They were fixed still more scrutinisingly upon it as the old man interposed, "Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Dampier, that you were not aware that my niece had got a little bit of her own?"
"There! I _knew_ Uncle would say that!" burst out the young girl, angry and blushing and ashamed. "I knew he"d say you were only marrying me because of that! _He_ won"t believe that it wouldn"t make any difference to you that I"ve got seventy-five pounds a year!"
"Seventy-five pounds a year? _Have_ you?" said the young man, surprised.
"Really?"
And it was Gwenna"s turn to be surprised as his frank face cleared and his voice took a very relieved note.
"I say, how topping! Make no difference to me? But it does. Rather!" he declared. "Don"t you see that I shall know you won"t _have_ to work, and that I shall be ever so much more comfortable about you? Why did you never tell me?"
"I forgot," said Gwenna truly.
And the Reverend Hugh suddenly laughed aloud.
At the same time he hoped he had concealed his relief, which was great.
His youngest sister"s girl was not going to be snapped up by a fortune-hunter after all. That had always been his anxiety. Seventy-five pounds a year (certain) remained a considerable fortune to this Victorian. In his valley quite a large house, with a nice bit of garden, too (running steeply up a mountain-side), was to be had for a rent of sixteen pounds. He would have thought of that himself.... But the leggy, fair-haired boy who was now smiling across the oval hotel table at his Gwenna had meant only what he had said. The older man realised that.
So, waiving for the present the question of means, the Reverend Hugh went on, in rather a modified tone, to ask other questions.
Asking questions of the newly accepted suitor seems to be all that remains for the parent or guardian of our times. It is the sole survival of that potent authority which once disposed (or said it disposed) of the young lady"s hand. Clearing his throat with the same little sound that so often heralded the words of some text from his pulpit, the Reverend Hugh began by inquiring where Gwenna, after her short honeymoon, was supposed to be going to live.
Nowhere new, it appeared! She had her berth at the Aircraft Factory, her room at Mrs. Crewe"s cottage for when young Dampier was away. (Yes; from his tone when he spoke of it, evidently that parting was to be kept in the background and evaded as much as possible for the present.) And if he were in London, he had his rooms in Camden Town. Do for them both, perhaps.... His bachelor digs.; not bad ones....
Well, but no _house_? Dear me. That was a gipsyish sort of plan, wasn"t it? That was a new idea of setting up housekeeping to Uncle Hugh. He, himself, was an old bachelor. But he could see that this was all very different from the ideas of all the young couples in _his_ time. When Gwenna"s father, now, was courting Gwenna"s mother, well! he, Hugh Lloyd, had never heard such a lot of talk about _Mahoggani_. _And_ tebbel-linen. _And_ who was to have the three feather-beds from the old Quarry-house; Gwenna"s mother, or Gwenna"s mother"s sister----
(All this the Reverend Hugh declaimed in his most distinct Chapel voice, but still with his searching eyes upon the face of the husband-to-be.)
The idea of most young girls, in getting married, he thought, was to get a nice home of their own, as soon as possible. A comfortable house----
("I hate comfortable houses. So stuffy. Just like a tea-cosy. They"d _smother_ me!" from Gwenna.)
But the House, her Uncle Hugh had _Olwes_ understood, was the Woman"s fetish. Spring-cleaning, now; the yearly rites! And that furniture. "The Lares," he went on in an ever-strengthening Welsh accent. "The Pen--nates----!"
"Oh, _those_!" scoffed the girl in love. "_Those_----!"
So Gwenna didn"t seem to think she would miss these things? She was willing to marry without them? Yes? Strange!... Well, well!
And what about this marriage-in-haste? Where was it to take place? In that Church in Hampstead? A Church. Well! He, as an orthodox dissenting minister, ought not, perhaps, to enter such a place of worship. But, after all, this was not at home. This was only up here, in England.
Perhaps it wouldn"t matter, just this once.
And who was the clergyman who was going to officiate at the cerrymonny?
And what sort of a preacher, now, was _he_? (This was not known.)
And Mr. Dampier"s own relations? Would they all be at the Church?
Only one cousin, he was told. That was the only relation Paul Dampier had left.
"Same as myself," said the Reverend Hugh, a little quietly. "A big family, we were. Six boys, two girls; like people used to have. All gone. Nothing left, but----"
Here, for the first time taking his eyes from young Dampier, he turned upon his niece with an abrupt question. With a quick nod towards her husband-to-be, he demanded: "And where did you find _him_?"
Little Gwenna, still on the defensive, but thawing gradually (since, after all, Uncle Hugh had spoken in friendly tones to the Beloved), Gwenna asked, "When, Uncle?"
"The time that counts, my girl," said the Reverend Hugh; "the first time."
"Oh! I think it was--it was at a party I went to with my friend, Miss Long, that I"ve told you about," explained Gwenna, a little nervously.
"And--and he was there. It"s--_quite_ a long time ago, now."
"Dear me," said the Reverend Hugh. "Dukes! There is a lot of things seem to go on, still, under the name of "Party."" And there was a sudden and quite young twinkle in the eyes under the white thatch.
Paul Dampier, not seeing it, began hastily: "I hope you understand, sir, that we were only keeping all this to ourselves, because--well----" He cleared his throat and made another start. "If I"d had the--er--the the privilege of seeing Gwenna at your place----" Yet another start. "We had no _idea_, of course," said Paul Dampier, "until fairly recently----"
"Dear me," said the Reverend Hugh again. Then, turning to the young man whom Gwenna had said he would accuse of turning the head of one too young to know her own mind, he remarked with some feeling, "I dare say she had made up her mind, that first time, not to give you a bit of peace until you"d sent off that telly-gram to me!"
As he was taking the bride-to-be back to her Club, young Dampier said, smiling: "Why, darling, he"s not a bad old chap at all! You said he wouldn"t understand anything!"
"Well, he doesn"t," persisted the mutinous Gwenna. But she laughed a little, relentingly.
Twenty minutes later her lover took his leave with a whispered "Good-night. Do you know that I shan"t ever have to say it again at this blessed door, after this?... And another, for luck....
Good-_night_--er--Miss Williams!"
She ran upstairs humming a tune.
She was so happy that she could feel kind even to old and unsympathetic and cynical people to-night.
To-morrow she was to be Paul Dampier"s wife.
It was hardly believable, still it was true!
War, now threatening to tear him from her, had at least brought him to her, first, sooner than she had ever hoped. Even if he were forced to leave her quite soon, say in a month"s time!--she would have had him all to herself first, without any of these small, fretting good-byes that came so punctually following every meeting! She would have _been_ all his; his very own, she thought.
And here it may be said that upon this subject Gwenna Williams" thoughts were curiously, almost incredibly vague. That dormant bud of pa.s.sion knew so little of its own hidden root.
Marriage! To this young girl it was a journey into a country of which she had never formed any clear idea. Her own dreams had been the rosy mists that obscured alike the heights and depths of that scarcely guessed-at land. All she saw, clearly, was her fellow traveller; the dear boy-comrade and sweetheart who would not now leave her side. What did it matter where he took her, so that it was with him always?
Only one more night, now, in the long, narrow Club bedroom where she had dreamed that queer flying dream, and so many others, so many longing daydreams about him!
To-morrow was her wedding-day!
CHAPTER VII
HASTE TO THE WEDDING!