CHAPTER XVIII
A REFUSAL
"Come out on the colonnade; the air is delicious." As he spoke, Hugh drewhis cousin's arm through his, and led the way from the tea-table.
"Irene, how long do you intend to keep me in painful suspense?"
"I am not aware that I have in any degree kept you in suspense."
"You shall not evade me; I have been patient, and the time has come when wemust talk of our future. Irene, dearest, be generous, and tell me when willyou give me, irrevocably, this hand which has been promised to me from yourinfancy?"
He took the hand and carried it to his lips, but she forcibly withdrew it,and, disengaging her arm, said emphatically--
"Never, Hugh. Never."
"How can you trifle with me, Irene? If you could realize how impatient I amfor the happy day when I shall call you my wife, you would be serious, andfix an early period for our marriage."
"Hugh, why will you affect to misconceive my meaning? I am serious; I havepondered, long and well, a matter involving your life-long happiness andmine, and I tell you, most solemnly, that I will never be your wife."
"Oh, Irene! your promise! your sacred promise!"
"I never gave it! On the contrary, I have never failed to show you that mywhole nature rebelled against the most unnatural relation forced upon me."
"My dear Irene, have you, then, no love for me? I have hoped and believedthat you hid your love behind your cold mask of proud silence. You must,you do love me, my beautiful cousin!"
"You do not believe your own words; you are obliged to know better. I loveyou as my cousin, love you somewhat as I love Uncle Eric, love you as thesole young relative left to me, as the only companion of my lonelychildhood; but other love than this I never had, never can have for you.Hugh, my cousin, look fearlessly at the unvarnished truth; neither you norI have one spark of that affection which alone can sanction marriage."
"Indeed, you wrong me, my worshipped cousin. You are dearer to me thananything else on earth. I have loved you, and you only, from my boyhood;you have been a lovely idol from earliest recollection."
"You are mistaken, most entirely mistaken; I am not to be deceived, neithercan you hoodwink yourself. You like me, you love me, in the same quiet waythat I love you; you admire me, perhaps, more than anyone you chance toknow just now; you are partial to my beauty, and, from long habit, havecome to regard me as your property, much in the same light as that in whichyou look upon your costly diamond buttons, or your high-spirited horses, orrare imported pointers. Hugh, I abhor sham! and I tell you now that I neverwill be a party to that which others have arranged without my consent."
"Ah! I see how matters stand. Having disposed of your heart, and lavishedyour love elsewhere, you shrink from fulfilling the sacred obligations thatmake you mine. I little dreamed that you were so susceptible, else I hadnot left you feeling so secure. My uncle has not proved the faithfulguardian I believed him when I entrusted my treasure, my affianced bride tohis care."
Bitter disappointment flashed in his face and quivered in his voice,rendering him reckless of consequences. But though he gazed fiercely at heras he uttered the taunt, it produced not the faintest visible effect.
"Confess who stands between your heart and mine. I have a right to ask; Iwill know."
"You forget yourself, my cousin. Your right is obviously a debatablequestion; we will waive it, if you please. I have told you already, and nowI repeat it for the last time, I will not go with you to the altar, becauseneither of us has proper affection for the other to warrant such a union;because it would be an infamous pecuniary contract, revolting to every truesoul. Hugh, cherish no animosity against me; I merit none. Because wecannot be more, shall we be less than friends?"
She turned to leave him, but he caught her dress, and exclaimed, with moretenderness than he had ever manifested before--
"Oh, Irene! do not reject me utterly! I cannot relinquish you. Give me onemore year to prove my love--to win yours. If your proud heart is still yourown, may I not hope to obtain it by----"
"No, Hugh! no. As well hope to inspire affection in yonder mute marbleguardians. Forgive me if I pain you, but I must be candid at every hazard."She pointed to the statues near the door, and went through the greenhouseto the library, thence to the observatory, expecting, ere long, to bejoined by her father. Gradually the house became quiet, and, oppressed withthe painful sense of coming trouble, she sought her own room just as theclock struck twelve. Pausing to count the strokes, she saw a light gleamingthrough the keyhole of her father's door, opposite her own, and heard thesound of low but earnest conversation mingled with the restless tramp ofpacing feet. She was powerfully tempted to cross the passage, knock, andhave the ordeal ended then and there; but second thought whispered,"To-morrow will soon be here; be patient." She entered her room, and,wearied by the events of the day, fell asleep, dreaming of the new lot inthe cemetery, and the lonely, joyless man who haunted it.
As she adjusted her riding-habit the following morning, and suffered Andrewto arrange her stirrup, the latter said good-humouredly--
"So, Mas' Hugh got the start of you? It isn't often he beats you."
"What do you mean?"
"He started a while ago, and, if he drives as he generally does, he willget to his plantation in time for dinner."
"Did father go, too?"
"No, ma'am; only Mas' Hugh in his own buggy."
Returning from her ride, she stood a moment on the front step, looking downthe avenue. The Bermuda terrace blazed in the sunlight like a jewelledcoronal, the billowy sea of foliage, crested by dewy drops, flashed anddripped as the soft air stirred the ancient trees, the hedges were allalive with birds and butterflies, the rich aroma of brilliant and countlessflowers, the graceful curl of smoke wreathing up from the valley beyond,the measured musical tinkle of bells as the cows slowly descended thedistant hills, and, over all, like God's mantling mercy, a summer sky.
