It was impossible to pay me less attention than he did.
Sir William had two daughters, one of whom was anxious to marry a major quartered in Edinburgh, but he was robustly and rudely against this, in consequence of which the girl was unhappy. She took me into her confidence one afternoon in their schoolroom.
It was dark and the door was half open, with a bright light in the pa.s.sage; Miss Miller was telling me with simple sincerity exactly what she felt and what her father felt about the major. I suddenly observed Sir William listening to our conversation behind the hinges of the door. Being an enormous man, he had screwed himself into a cramped posture and I was curious to see how long he would stick it out. It was indique that I should bring home the proverbial plat.i.tude that "listeners never hear any good of themselves."
MISS MILLER: "You see, there is only one real objection to him, he is not rich!"
I told her that as she would be rich some day, it did not matter.
Why should the rich marry the rich? It was grotesque! I intended to marry whatever kind of man I cared for and papa would certainly find the money.
MISS MILLER (not listening): "He loves me so! And he says he will kill himself if I give him up now."
MARGOT (with vigour): "Oh, if he is THAT sort of man, a really brave fellow, there is only one thing for you both to do!"
MISS MILLER (leaning forward with hands clasped and looking at me earnestly): "Oh, tell me, tell me!"
MARGOT: "Are you sure he is a man of dash? Is he really unworldly and devoted? Not afraid of what people say?"
MISS MILLER (eagerly): "No, no! Yes, yes! He would die for me, indeed he would, and is afraid of no one!"
MARGOT (luring her on): "I expect he is very much afraid of your father."
MISS MILLER (hesitating): "Papa is so rude to him."
MARGOT (with scorn): "Well, if your major is afraid of your father, I think nothing of him!" (Slight movement behind the door.)
MISS MILLER (impulsively): "He is afraid of no one! But Papa never talks to him."
MARGOT (very deliberately): "Well, there is only one thing for you to do; and that is to run away!" (Sensation behind the door.)
MISS MILLER (with determination, her eyes sparkling): "If he will do it, I WILL! But oh, dear! ...What will people say? How they will talk!"
MARGOT (lightly): "Oh, of course, if you care for what people say, you will be done all through life!"
MISS MILLER: "Papa would be furious, you know, and would curse fearfully!"
To this I answered:
"I know your father well and I don"t believe he would care a d.a.m.n!"
I got up suddenly, as if going to the door, at which there was a sound of a scuffle in the corridor.
MISS MILLER (alarmed and getting up): "What was that noise? Can any one have been in the pa.s.sage? Could they have heard us? Let us shut the door."
MARGOT: "No, don"t shut the door, it"s so hot and we shan"t be able to talk alone again."
Miss MILLER (relieved and sitting down): "You are very good. ... I must think carefully over what you have said."
MARGOT: "Anyhow, tell your major that _I_ know your father; he is really fond of me."
MISS MILLER: "Oh, yes, I heard him ask your father if he would exchange you for us."
MARGOT: "That"s only his chaff; he is devoted to you. But what he likes about me is my dash: nothing your papa admires so much as courage. If the major has pluck enough to carry you off to Edinburgh, marry you in a registrar"s office and come back and tell your family the same day, he will forgive everything, give you a glorious allowance and you"ll be happy ever after! ... Now, my dear, I must go."
I got up very slowly, and, putting my hands on her shoulders, said:
"Pull up your socks, Amy!"
I need hardly say the pa.s.sage was deserted when I opened the door.
I went downstairs, took up the Scotsman and found Sir William writing in the hall. He was grumpy and restless and at last, putting down his pen, he came up to me and said, in his broad Scotch accent:
"Margy, will you go round the garden with me?"
"MARGY": "Yes, if we can sit down alone and have a good talk."
SIR WILLIAM (delighted): "What about the summerhouse?"
"MARGY": "All right, I"ll run up and put on my hat and meet you here."
When we got to the summer-house he said:
"Margy, my daughter Amy"s in love with a pauper."
"MARGY": "What does that matter?"
SIR WILLIAM: "He"s not at all clever."
"MARGY": "How do you know?"
SIR WILLIAM: "What do you mean?"
"MARGY": "None of us are good judges of the people we dislike."
SIR WILLIAM (cautiously): "I would much like your advice on all this affair and I want you to have a word with my girl Amy and tell her just what you think on the matter."
"MARGY": "I have."
SIR WILLIAM: "What did she say to you?"
"MARGY": "Really, Sir William, would you have me betray confidences?"
SIR WILLIAM: "Surely you can tell me what YOU said, anyway, without betraying her."
"MARGY" (looking at him steadily): "Well, what do you suppose you would say in the circ.u.mstances? If a well-brought-up girl told you that she was in love with a man that her parents disliked, a man who was unable to keep her and with no prospects..."
SIR WILLIAM (interrupting): "Never mind what I should say! What did YOU say?"
"MARGY" (evasively): "The thing is unthinkable! Good girls like yours could never go against their parents" wishes! Men who can"t keep their wives should not marry at all. ..."