_ CHAPTER XXXI. DICK THINKS OF THE CITY
When Dick had uttered this audacious speech, Mr. Mayne started back, and his expression of mingled wrath and dismay was so ludicrous that under any other circumstances his son would have found it difficult to keep his countenance.
"What! what!" he almost shouted, losing all sense of politeness, and even of Nan's presence; "you young fool, what do you mean by trumping up this nonsense and presuming to talk to me in this way?"
Dick thought it prudent to drop Nan's hand,--and, indeed, the girl shrank away from them both in alarm at this outburst: nevertheless, his countenance and bearing maintained the same admirable
sang-froid, as he confronted his angry parent:
"Now, father, what is the use of calling me names? When a fellow is of age, and knows his own mind, he does not care a pin for being called a fool. 'Hard words break no bones,' as our copy-leaves used to tell us,--no, I have not got that quite right; but that is about my meaning. Look here, father," he continued, in a coaxing, boyish voice; "I have cared for Nan ever since she was a little creature so high," again reverting to the infantile measurement. "I have always meant to marry her,--that is, if she would have me," correcting himself, as Nan drew herself up a little proudly. "Money or no money, there is not another girl in England that I would have for a wife. I would wait for her if I had to wait half my life, just the same as she would wait for me; and so, as I said before, when a fellow has made up his mind, there is nothing more to say." And here Dick pursed up his lips for a whistle, but thought better of it, and fell to twisting and untwisting the ends of his sandy moustache.
Nan's downcast eyes revealed nothing. But if Dick could only have seen the happy look in them! What eloquence could ever have been so dear to her as that clear rough-and-ready statement of her lover's feelings for her? "There is not another girl in England that I would have for a wife." Could anything surpass the beauty of that sentence? Oh, how manly, how true he was, this Dick of hers!
"Oh, indeed! I am to say nothing, am I?" returned Mr. Mayne, with exquisite irony. "My son is to dictate to me; and I am to be silent! Oh, you young fool!" he muttered under his breath; but then for the moment words seemed to fail him.
In spite of the wrath that was boiling within him, and to which he did not dare give vent in Nan's presence, in spite of the grief and disappointment that his son's defiance had caused him, Dick's bearing filled him with admiration and amazement.
This boy of his was worth something, he thought. He had a clear head of his own, and could speak to some purpose. Was a likely young fellow like this to be thrown away on that Challoner girl? Poor Nan! Pretty and blooming as she looked, Mr. Mayne felt almost as though he hated her. Why had she come between his boy and him? Had he a dozen sons, that he could spare one of them? Was not Dick his only one,--the son of his right hand, his sole hope and ambition? Mr. Mayne could have wept as these thoughts passed through his mind.
It was at this moment that Nan thought it right to speak. Dick had had his say, but it was not for her to be silent.
"Mr. Mayne, please listen to me a moment," she said, pleadingly. "No; I must speak to your father," as Dick, much alarmed, tried to silence her. "He must not think hard things of us, and misunderstand us."
"No, dear; indeed you had better be silent!" implored Dick, anxiously; but Nan for once turned a deaf ear to him.
"I must speak," she persisted. "Mr. Mayne, it is quite true what Dick says: we have been together all our lives, and have grown to care for each other. I cannot remember the time,"--the tears coming into her bright eyes--"when Dick was not more to me than a brother; it is all of such long standing, it is far, far too late to stop it now."
"We shall see about that, Miss Nancy," muttered Mr. Mayne, between his teeth; but the girl did not seem to hear him.
"Dick took me by surprise just now. I ought to have been more on my guard, and not have given him that promise."
"What promise?" demanded Mr. Mayne, harshly; and Nan hung her head, and returned, shyly,--
"That I would marry him some time; but indeed--indeed he made me say it, and I was so taken by surprise. No, Dick; you must let me finish," for Dick was looking at her with piteous entreaty in his eyes. "I know we were wrong to say so much without your leave; but indeed I will do your son no harm. I cannot marry any one else, because I am engaged to him; but as far as he is concerned he is free. I will never marry him without your permission; he shall not come here if you do not wish; but do not be so angry with us;" and here her lip quivered. "If you did not mean this to happen, you should have kept us apart all these years."
"Oh, hush, dear!" whispered Dick in her ear; but Mr Mayne almost thrust him aside, and laid a rough grasp on the girl's wrist. "Never mind him: answer me one question. Are you serious in what you say, that you will never marry him without my permission?"
"Of course I will not," answered Nan, quite shocked. "Dick would not ask me to do such a thing; he is far too honorable, and--and--no one would think of such a thing."
