So incensed was I at his aspersions of Roger that I almost laughed when he spoke of disinheriting me. But the taunt that Roger was courting me for my money was most galling of all, by very force of reiteration. I started to my feet once more with a defiant air.
"It is not true. You misjudge Mr. Dale cruelly. To show you, father, how free our love is from the base and paltry motives you impute, and that we do not need your help, see there!"
I rushed through the open window which led to the piazza, and before either my father or Roger divined my intention, hurled with all my might the box of securities over the railing into the sea beneath. It opened just before reaching the water, and the contents were submerged by the seething surf.
I re-entered the parlor with a triumphant air. Roger"s face wore a half-scared look as he began to realize what I had done.
"Mad girl!" cried my father with a sneer. "Mr. Dale will not thank you for that, I fancy. You have, however, done me an infinite service." He turned and left the room.
When he was gone, exhausted and unnerved I buried my face on Roger"s shoulder and sobbed bitterly. He tried to soothe me, and finally induced me to sit down. He sat beside me, holding my hand and urging me to calm myself. At last I turned to him and said with a sudden transport of new happiness, and smiling through my tears,--
"I promised to remain true to you, Roger, and I have."
"Yes, dear, I know. When you are a little more composed, we will talk the matter over seriously."
There was something in his tone that chilled me; he was so calm, and I so carried away by excitement.
"Do not think of my father"s words," I said. "Forget them. I shall be perfectly happy so long as you love me."
"He will never relent," he answered gloomily. "He is known down town as a man who makes up his mind once for all time."
"I would rather disobey my father than be false to you," I responded firmly.
"Yes. But how are we to live?" he asked, rising from the sofa and promenading the room nervously, with his hands in his pockets.
"Live?" I echoed.
"Unfortunately we should have to eat and drink, like everybody else. It was a pity," he continued reflectively, "that you flung that money overboard; we might have been very comfortable with that."
"Yes," I replied in a dazed sort of way.
"Was it the whole?" He stood looking at me with his head on one side.
"The whole of what?"
"Was all the property your father gave you in that box?"
"Certainly: I wonder you ask, Roger."
He walked up and down a few times and then took a seat beside me.
"Let us look at this matter in a common-sense way, Virginia. Heaven knows I love you, and that I am as romantic in my feelings as any one could desire. But suppose we were to marry without your father"s consent, what would be the result? We should starve. To speak frankly, I find it difficult enough to make both ends meet as a single man. You are used to every luxury and comfort, and have not been accustomed to economize. Do not misunderstand me, Virginia," he continued, speaking quickly, struck perhaps by my expression, which if my emotions were adequately reflected therein must have made him uneasy. "I know that you are capable of any sacrifice; it is I who am unwilling to permit you to give up your fortune and your family for my sake. If there were any chance of your father"s relenting, if I thought there was a possibility that time would make a difference in his views, I would not speak so.
But as it is, I see no alternative for us but an unsuccessful struggle with poverty, that would end in unhappiness. It breaks my heart to come to this conclusion, but justice to you, as well as common-sense, will not let me suffer you to commit a folly which after the glamour of the moment was over, you would regret."
It was the manner even more than the matter of his speech that stabbed me to the heart. Had he spoken less calmly and deliberately, I might have believed that he shrank from accepting my self-sacrifice, and have regarded his dampening words as a mere cloak for his own generosity. But his unconcerned and dispa.s.sionate air left no doubt in my mind that it was he who was unwilling to face the romantic but desperate circ.u.mstances in which my father"s decree had placed us. Instinct told me that he in whose constancy and in whose devotion to ideality I had believed with all the ardor and trust of which I was capable, was false, and ready to subordinate a love like ours to temporal considerations.
Yet with the persistence of one who clutches at any semblance of hope however slender, I refused to believe the truth without further evidence.
"I should not be a burden to you, Roger. People can live on much less than they suppose. We could both work, I as well as you."
He shrugged his shoulders, and taking both my hands in his looked into my face with a trivial smile, so little in accord with the intensity of my feelings that I almost shrieked with pain.
"Do you think I would allow my dear girl to demean herself in any such way as that? No, no! Love in a cottage is a delightful theory, but put into practice it becomes terribly disappointing."
I drew away my hands from him and sat for some moments in silence.
"I think it is best that our engagement should come to an end," I said presently.
He made a sigh of resignation. "That is for you to decide. It rests with you, of course."
"I agree with you that it would be very foolish of us to marry without my father"s consent, Mr. Dale."
He drew himself up a little, and looked at me as if hurt. "Are you angry with me, Virginia?"
"Angry? Why should I be angry?"
"Then why call me Mr. Dale?"
"Because," I answered quietly and firmly, though I felt my anger rising, "unless you are to be my husband, you must be Mr. Dale."
"Can we not be friends?" he asked in a dejected tone.
"We can never be anything else," I answered with some ambiguity; and I rose and rang the bell.
The servant entered. "Tell Mr. Harlan, please, that I would like to speak to him."
"I think we are acting for the best," he said, after an awkward pause.
"I am sure we are, Mr. Dale." It was undignified, it may be, to betray my feelings, but my love was too strong to die without a murmur.
My father looked inquiringly at us as he entered. His face seemed to me almost haggard.
I said at once, "Father, we have made up our minds that you are right.
It would be madness in us to marry without your consent. The credit of our decision belongs to Mr. Dale. He has proved to me that our engagement should come to an end."
My father turned toward him with a scornful smile, appreciating, I think, the gentle sarcasm of my words. But I doubt if Roger did, for he added immediately,--
"Yes, sir; I cannot consent to the sacrifice your daughter is prepared to make."
"I am glad that she as well as you have come to your senses, and I thank you for making the only amends possible for having endeavored to enter my family contrary to my desire, by teaching my daughter her duty. I have no doubt that we shall both be very grateful to you in the future."
This time Roger perceived that he was being laughed at, for his cheeks flushed. But he recovered his composure, and looking at me, said,--
"I trust I may continue to come to see you as usual."
I trembled all over at his words, but I controlled myself, and answered,--
"If you wish."