Involuntarily she stretched out her arms to the bending heavens and herlips moved, but no sound escaped to tell what petition went forth to theAll-Father. She went to her room, changed her dress, and joined her fatherat the breakfast-table. Half-concealed behind his paper, he took no noticeof her quiet "good morning," seeming absorbed in an editorial. The silentmeal ended, he said, as they left the table--
"I want to see you in the library."
She followed him without comment; he locked the door, threw open theblinds, and drew two chairs to the window, seating himself immediately infront of her. For a moment he eyed her earnestly, as if measuring herstrength; and she saw the peculiar sparkle in his falcon eye, which, likethe first lurid flash in a darkened sky, betokened tempests.
"Irene, I was very much astonished to learn the result of an interviewbetween Hugh and yourself; I can scarcely believe that you were in earnest,and feel disposed to attribute your foolish words to some trifling motiveof girlish coquetry or momentary pique. You have long been perfectly wellaware that you and your cousin were destined for each other; that Isolemnly promised the marriage should take place as soon as you were ofage; that all my plans and hopes for you centred in this one engagement. Ihave not pressed the matter on your attention of late, because I knew youhad sense enough to appreciate your position, and because I believed youwould be guided by my wishes in this important affair. You are no longer achild; I treat you as a reasonable woman, and now I tell you candidly it isthe one wish of my heart to see you Hugh's wife."
"Father, my happiness will not be promoted by this marriage, and if you areactuated solely by this motive, allow me to remain just as I am. I shouldbe most miserable as Hugh's wife; most utterly miserable."
"Why so?"
"Father, my own feelings stand an everlasting barrier to our union. I donot love Hugh, and--I must tell you, sir, that I think it wrong for cousinsto marry."
"You talk like a silly child; I thought you had more sense. Your objectionsI have listened to; they are imaginary and trifling; and I ask you, as afather has a
right to ask his child, to waive these ridiculous notions, andgrant the only request I have ever made of you. Tell me, my daughter, thatyou will consent to accept your cousin, and thereby make me happy."
He stooped and kissed her forehead, watching her countenance eagerly.
"Oh, father! do not ask this of me! Anything else! anything else."
"Answer me, my darling child; give me your promise."
His hold was painful, and an angry pant mingled with the pleading tones.She raised her head and said slowly--
"My father, I cannot."
He threw her hand from him, and sprang up.
"Ingrate! do you mean to say that you will not fulfil a sacredengagement?--that you will break an oath given to the dead."
"I do not hold myself bound by the oaths of another, though he were twicemy father. I am responsible for no acts but my own. I, only, can givemyself away. Why should you wish to force this marriage on me? Father, doyou think that a woman has no voice in a matter involving her happiness forlife?"
"Oh! I suspected that your cursed obstinacy would meet me here, as well aselsewhere in your life. You have been a source of trouble and sorrow fromyour birth; but the time has come to end all this. You know that I nevermenace idly, and if you refuse to hear reason, I will utterly disinherityou, though you are my only child. Ponder it well. You have been raised inluxury, and taught to believe yourself one of the wealthiest heiresses inthe state; contrast your present position, your elegant home, yourfastidious tastes gratified to the utmost; contrast all this, I say, withpoverty--imagine yourself left in the world without one cent! Think of it!think of it! My wealth is my own, mark you, and I will give it to whom Iplease, irrespective of all claims of custom. Now the alternative is fullybefore you, and on your own head be the consequences. Will you accede to mywishes, as any dutiful child should, or will you deliberately incur myeverlasting displeasure? Will you marry Hugh?"
"Father, I will not marry Hugh, so help me, God!".
Silence fell between them for several moments; something in that fixed,calm face of his child awed him, but it was temporary and, with a bitterlaugh, he exclaimed--
"Oh, very well! Your poverty be upon your own head in coming years, whenthe grave closes over me. At my death every cent of my property passes toHugh, and with it my name, and between you and me, as an impassable gulf,lies my everlasting displeasure. Understand that, though we live here inone house, as father and child, I do not, and will not, forgive you. Youhave defied me; now eat the bitter fruit of your disobedience."
"I have no desire to question the disposition of your wealth; if you preferto give it to my cousin, I am willing, perfectly willing. I enjoy wealth aswell as most people do, I suppose; but poverty does not frighten me half somuch as a loveless marriage. Give Hugh your fortune, if you wish, but,father! father! let there be no estrangement between you and me. I can beareverything but your displeasure; I dread nothing so much as the loss ofyour love. Oh, father! forgive a disappointment which my conscience wouldnot permit me to avert. Forgive the pain which, God knows, I would not havecaused you if I could have avoided it without compromising principle. Oh,my father! my father! let not dollars and cents stand between you and youronly child. I ask nothing now but your love."
She drew nearer, but he waved her off, and said with a sneering laugh--
"Away with all such cant! I gave you the choice, and you made yourselection with your eyes fully open. Accept poverty as your doom, and withit my eternal displeasure. I intend to make you suffer for your obstinacy.You shall find, to your sorrow, that I am not to be trifled with, or myname is not Leonard Huntingdon. Now go your own way, and find what a thornypath you have made for yourself."
He pointed to the door as he had done years before, when theboarding-school decree went forth, and without remonstrance she left him,and sat down on the steps of the greenhouse. Soon after, the sound of hisbuggy wheels told her that he had gone to town, and, leaning her cheek onher hand, she recalled the painful conversation from first to last. That hemeant all he had threatened, and more, she did not question for an instant,and, thinking of her future, she felt sick at heart. But with the shame andsorrow came also a thrill of joy; she had burst the fetters: she was free.Wounded affection bled freely, but brain and conscience exulted in theresult.