An Old Man's Love
not to say so myself, but there is no reason why I should trouble a
stranger with them."
"I hope I may never be considered a stranger by Miss Lawrie," said
Gordon, turning round to the young lady.
"No, not a stranger," said Mary; "certainly not a stranger."
But this did not satisfy John Gordon, who felt that there was
something in her manner other than he would have it. And yet even to
him it seemed to be impossible now, at this first moment, to declare
his love before this man, who had usurped the place of her guardian.
In fact he could not speak to her at all before Mr Whittlestaff. He
had hurried back from the diamond-fields, in order that he might lay
all his surprisingly gotten wealth at Mary's feet, and now he felt
himself unable to say a word to Mary of his wealth, unless in this
man's presence. He told himself as he had hurried home that there
might be difficulties in his way. He might find her married,--or
promised in marriage. He had been sure of her love when he started.
He had been quite confident that, though no absolute promise had been
made from her to him, or from him to her, there had then been no
reason for him to doubt. In spite of that, she might have married
now, or been promised in marriage. He knew that she must have been
poor and left in want when her stepmother had died. She had told him
of the intentions for her life, and he had answered that perhaps in
the course of events something better might come up for her. Then he
had been called a pauper, and had gone away to remedy that evil if
it might be possible. He had heard while working among the diamonds
that Mr Whittlestaff had taken her to his own home. He had heard of
Mr Whittlestaff as the friend of her father, and nothing better he
thought could have happened. But Mary might have been weak during his
absence, and have given herself up to some other man who had asked
for her hand. She was still, at heart, Mary Lawrie. So much had been
made known to him. But from the words which had fallen from her own
lips, and from the statement which had fallen from Mr Whittlestaff,
he feared that it must be so. Mr Whittlestaff had said that he need
not trouble a stranger with Mary's affairs; and Mary, in answer
to his appeal, had declared that he could not be considered as a
stranger to her.
He thought a moment how he would act, and then he spoke boldly to
both of them. "I have hurried home from Kimberley, Mr Whittlestaff,
on purpose to find Mary Lawrie."
Mary, when she heard this, seated herself on the chair that was
nearest to her. For any service that it might be to her, his coming
was too late. As she thought of this, her voice left her, so that she
could not speak to him.
"You have found her," said Mr Whittlestaff, very sternly.
"Is there any reason why I should go away again?" He had not at this
moment realised the idea that Mr Whittlestaff himself was the man to
whom Mary might be engaged. Mr Whittlestaff to his thinking had been
a paternal providence, a God-sent support in lieu of father, who had
come to Mary in her need. He was prepared to shower all kinds of
benefits on Mr Whittlestaff,--diamonds polished, and diamonds in the
rough, diamonds pure and white, and diamonds pink-tinted,--if only
Mr Whittlestaff would be less stern to him. But even yet he had no
fear of Mr Whittlestaff himself.
"I should be most happy to welcome you here as an old friend of
Mary's," said Mr Whittlestaff, "if you will come to her wedding."
Mr Whittlestaff also had seen the necessity for open speech; and
though he was a man generally reticent as to his own affairs, thought
it would be better to let the truth be known at once. Mary, when
the word had been spoken as to her wedding, "blushed black" as her
stepmother had said of her. A dark ruby tint covered her cheeks and
her forehead; but she turned away her face, and compressed her lips,
and clenched her two fists close together.
"Miss Lawrie's wedding!" said John Gordon. "Is Miss Lawrie to be
married?" And he purposely looked at her, as though asking her the
question. But she answered never a word.
"Yes. Miss Lawrie is to be married."
"It is sad tidings for me to hear," said John Gordon. "When last I
saw her I was rebuked by her step-mother because I was a pauper. It
was true. Misfortunes had come in my family, and I was not a fit
person to ask Miss Lawrie for her love. But I think she knew that I
loved her. I then went off to do the best within my power to remedy
that evil. I have come back with such money as might suffice, and now
I am told of Miss Lawrie's wedding!" This he said, again turning to
her as though for an answer. But from her there came not a word.
"I am sorry you should be disappointed, Mr Gordon," said Mr
Whittlestaff; "but it is so." Then there came over John Gordon's
face a dark frown, as though he intended evil. He was a man whose
displeasure, when he was displeased, those around him were apt to
fear. But Mr Whittlestaff himself was no coward. "Have you any
reason to allege why it should not be so?" John Gordon only answered
by looking again at poor Mary. "I think there has been no promise
made by Miss Lawrie. I think that I understand from her that there
has been no promise on either side; and indeed no word spoken
indicating such a promise." It was quite clear, at any rate, that
this guardian and his ward had fully discussed the question of any
possible understanding between her and John Gordon.
"No; there was none: it is true."
"Well?"
"It is true. I am left without an inch of ground on which to found a
complaint. There was no word; no promise. You know the whole story
only too well. There was nothing but unlimited love,--at any rate on
my part." Mr Whittlestaff knew well that there had been love on her
part also, and that the love still remained. But she had promised to
get over that passion, and there could be no reason why she should
not do so, simply because the man had returned. He said he had come
from Kimberley. Mr Whittlestaff had his own ideas about Kimberley.
