'Is life, then, nothing but a voyage which a man takes, bound nowhither and tossed perpetually upon a treacherous sea?'
'Not quite. Storms don't rage continually, nor is the wind for ever boisterous: sometimes it blows fair and strong, so that the ship leaps forward with animal delight; the mariner exults in his skilful power and in the joy of the limitless horizon. Sometimes the sea is placid like a sleeping youth, and the scented air, balmy and fresh, fills the heart with lazy pleasure. The ocean has its countless mysteries, its thoughts and manifold emotions. Why on earth should you not look upon the passage as a pleasure-trip, whereon the rough weather must necessarily be taken with the smooth – looking regretlessly towards the end, but joyful even amid hurricane or gale in the recollection of happy, easy days? Why not abandon life, saying: I have had evil fortune and good, and the pains were compensated by the pleasures; and though my journey, with all its perils, has led me nowhither, though I return tired and old to the port whence with my many hopes I started, I am content to have lived.'
'And so, for all your experience, your study, and your thought, you've found absolutely no meaning,' cried Frank, profoundly discouraged.
'I invented a meaning of sorts; like a critic explaining a symbolical picture, or a school-boy construing a passage he doesn't at all understand, I at least made the words hang sensibly together. I aimed at happiness, and I think, on the whole, I've found it. I lived according to my instincts, and sought every emotion that my senses offered; I turned away deliberately from what was ugly and tedious, fixing my eyes with all my soul on Beauty – seen, I hope, with a discreet appreciation of the Ridiculous. I never troubled myself much with current notions of good and evil, for I knew they were merely relative, but strove always to order my life so that to my eyes at least it should form a graceful pattern on the dark inane.'
Miss Ley stopped, and a whimsical smile flickered across her face.
'But I should tell you that, like Mr Shandy, who was so long about his treatise on the education of his son that by the time it was finished Tristram's growth made it useless, I did not formulate my philosophy till it was too late to set much of it in practice.'
'Dinner is served, madam,' said the butler, coming into the room.
'By Jove!' cried Frank, springing up, 'I had no idea it was so late.'
'But you're going to stay? I think you'll find a place laid for you.'
'I've ordered my dinner at home.'
'I'm sure it won't be so good as mine.'
'I never saw anyone quite so conceited as you about the excellence of your cook, Miss Ley.'
'Just as it is far easier for a man to be a philosopher than a gentleman, my dear, it is less difficult to cultivate a Christian disposition than good cooking.'
They went downstairs, and Miss Ley ordered a bottle of Miss Dwarris' champagne to be opened. She had a cynical belief in the efficacy of a square meal to relieve most spiritual torments; but besides, heroically – for she was an indolent woman – took pains to amuse her guest. She talked of many things, gaily and tenderly, while Frank, the dinner finished, smoked innumerable pipes. At last Big Ben struck twelve, and cheerful now, resigned to philosophic doubt, he rose to his feet. Frank took both Miss Ley's hands.
'You're a jewel of a woman. I was quite wretched when I came, and you've put new life into me.'
'Not I!' she cried. 'The chocolate soufflé and the champagne. I have always observed that the human soul is peculiarly susceptible to the culinary art. Personally, I never feel so spiritual as when I've slightly overeaten myself. I wish you wouldn't squeeze my hands.'
'You're the only woman I know who's as interesting to talk to as a man.'
'Faith, and I believe if I were twenty years younger the child would propose to me!'
'You have only to say the word, and I'll lead you to the altar.'
'I'm a proud woman this day to get an offer of marriage in my fifty-seventh year. But where, my dear, if I married you, would you go to have tea in the afternoon?'
Frank laughed, but in his voice when he answered there was something very like a sob.
'You're a dear, kind thing. And I'm sure I shall never be half so devoted to any other woman as I am to you.'
The emotion must have been catching, for Miss Ley's tones had not their usual cold steadiness.
'Don't be a drivelling idiot, my dear!' she answered, and when the door was closed behind him added to herself, half in irritation: 'Bless the boy, I wish I were his mother.'
