Part 16 (2/2)

”I guess I'd better go and write my letter,” laughed Austin, ”before you flatter me into having an awfully swelled head. But I want to tell you first--I'm not a pauper any more. I've got twenty thousand dollars of my own--an old aunt has died and left most of her will in my favor. I've taken capital, and paid off all our debts--except what we owe to Sylvia.

She can give me that for a wedding present if she wants to. It's queer how much less sore I am about her money now that I've got a little of my own! There are one or two things that I want to buy for her, and I want to pay my own expenses and Peter's on a trip through western New York farms this summer. The rest I must invest as well as I can, to bring me in a little regular income. I'm sure, now that the farm and the family are perfectly free of debt, that I can earn enough to add quite a little to it every year. If Sylvia lost every cent she had, we could get married just the same, and though she'd have to live simply and quietly, she wouldn't suffer. I thought you would help me with investments--or take me to some other man who would.”

”I will, indeed--if you don't spend _all_ your time, as Sylvia fully intends you shall, making love to her. This changes the outlook wonderfully--clears the sky for both of you! It's bad for a man to be wholly dependent on his wife, and scarcely less bad for her. But there's another matter--”

”Yes, sir?”

”I don't want you to think I'm meddling--or underestimating Sylvia--”

”I won't think that, no matter what you say.”

”How long have you and she been in love with each other? Wasn't it pretty nearly a case of 'first sight'?”

Austin flushed. ”It certainly was with me,” he said quietly.

”And haven't you--quarrelled from the very beginning, too?”

The boy's flush deepened. ”Yes,” he said, still more quietly, ”we seemed to misunderstand--and antagonize each other.”

”Even to-day?”--Then as Austin did not answer, ”Now, tell me truthfully--whose fault is it?”

”The first time it was mine,” said Austin quickly. ”She made me clean up the yard--it needed it, too!--and I was furious! And I was rude--worse than rude--to her for a long time. But since then--”

”You needn't be afraid to say it was hers,” remarked Sylvia's uncle dryly. ”She wants an absolutely free hand, which isn't good for her to have--she's only twenty-two now, pretty as a picture, and still absolutely inexperienced about many things. She can't bear the thought of dictation, and you're both young and self-willed and proud, and very much in love--which makes the whole thing harder, and not easier, as I suppose you imagine. Now, some women, even in these days, aren't fit to live with until--figuratively speaking--they've been beaten over the head with a club. Sylvia's not that kind. She's not only got to respect her husband's wishes, she's got to _want_ to--and I believe you can make her want to! I think you're absolutely just--and unusually decent. If I didn't I shouldn't dare say all this to you--or let you have her at all, if I could help it. And besides being fair, you know how to express yourself--which some poor fellows unfortunately can't do--they're absolutely tongue-tied. In fact, you're perfectly capable of taking things into your own hands every way, and making a success of it--and if you don't before you're married, neither of you can possibly hope to be happy afterwards.”

”There's one thing you're overlooking, Mr. Stevens, which I should have had to tell you to-night, anyway.”

”What is it?”

”I'm not worthy of tying up Sylvia's shoes--much less of marrying her.

I've been straight as a string since she came to the farm, but before that--any one in Hamstead would tell you. It was town talk. I can't, knowing that, act as I would if I--didn't have that to remember. It's all very well to say that a man--_gets through_ with all that, absolutely--I've heard them say it dozens of times! But how can he be sure he is through--that the old sins won't crop up again? I love Sylvia more than--than I can possibly talk about, and I'm _afraid_--afraid that I won't be worthy of her, and that if she gave in absolutely--that I'd abuse my position.”

Uncle Mat glanced up quietly from his cigar. There were tears in the boy's eyes, his voice trembled. The older man, for a moment, felt powerless to speak before the penitent sincerity of Austin's confession, the humility of his bared soul.

”As long as you feel that way,” he said at last, a trifle huskily, ”I don't believe there's very much danger--for either of you. And remember this--lots of good people make mistakes, but if they're made of the right stuff, they don't make the same mistake but once. And sometimes they gain more than they lose from a slip-up. You certainly are made of the right stuff. Perhaps you will go through some experience like what you're dreading, though I can't foresee what form it will take. Meanwhile remember that Sylvia's been through an awful ordeal, and be very gentle with her, though you take the reins in your hands, as you should do. I'm thankful that she has such a bright prospect for happiness ahead of her now--but don't forget that you have a right to be happy, too. Don't be too grateful and too humble. She's done you some favors in the past, but she isn't doing you one now--she never would have accepted you if she hadn't been head over heels in love with you. Now write your letter, and then go to her. But to-morrow I want you all the morning--we must look into the acquaintances I spoke about, and the investments you spoke about. Meanwhile, the best of luck--you deserve it!”

Austin smoked thoughtfully for some minutes after Uncle Mat left him, and finally, roused from his brown study by the striking of a clock, went hurriedly to the desk and began his letter. Before he had finished, Sylvia's patience had quite given out, and she came and stood behind him, with her arm over his shoulder as he wrote. He acknowledged the caress with a nod and a smile, but went on writing, and did not speak until the letter was sealed and stamped.

”Sorry to have kept you waiting, dear. Now, then, what is it?”

”I've been thinking things over.”

”So I supposed. Well, what have you thought, honey?”

”First, that I want you to have these. I've been going through my jewelry lately, and have had Uncle Mat sell everything except a few little trinkets I had before I--was married, and the pearls he gave me then. In my sorting process, I came across these things that were my father's. I never offered them to--to--any one before. But I want you to wear them, if you will.”

<script>