Kimberley was to him a very rowdy place,--the last place in the world
from which a discreet young woman might hope to get a well-conducted
husband. Under no circumstances could he think well of a husband
who presented himself as having come direct from the diamond-fields,
though he only looked stern and held his peace. "If Miss Lawrie will
tell me that I may go away, I will go," said Gordon, looking again at
Mary; but how could Mary answer him?
"I am sure," said Mr Whittlestaff, "that Miss Lawrie will be very
sorry that there should be any ground for a quarrel. I am quite
well aware that there was some friendship between you two. Then you
went, as you say, and though the friendship need not be broken, the
intimacy was over. She had no special reason for remembering you, as
you yourself admit. She has been left to form any engagement that she
may please. Any other expectation on your part must be unreasonable.
I have said that, as an old friend of Miss Lawrie's, I should be
happy to welcome you here to her wedding. I cannot even name a day as
yet; but I trust that it may be fixed soon. You cannot say even to
yourself that Miss Lawrie has treated you badly."
But he could say it to himself. And though he would not say it to
Mr Whittlestaff, had she been there alone, he would have said it to
her. There had been no promise,--no word of promise. But he felt that
there had been that between them which should have been stronger than
any promise. And with every word which came from Mr Whittlestaff's
mouth, he disliked Mr Whittlestaff more and more. He could judge
from Mary's appearance that she was down-hearted, that she was
unhappy, that she did not glory in her coming marriage. No girl's
face ever told her heart's secret more plainly than did Mary's at
this moment. But Mr Whittlestaff seemed to glory in the marriage. To
him it seemed that the getting rid of John Gordon was the one thing
of importance. So it was, at least, that John Gordon interpreted his
manner. But the name of the suitor had not yet been told him, and he
did not in the least suspect it. "May I ask you when it is to be?" he
asked.
"That is a question which the lady generally must answer," said Mr
Whittlestaff, turning on his part also to Mary.
"I do not know," said Mary.
"And who is the happy man?" said John Gordon. He expected an answer
to the question also from Mary, but Mary was still unable to answer
him. "You at any rate will tell me, sir, the name of the gentleman."
"I am the gentleman," said Mr Whittlestaff, holding himself somewhat
more erect as he spoke. The position, it must be acknowledged, was
difficult. He could see that this strange man, this John Gordon,
looked upon him, William Whittlestaff, to be altogether an unfit
person to take Mary Lawrie for his wife. By the tone in which he
asked the question, and by the look of surprise which he put on
when he received the answer, Gordon showed plainly that he had not
expected such a reply. "What! an old man like you to become the
husband of such a girl as Mary Lawrie! Is this the purpose for which
you have taken her into your house, and given her those good things
of which you have boasted?" It was thus that Mr Whittlestaff had
read the look and interpreted the speech conveyed in Gordon's eye.
Not that Mr Whittlestaff had boasted, but it was thus that he read
the look. He knew that he had gathered himself up and assumed a
special dignity as he made his answer.
"Oh, indeed!" said John Gordon. And now he turned himself altogether
round, and gazed with his full frowning eyes fixed upon poor Mary.
"If you knew it all, you would feel that I could not help myself." It
was thus that Mary would have spoken if she could have given vent to
the thoughts within her bosom.
"Yes, sir. It is I who think myself so happy as to have gained the
affections of the young lady. She is to be my wife, and it is she
herself who must name the day when she shall become so. I repeat the
invitation which I gave you before. I shall be most happy to see
you at my wedding. If, as may be the case, you shall not be in the
country when that time comes; and if, now that you are here, you will
give Miss Lawrie and myself some token of your renewed friendship,
we shall be happy to see you if you will come at once to the house,
during such time as it may suit you to remain in the neighbourhood."
Considering the extreme difficulty of the position, Mr Whittlestaff
carried himself quite as well as might have been expected.
"Under such circumstances," said Gordon, "I cannot be a guest in your
house." Thereupon Mr Whittlestaff bowed. "But I hope that I may be
allowed to speak a few words to the young lady not in your presence."
"Certainly, if the young lady wishes it."
"I had better not," said Mary.
"Are you afraid of me?"
"I am afraid of myself. It had better not be so. Mr Whittlestaff has
told you only the truth. I am to be his wife; and in offering me
his hand, he has added much to the infinite kindnesses which he has
bestowed upon me."
"Oh, if you think so!"
"I do think so. If you only knew it all, you would think so too."
"How long has this engagement existed?" asked Gordon. But to this
question Mary Lawrie could not bring herself to give an answer.
"If you are not afraid of what he may say to you--?" said Mr
Whittlestaff.
"I am certainly afraid of nothing that Mr Gordon may say."
"Then I would accede to his wishes. It may be painful, but it will
be better to have it over." Mr Whittlestaff, in giving this advice,
had thought much as to what the world would say of him. He had done
nothing of which he was ashamed,--nor had Mary. She had given him her
promise, and he was sure that she would not depart from it. It would,