was perfectly in earnest, I had taught myself to act the man; and so I said, playfully:
”Such a contract, though 'tis made before witnesses, surely ought to be sealed.”
Philip took my hint; and he and Margaret laughed, and stretched arms across the paling tops; and I lost sight of their faces. I sought refuge in turning to f.a.n.n.y, who was nearer to me than they were. To my surprise, she was watching me with the most kindly, pitying face in the world. Who would have thought she had known my heart regarding her sister?
”Poor Bert!” she murmured gently, scarce for my hearing.
And I, who had felt very solitary the moment before, now seemed not quite so lonely; and I continued to look into the soft, compa.s.sionate eyes of f.a.n.n.y, so steadily that in a moment, with the sweetest of blushes, she lowered them to the roses in her hand.
CHAPTER V.
_We Hear Startling News, Which Brings about a Family ”Scene”._
I have characterised Margaret's behaviour in the matter of this marriage proposal as forward; though I have admitted that it scarce looked so, so graceful and womanlike was her manner of carrying it off, which had in it nothing worse than the privileged air of a spoiled beauty. Now that writing of it has set me thinking of it, I see that 'twas a more natural act than it appears in the cold recital.
For years she had been our queen, and Phil and I her humble subjects, and the making of the overtures appeared as proper in her, as it would have seemed presumption in either of us. And over Phil, from that bygone day when she had gone across the street to his rescue, she had a.s.sumed an air of authority, nay of proprietors.h.i.+p, that bade him wait upon her will ere ever he acted or spoke. And, again, though out of consideration for his rival he had been purposely silent while awaiting a sign from her, she had read his heart from the first. His every look and tone for years had been an unconscious act of wooing, and so when she brought matters to a point as she did, 'twas on her part not so much an overture as a consent. As for marriage proposal in general, all men with whom I have discussed it have confessed their own scenes thereof to have been, in the mere words, quite simple and unpoetical, whether enacted in confusion or in confidence; and to have been such as would not read at all finely in books.
The less easy ordeal awaited Philip, of asking her father. But he was glad this stood yet in his way, and that 'twas not easy; for 'twould make upon his courage that demand which every man's courage ought to undergo in such an affair, and which Margaret's conduct had precluded in his coming to an understanding with her.