Uncle Max Part 79

So I turned a deaf ear when he asked me presently if I should mind Lady Betty sharing our home; 'for,' he went on, 'the poor child has no other home, and she is so feather-headed that no sensible man will think of marrying her.' It was not my place to enlighten Giles about Claude, but I thought it very improbable that Lady Betty would be long at Gladwyn; but I was a little oppressed by this sort of talk, and yet unwilling that he should notice my shyness, so I took the opportunity of saying it was tea-time, and did he not think that Gladys and Eric had been talking long enough?

He seemed unwilling to let me go, but I pleaded my nurse's duties, and then he told me, laughing, that I was a wilful woman, and that I might send Eric to him. As it happened, Eric was coming in search of Giles, and I found him in the pa.s.sage.

Gladys was lying on her couch, looking worn out with happiness. She was beginning to speak about Eric, when something in my face seemed to distract her. She watched me closely for a moment, then threw her arms round me and drew my head on her shoulder.

'Is it so, Ursula? Oh, my dear dear sister! I am so glad!' And she seemed to understand without a word when my over-excited feelings found vent in a flood of nervous tears, for she only kissed me quietly, and stroked my hair, until I was relieved and happy again.

'Dear Ursula,' she whispered, 'how can I help being glad, for Giles's sake?'

'And not for mine?' drying my eyes, and feeling very much ashamed of myself.

'Ah, you will see how good Giles will be,' was her reply to this. 'You will be a happy woman, Ursula. You are exactly suited to each other.' And I knew she was right.

Max's turn came presently.

I was sitting alone in the drawing-room before dinner. Giles had brought me some flowers, and had rushed off to dress himself; and I was looking out on the garden and the strip of blue sky, and buried in a happy reverie, when two hands suddenly lifted me up, and a brown beard brushed my face.

'Little she-bear, do you know how glad I am!' Max joyously exclaimed. And indeed he looked very glad.

CHAPTER XLVIII

'WHAT 0' THE WAY TO THE END?'

Two days afterwards I went back to the White Cottage and took up my old life again,--my old life, but how different now!

I shall never forget how Phoebe welcomed me back, and how she and Susan rejoiced when I told them the news. Strange to say, neither of them seemed much surprised. They had expected it, Susan said, in rather an amused tone, for it was easy to see the doctor had thought there was no one like me, and was always hinting as much to them. 'Why, I have seen him watch you as though there were nothing else worth looking at,'

finished Susan, with simple shrewdness.

I kept my own counsel with regard to Aunt Philippa and Jill, for I had made up my mind to go up to Hyde Park Gate as soon as they had returned, and tell them myself. But I wrote to Lesbia, with strong injunctions of secrecy.

The answer came by return of post.

It was a most loving, unselfish little letter, and touched me greatly.

'I shall be your bridesmaid, Ursula,' it said, 'whether you ask me or not. Nothing will keep me away that day. I shall love to be there for dear Charlie's sake.

'The news has made me so happy. Mother scolded me when she found me crying over your letter, but she cried herself too. We both agreed that no one deserved happiness more. I am longing to see your Mr. Hamilton, Ursie dear. He has one great virtue in my eyes already, that he appreciates you,' and so on, in Lesbia's gentle, sisterly way.

The fact of our engagement made a great sensation in the place. People who had hitherto ignored the village nurse came to call on me. I suppose curiosity to see Mr. Hamilton's _fiancee_ brought a good many of them.

My new position was not without its difficulties. Giles, who was impatient and domineering by nature, chafed much against the restraints imposed upon him by my loneliness.

His brief calls did not suffice him. I would not let him come often or stay long. Max asked us to the vicarage sometimes, and now and then Gladys or Lady Betty would call for me and carry me off to Gladwyn for the evening; and of course I saw Giles frequently when he visited his patients, but with his dislike to conventionality it was rather difficult to keep him in good-humour. He could not be made to see why I should not marry him at once and put an end to this awkward state of things.

We had our first lovers' quarrel on this point,--our first and our last,--for I never had to complain of my dear Giles again.

I think hearing about Lady Betty's long engagement with Claude Hamilton had made him very sore. He had been bitterly angry both with poor little Lady Betty and also with Gladys. He declared the secrecy had hurt him more than anything; but Eric acted as peacemaker, and he was soon induced to condone his sisters' trangression.

He came down to talk over the matter with me, and to tell me of the arrangements he had made for them.

It seemed that a letter from Claude had arrived that very mail; telling Giles of his promotion, and asking leave to come and fetch his dear little Lady Betty. It was an honest, manly letter, Giles said; and as Claude was in a better position, and Lady Betty had five thousand pounds of her own, there seemed no reason against their marrying.

He had talked to both Max and Gladys, and they were willing that Claude and Lady Betty should be married at the same time. The New Year had been already fixed for Gladys's, and Max meant to get leave of absence for two or three months and take her to Algiers; and as Claude would have to start for India early in March, Giles thought the double wedding would be best. They could get their _trousseaux_ together, and the fuss would be got over more easily.

I expressed myself as charmed with all these arrangements, for I thought it would be very dull for Lady Betty to be left behind at Gladwyn; and then I asked Giles what he had settled about Eric.

