Part 26 (2/2)

Accordingly we all entered the drawing-room which was furnished _a la_ Maple. It was a large room, and there were a great many tables about, and I wondered how stout Mrs. Fanning could cross the room without knocking over one or two. She looked round her with admiration.

”It's amazing the taste you have,” she said, gazing at her son as if he were a sort of demiG.o.d. He put her into a comfortable chair by the fire, and then he and I began to do the house. Was there ever such a dreadful business? We began at the attics, and we thoroughly explored room after room. I did not mind that. As long as I could keep Albert Fanning off dangerous ground I was quite ready to talk to him. I was ready to poke at the mattresses on the new beds, and to admire the chain springs, and to examine the ventilators in the walls of every single room. I said ”Yes” to all his remarks, and he evidently thought he was making a most favourable impression. We took a long time going over the house, but I did not mind that, for Mr. Fanning was in his element, and was so pleased with his own consummate common sense and his own skill in getting the right things into the right corners, and in showing me what a mind he had for contriving and for making money go as far as possible, that I allowed him to talk to his heart's content. The brougham must soon be ordered again, and we must get back to town, and the awful time would be at an end. But when at last even the kitchens had been inspected, and the action of the new range explained to me, Albert said that he must now show me the grounds.

There was no escaping this infliction, and accordingly into the grounds we went.

These were fairly s.p.a.cious. There was a large fruit garden, and a kitchen garden behind it, and Albert Fanning told me exactly what he was going to plant in the kitchen garden in the spring--a certain bed in particular was to be devoted to spring onions. He told me that he hated salad without a good dash of onion in it, and as he spoke he looked at me as much as to say, ”Don't you ever give me salad without onion,” and I began to feel the queerest sensation, as if I was being mastered, creeping over me. I wondered if the man really intended to take me from the garden to the church, where the priest would be waiting to perform the ceremony which would tie us together for life.

The whole proceeding was most extraordinary, but just at the crucial moment, just when I was feeling that I could bear things no longer, I heard Mrs. Fanning's cheery voice. How I loved the old lady at that moment!

”Albert! Albert!” she called out, ”the tea is cooling. I don't approve of tea being drawn too long, and it has been in the teapot for ten minutes. Come in this minute, you naughty young folks, come in and enjoy your tea.”

”I am coming,” I answered, ”I am very hungry and thirsty.”

”Are you?” said Mr. Fanning, looking at me. ”Coming, mother, coming.”

I turned to run after the old lady, but he suddenly put out his hand and caught one of mine, I pulled it away from him.

”Don't,” I said.

”Don't!” he replied; ”but I certainly shall. I mean often to touch you in the future, so what does it matter my taking your hand now. I hope to have you near me all day long and every day in the future. You must have guessed why I brought you out here.”

”I have guessed nothing, except that I am thirsty and want my tea,” I replied. ”I cannot talk to you any longer.”

”Oh yes, you can,” he replied, ”and you don't stir from here until I have had my say. You thought to escape me that time in the drawing-room a few weeks back, but you won't now. Don't be angry; don't look so frightened. I mean well, I mean--I cannot tell you what I _quite_ mean when I look at you, but there, you like the house?”

”Yes,” I said, ”very well.”

”Very well indeed; let me tell you, Miss Wickham, there isn't a more comfortable house nor a better furnished house, nor a better paid-for house in the length and breadth of the county. And you like these gardens, eh?”

”Certainly,” I said.

”I thought so. Well, now, the fruit garden, and the kitchen garden, and the pleasure garden, and the house, and the furniture, and the master of the house are all at your disposal. There! I have spoken.

You are the one I am wis.h.i.+ng to wed; you are the one I intend to wed.

I am wanting you, and I mean to have you for better, for worse. I have not the slightest doubt that you have faults, but I am willing to run the risk of finding them out; and I have no doubt that I have faults too, but I do not think that they are too prominent, and, at any rate, I am a real, downright son of Britain, an honest, good-hearted, well-meaning man. I believe in the roast beef of Old England and the beer of Old England, and the ways of Old England, and I want an English girl like yourself to be my wife, and I will treat you well, my dear, and love you well--yes, I will love you right well.”

Here his voice broke, and a pathetic look came into his eyes, and I turned away more embarra.s.sed, and more distressed than ever I was in my life.

”You will have all that heart can desire, little girl, and your poor, delicate mother, shall come and live with you in this house; and she and my mother can have a sitting-room between them. We shall be a happy quartette, and you shall come to me as soon as ever you like, the sooner the better. Now you need not give me your answer yet. We know, of course, what it will be; it is a great chance for you, and I am not denying it, but come and enjoy your tea.”

”But I must and will give you my answer now,” I replied. ”How can you for a single moment imagine that I can seriously consider your offer?

It is kind of you; yes, it is kind of any man to give his whole heart to a girl; and, I believe, you are sincere, but I can only give you one answer, Mr. Fanning.”

”And that?” he said.

”It is quite--quite absolutely impossible! I could never love you; I could never, never marry you. I am sorry, of course, but I have nothing--nothing more to say.”

”You mean,” said Albert Fanning, turning pale, and a queer, half angry, half wild look coming and going on his face, ”that you _refuse_ me--me, and my house, and my brougham, and my gardens, and my paid-for furniture! Is it true?”

”I refuse you, and all that you want to confer upon me,” I answered.

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