13
TWO days later Miss Ley duly travelled down to Tercanbury, and was met at the station by Bella, who told her that, according to their arrangement, no mention had yet been made of the proposed marriage. She had announced merely that Herbert Field, whom she desired to make acquainted with her father, would come to tea that day. The Dean welcomed Miss Ley with joy.
'It's very gracious and charming of you to shed your light on our provincial darkness, my dear,' he exclaimed, taking her hand.
'Don't hold my hand, Algernon. I had a proposal of marriage on Saturday night, and I'm palpitating still.'
'Oh, Mary, do tell us all about it,' cried Miss Langton, with delight.
'I shan't! I told Algernon simply because I notice the average man has no consideration at all for a single woman unless she's marriageable.'
'But why didn't you bring your friend, Dr Hurrell?' asked the Dean. 'Only today I bought a Latin herbary, written in the seventeenth century, which I'm sure would interest him.'
'As if he'd understand a word of it, my dear Algernon! Besides, I thought it quite enough for you to snatch one brand at a time from the burning.'
'Ah, Polly, I shouldn't like to stand in your shoes on the Last Day,' he answered, with twinkling eyes.
'I very much doubt if you could get into them,' replied Miss Ley quickly, protruding a small and elegant foot.
'The sin of pride, my dear!' said the Dean, shaking his finger at her. 'Pride of all sorts, for not Lucifer himself was more satisfied with the excellence of his understanding.'
'I don't care, Algernon – if I frizzle, I frizzle,' laughed Miss Ley. 'I know I'm no fool, and after all, my gloves are sixes.'
Tea was brought in, and presently Herbert Field made his appearance. The Dean, who liked all young things, shook hands with him warmly.
'I've heard about you from Bella. I don't know why she has never before allowed me to set eyes on you.'
He talked to the boy about his old school, and finding him interested in the antiquities of Tercanbury, gave way to his own enthusiasm. He fetched from his study certain lately-acquired plates of old churches in that city, and Bella watched the pair, the youth's fair head contrasting with her father's white hair and benign face, bending over them under the lamp. She was delighted with the friendship that seemed about to spring up between them, and wished with all her heart that they might thus spend many charming evenings interchanging views on books and pictures; while she sat by tending them as though both were her children.
'Now that you've broken the ice, you must come again often,' said the Dean, holding the boy's hand, when Herbert bade him good-bye. 'I must show you my library, and, if you're fond of old books, I dare say there are some I have in duplicate which you might care to have.'
'It's very kind of you,' answered Herbert, flushing, for the Dean's old-fashioned courtesy was a little overwhelming, and the stately kindness hard to bear when soon he must distress him so enormously by taking away his daughter.
When Herbert was gone, the Dean said he would return to his study to finish an article he was preparing for a learned magazine on one of the later Roman orators.
'Would you stay a few minutes longer, father?' said Bella; 'I have something I wish to talk to you about.'
'Certainly, my dear,' he replied, sitting down. He turned with a quiet smile to Miss Ley. 'When Bella used to announce an important communication, my heart sank to my boots, for I always expected she would inform me of her approaching marriage; but I bear it no
w with equanimity, because it is invariably only to wheedle me into getting a boy into the choir who has every qualification except a voice, or to provide a home for some deserving widow.'
'D'you think I'm too old to marry now?' asked Bella, smiling.
'My dear, for twenty years you've refused the most eligible aspirants. Shall we tell Polly about the last one?'
'She wouldn't tell us.'
'Only two months ago one of our Canons solemnly asked whether he might pay his addresses to Bella. But she wouldn't hear of it, because he had seven children by his first wife.'
'He was a singularly dull man into the bargain,' answered Bella.
'Nonsense, my dear; he has a first edition of the Pilgrim's Progress.'
'Did you like Mr Field?' asked Bella quietly.
'Very much,' answered the Dean. 'He seems a quiet, modest young man.'
'I'm glad of that, father, because I'm engaged to be married to him.'