He told me that Eric was still undecided, but he rather thought of going to Cirencester to enter the agricultural college there.

'You see, Ursula,' he went on, 'the lad is a bit restless. He has given up his absurd idea of becoming an artist,--I never did believe in those daubs of his,--but he feels he can never settle down to city life. He is very much improved, far more manly and sensible than I ever hoped to see him; but he is of different calibre from myself,'

'Do you think farming will suit him?' I asked anxiously.

'Better than anything else, I should say,' was the reply. 'Eric is an active, capable fellow, and he was always fond of out-door pursuits. He is young enough to learn. I have promised to keep Dorlicote Farm in my own hands until he is ready to take it. It is only ten miles from here, and has a very good house attached to it, and Eric will find himself in clover.' Then, as though some other thought were uppermost in his mind, he continued, 'I am so glad that you and he are such friends, Ursula, for he will often take up his quarters at Gladwyn.'

It was after this that Giles asked me to marry him at once. He was strangely unreasonable that morning, and very much bent on having his own way. My objections were overruled one by one; he absolutely refused to listen to my arguments when I tried to show him how much wiser it would be to have his sisters and Eric settled before he brought me home as mistress to Gladwyn.

It was the first time our wills had clashed; and, though I knew that I was right and that he was wholly in the wrong, it was very painful for me to refuse his loving importunities and to turn a deaf ear when he told me how he was longing for his wife; but I held firmly to my two points, that I would settle nothing without Aunt Philippa's advice, and that I would not marry him until Easter.

I told him so very gently, but Giles was not quite like himself that day.

Lady Betty's secrecy was still rankling in his mind, and he certainly used his power over me to make me very unhappy, for he accused me of coldness and over-prudence, and reproached me with my want of confidence in his judgment. My pride took fire at last, and rose in arms against his tyranny. 'You must listen to me, Giles,' I returned, trying to keep down a choking feeling. 'You are not quite just to me to-day, but you do not mean what you say. You will be sorry afterwards for your words. If I do not accede to your wishes, it is not because I do not love you well enough to marry you to-morrow, if it were expedient to do so; but under the circ.u.mstances it will be wiser to wait. I will marry you at Easter, If Uncle Max comes back by that time, for neither you nor I would like any one else to perform the ceremony. Will you not be content with this?'

'No,' he returned gloomily. 'You are keeping me waiting for a mere scruple: neither Gladys nor Lady Betty would say a dissenting word if I brought you to Gladwyn at once. You are disappointing me very much, Ursula. I could not have believed that my wishes were so little to you.'

But he was not able to finish this cutting speech, for I could bear no more, and suddenly burst into such an agony of tears that Giles was quite frightened.

I found out then the goodness of his heart and his deep unselfish affection for me. He reproached himself bitterly for causing me such pain, begged my pardon a dozen times for his ill temper, and so coaxed and petted me that I could not refuse to be comforted.

He laughed and kissed me when I implored him to take back his words about my coldness.

'My darling!--as though I meant it!' he said; but he had the grace to look very much ashamed of himself. 'Of course you were right,--you always are, Ursula: we will wait until Easter if you think it best. Miss Prudence shall have her own way in the matter; but I will not wait a day longer for all the Uncle Maxes in the world.' And so we settled it.

I remember how I tried to make up to Giles for his disappointment, and to show him how much I cared for him. We were dining at the vicarage that evening with Gladys and Eric, and as he walked home with me in the moonlight he took me to task very gently for being too good to him.

'You have been like a little angel this evening, Ursula, and I have not deserved it. I believe I love you far more for not giving me my own way.

It was pure selfishness: I see it now.'

'I hope it is the last time that your will will not be mine,' I answered, rather sadly. 'If you knew what it cost me to refuse you, Giles!' But one of his rare smiles answered me.

It was the end of September when I went up to Hyde Park Gate to tell my wonderful piece of news to Aunt Philippa and Jill. Jill was very naughty at first, and declared that she should forbid the banns; her dear Ursula should not marry that ugly man. But she changed her opinion after a long conversation with Giles, and then her enthusiasm knew no bounds. It was amusing to see the admiring awe with which Aunt Philippa looked at me. My engagement had raised her opinion of me a hundredfold. I was no longer the plain eccentric Ursula in her eyes; the future Mrs. Hamilton was a person of far greater consequence.

I could see that her surprise could scarcely be concealed. I used to notice her eyes fixed on me sometimes in a wondering way. She told Lesbia that she could hardly understand such brilliant prospects for dear Ursula. I had not Sara's good looks; and yet I was marrying a far richer man than Colonel Ferguson.

'I think Mr. Hamilton a very distinguished man, my dear,' she continued, much to Lesbia's amus.e.m.e.nt. 'He is peculiar-looking, certainly, and a little too dark for my taste; but his manners are charming, and he is certainly very much in love with Ursula. She looks very nice, and is very much improved; but still, one hardly expected such a match for her.'

Lesbia retailed this little speech with much gusto. Dear Aunt Philippa!

she certainly did her duty by me then: nothing could exceed her kindness and motherliness. And Sara came very often, looking the prettiest and happiest young matron in the world, and almost overwhelmed me with advice and petting.