Chapter X: A Letter and a Proposal

Never a week passed that Antony did not receive a nice long letter from his sister Aggie. The two had been all and all to each other, and he never had a secret that he did not tell her. And the same may be said for Aggie. However, as neither he nor she ever had any secrets, this statement loses half its value.

Sometimes his father also wrote, but this was seldom. He was a magistrate, and a man belonging to one of the best old county families, and gave himself quite up to the management of his large estate. So his letters were somewhat stilted in style and very brief and business-like.

Aggie had, however, recently communicated to her brother the fact that their father was none too well pleased at his staying so long in one place. 'And among a gang of gipsies too,' the letter went on. 'These are father's own words, dear brother. As for myself, I think you must be enjoying yourself in a way that is most idyllic. I only wish I could join you for a few weeks. But, mind you, Anty, when you fairly set off in your own "Gipsy Queen" in the sweet summer-time you must get a sweet little caravan for me and my maid, and we will join you. That is settled, so don't you forget.

'By-the-by, dear brother, I had almost forgotten to tell you that our big, handsome, man-of-the-world cousin Gustie Robb has been here nearly all the time you have been away. Father seems very much struck over him; told me the other day he was a young man after his own heart, and bound to be a power in Parliament when returned on the Conservative ticket for South S----

'But father has a dream that I will marry Gustie some day. It will be like all other dreams, dear, for your sister Aggie is too fond of her liberty to give her hand to anybody to lead her through life. She thinks she knows the way without a guide.'

There was a postscript to this particular letter, which ran as follows:

'_P.S._--I rather think, Anty, that Gustie is doing his best to win
father's favour in every way. For goodness' sake, dear, start
travelling, or do something. You know how headstrong and quick to
act dear daddy is; and oh, if you love me, do nothing to displease
him. Why don't you come and stand for South S---- when old B----
resigns? Old B---- is going abroad, you know.

'Ta, ta, again. Think over it.

AGGIE.'

Antony read the letter three times, lit a cigar, and sat down on his back-steps to smoke it while he glanced dreamily away over the blue sea. Then on the leaves of his note-book he wrote:

'Think over it, eh, Aggie? Well, I do, dear sissy. Gustie can stand
for fifty counties if he likes, and for anything Frank Antony
cares. I dare say if Gustie gets in--and he is fool enough to be in
Parliament--it will be father's money that will put him there.

'I am sitting in my caravan, Aggie, or, rather, on the back-steps,
in true Romany rye fashion, as idle as a painted ship upon a
painted thingummy. Out yonder is the blue sea, dear, only it is
green to-day, with white foam-flakes here and there, for a glorious
spanking breeze is blowing. But there isn't a sail to spank, Aggie.
And that sea is just like your brother's mind at present--vacant, a
glorious green vacuum. I know, sister mine, that nature abhors a
vacuum. By the way, isn't _vacuum_ the Latin for a cow? Alas! I
fear that sending your big brother to Edinburgh University was
throwing money away. But why should nature abhor a cow? Oh, now I
remember, _vacca_ is the cow. But where was I? Oh yes. I've made up
my mind, Aggie, never to be one of the six hundred jackasses who
bray in Parliament. I have come to the belief that the only thing
in life that I am cut out for is to do nothing, and to do it well.
I hope the old dad won't take on about this when I tell him; though
I am in no hurry to let him know. Don't you go and marry that born
idiot of a Gustie, else I'll forthwith marry the charming, fat
Widow Pendlebury, whom I told you about in my last. By the way, she
is not a widow yet, but Skeleton doesn't look as though he would
last for another generation. He is as thin as a bean-pole or a
billiard-cue.

'I know you are dying to know the secret of the mermaid, or rather
merman; but I am as far from finding that out as ever, and lately
have taken to believing that it is a real creature. And you would
never believe how horrible it looks, Aggie.

'I told you about Lottie Lee so often. Dear, sweet thing! I have
had a lovely new boat built for her which her brute of a father was
coolly going to annex. He is cruel to the child, Aggie, and I fear
that if he lays a finger on her again I'll thrash him within an
inch of his life.

'Heigh-ho! but I do wonder what Lotty's mother was like--a real
lady undoubtedly; though how she could have mated with Biffins is a
puzzle.

