CHAPTER XX
The Proposal
And now the departures from Courcy Castle came rapidly one afteranother, and there remained but one more evening before MissDunstable's carriage was to be packed. The countess, in the earlymoments of Frank's courtship, had controlled his ardour and checkedthe rapidity of his amorous professions; but as days, and at lastweeks, wore away, she found that it was necessary to stir the firewhich she had before endeavoured to slacken.
"There will be nobody here to-night but our own circle," said she tohim, "and I really think you should tell Miss Dunstable what yourintentions are. She will have fair ground to complain of you if youdo not."
Frank began to feel that he was in a dilemma. He had commenced makinglove to Miss Dunstable partly because he liked the amusement, andpartly from a satirical propensity to quiz his aunt by appearing tofall into her scheme. But he had overshot the mark, and did not knowwhat answer to give when he was thus called upon to make a downrightproposal. And then, although he did not care two rushes about MissDunstable in the way of love, he nevertheless experienced a sort ofjealousy when he found that she appeared to be indifferent to him,and that she corresponded the meanwhile with his cousin George.Though all their flirtations had been carried on on both sidespalpably by way of fun, though Frank had told himself ten times aday that his heart was true to Mary Thorne, yet he had an undefinedfeeling that it behoved Miss Dunstable to be a little in love withhim. He was not quite at ease in that she was not a little melancholynow that his departure was so nigh; and, above all, he was anxious toknow what were the real facts about that letter. He had in his ownbreast threatened Miss Dunstable with a heartache; and now, when thetime for their separation came, he found that his own heart was themore likely to ache of the two.
"I suppose I must say something to her, or my aunt will never besatisfied," said he to himself as he sauntered into the littledrawing-room on that last evening. But at the very time he wasashamed of himself, for he knew he was going to ask badly.
His sister and one of his cousins were in the room, but his aunt, whowas quite on the alert, soon got them out of it, and Frank and MissDunstable were alone.
"So all our fun and all our laughter is come to an end," said she,beginning the conversation. "I don't know how you feel, but formyself I really am a little melancholy at the idea of parting;" andshe looked up at him with her laughing black eyes, as though shenever had, and never could have a care in the world.
"Melancholy! oh, yes; you look so," said Frank, who really did feelsomewhat lackadaisically sentimental.
"But how thoroughly glad the countess must be that we are bothgoing," continued she. "I declare we have treated her mostinfamously. Ever since we've been here we've had all the amusementto ourselves. I've sometimes thought she would turn me out of thehouse."
"I wish with all my heart she had."
"Oh, you cruel barbarian! why on earth should you wish that?"
"That I might have joined you in your exile. I hate Courcy Castle,and should have rejoiced to leave--and--and--"
"And what?"
"And I love Miss Dunstable, and should have doubly, trebly rejoicedto leave it with her."
Frank's voice quivered a little as he made this gallant professionbut still Miss Dunstable only laughed the louder. "Upon my word, ofall my knights you are by far the best behaved," said she, "and saymuch the prettiest things." Frank became rather red in the face, andfelt that he did so. Miss Dunstable was treating him like a boy.While she pretended to be so fond of him she was only laughing athim, and corresponding the while with his cousin George. Now FrankGresham already entertained a sort of contempt for his cousin, whichincreased the bitterness of his feelings. Could it really be possiblethat George had succeeded while he had utterly failed; that hisstupid cousin had touched the heart of the heiress while she wasplaying with him as with a boy?
"Of all your knights! Is that the way you talk to me when we aregoing to part? When was it, Miss Dunstable, that George de Courcybecame one of them?"
Miss Dunstable for a while looked serious enough. "What makes you askthat?" said she. "What makes you inquire about Mr de Courcy?"
"Oh, I have eyes, you know, and can't help seeing. Not that I see, orhave seen anything that I could possibly help."
"And what have you seen, Mr Gresham?"
"Why, I know you have been writing to him."
"Did he tell you so?"
"No; he did not tell me; but I know it."
For a moment she sat silent, and then her face again resumed itsusual happy smile. "Come, Mr Gresham, you are not going to quarrelwith me, I hope, even if I did write a letter to your cousin. Whyshould I not write to him? I correspond with all manner of people.I'll write to you some of these days if you'll let me, and willpromise to answer my letters."
Frank threw himself back on the sofa on which he was sitting, and, indoing so, brought himself somewhat nearer to his companion than hehad been; he then drew his hand slowly across his forehead, pushingback his thick hair, and as he did so he sighed somewhat plaintively.
"I do not care," said he, "for the privilege of correspondence onsuch terms. If my cousin George is to be a correspondent of yoursalso, I will give up my claim."
And then he sighed again, so that it was piteous to hear him. He wascertainly an arrant puppy, and an egregious ass into the bargain;but then, it must be remembered in his favour that he was onlytwenty-one, and that much had been done to spoil him. Miss Dunstabledid remember this, and therefore abstained from laughing at him.
