Chapter XXII: L'homme Propose

One morning in the early winter, Colonel Orpington walked into the Beaufort Club, and taking his letters from the hall-porter as he passed, entered the coffee-room and took possession of the table which for many years he had been accustomed to regard as almost his own.

There was no occasion for him to order any breakfast, so well were his ways known in that establishment, of which he was not merely one of the oldest, but one of the most conspicuous of the members. The officers of the household, from Riboulet the _chef_ and Woodman the house-steward down to the smallest page-boys, all held the Colonel in very wholesome reverence; and amongst the twelve hundred members on the books, the behests of none were more speedily obeyed than his.

While the repast was preparing, Colonel Orpington glanced over the envelopes of the letters which he had taken from the porter and laid on the table in military order before him. They are many and various: heavy official-looking letters, thin-papered missives from the Continent, and two or three delicate little notes. The Colonel selects one of these last, which is addressed in an obviously foreign hand, though bearing a London post-mark; the others are put aside; the dainty double-eyeglasses are brought from their hiding-place inside his waistcoat and adjusted across his nose, and he falls to the perusal of the little note. A difficult hand to read apparently, for the Colonel, though somewhat careful of showing any symptoms of loss of sight to the more youthful members of the club then present, by whom he has a certain suspicion he is looked upon as a fogey, has to hold it in various lights and twist it up and down before he can master its contents. When he has mastered them they do not appear to be of a particularly reassuring character; for the Colonel shakes his head, utters a short low whistle, and is stroking his chin with his hand, as though deep in thought, when the advanced guard of his breakfast makes its appearance.

"'Coming back at once,'" says the Colonel to himself; "at least, so far as I can make out Clarisse's confoundedly cramped handwriting. 'Coming back at once,' and from what she can make out from Fanny's talk, not in the best of tempers either, and likely to bring matters to an end; and Clarisse thinks I must declare myself at once. Well, I don't see why not.

"'Gad, it seems to me an extraordinary thing that I, who have been under fire so many times in these kind of affairs, should have been hesitating and hanging back and beating about the bush for so long with this girl! To be sure, she is quite unlike many of the others; more like a person in society, or rather, like what used to be society in my time: what goes by that name now is a very different thing. There's a sort of air of breeding about her, and a kind of _noli me tangere_ sort of thing mixed up with all her attractiveness, that makes the whole business a very different thing from the ordinary throwing the handkerchief and being happy ever after.

"Coming back, eh! My young friend Derinzy--member here, by-the-way; letters had better go to one of the other clubs in future; it is best to be on the safe side. Coming back, eh! And now what are--what parents call--his 'intentions,' I wonder? Scarcely so 'strictly honourable' as the middle-class father longs to hear professed by enamoured aristocrats. If he meant marriage, he would certainly have proposed before he left town, when, if all I learn is true, he was so wildly mad about the girl he would not have left her to---- And yet, perhaps, that is the very reason, though she said nothing, she has evidently been pleased by the attentions which I have shown her; and this perhaps has caused her to slack off in her correspondence with this young fellow, or to influence its warmth, or something of that kind, and this may have had the effect of bringing him to book.

"If he were to declare off, how would that suit me? Impossible to say. In the fit of rage and disgust with him, she might say yes to anything I asked her; on the other hand, she might have a fit of remorse, and think that it was all from having listened to the blandishments of this serpent she lost a chance of enjoying a perpetual paradise with that bureaucratic young Adam.

"There is the other fellow, too--the young man 'in her own station of life'--shopkeeper, mechanic, whatever he is. Clarisse seems to have some notion that he is coming to the fore, though I don't think there is any chance for him. The girl's tastes lie obviously in quite a different line, and I am by no means certain that his being in the race is a bad thing for me. However, it's plainly time that something must be done; and now, how to do it?"

He threw down his napkin before him as he spoke and rose from the table. The young men who had been breakfasting near him, though perhaps they might have thought him a fogey, yet envied the undeniable position he held in society; envied him, above all, the perfect freshness and good health and the evident appetite with which he had just consumed his meal, while they were listlessly playing with highly-spiced condiments, or endeavouring to quench the flame excited by the previous night's dissipation with effervescing drinks. Sir Coke Only, the great railway contractor and millionaire, whose neighbouring table was covered with prospectuses and letters on blue paper, propounding schemes in which thousands were involved, envied the Colonel that consummate air of good breeding which he, the millionaire, knew he could never acquire, and that happy idleness which never seemed in store for him. The perfectly-appointed brougham, with its bit-champing, foam-tossing gray horse, stood at the club-door, waiting to whirl the man of business into the City, where he would be unceasingly occupied till dusk; "while that feller," as Sir Coke remarked to himself, "will be lunching with marchionesses and dropping into the five o'clock tea with duchesses, and taking it as easy as though he were as rich as Rothschild."