'Going to travel in my "Gipsy Queen." Going to ask Biffins to let
Mary and Lottie come with me--it will be but for a few weeks--in
their "Silver Queen," to cook my meals and look after me, and of
course the dog Wallace will come also. A winter's cruise in a
caravan! Isn't there a delightful ring about it, Aggie, and what
possibilities may the road at this wild season of the year not have
in store for us!'

Frank tore the leaves of the note-book containing the above right out, and just posted them, gipsy fashion, to Aggie as they were.

* * * * *

Before going further in this story it may be as well to say a word or two concerning the effects of that letter at Manby Hall.

If Gustie Robb told Aggie Blake once that he loved her and had made up his mind to live so as to win her for his wife, he told her twenty times.

Now, Gustie was not a bad-looking fellow. Tall, dark as to eyes and hair, a half-aquiline nose which gave him a somewhat Jewish cast of countenance, a sweet, persuasive tongue, and groomed to perfection. He was a trifle solemn, however, and in this way so different in character from Aggie, who in manner was very like her brother--always merry, and as often as not singing like the happy bird she was.

Gustie was as poor as lobster-shell when there is no more lobster left in it. But that would not have mattered anything to Aggie could she have cared for him. But she did not, and told him so laughingly.

'I don't believe,' she said, 'in marriages between cousins, so I won't marry _you_. I don't believe in marriage at all, so I won't marry any one else.'

'Ah, Cousin Aggie, then I shall live in hope.'

'In hope of what?' she asked.

'In hope of getting'----

She didn't let him finish the sentence--in fact, she finished it for him, for she was feeling full of mischief just then--'In hope of getting my fortune. That's it, isn't it, Gustie?' Her fortune, by the way, was in her own right.

Then she seated herself at the piano and began to sing a verse of an old Scots song which her grandmother had taught her:

'O mickle thinks my love of my beauty,
An' mickle thinks my love of my kin;
But little thinks my love I ken brawlie[A]
My tocher's[B] the jewel has charms for him.
It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree,
It's a' for the honey he'll cherish the bee,
My laddie's so mickle in love wi' the siller[C]
He canna ha'e love to spare for me.'

'I don't really know, Cousin Aggie, what should be done with a girl like you.'

'Oh, I do, Cousin Gust.'

'Well?'

'Why, leave her alone.'

'Just so. You are very provoking, though I must allow you are pretty when you are provoking. But, really now, dear, I shall never marry until the day when'----

'When what?'

'When I marry you.'

'And you think that day will ever come?'

'It is certain to. Let me see--you are twenty I think?'

'Twenty, yes. No use calling myself any younger for the next ten years.'

'Well, and I am five-and-twenty, possessed of a moderate share of good looks, have a little money, the _entrée_ to good society, and splendid prospects.'

'Your elephant isn't dead, is he, cousin?'

'Oh, I'm not trumpeting, I'm only pleading my own cause, Aggie. And I know that our union would be--nay, but I shall say _will_ be--a very happy one. And what is more, dear cousin, and what may appeal to you as a sensible girl, your father would not be averse to our marriage.'

'Did you ask him?'

'No. That is--well, I didn't quite ask him, but I seem to feel that he wouldn't object.'

'And I suppose you think this is the correct way of wooing a young girl and gaming her affections, do you?'

'A sensible girl, yes.'

'But I'm not a sensible girl, and I wouldn't be a sensible girl for all the world. Sensible girls went out long ago with crinoline and that sort of thing. Probably there was a time when, if a man wanted to marry the daughter, he began by making love to the father. But that sort of thing is quite out of date.'

She touched the bell as she spoke.

'Oh, Dobson, I'll have my horse round in half an hour. The chestnut with the white feet, tell the groom.'

'You are going to hunt?' said Gustie.

'Yes; but I'll go to the meet without a cavalier. My chestnut is in fine form, I'm told, and I do long to have the dust blown out of my hair.'

'I cannot go with you, my pretty cousin.'

'Nobody axed you, sir,' she said, or rather sung.

Now, it happened that Antony's letter had come among others that very morning, and she had left it in her boudoir to read it a second time, but had forgotten it. It is not pleasant to write about shabby actions or disagreeable people, but at times there is no help for it.

