Spring Days Part 8

"You do pull me up so! Don't you understand that I was very young then? I was only twenty, not much more; besides, I was engaged to Nellie."

"Come back to what we were talking about."

"Well, I have said that if you love her I believe you are quite right to marry her. But do you love her?"

"Yes, I do; how many times more do you want me to say I do?"

"Of _course_ if you are going to be rude--"

"No--you understand what I mean, don't you? I am very fond of the missis; if I weren't I shouldn't marry, that goes without saying, but one likes to have things settled. I have been with her now more thantwo years. I've thought it out. There's nothing like having things settled. I'm sure I'm right."

The young men looked at each other in silence--Frank quite at a loss; he could nowise enter into the feelings of a man whom an undue sense of order and regularity compelled to marry his mistress, as it did to waste half his life in copying letters and making entries in a diary.

"Then why did you consult me?" he said, for he came to the point sharply when his brain was not muddled with sentiment.

"I am not heir to an entailed estate, like you."

"I am not heir to an entailed estate. Mount Rorke might marry to- morrow."

"He is not likely to do that. It is an understood thing that you are heir. My father might cut me off with a s.h.i.+lling if he were to hear I had married without his consent, and I should be left with the few hundreds which I draw out of the distillery, a poor man all my life."

"If that is so, why marry? You are not in love with her--at least not what I should call being in love."

"But can't you understand--"

"No, I can't, unless you mean that you are down with marriage fever."

"I have considered the matter carefully, and am convinced I am right,"

he answered, looking at Frank as if he would say, but didn't dare, "don't let's talk about it any more, it only distresses me." "The marriage must be kept a secret. If my father were to hear of it I should be ruined, whereas if Mary will consent to go on living as we are living now, one of these days she will be a rich woman. I daresay my share of his money will come to at least fifteen hundred a year, and then I shall be able to recompense her for the years she has waited for it. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly. The only thing I don't see is how I am to influence her.

You've no doubt told her and fully explained to her what the consequences would be if you were to publish the banns."

"I have, but it would strengthen my hand if you were to tell her all you know of my father. Tell her that he is very obstinate, pig-headed, and would certainly cut me off; tell her that he is sixty-six, that it is a hundred to one against his living till he is eighty, even if he did there would be only fourteen years to wait for fifteen hundred a year; tell her if she tells that I have married her it is just as if she threw fifteen hundred a year out of the window."

"And when shall I tell her all this?"

"Now. We are going to have lunch at my offices, she'll be there. We'll talk the matter over after lunch."

"Very well, let's start. Come along, Triss."

With Triss tugging dangerously at the silk handkerchief whenever he saw a likely pair of legs or a dog that he fancied, the young men sauntered up West Street.

"But tell me: how do you manage to have so many people to lunch in your office; your premises must be pretty extensive?"

"I have the whole house; I was obliged to take it. I couldn't get another place that would suit me, and I thought I should be able to let the upper part; I did have a tenant for a little while, but he was obliged to leave. I believe I am the unluckiest fellow alive. Here's the place."

"Agency for Artificial Manure" was printed over the door. w.i.l.l.y asked the office-boy if there were any letters, and they went upstairs. The windows of the front room were in view of a church spire, and overlooked a little shadowy cemetery; and at one window Cissy sat, the little crutches by her side, watching the children playing amid the tombs.

"Where's your mother, Cissy?"

"In the back room cooking herrings, uncle."

Mrs. Brookes was a homely, honest-eyed woman, with dingy yellow hair.

"Let me introduce you. This is my friend, Mr. Escott, you have often heard me speak of him."

"You must excuse my shaking hands with you, sir, I have been cooking."

"She is an excellent cook, too. Just you wait and see. What have we got?"

"Some herrings and a piece of steak."

"Is that good enough for you?"

"I love herrings."

"I am glad of that, these are quite fresh; they were caught this morning. You must excuse me, I must go back; they want a deal of attending to." Presently she appeared with a tray and a beer jug.

w.i.l.l.y called to the office-boy. "We have no cheese," said Mrs.

Brookes.

Cissy begged to be allowed to fetch the cheese and beer.

"No, dear, I am afraid you aren't well enough."

"Yes, I am, uncle; give me a s.h.i.+lling, and let me go with Billy."

Then, breaking off with the unexpected garrulity of children, she continued: "I am getting quite strong now; I was down on the beach this morning, and watched the little boys and girls building mounds.

When I am quite well, uncle, won't you buy me a spade and bucket, and mayn't I build sand mounds, too?"

"We'll see when the time comes."

"Well, let me go with Billy and fetch the cheese."

"No, you can't go now, dear, there are too many people about; this is not like London."

Cissy had the long sad face of cripples, but beautiful s.h.i.+ning curls hung thickly, hiding the crookedness of the shoulders. She was nine years old, and was just beginning to awake to a sense of the importance of her affliction.

After lunch she was sent downstairs to the office-boy. w.i.l.l.y sat rubbing his hands slowly and methodically. After some hesitation he introduced the subject they had come to speak on. "Mr. Escott will tell you, Mary, how important it is that our marriage should be kept secret; he will tell you how the slightest suspicion of it would ruin my prospects." He then spoke of his position in the county, and the necessity of sustaining it. Frank thought this rather bad taste; but he a.s.sured Mrs. Brookes, with much Celtic gesticulation, that her marriage must be kept a secret till her father-in-law's death. The young men and Mrs. Brookes remained talking till the rays trailed among the green gra.s.s of the graves, and the blue roofs that descended into the valley, and clung about the sides of the opposite hill. It had been arranged that w.i.l.l.y and Mrs. Brookes should go to London to- morrow to be married. Frank was convinced that she would not break her promise, and he hoped they would be very happy. She had only raised one objection. She had said: "What is the use of my being married if I shall have to live with him as his mistress?"

"A great deal of good. Your position will be secured. w.i.l.l.y will not be able to leave you, even if he felt inclined, and you will know that only one life, that of an old man, stands between you and fifteen hundred a year."

"I want no a.s.surance that my dear w.i.l.l.y will not leave me," she said, going over and putting her arms about him; "but as you like. I shall never say anything about the marriage till w.i.l.l.y tells me. I hope I shall never do anything but what he tells me." And she went over and sat on his knees.

"You are a dear old thing," he said, squeezing and planting a vigorous kiss on her neck.

Frank's eyes filled with hot tears, his heart seemed like bursting.

"What a beautiful thing love is!" he said to himself, and the world melted away from him in the happiness he drew from the contemplation of these who were about to bind themselves together for life.