Perhaps the Colonel knew of the envy which he excited; he was certainly not disturbed, and perhaps even pleased, by it. He sauntered quietly into the waiting-room, walked to the window, and stood gazing unconsciously at the black little London sparrows hopping about in the black little bit of ground which was metropolitan for a garden, and lay between the club and Carlton House Terrace, while he collected his thoughts. Then he sat down at a table and wrote as follows:

"Beaufort Club, Tuesday.

"DEAR MISS STAFFORD,--The opportunity which I have been so long waiting for has at length arrived, and I think I see my way to the fulfilment of the promise made to you in the beginning of our acquaintance.

"If you will be at my lawyer's chambers, No. 5, Seldon Buildings, Temple, at two o'clock this afternoon, he--Mr. John Wilson is his name--will enter into further particulars with you. I shall hear from him how he has progressed, and you will see me very shortly.--Very sincerely yours,

"JOHN ORPINGTON.

"P.S.--I have no doubt that Madame Clarisse will be able to spare you on your mentioning that you have business. You need not particularise its nature."

Then he wrote another letter consisting of one line:

"All right; let her go.--J.O."

He addressed these respectively to Miss Fanny Stafford and Madame Clarisse, and despatched them to their destination.

It was with no particular excess of pleasure that Daisy received and perused the first-written of these epistles. To be sure, at the first glance over the words her face flushed and her eyes brightened; but the next few minutes her heart sank within her with that undefined sense of impending evil of which we are all of us so frequently conscious. The thought of Paul's immediate return had been weighing upon her for some days; she had been uncertain how to treat him. She could not help acknowledging to herself that her feelings towards him had undergone a certain amount of alteration during his absence. She was unwilling that that alteration should be noticed by him, and yet could not avoid a lurking suspicion that she must have betrayed it in her letters. She gathered this from the tone of his replies, more especially from his last communication, in which he announced his speedy arrival in town. Of course she had not breathed to him one word of her acquaintance with Colonel Orpington; there was no occasion why she should have done so, she argued to herself; the two men would never be brought in contact. And yet it would be impossible for her to renew the intimacy which had previously existed with Paul, without his becoming aware that she had other calls upon her time, and insisted upon being made acquainted with their nature; and then, when he found it out, the fact of her having concealed this newly-formed friendship from him would tell very badly against her. It would have been very much better that she should have mentioned it, giving some sufficiently satisfactory account of its origin, and passing over it lightly as though it were of no moment. She could have done this in regard to the meeting with John Merton and its subsequent results--not that she had ever said anything of that to her lover, by-the-way--without, she was sure, exciting Paul's suspicion; but this was a different matter. In his last letter Paul had proposed to meet her on what would now be the next afternoon, and by that time she must have made up her mind fully as to the course she intended to pursue. The interview to which she was then proceeding might perhaps have an important effect upon her resolution. And as she thought of that interview her heart sank again, and her face became very grave and thoughtful; so grave and thoughtful did she look as she hurried along one of the dull streets in the neighbourhood of Russell Square, that a man to whom she was well known, and by whom every expression of her face was treasured, scarcely knew her, as, coming in the opposite direction, he encountered and passed by her. She did not notice him; but he turned, and in the next instant was by her side. She looked up; it was John Merton.

"You were walking at such a pace and looking so earnest, Miss Stafford," said he, after the first ordinary salutations, "that I scarcely recognised you. You are going into the City. May I walk part of the way with you? I am so glad to see you; I have been longing so anxiously to hear from you."

This was an awkward _rencontre_. Daisy had quite sufficient mental excitement with the interview to which she was proceeding. She had not calculated upon this addition to it, and answered him vaguely and unsatisfactorily.

"I have been very much occupied of late," said she. "The winter season is now coming upon us, you see, and I have scarcely any time to myself."

"It would have taken very little time to write yes or no," said poor John; "and if you knew the importance I attach to the receipt of one of those two words from you, I think you would have endeavoured to let me know my fate. Will you let me offer you my arm?"

"No--no, thanks," said Daisy, drawing back.

"You--you don't like to be seen with me, perhaps, in the street?" asked John, with a bitter tone in his voice.

"No, not that at all; only people don't take arms nowadays, don't you know?"