"Why, Mr Gresham, what on earth do you mean? In all human probabilityI shall never write another line to Mr de Courcy; but, if I did, whatpossible harm could it do you?"
"Oh, Miss Dunstable! you do not in the least understand what myfeelings are."
"Don't I? Then I hope I never shall. I thought I did. I thought theywere the feelings of a good, true-hearted friend; feelings that Icould sometimes look back upon with pleasure as being honest whenso much that one meets is false. I have become very fond of you, MrGresham, and I should be sorry to think that I did not understandyour feelings."
This was almost worse and worse. Young ladies like MissDunstable--for she was still to be numbered in the category of youngladies--do not usually tell young gentlemen that they are very fondof them. To boys and girls they may make such a declaration. NowFrank Gresham regarded himself as one who had already fought hisbattles, and fought them not without glory; he could not thereforeendure to be thus openly told by Miss Dunstable that she was veryfond of him.
"Fond of me, Miss Dunstable! I wish you were."
"So I am--very."
"You little know how fond I am of you, Miss Dunstable," and he putout his hand to take hold of hers. She then lifted up her own, andslapped him lightly on the knuckles.
"And what can you have to say to Miss Dunstable that can make itnecessary that you should pinch her hand? I tell you fairly, MrGresham, if you make a fool of yourself, I shall come to a conclusionthat you are all fools, and that it is hopeless to look out for anyone worth caring for."
Such advice as this, so kindly given, so wisely meant, so clearlyintelligible, he should have taken and understood, young as he was.But even yet he did not do so.
"A fool of myself! Yes; I suppose I must be a fool if I have so muchregard for Miss Dunstable as to make it painful for me to know that Iam to see her no more: a fool: yes, of course I am a fool--a man isalways a fool when he loves."
Miss Dunstable could not pretend to doubt his meaning any longer; andwas determined to stop him, let it cost what it would. She now putout her hand, not over white, and, as Frank soon perceived, giftedwith a very fair allowance of strength.
"Now, Mr Gresham," said she, "before you go any further you shalllisten to me. Will you listen to me for a moment without interruptingme?"
Frank was of course obliged to promise that he would do so.
"You are going--or rather you were going, for I shall stop you--tomake a profession of love."
"A profession!" said Frank making a slight unsuccessful effort to gethis hand free.
"Yes; a profession--a false profession, Mr Gresham,--a falseprofession--a false profession. Look into your heart--into your heartof hearts. I know you at any rate have a heart; look into it closely.Mr Gresham, you know you do not love me; not as a man should love thewoman whom he swears to love."
Frank was taken aback. So appealed to he found that he could not anylonger say that he did love her. He could only look into her facewith all his eyes, and sit there listening to her.
"How is it possible that you should love me? I am Heaven knows howmany years your senior. I am neither young nor beautiful, nor have Ibeen brought up as she should be whom you in time will really loveand make your wife. I have nothing that should make you love me;but--but I am rich."
"It is not that," said Frank, stoutly, feeling himself imperativelycalled upon to utter something in his own defence.
"Ah, Mr Gresham, I fear it is that. For what other reason can youhave laid your plans to talk in this way to such a woman as I am?"
"I have laid no plans," said Frank, now getting his hand to himself."At any rate, you wrong me there, Miss Dunstable."
"I like you so well--nay, love you, if a woman may talk of love inthe way of friendship--that if money, money alone would make youhappy, you should have it heaped on you. If you want it, Mr Gresham,you shall have it."
"I have never thought of your money," said Frank, surlily.
"But it grieves me," continued she, "it does grieve me, to think thatyou, you, you--so young, so gay, so bright--that you should havelooked for it in this way. From others I have taken it just as thewind that whistles;" and now two big slow tears escaped from hereyes, and would have rolled down her rosy cheeks were it not that shebrushed them off with the back of her hand.
"You have utterly mistaken me, Miss Dunstable," said Frank.
"If I have, I will humbly beg your pardon," said she."But--but--but--"
"You have; indeed you have."
"How can I have mistaken you? Were you not about to say that youloved me; to talk absolute nonsense; to make me an offer? If you werenot, if I have mistaken you indeed, I will beg your pardon."
Frank had nothing further to say in his own defence. He had notwanted Miss Dunstable's money--that was true; but he could not denythat he had been about to talk that absolute nonsense of which shespoke with so much scorn.
"You would almost make me think that there are none honest in thisfashionable world of yours. I well know why Lady de Courcy has hadme here: how could I help knowing it? She has been so foolish inher plans that ten times a day she has told her own secret. But Ihave said to myself twenty times, that if she were crafty, you werehonest."
"And am I dishonest?"
"I have laughed in my sleeve to see how she played her game, and tohear others around playing theirs; all of them thinking that theycould get the money of the poor fool who had come at their beck andcall; but I was able to laugh at them as long as I thought that I hadone true friend to laugh with me. But one cannot laugh with all theworld against one."
