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.It completely altered the expression of her face; made her look ten years younger—ten years happier, and, being happier, ten times more amiable.This expression—I was not the only one to notice it—was, by some intuition, reflected on the mother’s.It made softer than any speech of hers to Miss Silver—the few words—“My dear, will you come with me into the study?”“To lessons? Yes.I beg your pardon! Maud—where is Maud?”“Never mind lessons just yet.We will have a little chat with my son.Uncle Phineas, you’ll come? Will you come, too, my dear?”“If you wish it.” And with an air of unwonted obedience, she followed Mrs.Halifax.Poor Guy!—confused young lover!—meeting for the first time after his confession the acknowledged object of his preference—I really felt sorry for him! And, except that women have generally twice as much self-control in such cases as men—and Miss Silver proved it—I might even have been sorry for her.But then her uncertainties would soon be over.She had not to make—all her family being aware she was then and there making it—that terrible “offer of marriage,” which, I am given to understand, is, even under the most favourable circumstances, as formidable as going up to the cannon’s mouth.I speak of it jestingly, as we all jested uneasily that morning, save Mrs.Halifax, who scarcely spoke a word.At length, when Miss Silver, growing painfully restless, again referred to “lessons,” she said:“Not yet.I want Maud for half an hour.Will you be so kind as to take my place, and sit with my son the while?”470“Oh, certainly!”I was vexed with her—really vexed—for that ready assent; but then, who knows the ins and outs of women’s ways? At any rate, for Guy’s sake this must be got over—the quicker the better.His mother rose.“My son, my dear boy!” She leant over him, whispering—I think she kissed him—then slowly, quietly, she walked out of the study.I followed.Outside the door we parted, and I heard her go up-stairs to her own room.It might have been half an hour afterwards, when Maud and I, coming in from the garden, met her standing in the hall.No one was with her, and she was doing nothing; two very remarkable facts in the daily life of the mother of the family.Maud ran up to her with some primroses.“Very pretty, very pretty, my child.”“But you don’t look at them—you don’t care for them—I’ll go and show them to Miss Silver.”“No,” was the hasty answer.“Come back, Maud—Miss Silver is occupied.”Making some excuse, I sent the child away, for I saw that even Maud’s presence was intolerable to her mother.That poor mother, whose suspense was growing into positive agony.She waited—standing at the dining-room window—listening—going in and out of the hall,—for another ten minutes.“It is very strange—very strange indeed.He promised to come and tell me; surely at least he ought to come and tell me first—me, his mother—”She stopped at the word, oppressed by exceeding pain.“Hark! was that the study door?”“I think so; one minute more and you will be quite certain.”Ay! one minute more, and we WERE quite certain.The young lover entered—his bitter tidings written on his face.471“She has refused me, mother.I never shall be happy more.”Poor Guy!—I slipped out of his sight and left the lad alone with his mother.Another hour passed of this strange, strange day.The house seemed painfully quiet.Maud, disconsolate and cross, had taken herself away to the beech-wood with Walter; the father and Edwin were busy at the mills, and had sent word that neither would return to dinner.I wandered from room to room, always excepting that shut-up room where, as I took care, no one should disturb the mother and son.At last I heard them both going up-stairs—Guy was still too lame to walk without assistance.I heard the poor lad’s fretful tones, and the soothing, cheerful voice that answered them.“Verily,” thought I, “if, since he must fall in love, Guy had only fixed his ideal standard of womanhood a little nearer home—if he had only chosen for his wife a woman a little more like his mother!” But I suppose that would have been expecting impossibilities.Well, he had been refused!—our Guy, whom we all would have imagined irresistible—our Guy, “whom to look on was to love.” Some harsh folk might say this might be a good lesson for the lad—nay, for most lads; but I deny it.—I doubt if any young man, meeting at the outset of life a rejection like this, which either ignorance or heedlessness on the woman’s part had made totally unexpected, ever is the better for it: perhaps, for many years, cruelly the worse.For, most women being quick-sighted about love, and most men—especially young men— blind enough in its betrayal,—any woman who wilfully allows an offer only to refuse it, lowers not only herself but her whole sex, for a long, long time after, in the lover’s eyes.At least, I think so;— as I was thinking, in the way old bachelors are prone to moralize over such things, when, coming out of Guy’s room, I met Mrs.Halifax.She crossed the passage, hastily but noiselessly, to a small ante-room which Miss Silver had for her own private study—out 472of which half-a-dozen stairs led to the chamber where she and her pupil slept.The ante-room was open, the bed-chamber door closed.“She is in there?”“I believe she is.”Guy’s mother stood irresolute.Her knit brow and nervous manner betrayed some determination she had come to, which had cost her hard: suddenly she turned to me.“Keep the children out of the way, will you, Phineas? Don’t let them know—don’t let anybody know—about Guy.”“Of course not.”“There is some mistake—there MUST be some mistake.Perhaps she is not sure of our consent—his father’s and mine; very right of her—very right! I honour her for her indecision.But she must be assured to the contrary—my boy’s peace must not be sacrificed.You understand, Phineas?”Ay, perhaps better than she did herself, poor mother!Yet, when in answer to the hasty knock, I caught a glimpse of Miss Silver opening the door—Miss Silver, with hair all falling down dishevelled, and features swollen with crying,—I went away completely at fault, as the standers-by seemed doomed to be in all love affairs.I began to hope that this would settle itself somehow—in all parties understanding one another after the good old romantic fashion, and “living very happy to the end of their lives.”I saw nothing more of any one until tea-time; when Mrs.Halifax and the governess came in together.Something in their manner struck me—one being subdued and gentle, the other tender and kind.Both, however, were exceedingly grave—nay, sad, but it appeared to be that sadness which is received as inevitable, and is quite distinct from either anger or resentment.Neither Guy nor Edwin, nor the father were present.When John’s voice was heard in the hall, Miss Silver had just risen to retire with Maud.473“Good-night, for I shall not come down-stairs again,” she said hastily.“Good-night,” the mother answered in the same whisper—rose, kissed her kindly, and let her go.When Edwin and his father appeared, they too looked remarkably grave—as grave as if they had known by intuition all the trouble in the house.Of course, no one referred to it.The mother merely noticed how late they were, and how tired they both looked.Supper passed in silence, and then Edwin took up his candle to go to bed.His father called him back.“Edwin, you will remember?”“I will, father.”“Something is amiss with Edwin,” said his mother, when the two younger boys had closed the door behind them [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]