An Old Man's Love. Anthony Trollope
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and her father, who was almost on his death-bed, had heard what was going on almost without a remark. He had been told that the man was penniless, and as his daughter had been to him the dearest thing upon earth, he had been glad to save himself the pain of expressing disapproval. John Gordon had, however, been a gentleman, and was fit in all things to be the husband of such a girl as Mary Lawrie—except that he was penniless, and she, also, had possessed nothing. He had passed on his way without speaking, and had gone—even Mary did not know whither. She had accepted her fate, and had never allowed the name of John Gordon to pass her lips.
The days passed very quickly at Croker's Hall, but not so quickly but that Mary knew well what was going on in Mr. Whittlestaff's mind. How is it that a girl understands to a certainty the state of a man's heart in regard to her—or rather, not his heart, but his purpose? A girl may believe that a man loves her, and may be deceived; but she will not be deceived as to whether he wishes to marry her. Gradually came the conviction on Miss Lawrie's mind of Mr. Whittlestaff's purpose. And, as it did so, came the conviction also that she could not do it. Of this he saw nothing; but he was instigated by it to be more eager—and was at the same time additionally abashed by something in her manner which made him feel that the task before him was not an easy one.
Mrs. Baggett, who knew well all the symptoms as her master displayed them, became angry with Mary Lawrie. Who was Mary Lawrie, that she should take upon herself to deny Mr. Whittlestaff anything? No doubt it would, as she told herself, be better for Mrs. Baggett in many respects that her master should remain unmarried. She assured herself that if a mistress were put over her head, she must retire to Portsmouth—which, of all places for her, had the dreariest memories. She could remain where she was very well, while Mary Lawrie remained also where she was. But it provoked her to think that the offer should be made to the girl and should be refused. "What on earth it is they sees in 'em, is what I never can understand. She ain't pretty—not to say—and she looks as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. But she's got it inside her, and some of them days it'll come out." Then Mrs. Baggett determined that she would have a few words on the subject with Mary Lawrie.
Mary had now been a year and four months at Croker's Hall, and had, under pressure from Mr. Whittlestaff, assumed something of the manner rather than of the airs of a mistress to Mrs. Baggett. This the old woman did not at all resent, because the reality of power was still in her hands; but she could not endure that the idolatry of love should always be present in her master's face. If the young woman would only become Mrs. Whittlestaff, then the idolatry would pass away. At any rate, her master would not continue "to make an ass of himself," as Mrs. Baggett phrased it.
"Don't you think, Miss, as that Mr. Whittlestaff is looking very peeky?"
"Is he, Mrs. Baggett?"
"'Deed and he is, to my thinking; and it's all along of you. He's got a fancy into his mind—and why shouldn't he have his fancy?"
"I don't know, I'm sure." But Mary did know. She did know what the fancy was, and why Mr. Whittlestaff shouldn't have it.
"I tell you fairly, Miss, there is nothing I hate so much as vagaries in young women."
"I hope there are no vagaries to be hated in me, Mrs. Baggett."
"Well, I'm not quite so sure. You do go as straightforward as most on 'em; but I ain't quite sure but that there are a few twists and twirls. What do you suppose he wants to be at?"
"How am I to say?" Then she bethought herself that were she to tell the truth, she could say very well.
"Do you mean as you don't know?" said the old woman.
"Am I bound to tell you if I do know?"
"If you wish to do the best for him, you are. What's the good of beating about the bush? Why don't you have him?"
Mary did not quite know whether it behoved her to be angry with the old servant, and if so, how she was to show her anger. "You shouldn't talk such nonsense, Mrs. Baggett."
"That's all very well. It is all nonsense; but nonsense has to be talked sometimes. Here's a gentleman as you owe everything to. If he wanted your head from your shoulders, you shouldn't make any scruple. What are you, that you shouldn't let a gentleman like him have his own way? Asking your pardon, but I don't mean it any way out of disrespect. Of course it would be all agin me. An old woman doesn't want to have a young mistress over her head, and if she's my sperrit, she wouldn't bear it. I won't, any way."
"Then why do you ask me to do this thing?"
"Because a gentleman like him should have his own way. And an old hag like me shouldn't stand for anything. No more shouldn't a young woman like you who has had so much done for her. Now, Miss Mary, you see I've told you my mind freely."
"But he has never asked me."
"You just sit close up to him, and he'll ask you free enough. I shouldn't speak as I have done if there had been a morsel of doubt about it. Do you doubt it yourself, Miss?" To this Miss Lawrie did not find it necessary to return any answer.
When Mrs. Baggett had gone and Mary was left to herself, she could not but think over what the woman had said to her. In the first place, was she not bound to be angry with the woman, and to express her anger? Was it not impertinent, nay, almost indecent, that the woman should come to her and interrogate her on such a subject? The inmost, most secret feelings of her heart had been ruthlessly inquired into and probed by a menial servant, who had asked questions of her, and made suggestions to her, as though her part in the affair had been of no consequence. "What are you, that you shouldn't let a gentleman like him have his own way?" Why was it not so much to her as to Mr. Whittlestaff? Was it not her all; the consummation or destruction of every hope; the making or unmaking of her joy or of her happiness? Could it be right that she should marry any man, merely because the man wanted her? Were there to be no questions raised as to her own life, her own contentment, her own ideas of what was proper? It was true that this woman knew nothing of John Gordon. But she must have known that there might be a John Gordon—whom she, Mary Lawrie, was required to set on one side, merely because Mr. Whittlestaff "wanted her." Mrs. Baggett had been grossly impertinent in daring to talk to her of Mr. Whittlestaff's wants.
But then, as she walked slowly round the garden, she found herself bound to inquire of herself whether what the woman said had not been true. Did she not eat his bread; did she not wear his clothes; were not the very boots on her feet his property? And she was there in his house, without the slightest tie of blood or family connection. He had taken her from sheer charity, and had saved her from the terrible dependency of becoming a friendless governess. Looking out to the life which she had avoided, it seemed to her to be full of abject misery. And he had brought her to his own house, and had made her the mistress of everything. She knew that she had been undemonstrative in her manner, and that such was her nature. But her heart welled over with gratitude as she thought of the sweetness of the life which he had prepared for her. Was not the question true? "What am I, that I should stand in the way and prevent such a man as that from having what he wants?"
And then she told herself that he personally was full of good gifts. How different might it have been with her had some elderly men "wanted her," such as she had seen about in the world! How much was there in this man that she knew that she could learn to love? And he was one of whom she need in no wise be ashamed. He was a gentleman, pleasant to look at, sweet in manner, comely and clean in appearance. Would not the world say of her how lucky she had been should it come to pass that she should become Mrs. Whittlestaff? Then there were thoughts of John Gordon, and she told herself that it was a mere dream. John Gordon had gone, and she knew not where he was; and John Gordon had never spoken a word to her of his love. After an hour's deliberation, she thought that she would marry Mr. Whittlestaff if he asked her, though she could not bring herself to say that she would "sit close up to him" in order that he might do so.
CHAPTER IV.
MARY LAWRIE ACCEPTS MR