"I am not against you, Miss Dunstable."
"Sell yourself for money! why, if I were a man I would not sell onejot of liberty for mountains of gold. What! tie myself in the heydayof my youth to a person I could never love, for a price! perjuremyself, destroy myself--and not only myself, but her also, in orderthat I might live idly! Oh, heavens! Mr Gresham! can it be thatthe words of such a woman as your aunt have sunk so deeply in yourheart; have blackened you so foully as to make you think of such vilefolly as this? Have you forgotten your soul, your spirit, your man'senergy, the treasure of your heart? And you, so young! For shame, MrGresham! for shame--for shame."
Frank found the task before him by no means an easy one. He had tomake Miss Dunstable understand that he had never had the slightestidea of marrying her, and that he had made love to her merely withthe object of keeping his hand in for the work as it were; with thatobject, and the other equally laudable one of interfering with hiscousin George.
And yet there was nothing for him but to get through this task asbest he might. He was goaded to it by the accusations which MissDunstable brought against him; and he began to feel, that though herinvective against him might be bitter when he had told the truth,they could not be so bitter as those she now kept hinting at underher mistaken impression as to his views. He had never had any strongpropensity for money-hunting; but now that offence appeared in hiseyes abominable, unmanly, and disgusting. Any imputation would bebetter than that.
"Miss Dunstable, I never for a moment thought of doing whatyou accuse me of; on my honour, I never did. I have been veryfoolish--very wrong--idiotic, I believe; but I have never intendedthat."
"Then, Mr Gresham, what did you intend?"
This was rather a difficult question to answer; and Frank was notvery quick in attempting it. "I know you will not forgive me," hesaid at last; "and, indeed, I do not see how you can. I don't knowhow it came about; but this is certain, Miss Dunstable; I have neverfor a moment thought about your fortune; that is, thought about it inthe way of coveting it."
"You never thought of making me your wife, then?"
"Never," said Frank, looking boldly into her face.
"You never intended really to propose to go with me to the altar, andthen make yourself rich by one great perjury?"
"Never for a moment," said he.
"You have never gloated over me as the bird of prey gloats over thepoor beast that is soon to become carrion beneath its claws? You havenot counted me out as equal to so much land, and calculated on me asa balance at your banker's? Ah, Mr Gresham," she continued, seeingthat he stared as though struck almost with awe by her stronglanguage; "you little guess what a woman situated as I am has tosuffer."
"I have behaved badly to you, Miss Dunstable, and I beg your pardonbut I have never thought of your money."
"Then we will be friends again, Mr Gresham, won't we? It is so niceto have a friend like you. There, I think I understand it now; youneed not tell me."
"It was half by way of making a fool of my aunt," said Frank, in anapologetic tone.
"There is merit in that, at any rate," said Miss Dunstable. "Iunderstand it all now; you thought to make a fool of me in realearnest. Well, I can forgive that; at any rate it is not mean."
It may be, that Miss Dunstable did not feel much acute anger atfinding that this young man had addressed her with words of love inthe course of an ordinary flirtation, although that flirtation hadbeen unmeaning and silly. This was not the offence against which herheart and breast had found peculiar cause to arm itself; this was notthe injury from which she had hitherto experienced suffering.
At any rate, she and Frank again became friends, and, before theevening was over, they perfectly understood each other. Twice duringthis long _tete-a-tete_ Lady de Courcy came into the room to see howthings were going on, and twice she went out almost unnoticed. Itwas quite clear to her that something uncommon had taken place, wastaking place, or would take place; and that should this be for wealor for woe, no good could now come from her interference. On eachoccasion, therefore, she smiled sweetly on the pair of turtle-doves,and glided out of the room as quietly as she had glided into it.
But at last it became necessary to remove them; for the world hadgone to bed. Frank, in the meantime, had told to Miss Dunstable allhis love for Mary Thorne, and Miss Dunstable had enjoined him to betrue to his vows. To her eyes there was something of heavenly beautyin young, true love--of beauty that was heavenly because it had beenunknown to her.
"Mind you let me hear, Mr Gresham," said she. "Mind you do; and, MrGresham, never, never forget her for one moment; not for one moment,Mr Gresham."
Frank was about to swear that he never would--again, when thecountess, for the third time, sailed into the room.
"Young people," said she, "do you know what o'clock it is?"
"Dear me, Lady de Courcy, I declare it is past twelve; I r
eally amashamed of myself. How glad you will be to get rid of me to-morrow!"
"No, no, indeed we shan't; shall we, Frank?" and so Miss Dunstablepassed out.
Then once again the aunt tapped her nephew with her fan. It was thelast time in her life that she did so. He looked up in her face, andhis look was enough to tell her that the acres of Greshamsbury werenot to be reclaimed by the ointment of Lebanon.
Nothing further on the subject was said. On the following morningMiss Dunstable took her departure, not much heeding the rather coldwords of farewell which her hostess gave her; and on the followingday Frank started for Greshamsbury.