"Very well; that is all I wanted to know;" and he released her, not over-gently: "the rest I can settle with Master Dick himself. Good-morning, Miss Nancy: under the circumstances I do not think I will wait to see your mother. I am not quite in the mood for ladies; perhaps, later on, I may have something to say to her."
"Don't you mean to shake hands with me, Mr. Mayne?" asked poor Nan, much distressed at the evil temper of Dick's father; but there was no sign of softening.
"Yes; I will shake hands with you, and gladly, if you will promise to be sensible and send this boy of mine about his business. Come now, Nan; own for my comfort that it is only a bit of boy-and-girl nonsense, that means nothing. I am not over-particular, and do not object to a bit of flirting with young folk."
"You had better go with your father, Dick," returned Nan, with much dignity, and quite ignoring this speech.
Dick seized the little hand that had been so rudely rejected, and kissed it under his father's eyes.
"I will see you again somehow," he whispered, and Nan was quite content with this promise. Dick would keep his word, she knew: he would not leave Hadleigh without seeing her.
A very unpleasant hour ensued for poor Dick. Mr. Mayne in one of his worst tempers; he had conducted himself to Nan in an ungentlemanly manner, and he knew it; as Dick said to himself,--
"It is very hard on a fellow when one's father acts like a cad."
Mr. Mayne had shown himself a cad. No gentleman by birth or breeding would have conducted himself in that offensive way. Bad temper had broken down the trammels of conventionality: never before in his life had Dick felt so utterly ashamed of his father. Mr. Mayne was conscious of his son's criticism, and it made things worse.
It spoke well for Dick's prudence and self-command that he let the storm of his father's anger break over his head, and said no word. Mr. Mayne ranted and raved; I am afraid he even swore once or twice,--at least his language was undesirably strong,--and Dick walked beside him and held his peace. "Poor old boy, he is terribly cut up about this!" he thought once.
Mr. Drummond saw them coming along, and wondered at the energy of the older man. Was it the visit to the Friary that had put him out? and then he fell anew into cogitation. Who were these people who were so curious about the Challoners? At least that sulky young fellow had taken no apparent interest, for he had made an excuse to leave them; but the other one had persisted in very close investigation. Perhaps he was some relation,--an uncle, or a distant cousin; evidently he had some right or claim to be displeased. Archie determined to solve the mystery as soon as possible.
"Well, sir, have you nothing to say for yourself?" demanded Mr. Mayne, when he had fairly exhausted himself. He had disinherited Dick half a dozen times; he had deprived him of his liberal allowance; he had spoken of a projected voyage to New Zealand: and Dick had only walked on steadily, and thought of the cold trembling little hand he had kissed. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?" he vociferated.
Dick woke up at this.
"Oh, yes, I have plenty to say," he returned cheerfully; "but two cannot talk at once, you know. It was right for you to have the first innings, and all that; and I say, father,"--his filial feelings coming to the surface,--"I am awfully sorry, and so is Nan, to see you so vexed."
"Speak for yourself," was the wrathful answer. "Don't mention that girl's name in my hearing for the present."
"Whose name?--Nan's?" returned Dick, innocently. "I don't see how we are to keep it out of the conversation, when the row is all about her. Look here, father: I say again I am awfully sorry you are vexed; but as N--she says, it is too late to mend matters now. I have made my choice, for better for worse, and I am sorry it does not please you."
"Please me!" retorted Mr. Mayne; and then he added, venomously: "The girl said you would not marry without my permission; but I will never give it. Come, Dick, it is no use thwarting me in this: you are our only child and we have other plans for you. Pshaw! you are only a boy! You have not seen the world yet. There are dozens of girls far prettier than this Nan. Give this nonsense up, and there is nothing I will not do for you; you shall travel, have your liberty, do as you like for the next two or three years, and I will not worry you about marrying. Why, you are only one-and-twenty; and you have two more years of University life! What an idea,--a fine young fellow like you talking of tying yourself down to matrimony!"
"There is no use in my going back to Oxford, father," returned Dick, steadily; "thank you kindly all the same, but, it would be sheer waste of money. I have made up my mind to go into the City; it is the fashionable thing nowadays. And one does not need Greek and Latin for that, though, of course, it is an advantage to a fellow, and gives him a standing; but, as I have to get my own living, I cannot afford the two years. Your old chums Stanfield & Stanfield would give me a berth at once."
