An Old Man's Love

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER VII.

  JOHN GORDON AND MR WHITTLESTAFF.

  Mr Gordon had gone out to South Africa with the settled intention ofdoing something that might enable him to marry Mary Lawrie, and hehad carried his purpose through with a manly resolution. He had notfound Kimberley much to his taste, and had not made many dear friendsamong the settled inhabitants he had found there. But he had workedon, buying and selling shares in mines, owning a quarter of an eighththere, and half a tenth here, and then advancing till he was thepossessor of many complete shares in many various adventures whichwere quite intelligible to him, though to the ordinary stay-at-homeEnglishman they seem to be so full of peril as not to be worthpossessing. As in other mines, the profit is shared monthly, and thesystem has the advantage of thus possessing twelve quarter-days inthe year. The result is, that time is more spread out, and the manexpects to accomplish much more in twelve months than he can at home.In two years a man may have made a fortune and lost it, and be on hisway to make it again. John Gordon had suffered no reverses, and withtwenty-four quarter-days, at each of which he had received ten ortwenty per cent, he had had time to become rich. He had by no meansabandoned all his shares in the diamond-mines; but having wealthat command, he had determined to carry out the first purpose forwhich he had come to South Africa. Therefore he returned to Norwich,and having there learned Mary's address, now found himself in herpresence at Croker's Hall.

  Mr Whittlestaff, when he heard John Gordon's name, was as muchastonished as had been Mary herself. Here was Mary's lover,--the veryman whom Mary had named to him. It had all occurred on this verymorning, so that even the look of her eyes and the tone of her voice,as those few words of hers had been spoken, were fresh in his memory."He used to come to our house at Norwich,--and I loved him." Then shehad told him that this lover had been poor, and had gone away. Hehad, since that, argued it out with himself, and with her too, onthe theory, though not expressed, that a lover who had gone away nownearly three years ago, and had not been heard of, and had been poorwhen he went, was of no use, and should be forgotten. "Let therebe no mention of him between us," he had intended to say, "and thememory of him will fade away." But now on this very day he was backamong them, and there was Mary hardly able to open her mouth in hispresence.

  He had bowed twice very stiffly when Gordon had spoken of all thathe had done on Mary's behalf. "Arrangements have been made," he said,"which may, I trust, tend to Miss Lawrie's advantage. Perhaps I oughtnot to say so myself, but there is no reason why I should trouble astranger with them."

  "I hope I may never be considered a stranger by Miss Lawrie," saidGordon, turning round to the young lady.

  "No, not a stranger," said Mary; "certainly not a stranger."

  But this did not satisfy John Gordon, who felt that there wassomething in her manner other than he would have it. And yet even tohim it seemed to be impossible now, at this first moment, to declarehis love before this man, who had usurped the place of her guardian.In fact he could not speak to her at all before Mr Whittlestaff. Hehad hurried back from the diamond-fields, in order that he might layall his surprisingly gotten wealth at Mary's feet, and now he felthimself unable to say a word to Mary of his wealth, unless in thisman's presence. He told himself as he had hurried home that theremight be difficulties in his way. He might find her married,--orpromised in marriage. He had been sure of her love when he started.He had been quite confident that, though no absolute promise had beenmade from her to him, or from him to her, there had then been noreason for him to doubt. In spite of that, she might have marriednow, or been promised in marriage. He knew that she must have beenpoor and left in want when her stepmother had died. She had told himof the intentions for her life, and he had answered that perhaps inthe course of events something better might come up for her. Then hehad been called a pauper, and had gone away to remedy that evil ifit might be possible. He had heard while working among the diamondsthat Mr Whittlestaff had taken her to his own home. He had heard ofMr Whittlestaff as the friend of her father, and nothing better hethought could have happened. But Mary might have been weak during hisabsence, and have given herself up to some other man who had askedfor her hand. She was still, at heart, Mary Lawrie. So much had beenmade known to him. But from the words which had fallen from her ownlips, and from the statement which had fallen from Mr Whittlestaff,he feared that it must be so. Mr Whittlestaff had said that he neednot trouble a stranger with Mary's affairs; and Mary, in answerto his appeal, had declared that he could not be considered as astranger to her.

  He thought a moment how he would act, and then he spoke boldly toboth of them. "I have hurried home from Kimberley, Mr Whittlestaff,on purpose to find Mary Lawrie."

  Mary, when she heard this, seated herself on the chair that wasnearest to her. For any service that it might be to her, his comingwas too late. As she thought of this, her voice left her, so that shecould not speak to him.