The Dean gasped; the shock was so great that for a moment he could not speak, and then he began to tremble. Miss Langton watched him anxiously.
'It's impossible, Bella,' he muttered at last. 'You must be joking.'
'Why?'
'He's twenty years younger than you.'
'Yes, that's true. I should never have thought of marriage only he has consumption. I want to be his nurse more than his wife.'
'But he isn't a gentleman,' said the Dean, looking at her gravely.
'Father, how can you say that!' cried Bella indignantly, reddening. 'I've never met anyone with such a gentle soul. He's all goodness and purity.'
'Women know nothing about such things. They can never tell if a man's a gentleman or not. What was his father?'
'His father was a tradesman. But kind hearts are more than coronets.'
The Dean tightened his lips. He had recovered now from his surprise, and stood before Bella, stern and cold.
'I dare say. But a kind heart doesn't make a gentleman. Polly can tell you that as well as I.'
'Quite the biggest scoundrel I ever knew was Lord William Heather,' said Miss Ley reflectively. 'He was a cheat and a blackmailer. He had committed every crime, great and mean, and kept out of prison only by miracle and the influence of his family; yet no one for a moment could deny that to his very finger-tips he was a gentleman. I never saw a better in my life. Gentility has nothing whatever to do with the Ten Commandments.'
'Mary, don't go against me, too,' cried Bella. 'I want your help.' She went up to the Dean and took his hands. 'Father dear, this isn't a rash whim of mine. I've considered it gravely, and I promise you that my motives are neither low nor unworthy. I would give the world not to cause you pain, and if I do, it's only because I think my duty here is clear. I beg you to give me your consent, and I beg you to remember that for many years I've devoted myself to your comfort.'
The Dean released his hands.
'I didn't know that you looked upon it as an irksome task,' he answered frigidly. 'And why do you suppose this man wants to marry you?' He seized Bella's arm, and with energy surprising in one of so fragile appearance, led her to the glass. 'Look at yourself. Is it natural for a boy to wish to marry a woman old enough to be his mother?' With hard eyes he scrutinized his daughter's face and the wrinkles about her mouth. 'Look at your hands; they're almost the hands of an old woman. I was mistaken in your friend; he can be nothing better than an unscrupulous fortune-hunter.'
Bella turned away with a groan; she could not understand that her father, gentleness itself, should suddenly be so horribly cruel.
'I know I'm old and plain,' she cried, 'and I don't think for a moment that Herbert loves me. He would never have thought of marrying me unless I had asked him. But I can only save his life by taking him abroad.'
For a while the Dean looked down in deep thought.
'If he's ill and must go abroad, Bella, I will willingly give him all the money he needs.'
'But I love him, father,' she answered, with a blush.
'Do you mean that seriously?'
'Yes.'
Then heavy tears came to his eyes, and ran slowly down his cheeks; the hardness was gone out of his voice when he answered, and it was half choked with sobs.
'Would you leave me alone, Bella? Can't you wait till I'm dead? I shan't last very much longer.'
'Oh, father, don't say that. Heaven knows I don't want to pain you. It tears my heart to think of leaving you. Let me marry him, and come with us to Italy. We may be very happy all three of us.'
But at this the Dean drew back from Bella's appealing hands, and brushing away his tears, drew himself up sternly.
'No, I will never do that, Bella. I've tried to remember all my life that first of all I'm a Christian minister, but pride of race is in my blood. I'm proud of my stock, and in my small way I've sought to add honour to it. By marrying this man you dishonour yourself and you dishonour me. How can you suffer to change the glorious name you bear for that of a miserable little counter-jumper! I have no right to ask you to refrain from marriage because I'm old and helpless, and you've made me utterly dependent on you, but I have a right to ask you not to disgrace the name of my family.'
Miss Ley had never before seen such severity in the gentle Dean; an unwonted fire had driven away the delightful sweetness which was his most charming trait, and two red spots burned on his cheeks. His very voice was harsh, and he held himself upright, austere and cold, like some Roman senator conscious of his royal responsibility. But Bella was unmoved.
