Part 27 (1/2)
”No, mother, I do not wish to wear it. I prefer to dress plainly. I want Lord Upperton to see me just as I am, a simple girl, who has had few advantages to fit her for the life in which he moves. I cannot appear to be what I am not.”
Ruth paused a moment as if considering whether she should speak the words upon her lips.
”Lord Upperton, you say, desires to pay his addresses to me and you have given consent. It is an honor for any lady to receive attentions from a gentleman of superior station, but I cannot promise you, mother, that I shall look with favor upon his suit, honorable though it may be.”
It was said calmly but with resolution.
”I dare say, daughter, you may think so now. It is quite natural. It is just what I said when my mother informed me that Theodore, your father, had asked permission to pay his addresses to me. I said I would not see him; but I did, and have been very glad ever since.
After a little while, I used to listen for his footsteps. There were none like his. He always called Thursday evening after the lecture,[49] and I used to sit by the window an hour before it was time for him to put in an appearance, looking for him. So it will be with you, child. Now go to bed, dear, and think of the great honor which Lord Upperton is conferring upon us in asking for your hand!”
[Footnote 49: The lecture on Thursday of each week was inst.i.tuted by the Puritans soon after the settlement of Boston. There was a moral if not a legal obligation upon every person to attend it. Consequently in the earlier years of the Colony all business ceased, shops were closed, usual occupations suspended, and the entire community flocked to the meetinghouse of the parish to listen to the discourse of the minister. At the time this story begins, the obligation was not quite so binding as in former years.]
”Shall I give him my hand, if I cannot at the same time give him my heart?” Ruth asked, her earnest eyes scanning her mother's face.
”Oh, but you will do both, dear. Many a girl has asked the same question at first, but soon found that the heart and hand went together.”
”I think,” Ruth replied, ”if one may judge from outward appearances, there are some women who have given their hands to their husbands, but never their hearts. I see faces, now and then, which make me think of what I have read descriptive of deserts where there is no water to quench the thirst, no oasis with its green palms giving grateful shade from the summer heat,--faces that tell of hunger and thirst for the bread and water of love and sympathy.”
”You fancy it is so, and possibly here and there you may find a mismated couple, but, daughter, you will see things in a different light when once you get acquainted with Lord Upperton. I believe there is not another girl in Boston who would not jump at such a catch. You may not fancy him this moment, but in a short time you will say there is not another like him in all the world. You feel just as I did towards Theodore. At first, I almost hated him, because he presumed to ask permission to visit me, but now he is the best man that ever lived. Just think of the offer that has come to you in contrast with what your father had to offer me. Lord Upperton brings you his high station in life, his n.o.bility, his long line of ancestors, a barony, a castle with its ivied walls, a retinue of servants, his armorial bearings inscribed on banners borne by Crusaders. He will offer you rank, wealth, privilege, honor at his majesty's court. Theodore had only himself to offer me. He was not much then, but he is more now. I have done what I could to make him what he is, and now our daughter has the prospect of wearing laces such as are worn by d.u.c.h.esses; to be received at court; to be spoken of as Her Grace. Now to bed, dear, and be happy in thinking it over.”
”But I do not love Lord Upperton, nor shall I ever care for him.”
”Don't talk in that way, Ruth. You think so now, but when you are once married and begin to enjoy what will be yours,--a coach, waiting-maids to do your bidding, and are invited to the court of his majesty the king, and preside over your own table in the great baronial hall, with the high-born gentlemen and ladies doing you honor, it stands to reason that you will love him who brings these things to you.”
”You speak, mother, of the society in which I shall move, but I have no taste for such a.s.sociations.”
”Tush, child; you know nothing about it.”
”Lord Upperton has given me a description of the employment and pleasures of the society in which he moves, and I have no desire to enter it. I shall not find happiness in its circles. I want to be just what I am, your daughter, in our happy home.”
”But, Ruth, you cannot always be with us. Your father and I earnestly desire your future welfare and happiness. I am sure he will be surprised and pained to hear that you do not wish to receive the attentions of Lord Upperton.”
Mr. Newville entered the room. He saw the trouble on the face of his daughter.
”What is it?” he asked.
”Ruth thinks she never can love Lord Upperton and does not desire to receive his attentions, but I have told her it is only a present whim, just as mine was towards you.”
”Of course, daughter,” said Mr. Newville, with fatherly dignity, ”it could hardly be expected you would feel any very strong attachment for Lord Upperton on so short an acquaintance. Conjugal love is a plant of slow growth, but I think you would, ere long, appreciate the great honors and the high privileges which he would confer upon you, and that your heart would go out to him.”
The troubled look upon the face of the daughter became more intense.
Her father as well as her mother would have her receive the attentions of a man between whom and herself there was no possible sympathy. What should she say? A tear trickled down her cheek: she made no movement to wipe it away, but lifted her loving eyes and gazed steadily into her father's.
”Since you both so earnestly desire it I will meet Lord Upperton to-morrow evening and hear what he has to say,” she replied.
”You could hardly do otherwise. I think the more you see of him the better you will like him,” said Mr. Newville.
”Of course you will, my child; and now, dear, think it over in your chamber. I am sure you will see that a great opportunity has come to you,” said Mrs. Newville, giving her a kiss.
It was a summer night. The air was fragrant with the perfume of lilacs and apple-blooms. The young moon was going down in the west, throwing its departing beams upon the unfinished tower of King's Chapel. Ruth, looking out from her white-curtained window, beheld a handful of cloud drift across the crescent orb and dissolve in thin air. She could hear the footsteps of pa.s.sers along the street growing fainter as they receded. The bell on the Old Brick Meetinghouse struck the hour, and then, in the distance, she heard the watchman's voice, ”Ten o'clock, and all is well.” With perturbed spirit, she laid her head upon the white linen pillow which her own deft hands had made. So Lord Upperton was to solicit her heart and hand, and she had consented to meet him.
What should she say to him? Why should he, having an acquaintance with the n.o.ble families of England, come across the sea and offer his attentions to an obscure New England girl, and desire to make her mistress at Halford Castle? Ought she not to feel flattered in having a n.o.ble lord for a lover? The thought did not stir her blood. Why was she averse to receiving his attentions? What was there about him that made the thought repellent? Was he not a gentleman? Was he not polite? Did he not show proper respect not only to herself but to everybody? Why not make an effort to overcome her repugnance to him?
Would any other girl in Boston or anywhere else hesitate a moment over such an opportunity as had come to her to be called My Lady,--to be mistress of a ducal castle,--a position of power and influence among the lords and ladies of the kingdom? To have diamonds and pearls? To have precedence over others of lower station in social life? Questions came in troops before her; vain her attempts to answer them.