"And, what if I refuse to do so?"--I said defiantly.
"I should leave the neighbourhood," she said promptly.--"And, if you were so very ungentlemanlike, as still to persecute her with your attentions, I should soon take measures to put a stop to them."
What could I say or do? She was armed at all points, and I was powerless!
"Will you let me see your daughter; and, learn from her own lips if she be of the same opinion as yourself?" I asked.
I was longing to see Min. I wanted to know whether she had been convinced by her mother"s worldly policy, or no.
"It is impossible for me to grant your request," said Mrs Clyde. "My daughter is not at home. She went down to the country this morning on a visit to her aunt; and the date of her return depends mainly on your decision now."
This was the finishing blow.
I succ.u.mbed completely before this master-stroke of policy, which my wary antagonist had not disclosed until the last.
"Oh! Mrs Clyde," I said; "how very hard you are to me!"
"Pardon me, Mr Lorton," she replied, as suave as ever.--"But, you will think differently by-and-by, and thank me for acting as I have done!
Your foolish fancy for my daughter will soon wear off; and you will live to laugh at your present folly!"
"Never!" I said, determinedly, with a full heart.
"But you will promise not to speak to my daughter otherwise than as a friend, when you see her again?" she urged:--not at all eagerly, but, quite coolly, as she had spoken all along.
I would have preferred her having been angry, to that calm, irritating impa.s.siveness she displayed. She appeared to be a patent condenser of all emotion.
"I suppose I must consent to your terms!"--I said, despairingly.--"Although, Mrs Clyde, I give you fair warning that, when I am in a position to renew my suit under better auspices, I will not hold myself bound by this promise."
"Very well, Mr Lorton," she said, "I accept your proviso; but, when you make your fortune it will be time enough to talk about it! In the meanwhile, relying upon your solemn word as a gentleman not to renew your offer to my daughter, or single her out with your attentions--which might seriously interfere with her future prospects--I shall still be pleased to welcome you _occasionally_"--with a marked emphasis on the word--"at my house. What we have spoken about had, now, better be forgotten by all parties as soon as possible, excepting your promise, of course, _mind_!" and she bowed me out triumphantly--she victorious, I thoroughly defeated.
What a sad, sad change had occurred since happy last night!
All my bright hopes were obscured, my ardent longings quenched by fashionable matter-of-fact; and, Min herself had gone from me, without one single parting word!
I was born to be unlucky, I think; everything went wrong with me now.
Like the lonely, hopeless hero in Longfellow"s translation of Min"s favourite _Coplas de Manrique_, I might well exclaim in my misery--
"Let no one fondly dream again, That Hope and all her shadowy train Will not decay; Fleeting as were the dreams of old, Remembered like a tale that"s told, They pa.s.s away!"
How did I know, too, but, that, ere I saw my darling again, months might elapse, during which time all thoughts of me might be banished from her heart?
One proverb tells us that "absence makes the heart grow fonder;"
another, equally ent.i.tled to belief, warns anxious lovers that "out of sight" is to be "out of mind."
Which of the two could I credit?
Besides, even if she were constant and true to me, Mrs Clyde would certainly never give her consent to our engagement, I was confident--no, not if we both lived and loved until doomsday!
All these bitter thoughts flashed through my mind in a moment, one after the other.
I was angry, indignant, wretched.
CHAPTER THREE.
"NIL DESPERANDUM."
To-morrow"s sun shall warmer glow, And o"er this gloomy vale of woe Diffuse a brighter ray!