"Don't they?" said John, still bitterly. "I beg your pardon; you must excuse my want of breeding. I don't mix except among people in my own station. I--I didn't mean that," he added hurriedly, as he saw her face flush; "I didn't mean anything to offend you; but I have scarcely been myself, I think, for the last few days."

"You have done no harm," said Daisy, gently, pitying the look of misery on his face.

"Have I done any good?" he asked; "you cannot fail to understand me. If you knew how I suffer, you would keep me no longer in suspense."

"I did not pretend to misunderstand you," said the girl. "You are waiting for my answer to the proposition you made to me when you called at my lodging the other day."

"I am."

"You have placed me--unwillingly, I know--in a very painful position," said Daisy; "for it is really painful to me to have to say or do anything which I feel would give you pain."

"Don't say any more," he said in a hoarse voice; "I can guess your meaning perfectly. Don't say any more."

"But, Mr. Merton, you must hear me--you must understand----"

"I do understand that you say 'no' to what I asked you; that you reject my suit--I believe that is the proper society phrase! I don't want to know," continued he, with a sudden outburst of passion, "of the esteem in which you hold me, and the recollection which you will always have of the delicacy of my behaviour towards you. I know the rubbish with which it is always thought necessary to gild the pill in similar cases; but I'd rather be without it."

"You are becoming incoherent, and I can scarcely follow you," said Daisy, setting her lips and looking very stony. "I don't think I was going to say anything of the kind that you seem to have anticipated. I don't see that I have laid myself open to rudeness because I have been compelled to tell you it didn't suit me to marry you; and as to our being friends hereafter, I really don't think that there is the remotest chance of such a thing."

"I must again beg your pardon, Miss Stafford," said John, taking off his hat--he was quite calm now--"and I will take care that I don't commit myself in any similar ridiculous manner. I am perfectly aware that our lines in life lie very wide apart, and after the decision which you have arrived at and just communicated to me, I can only be glad that it is so; and though we are not to be friends, you say, I shall always have the deepest regard for you. You cannot prevent that, even if you would; and I only trust that some day I may have the chance of proving the continuance of that regard by being able to serve you."

He stopped, bowed, and was striding rapidly away back on the way they had traversed, before Daisy could speak to him.

"More quickly over than I had anticipated," she thought to herself, "and less painful too. I expected at one time there would have been a scene. His face lights up wonderfully when he is in earnest, and if his figure and manner were only as good, he might do. I wonder whether I could put up with him if neither of those two other men had been upon the cards; perhaps so, in a foreign place, such as he talked of going to, where one could have made one's own world and one's own society, and broken with all the old associations. How dreadful his boots were, by-the-way! I don't think it would have been possible to have passed one's life recognised as belonging to such feet and boots."

By this time she had reached Middle Temple Lane, down which she was proceeding, to the great admiration of the barristers' and attorneys' clerks who were flitting about that sombre neighbourhood. After a little difficulty and a great deal of inquiry she found the Seldon Buildings; and arriving at the second floor, and knocking at the portal inscribed Mr. John Wilson, she rather started when the door was opened to her by Colonel Orpington.

"Pray step in, my dear Miss Stafford," said the Colonel. "You are surprised, I see, to see me here instead of my legal adviser; but the fact is, that gentleman has been called out of town, and as I find he is not likely to return, I thought it best to take his place and make the proposition in my own person."

Daisy was not, nor did she feign to be, astonished. She entered the room and seated herself in an arm-chair, towards which the Colonel motioned her. He sat down opposite to her, and without any preliminary observations, at once dashed into his subject.

"I don't think there is any occasion for me to inform you, my dear Miss Stafford," he commenced, "that I have the very greatest admiration for you. All women known intuitively when they are admired without having the sentiment duly expressed to them in set phrases; and though I have carefully avoided saying or doing any of those ridiculous things which are said and done in novels and plays, but never in real life, except by people who bring actions of breach of promise against each other, you can have had very little doubt of the high appreciation of you which I entertain."

Daisy bowed. The trembling of her lip showed that she was a little nervous--no other sign.