  "You have found her," said Mr Whittlestaff, very sternly.

  "Is there any reason why I should go away again?" He had not at thismoment realised the idea that Mr Whittlestaff himself was the man towhom Mary might be engaged. Mr Whittlestaff to his thinking had beena paternal providence, a God-sent support in lieu of father, who hadcome to Mary in her need. He was prepared to shower all kinds ofbenefits on Mr Whittlestaff,--diamonds polished, and diamonds in therough, diamonds pure and white, and diamonds pink-tinted,--if onlyMr Whittlestaff would be less stern to him. But even yet he had nofear of Mr Whittlestaff himself.

  "I should be most happy to welcome you here as an old friend ofMary's," said Mr Whittlestaff, "if you will come to her wedding."Mr Whittlestaff also had seen the necessity for open speech; andthough he was a man generally reticent as to his own affairs, thoughtit would be better to let the truth be known at once. Mary, whenthe word had been spoken as to her wedding, "blushed black" as herstepmother had said of her. A dark ruby tint covered her cheeks andher forehead; but she turned away her face, and compressed her lips,and clenched her two fists close together.

  "Miss Lawrie's wedding!" said John Gordon. "Is Miss Lawrie to bemarried?" And he purposely looked at her, as though asking her thequestion. But she answered never a word.

  "Yes. Miss Lawrie is to be married."

  "It is sad tidings for me to hear," said John Gordon. "When last Isaw her I was rebuked by her step-mother because I was a pauper. Itwas true. Misfortunes had come in my family, and I was not a fitperson to ask Miss Lawrie for her love. But I think she knew that Iloved her. I then went off to do the best within my power to remedythat evil. I have come back with such money as might suffice, and nowI am told of Miss Lawrie's wedding!" This he said, again turning toher as though for an answer. But from her there came not a word.

  "I am sorry you should be disappointed, Mr Gordon," said MrWhittlestaff; "but it is so." Then there came over John Gordon'sface a dark frown, as though he intended evil. He was a man whosedispleasure, when he was displeased, those around him were apt tofear. But Mr Whittlestaff himself was no coward. "Have you anyreason to allege why it should not be so?" John Gordon only answeredby looking again at poor Mary. "I think there has been no promisemade by Miss Lawrie. I think that I understand from her that therehas been no promise on either side; and indeed no word spokenindicating such a promise." It was quite clear, at any rate, thatthis guardian and his ward had fully discussed the question of anypossible understanding between her and John Gordon.

  "No; there was none: it is true."

  "Well?"

  "It is true. I am left without an inch of ground on which to found acomplaint. There was no word; no promise. You know the whole storyonly too well. There was nothing but unlimited love,--at any rate onmy part." Mr Whittlestaff knew well that there had been love on herpart also, and that the love still remained. But she had promised toget over that passion, and there could be no reason why she shouldnot do so, simply because the man had returned. He said he had comefrom Kimberley. Mr Whittlestaff had his own ideas about Kimberley.Kimberley w
as to him a very rowdy place,--the last place in the worldfrom which a discreet young woman might hope to get a well-conductedhusband. Under no circumstances could he think well of a husbandwho presented himself as having come direct from the diamond-fields,though he only looked stern and held his peace. "If Miss Lawrie willtell me that I may go away, I will go," said Gordon, looking again atMary; but how could Mary answer him?

  "I am sure," said Mr Whittlestaff, "that Miss Lawrie will be verysorry that there should be any ground for a quarrel. I am quitewell aware that there was some friendship between you two. Then youwent, as you say, and though the friendship need not be broken, theintimacy was over. She had no special reason for remembering you, asyou yourself admit. She has been left to form any engagement that shemay please. Any other expectation on your part must be unreasonable.I have said that, as an old friend of Miss Lawrie's, I should behappy to welcome you here to her wedding. I cannot even name a day asyet; but I trust that it may be fixed soon. You cannot say even toyourself that Miss Lawrie has treated you badly."

  But he could say it to himself. And though he would not say it toMr Whittlestaff, had she been there alone, he would have said it toher. There had been no promise,--no word of promise. But he felt thatthere had been that between them which should have been stronger thanany promise. And with every word which came from Mr Whittlestaff'smouth, he disliked Mr Whittlestaff more and more. He could judgefrom Mary's appearance that she was down-hearted, that she wasunhappy, that she did not glory in her coming marriage. No girl'sface ever told her heart's secret more plainly than did Mary's atthis moment. But Mr Whittlestaff seemed to glory in the marriage. Tohim it seemed that the getting rid of John Gordon was the one thingof importance. So it was, at least, that John Gordon interpreted hismanner. But the name of the suitor had not yet been told him, and hedid not in the least suspect it. "May I ask you when it is to be?" heasked.