Gustie, going to the room some time after in search of his cousin, found she had left. He lingered a little here, and his eyes fell upon the letter. He was quite unfamiliar with Antony's calligraphy--indeed, the two did not correspond, for they had nothing in common.

'Hallo!' he thought, 'a letter to Agg, and from a gentleman too! Perhaps I have a rival.'

He was fingering it now.

'Would it be a breach in my dignity were I to open it, I wonder?'

Footsteps were approaching, so he hurriedly dropped it into his pocket and was studying a picture when the maid entered. She would have retreated at once, but he called her.

‘’Pon my word,' he said, catching her hand, 'a charming little puss. Should like to'----

'Better not, sir.'

'Let me see, I think I have a loose half-crown somewhere.'

'Do you let them run loose, sir?'

'I was just looking for my cousin, but find she has gone. There, you need not mention our little _tête-à-tête_ to your mistress.'

And off he went to his own room, and some time after strolled into the library, where he found Mr Blake, senior, studying _Debrett_. They talked somewhat indifferently for a time.

Then Mr Blake said, 'You look preoccupied, Gustus. Have you anything particular to say?'

'Well, I have; but it is sometimes difficult to reconcile apparent duty to one with friendship for another.'

'Explain.'

'Well, the letter I found in the hall. Cousin Aggie must have dropped it when going out. I suppose at the time my thoughts had gone a wool-gathering, for I read part of it, enough to cause me to come to the conclusion that you should see it.'

He placed the letter on the table and retired, and there it lay until Mr Blake threw himself into his easy leather-backed chair to smoke. At first he was rather amused, then a shade of disappointment stole over his face, but no anger.

'Stupid boy!' he said. 'When I told him he might have his fling, I didn't mean he was to make a fool of himself.'

Then he got up and paced the floor for a few minutes. Already the evil seed that Gustus had sown so artfully was beginning to swell.

'Confound it all!' said Blake, half-aloud, as he tossed away half a cigar and proceeded to light another, 'that boy can't have much of the real blood of the old Blakes in him. 'Pon my soul, I'd rather he was a trifle wicked than a downright fool. Let me see--he hopes the old dad (that's me) won't take on about this when I (that's Frank) tell him. And it's just "dad," doesn't even honour me with a capital D. No, Frank Antony, the old dad is not going to lose his hair over this. Ah, well, he's only a boy!'

He smoked for a while, then got up to write, for he was a busy man. Presently he took the letter and went to his daughter's room and placed it on the table, meaning to tell Aggie all about it when she returned. But Polly her maid was before him.

'Oh, miss, w'at do you think?'

Aggie was dressing for dinner.

'Think about what, Polly?'

'Oh, miss, Mr Gustie gave me a kiss.'

'Well?'

'Yes, and a 'alf-crown.'

'Where, and when, and what for?'

'In your budd-oyre, miss, soon's you were gone, not to tell he stole your letter from dear Master Antony.'

'But I found the letter on the table where I left it.'

'Yes, miss, cause master hisself put it there.'

'Did my cousin, Mr Robb, give it to father?'

'That he did. I see'd him with these beautiful eyes, as Mr Gustie called 'em. And I 'eard all 'e said, and master too.'

'Ah! Polly, never mind; but I'm afraid you have neither earned your kiss nor your half-crown. There's a dress of mine, Polly, you can have for the servants' ball next month. It only wants altering.'

'Oh, thanks; and I won't ever let Mr Gustie kiss me or 'alf-crown me never no more. Yours until death do us part, Polly Smiggins.'

Then Aggie Blake went down to dinner.

'Oh, by the way, Aggie,' said Mr Blake, 'did you find your letter? You had dropped it on the hall-floor, and then it was picked up, and I placed it on your desk.'

'Thank you very much, papa. It was only from Antony. He is enjoying himself very much, and is going to travel soon. Shall I give it to you?'

'Oh, you needn't, Aggie. Fact is, seeing it was in Frank's handwriting, I'm afraid I was rude enough to read it.'

'Was it the butler who found it, daddy?'

'Ye--ye--es,' Gustus Robb interjected. 'The fellow picked it up just as I was entering the library, and I handed it to you, Mr Blake.'

The only reply Aggie made was, 'Um--m--m!'

And that might have meant anything.