"Well," continued the Colonel, "this admiration and appreciation naturally induced me to think what I could do to better your position, and at the same time to see more of you myself. Your life is not a particularly lively one--in fact, there is no doubt it is deuced hard work, and very little relaxation. You are not meant for this kind of thing. You like books, and flowers, and birds, and all sorts of elegant surroundings. You are so handsome--pardon the reference, but I am talking in a most perfectly business manner--that it is a thorough shame to see you lacking all those et ceteras which are such a help and set-off to beauty; and you are wearing away the very flower of your youth in what is nothing more nor less than sordid drudgery. At one time I thought--as I believe I mentioned to you--of purchasing some business, such as that in which you are now engaged, and putting you at the head--making yourself, in point of fact, and placing you in the position occupied by Madame Clarisse. But after a good deal of reflection I have come to the conclusion, and I think you will agree, that there would not be much good in such a project. You see, though you would be your own mistress, and would not be obliged to get up so early or to work so late, you would still be engaged in exactly the same kind of employment; you would be at the mercy of the caprices of horrible old women and insolent young girls, and would have to fetch and carry, and kotoo, and eat humble-pie, and all the rest of it, very much as you do at present. And I am perfectly certain, my dear Fanny,"--she gave a little start, which had not passed unnoticed; it was the first time he had called her so--"I am perfectly certain that this is not your _métier_. You are a lady in looks--there is no higher-bred-looking woman goes to Court, by Jove!--in education, in manner, and in taste; you are not meant for contact with the shopocracy, and it wouldn't suit you; and to tell you the truth, I am sufficiently selfish to have thought how it would suit me, and I confess I don't see it at all."

He looked hard at her as he said this, and she returned his glance. Her colour rose, and her lips trembled visibly.

"I am perfectly candid with you, my dear child," said the Colonel, drawing his chair a little closer to her, and leaning with his elbow on the table so as to bring his face nearer to her--"I am perfectly candid in avowing a certain amount of selfishness in this matter. I admire you very much indeed, and the natural result is, a desire to see as much of you as is consistent with my duties to society; and this shopkeeping project wouldn't help me at all. I want you to have all your time to yourself--a perpetual leisure, to be employed according to your own devices. I wish you to have the prettiest home that can be found, with pictures, and books, and flowers, and such-like. I wish you to have your carriage, and a riding-horse, if you would like one, and a maid to attend to you, and a proper allowance for dress and all that kind of thing. You look incredulous, Fanny, and as though I were inventing a romance. It is perfectly practicable and possible, my dear child, and it shall all be done for you if you will only like me just a little."

He bent forward and took her hand, and looked up eagerly into her face.

She suffered her hand to remain in his grasp, and gazed at him quite steadily as she said in hard tones:

"It sounds like a fairy-tale; but it is in fact a mere businesslike proposition skilfully veiled. You wish me to be your mistress."

Colonel Orpington was not staggered either by the tone or the words, but smiled quietly, still holding her hand as he said:

"I told you I admired your appreciation and quickness, though I wish to Heaven you had not used that horrible word. I never had a mistress in my life. I always associate the term with a dreadful person with painted cheeks and blackened eyelids, and a very low-necked dress. I can't conceive any object more utterly revolting."

"I am sorry you dislike the term," said Daisy, "but I conclude I expressed your meaning."

"It would be better put thus," said the Colonel: "I wish you to let me be your lover, and show my regard by attending to your comfort and happiness. That seems to me rather neatly put."

Daisy could not help smiling as she said:

"It is certainly less startling in that shape."

"My dear child," said the Colonel, releasing her hand, and standing upright on the hearth-rug before her, "it conveys exactly what I meant to say. A young man would rave and stamp, and swear he had never loved anyone before, and would never love anyone again. I can't say the first, by Jove!" said the Colonel with a grin; "and I could not take upon myself to swear to the last, we are such creatures of chance and circumstances. But it wouldn't matter to you, for by that time you would probably be tired of me, and I should take care to have secured your independence; but at all events I should be very kind to you, and you would have pretty well your own way."

There was a pause, after which the Colonel said:

"You are silent, Fanny; what do you say?"

"You cannot expect me," said Fanny, rising from her chair, "to give a decided 'Yes' or 'No' to this proposition of yours, however delicately you may have veiled it. You see I am as candid with you as you were with me. You have had no shrieks of horror, no exclamations of startled propriety, and I conclude you did not expect them; but it is a matter which I must think over, and let you know the result."

"Exactly what I expected from your common sense, my dear child. My appreciation of you is higher than ever. When shall I hear?"

"If I don't write to you before, I will be here this day week at this time."

"So be it," said the Colonel, and he led her to the door. As she passed, he touched her forehead with his lips, and so they parted.

"I suppose I ought to be in a whirl of terror, fright, and shame," said Daisy to herself, as she walked towards the West; "but I feel none of these sensations. It is a matter which will require a great deal of thinking about, and must have very careful attention."