  "That is a question which the lady generally must answer," said MrWhittlestaff, turning on his part also to Mary.

  "I do not know," said Mary.

  "And who is the happy man?" said John Gordon. He expected an answerto the question also from Mary, but Mary was still unable to answerhim. "You at any rate will tell me, sir, the name of the gentleman."

  "I am the gentleman," said Mr Whittlestaff, holding himself somewhatmore erect as he spoke. The position, it must be acknowledged, wasdifficult. He could see that this strange man, this John Gordon,looked upon him, William Whittlestaff, to be altogether an unfitperson to take Mary Lawrie for his wife. By the tone in which heasked the question, and by the look of surprise which he put onwhen he received the answer, Gordon showed plainly that he had notexpected such a reply. "What! an old man like you to become thehusband of such a girl as Mary Lawrie! Is this the purpose for whichyou have taken her into your house, and given her those good thingsof which you have boasted?" It was thus that Mr Whittlestaff hadread the look and interpreted the speech conveyed in Gordon's eye.Not that Mr Whittlestaff had boasted, but it was thus that he readthe look. He knew that he had gathered himself up and assumed aspecial dignity as he made his answer.

  "Oh, indeed!" said John Gordon. And now he turned himself altogetherround, and gazed with his full frowning eyes fixed upon poor Mary.

  "If you knew it all, you would feel that I could not help myself." Itwas thus that Mary would have spoken if she could have given vent tothe thoughts within her bosom.

  "Yes, sir. It is I who think myself so happy as to have gained theaffections of the young lady. She is to be my wife, and it is sheherself who must name the day when she shall become so. I repeat theinvitation which I gave you before. I shall be most happy to seeyou at my wedding. If, as may be the case, you shall not be in thecountry when that time comes; and if, now that you are here, you willgive Miss Lawrie and myself some token of your renewed friendship,we shall be happy to see you if you will come at once to the house,during such time as it may suit you to remain in the neighbourhood."Considering the extreme difficulty of the position, Mr Whittlestaffcarried himself quite as well as might have been expected.

  "Under such circumstances," said Gordon, "I cannot be a guest in yourhouse." Thereupon Mr Whittlestaff bowed. "But I hope that I may beallowed to speak a few words to the young lady not in your presence."

  "Certainly, if the young lady wishes it."

  "I had better not," said Mary.

  "Are you afraid of me?"

  "I am afraid of myself. It had better not be so. Mr Whittlestaff hastold you only the truth. I am to be his wife; and in offering mehis hand, he has added much to the infinite kindnesses which he hasbestowed upon me."

  "Oh, if you think so!"

  "I do think so. If you only knew it all, you would think so too."

  "How long has this engagement existed?" asked Gordon. But to thisquestion Mary Lawrie could not bring herself to give an answer.

  "If you are not afraid of what he may say to you--?" said MrWhittlestaff.

  "I am certainly afraid of nothing that Mr Gordon may say."

  "Then I would accede to his wishes. It may be painful, but it willbe better to have it over." Mr Whittlestaff, in giving this advice,had thought much as to what the world would say of him. He had donenothing of which he was ashamed,--nor had Mary. She had given him herpromise, and he was sure that she would not depart from it. It would,he thought, be infinitely better for her, for many reasons, that sheshould be married to him than to this wild young man, who had justnow returned to England from the diamond-mines, and would soon, heimagined, go back there again. But the young man had asked to see thegirl whom he was about to marry alone, and it would not suit him tobe afraid to allow her so much liberty.

  "I shall not hurt you, Mary," said John Gordon.

  "I am sure you would not hurt me."

  "Nor say an unkind word."

  "Oh no! You could do nothing unkind to me, I know. But you mightspare me and yourself some pain."

  "I cannot do it," he said. "I cannot bring myself to go back at onceafter this long voyage, instantly, as I should do, without havingspoken one word to you. I have come here to England on purpose to seeyou. Nothing shall induce me to abandon my intention of doing so, butyour refusal. I have received a blow,--a great blow,--and it is youwho must tell me that there is certainly no cure for the wound."

  "There is certainly none," said Mary.

  "Perhaps I had better leave you together," said Mr Whittlestaff, ashe got up and left the room.