"Is the boy mad? What on earth do you mean by all this tomfoolery?" demanded Mr. Mayne, unable to believe his ears. His small gray eyes opened widely and irately on his son; but Dick took no notice. He walked on, with his shoulders looking rather square and determined; the corners of his mouth were working rebelliously: evidently he did not dare to look at his father for fear of breaking into incontrollable laughter. Really the dear old boy was getting too absurd; he--Dick--could not stand it much longer. "What in the name of all that is foolish do you mean, sir?" thundered Mr. Mayne.
Dick executed a low whistle, and then he said, in an aggrieved voice,--
"Well, father, I don't call you very consistent. I suppose I know what being disinherited means? In plain language, you have told me about half a dozen times that if I stick to Nan I am not to expect a shilling of your money. Now, in my own mind, of course I call that precious hard on a fellow, considering I have not been such a bad sort of son after all. But I am not going to quarrel with you about that: a man has a right to do as he likes with his own money."
"Yes; but, Dick, you are going to be sensible, you know, and drop the girl?" in a wheedling sort of tone.
"Excuse me, father; I am going to do nothing of the kind," returned Dick, with sudden firmness. "I am going to stick to her, as you did to my mother; and for just as long, if it must be so. I am not a bit afraid that you will not give your permission, if we only wait long enough to prove that we are in earnest. The only thing I am anxious about is how I am to get my living; and that is why I will not consent to waste any more time at the University. The bar is too uphill work; money is made quickest in the City: so, if you will be good enough to give me an introduction to Stanfield & Stanfield,--I know they are a rattling good sort of people,--that is all I will trouble you about at present." And Dick drew in a long breath of relief after this weighty speech.
"Do you mean this, Dick?" asked Mr. Mayne, rather feebly.
They had reached the hotel now, and, as they entered the private room where their luncheon was awaiting them, he sat down as though he had grown suddenly old and tired, and rested his head on his hand, perhaps to hide the moisture that had gathered under his shaggy eyebrows.
"Yes, father, I do," returned Dick; but he spoke very gently, and his hand touched his father's shoulder caressingly. "Let me give you some wine: all this business has taken it out of you."
"Yes, I have had a blow, Dick,--my only boy has given me a blow," returned Mr. Mayne, pathetically; but as he took the wine his hand trembled.
"I am awfully sorry," answered Dick, penitently: "if there were anything else you had asked me but this--but I cannot give up Nan." And, as he pronounced the name, Dick's eyes shone with pride and tenderness. He was a soft-hearted, affectionate young fellow, and this quarrel with his father was costing him a great deal of pain. In everything else he would have been submissive to his parents; but now he had a purpose and responsibility in his life: he had to be faithful to the girl whom he had won; he must think for her now as well as for himself. How sweet was this sense of dual existence, this unity of heart and aim!
Mr. Mayne fairly groaned as he read the expression on his son's face. Dick's youthful countenance was stamped with honest resolution. "I am going to stick to her, as you did to my mother."--that was what he had said. If this were true, it was all over with Dick's chances with the pretty little heiress; he would never look at her or her thirty thousand pounds; "but all the same he, Richard Mayne, would never consent to his son marrying a dressmaker. If she had only not disgraced herself, if she had not brought this humiliation on them, he might have been brought to listen to their pleading in good time and at his own pleasure; but now, never!--never!" he muttered, and set his teeth hard.
"Dick," he said, suddenly, for there had been utter silence for a space.
"Yes, father."
"You have upset me very much, and made me very unhappy; but I wish you to say nothing to your mother, and we will talk about this again. Promise me one thing,--that you will go back to Oxford at least until Christmas."
"What is the good of that, sir?" asked his son, dubiously.
"What is the good of anything? for you have taken every bit of pleasure out of my life; but at least you can do as much as this for me."
"Oh, yes, father, if you wish it," returned Dick, more cheerfully; "but all the same I have fixed upon a City life."
"We will talk of that again," replied his father; "and, Dick, we go home to-morrow, and, unless you promise me not to come down to Hadleigh between this and Christmas, I shall be obliged to speak to Mrs. Challoner."
"Oh, there is no need for that," returned Dick, sulkily.
"You give me your word?"
"Oh, yes," pushing aside his chair with a kick. "It would be no use coming down to Hadleigh, for Nan would not speak to me. I know her too well for that. She has got such a conscience, you know. I shall write to her, but I do not know if she will answer my letters; but it does not matter: we shall both be true as steel. If you don't want me any more, I think I will have a cigar on the beach, for this room is confoundedly hot." And, without waiting for permission, Dick strode off, still sulky and fully aware that his father meant to follow him, for fear of his footsteps straying again down the Braidwood Road. _