Volume I Part 40 (1/2)
”And I remember, too, that he mentioned some wonderful Steinberger,--a cabinet wine, full two hundred years in wood!” chimed in papa.
I wished, dearest Kitty, that they could have entertained the subject-matter of the letter without these ”contingent remainders,” and not mix up my future fate with either wine or wild fowl; but they really were so carried away by the pleasures so peculiarly adapted to their own feelings that they at once said, and in a breath too, ”Write him word 'Yes,' by all means!”
”Do you mean for his offer of marriage, papa?” asked I, with struggling indignation.
”By George, I had forgotten all about that,” said he. ”We must deliberate a bit. Your mother, too, will expect to be consulted. Take the letter upstairs to her; or, better still, just say that I want to speak to her myself.”
As papa and mamma had not met nor spoken together since his return, I willingly embraced this opportunity of restoring them to intercourse with each other.
”Don't go away, Mary Anne,” said James, as I was about to seek my own room, for I dreaded being left alone, and exposed to his unfeeling banter; ”I want to speak to you.” This he said with a tone of kindness and interest which at once decided me to remain. He wore a look of seriousness, Kitty, that I have seldom, if ever, seen in his features, and spoke in a tone that, to my ears, was new from him.
”Let me be your friend, Mary Anne,” said he, ”and the better to be so, let me talk to you in all frankness and sincerity. If I say one single word that can hurt your feelings, put it down to the true account,--that I 'd rather do even such than suffer you to take the most eventful step in all your life without weighing every consequence of it Answer me, then, two or three questions that I shall ask you, but as truly and unreservedly as though you were at confession.”
I sat down beside him, and with my hand in his.
”Now, first of all, Mary Anne,” said he, ”do you love this Baron von Wolfenschafer?”
Who ever could answer such a question in one word, Kitty? How seldom does it occur in life that all the circ.u.mstances of any man's position respond to the ambitious imaginings of a girl's heart! He may be handsome, and yet poor; he may be rich, and yet low-born; intellectual, and yet his great gifts may be alloyed with infirmities of temper; he may be coldly natured, secret, self-contained, uncommunicative,--a hundred things that one does not like,--and yet, with all these drawbacks, what the world calls an ”excellent match.”
I believe very few people marry the person they wish to marry. I fancy that such instances are the rarest things imaginable. It is a question of compensation throughout,--you accept this, notwithstanding that; you put up with _that_, for the sake of this! Of course, dearest, I am rejecting here all belief in the ”greatest happiness principle” as a stupid fallacy, that only imposes upon elderly gentlemen when they marry their housekeeper. I speak of the considerations which weigh with a young girl who has moved in society, who knows its requirements, and can estimate all that contributes to what is called a ”position.”
This little digression of mine will give you to understand what was pa.s.sing in my mind as James sat waiting for my reply.
”So, then,” said he, at last, ”the question is not so easily answered as I suspected; and we will now pa.s.s to another one. Are your affections already engaged elsewhere?”
What could I say, Kitty, but ”No! decidedly not.” The embarra.s.sment, however, so natural to an inquiry like this, made me blush and seem confused; and James, perceiving it, said,--
”Poor fellow, it will be a sad blow to _him_, for I know he loved you.”
I tried to look astonished, angry, unconscious,--anything, in fact, which should convey displeasure and surprise together; but with that want of tact so essentially fraternal, he went on,--
”It was almost the last thing he said to me at parting, 'Don't let her forget me!'”
”May I venture to inquire,” said I, haughtily, ”of whom you are speaking?”
Simple and inoffensive as the words were, Kitty, they threw him into an ungovernable pa.s.sion; he stamped, and stormed, and swore fearfully. He called me ”a heartless coquette,” ”an unfeeling flirt,” and a variety of epithets equally mellifluous as well merited.
I drew my embroidery-frame before me quite calmly under this torrent of abuse, and worked away at my pattern of the ”Faithful Shepherd,” singing to myself all the time.
”Are you really as devoid of feeling as this, Mary Anne?” asked he.
”My dear brother,” said I, ”don't you wish excessively for a commission in a regiment of Hussars or Lancers? Well, as your great merits have not been recognized at the Horse Guards, would you feel justified in refusing an appointment to the Rifle Brigade?”
”What has all this to say to what we are discussing?” cried he, angrily.
”Just everything,” replied I; ”but as you cannot make the application, you must excuse _me_ if I decline the task also.”
”And so you mean to be a baroness?” said he, rudely.
I courtesied profoundly to him, and he flung out of the room with a bang that nearly brought the door down. In a moment after, mamma was in my arms, overcome with tenderness and emotion.