'I'm very sorry, father, that you should look at it in such a narrow way. I can never think it dishonourable to take the name of the man I love. I'm afraid that if you won't consent I must still do as I think right.'
He gave her a long and searching look.
'It's a very grave step absolutely to disobey your father, Bella. I think it's the first time in your life.'
'I realize that.'
'Then let me tell you that if you leave the Deanery to marry this wretched tradesman, neither you nor he shall ever enter it again.'
'You must do as you think fit, father. I shall follow my husband.'
Slowly the Dean walked out of the room.
'He'll never change his mind,' said Bella in despair, turning to Miss Ley. 'He refused ever to see Bertha Ley because she married a farmer. His manner is so gentle, so sweet, that you might think his heart overflowed with humility, but he's right when he says pride of race is in his blood. I think I alone know how enormous it is in him.'
'What will you do now?' asked Miss Ley.
'What can I do? It means that I must choose between Herbert and my father; and Herbert needs me most.'
They did not see the Dean again till dinner, when he came down, dressed as was his fastidious habit, with silk stockings and buckled shoes, in the full array of his degree. He sat at the table silently, scarcely eating, and paid no attention to the conversation, forced and trivial, between Bella and Miss Ley. Now and then a heavy tear rolled down his cheek. He was a man of methodical habits, and till ten o'clock always remained in the drawing-room; on this occasion, therefore, as on others, he sat down and took up the Guardian, but Bella saw that he did not read, since for an hour his gaze was fixed vacantly on the same place, and now and then he drew out a handkerchief to dry his eyes. When the clock struck he rose, and his face was worn and grey with utter wretchedness.
'Good night, Polly,' he said. 'I hope Bella has seen that you have everything you require.'
He walked towards the door, but Miss Langton stopped him.
'You're not going without kissing me, father? You know it cuts my heart to make you so unhappy.'
'I don't think we need discuss the matter again, Bella,' he answered coldly. 'As you reminded me, you are of an age to decide your own affairs. I have nothing more to say, but I shall remain steadfast to my resolution.'
He turned on his heels and closed the door behind him; they heard him lock himself in his study.
'He's never gone to bed without kissing me be
fore,' said Bella painfully. 'Even when he stayed out late, he used to come into my room to bid me good night. Oh, poor man, how frightfully unhappy I've made him!'
She looked at Miss Ley with anguish in her eyes.
'Oh, Mary, how hard it is that in this life you can't do good to one person without hurting another! Duty so often points in two contrary directions, and the pleasure of doing the one duty is so much less than the pain of neglecting the other.'
'Would you like me to speak to your father?'
'You can do no good. You don't know what immovable determination lies behind his meek and gentle manner.'
The Dean sat at his study table, his face buried in his hands, and when at last he went to bed, could not sleep, but brooded continually over the change that must occur in all his habits. He knew not what he should do without Bella, but could have reconciled himself to the loss if the youth and station of Herbert Field had not to his mind made the union unnatural and outrageous. He was paler than ever next day, bowed and haggard, and went about the house restlessly, silent, avoiding Bella's compassionate eyes: with an old man's weakness, he could not restrain the tears of which he was ashamed, and hid himself that he might not excite his daughter's pity. Miss Ley attempted to reason with him, but no good came; he was by turns obstinate and imploring.
'She can't leave me now, Polly,' he said. 'Can't she see how old I am, and how much I want her? Let her wait a little, I don't want to die alone with strange hands to close my eyes.'
'But you're not going to die, my dear Algernon. Our family to its uttermost branches has two marked characteristics, pig-headedness and longevity; and you'll live for another twenty years. After all, Bella has done a great deal for you. Don't you realize that she wants to live her own life for a little? You haven't noticed the change in her during the last few years; she's no longer a girl, but a woman of decided views; and when a spinster develops views there's the devil to pay, my dear. I always think the one duty of human beings is not to hinder their neighbours in fulfilling themselves. Why don't you change your mind, and go with them to Italy?'