"O you lovers, you lovers!"--exclaimed little Miss Pimpernell, on my unbosoming myself to her, and recounting the incidents of my unhappy interview with Min"s mother, shortly after I quitted the scene of my discomfiture.--"O you lovers, you lovers! You are always, either on the heights of ecstasy, or deep down in the depths of despair! Be a man, Frank, and let her see what n.o.ble stuff there is in you! There is nothing in this world worth the having, which can be obtained by merely looking at it and longing for it. Bear in mind Monsieur Parole"s favourite proverb, "On ne peut pas faire une omelette sans ca.s.ser les oeufs!" You mustn"t expect that a girl is going to drop into your mouth, like a ripe cherry, the moment you gape for her! Young ladies are not so easily won as that, Master Frank, let me tell you! Put your shoulder to the wheel, my boy! You will have to work and wait.
Remember how long it was that Jacob remained in suspense about his first love, Rachel--seven, long years; and, _then_, he had to serve seven more for her after that!"
"Ah, Miss Pimpernell!"--said I,--"but, seven years were not so much to the long-lived men who existed in those times, as seven months are to us ephemerals of the nineteenth century! Jacob could very well afford to wait that time; for he was not over what we call "middle-age" when he married; and was, most likely, in the flower of his youth on his ninetieth birthday!--He did not die you know, until he had reached the ripe age of "an hundred and forty and seven years."--Besides, he had Laban"s promise to keep him up to his work; but, _I_ have no promise, and no hope to lead me on, if I do wait--and what would I be at the end of seven years? Why, I would be thirty--quite old."
"Nonsense, Frank!"--replied the dear old lady, in her brisk cheery way, jumping round in her chair, and looking me full in the face with her twinkling black eyes.--"When you are as old as I am, you will not think thirty such a very great age, you may be sure! And, I didn"t say, too, that you should have to wait seven years, or anything like it--although, if you really love Miss Min, you would think nothing of twice that time of probation. As for Jacob"s age, the vicar could explain about that better than I, Master Frank, sharp though you are; you had best ask him what he thinks on the subject? What I say, is, my boy, that you must make up your mind to work, and wait for your sweetheart; work, at any rate--and wait, if needs be. "Rome wasn"t built in a day;" and, when did you ever hear of the course of true love running smooth? Be a man, Frank! Say to yourself, "I"ll work and win her," and you will. Put your heart in it, and it will soon be done--sooner than you now think.
There"s no good in your sitting down and whining at your present defeat, like the naughty child that cried for the moon! You must be up and doing. A man"s business is to overcome obstacles; it is only us, women, who are allowed to cry at home!"
"But, Mrs Clyde dislikes me," I said.
"What of that?" retorted Miss Pimpernell; "her dislike may be overcome."
"I don"t think it ever will be," I said, despondingly.
"Pooh, Frank," replied the old lady;--""never is a long day." She"s only a woman, and will change her mind fast enough when it suits her purpose to do so! You say, that she only objected on the score of your position, and from your not having a sufficient income?"
"Yes,"--I said,--"that was her ostensible reason; but, I think, she objects to me personally--in addition to having other and grander designs for Min."
"Ah, well,"--said Miss Pimpernell,--"we haven"t got to consider those other motives now; she rejected your offer, at all events, on the plea of your want of fortune?"
"Yes," said I, mechanically, again.
"Then, that is all we"ve got to deal with, my boy,"--she said.--"Mrs Clyde is quite right, too, you know, Frank. You have got no profession, or any regular occupation. Let us see if we cannot mend matters. In the first place, are you willing to work? Would you like some certain employment on which you can depend?"--And she looked at me kindly but searchingly over her spectacles.
"Would a duck swim?" said I, using an expressive Hibernicism.
"Well, what sort of employment would you like?" she asked.
"Anything," I replied.
"Come, that"s good!" she said.--"And what can you do?"
"Everything," I said.
She laughed good-humouredly.--"You"ve a pretty good opinion of yourself at any rate, Master Frank, if that"s any recommendation:--you will never fail through want of impudence. But, I"ll speak to the vicar about this. I think he could get you a nomination for a Government office."
"What, a clerkship?"--I said, ruefully, having hitherto affected to despise all the race of her Majesty"s quill drivers, from Horner downwards.