Part 42 (1/2)

”My child, I don't intend to try. I have been sight-seeing all the afternoon, interviewing cathedrals, and walls, and rows, and places, until I give you my word you might knock me down with a feather. If you have anything preying on your mind--and I see you have--out with it. Suspense is painful.”

He closed his eyes, and calmly awaited the news. It came--like a bolt from a bow.

”Charley, Sir Victor Catheron has proposed to Edith, and Edith has accepted him!”

Charley opened his eyes, and fixed them upon her--not the faintest trace of surprise or any other earthly emotion upon his fatigued face.

”Ah--and _that's_ your news! Poor child! After all your efforts, it's rather hard upon you. But if you expect me to be surprised, you do your only brother's penetration something less than justice. It has been an evident case of spoons--apparent to the dullest intellect from the first. I have long outlived the tender pa.s.sion myself, but in others I always regard it with a fatherly--nay--let me say, even grandfatherly interest. And so they are going to 'live and love together through many changing years,' as the poet says. Bless you,”

said Charley, lifting his hand over an imaginary pair of lovers at his feet--”bless you, my children, and be happy!”

And this was all! And she had thought he was in love with Edith himself! This was all--closing his eyes again as though sinking sweetly to sleep. It was too much for Trix.

”O Charley!” she burst forth, ”you _are_ such a fool!”

Mr. Stuart rose to his feet.

”Overpowered by the involuntary homage of this a.s.sembly, I rise to--”

”You're an idiot--there!” went on Trix; ”a lazy, stupid idiot! You're in love with Edith yourself, and you could have had her if you wished, for she likes you better than Sir Victor, and then Sir Victor might have proposed to me. But no--you must go dawdling about, prowling, and prancing, and let her slip through your fingers!”

”Prowling and prancing! Good Heaven, Trix! I ask you soberly, as man to man, did you ever see me prowl or prance in the whole course of my life?”

”Bah-h-h!” said Trix, with a perfect shake of scorn in the interjection. ”I've no patience with you! Get out of my room--do!”

Mr. Stuart, senior, was the only one who did _not_ take it quietly.

His bile rose at once.

”Edith! Edith Darrell! Fred Darrell's penniless daughter! Beatrix Stuart, have you let this young baronet slip through your fingers in this ridiculous way after all?”

”I never let him slip--he never was in my fingers,” retorted Trix, nearly crying. ”It's just my usual luck. I don't want him--he's a stupid noodle--that's what he is. Edith's better-looking than I am.

Any one can see that with half an eye, and when I was sick on that horrid s.h.i.+p, she had everything her own way. I did my best--yes I did, pa--and I think it's a little too hard to be scolded in this way, with my poor sprained ankle and everything!”

”Well, there, there, child!” exclaimed Mr. Stuart, testily, for he was fond of Trix; ”don't cry. There's as good fish in the sea as ever were caught. As to being better-looking than you, I don't believe a word of it. I never liked your dark complected women myself. You're the biggest and the best-looking young woman of the two, by George!” (Mr. Stuart's grammar was hardly up to the standard.) ”There's this young fellow, Hammond--his father's a lord--rich, too, if his grandfather _did_ make it cotton-spinning. Now, why can't you set your cap for _him_? When the old rooster dies, this young chap will be a lord himself, and a lord's better than a baronet, by George! Come downstairs, Trixy, and put on your stunningest gown, and see if you can't hook the military swell.”

Following these pious parental counsels, Miss Trix _did_ a.s.sume her ”stunningest” gown, and with the aid of her brother and a crutch, managed to reach the dining-room. There Lady Helena, pale and preoccupied, joined them. No allusion was made at dinner to _the_ topic--a visible restraint was upon all.

”Old lady don't half like it,” chuckled Stuart _pere_. ”And no wonder, by George! If it was Charley I shouldn't like it myself. I must speak to Charley after dinner--there's this Lady Gwendoline. He's got to marry the upper-crust too. Lady Gwendoline Stuart wouldn't sound bad, by George! I'm glad there's to be a baronet in the family, even if it isn't Trixy. A cousin's daughter's better than nothing.”

So in the first opportunity after dinner Mr. Stuart presented his congratulations as blandly as possible to the future Lady Catheron. In the next opportunity he attacked his son on the subject of Lady Gwendoline.

”Take example by your Cousin Edith, my boy,” said Mr. Stuart in a large voice, standing with his hands under his coat-tails. ”That girl's a credit to her father and family, by George! Look at the match _she's_ making without a rap to bless herself with. Now you've a fortune in prospective, young man, that would buy and sell half a dozen of these beggarly lordlings. You've youth and good looks, and good manners, or if you haven't you ought to have, and I say you shall marry a t.i.tle, by George! There's this Lady Gwendoline--she ain't rich, but she's an earl's daughter. Now what's to hinder your going for _her_?”

Charley looked up meekly from the depths of his chair.

”As you like it, governor. In all matters matrimonial I simply consider myself as non-existent. Only this, I _will_ premise--I am ready to marry her, but not to court her. As you truthfully observe, I have youth, good looks, and good manners, but in all things appertaining to love and courts.h.i.+p, I'm as ignorant as the child unborn. Matrimony is an ill no man can hope to escape--love-making _is_. As a prince in my own right, I claim that the wooing shall be done by deputy. There is her most gracious majesty, she popped the question to the late lamented Prince Consort. Could Lady Gwendoline have any more ill.u.s.trious example to follow? You settle the preliminaries. Let Lady Gwendoline do the proposing, and you may lead me any day you please as a lamb to the slaughter.”

With this reply, Mr. Stuart, senior, was forced for the present to be content and go on his way. Trix, overhearing, looked up with interest:

”_Would_ you marry her, Charley?”

”Certainly, Beatrix; haven't I said so? If a man _must_ marry, as well a Lady Gwendoline as any one else. As Dundreary says, 'One woman is as good as another, and a good deal better.'”