Part 23 (2/2)
”Refused! A gentleman can always refuse an offer with dignity. Marmaduke was outrageous. George--a clergyman--owed his escape from actual violence to the interference of the woman, and to a timely representation that he had undertaken to bear the message in order to soften any angry feelings that it might give rise to. Marmaduke repeatedly applied foul language to his aunt and to her offer; and George with great difficulty dissuaded him from writing a most offensive letter to her. Julia was so hurt by this that she complained to Dora--Marmaduke's mother--who had up to that time been kept in ignorance of his doings; and now it is hard to say where the mischief will end.
Dora is overwhelmed by the revelation of the life her son is leading.
Marmaduke has consequently forfeited his father's countenance, which had to be extended to him so far as to allow of his occasional appearance at home, in order to keep Dora in the dark. Now that she is enlightened, of course there is an end of all that, and he is forbidden the house.”
”What a lot of mischief! Dear me!”
”So I said to Marian. Had she refused to go up the river with Marmaduke, as she should have done, all this would not have occurred. She will not see it in that light, but lays all the blame on her aunt Julia, whose offer fell somewhat short of her own notions of providing for the child's future.”
”How does Marmaduke stand with respect to money? I suppose his father has stopped his allowance.”
”No. He threatened to do it, and went so far as to make his solicitor write to that effect to Marmaduke, who had the consummate impudence to reply that he should in that case be compelled to provide for himself by contracting a marriage of which he could not expect his family to approve. Still, he added, if the family chose to sever their connexion with him, they could not expect him to consult their feelings in his future disposal of himself. In plain English, he threatened to marry this woman if his income was cut off. He carried his point, too; for no alteration has been made in his allowance. Indeed, as he has money of his own, and as part of the property is entailed, it would be easier to irritate him uselessly than to subject him to any material deprivation.”
”The young scamp! I wonder he was clever enough to take advantage like that.”
”He has shewn no lack of acuteness of late. I suspect he is under shrewd guidance.”
”Have you ever seen the--the guidance?”
”Not in person. I seldom enter a theatre now. But I am of course familiar with her appearance from the photographic portraits of her.
They are in all the shop windows.”
”Yes. I think I have noticed them.”
”And now, Mrs. Douglas, I fear I have paid you a very long visit.”
”Why dont you come oftener?”
”I wish I could find time. I have not so much leisure for enjoyment as I used.”
”I am not so sure of that. But we are always glad to have a chat with one another, I know. We are agreed about the dear children, I think?”
”Cordially. Cordially. Good-bye.”
”Good-bye.”
CHAPTER VIII
On the morning of the first Friday in May Marian received this letter:
”Uxbridge Road, Holland Park, W.
”DEAR MISS LIND: I must begin by explaining why I make this communication to you by letter instead of orally. It is because I am about to ask you to do me a favor. If you asked me to do anything for you, then, no matter how much my judgment might protest against my compliance, I could not without pain to myself refuse you face to face. I have no right to a.s.sume that your heart would plead on my behalf against your head in this fas.h.i.+on; but, on the other hand--the wish is father to the thought here--I have no right to a.s.sume that it would not. Therefore, to spare you all influences except the fair ones of your own interest and inclination, I make my proposal in writing. You will please put the usual construction on the word 'proposal.' What I desire is your consent to marry me. If your first impulse now is to refuse, I beg you to do so in plain terms at once, and destroy this letter without reading further. If you think, on the contrary, that we could achieve a future as pleasant as our past a.s.sociation has been--to me at least, here is what, as I think, you have to consider.
”You are a lady, rich, well-born, beautiful, loved by many persons besides myself, too happily circ.u.mstanced to have any pressing inducement to change your condition, and too fortunately endowed in every way to have reason to antic.i.p.ate the least difficulty in changing it to the greatest worldly advantage when you please.
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