Part 9 (2/2)
”How can you interfere?”
”Then you must: you are his guardian.”
”I shall not be his guardian by the autumn. Dent has arranged this perfectly, mother, as he always arranges everything.”
She returned to her point. ”But he _must_ be kept from making such a mistake! Talk to him as a man. Advise him, show him that he will tie a millstone around his neck, ruin his whole life. I am willing to leave myself out and to forget what is due me, what is due you, what is due the memory of his father and of my father: for his own sake he must not marry this girl.”
He shook his head slowly. ”It is settled, mother,” he added consolingly, ”and I have so much confidence in Dent that I believe what he says: we shall be proud of her when we know her.”
She sat awhile in despair. Then she said with fresh access of conviction: ”This is what comes of so much science: it always tends to make a man common in his social tastes. You need not smile at me in that pitying way, for it is true: it destroys aristocratic feeling; and there is more need of aristocratic feeling in a democracy than anywhere else: because it is the only thing that can be aristocratic. That is what science has done for Dent! And this girl I--the public school has tried to make her uncommon, and the Girl's College has attempted, to make her more uncommon; and now I suppose she actually thinks she _is_ uncommon: otherwise she would never have imagined that she could marry a son of mine. Smile on, I know I amuse you! You think I am not abreast of the times. I am glad I am not. I prefer my own. Dent should have studied for the church--with his love of books, and his splendid mind, and his grave, beautiful character. Then he would never have thought of marrying beneath him socially; he would have realized that if he did, he could never rise. Once in the church and with the right kind of wife, he might some day have become a bishop: I have always wanted a bishop in the family. But he set his heart upon a professors.h.i.+p, and I suppose a professor does not have to be particular about whom he marries.”
”A professor has to be particular only to please himself--and the woman. His choice is not regulated by salaries and congregations.”
She returned to her point: ”You breed fine cattle and fine sheep, and you try to improve the strain of your setters. You know how you do it. What right has Dent to injure his children in the race for life by giving them an inferior mother? Are not children to be as much regarded in their rights of descent as rams and poodles?”
”You forget that the first families in all civilizations have kept themselves alive and at the summit by intermarriage with good, clean, rich blood of people whom they have considered beneath them.”
”But certainly my family is not among these. It is certainly alive and it is certainly not dying out. I cannot discuss the subject with you, if you once begin that argument. Are you going to call on her?”
”Certainly. It was Dent's wish and it is right that I should.”
”Then I think I shall go with you, Rowan. Dent said she was coming to see me; but I think I should rather go to see her. Whenever I wished to leave, I could get away, but if she came here, I couldn't.”
”When should you like to go?”
”Oh, don't hurry me! I shall need time--a great deal of time! Do you suppose they have a parlor? I am afraid I shall not s.h.i.+ne in the kitchen in comparison with the tins.”
She had a wry face; then her brow cleared and she added with relief:
”But I must put this whole trouble out of my mind at present! It is too close to me, I cannot even see it. I shall call on the girl with you and then I shall talk quietly with Dent. Until then I must try to forget it. Besides, I got up this morning with something else on my mind. It is not Dent's unwisdom that distresses me.”
Her tone indicated that she had pa.s.sed to a more important topic.
If any one had told her that her sons were not equally dear, the wound of such injustice would never have healed. In all that she could do for both there had never been maternal discrimination; but the heart of a woman cannot help feeling things that the heart of a mother does not; and she discriminated as a woman. This was evident now as she waived her young son's affairs.
”It is not Dent that I have been thinking of this morning,” she repeated. ”Why is it not you that come to tell me of your engagement? Why have you not set Dent an example as to the kind of woman he ought to marry? How many more years must he and I wait?”
They were seated opposite each other. He was ready for riding out on the farm, his hat on his crossed knees, gloves and whip in hand.
Her heart yearned over him as he pulled at his gloves, his head dropped forward so that his face was hidden.
”Now that the subject has come up in this unexpected way, I want to tell you how long I have wished to see you married. I have never spoken because my idea is that a mother should not advise unless she believes it necessary. And in your case it has not been necessary. I have known your choice, and long before it became yours, it became mine. She is my ideal among them all. I know women, Rowan, and I know she is worthy of you and I could not say more. She is-high-minded and that quality is so rare in either s.e.x. Without it what is any wife worth to a high-minded man? And I have watched her. With all her pride and modesty I have discovered her secret--she loves you. Then why have you waited?
Why do you still wait?”
He did not answer and she continued with deeper feeling:
”Life is so uncertain to all of us and of course to me! I want to see you wedded to her, see her brought here as mistress of this house, and live to hear the laughter of your children.” She finished with solemn emotion: ”It has been my prayer, Rowan.”
She became silent with her recollections of her own early life for a moment and then resumed:
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