Back Aa

Ralph the Heir

Close

<h3>CHAPTER LIV.</h3> <h4>MY MARY.  </h4> Both the invitations sent by Patience Underwood were accepted, and Sir Thomas, on the day named, was at home to receive them. Nothing had as yet been done as to the constructing of those cases which he so suddenly ordered to be made for his books; and, indeed, Stemm had resolved to take the order as meaning nothing. It would not be for him to accelerate his master's departure from Southampton Buildings, and he knew enough of the man to be aware that he must have some very strong motive indeed before so great a change could be really made. When Sir Thomas left Southampton Buildings for Fulham, on the day named for the dinner, not a word further had been said about packing the books. There was no company at the villa besides Sir Thomas, the three girls, and the two young men. As to Clarissa, Patience said not a word, even to her father,—that must still be left till time should further cure the wound that had been made;—but she did venture to suggest, in private with Sir Thomas, that it was a pity that he who was certainly the more worthy of the two Ralphs should not be made to understand that others did not think so much of the present inferiority of his position in the world as he seemed to think himself. "You mean that Mary would take him?" asked Sir Thomas. "Why should she not, if she likes him? He is very good." "I can't tell him to offer to her, without telling him also that he would be accepted." "No;—I suppose not," said Patience. Nevertheless, Sir Thomas did speak to Ralph Newton before dinner,—stuttering and muttering, and only half finishing his sentence. "We had a correspondence once, Mr. Newton. I dare say you remember." "I remember it very well, Sir Thomas." "I only wanted to tell you;—you seem to think more about what has taken place,—I mean as to the property,—than we do;—that is, than I do." "It has made a change." "Yes; of course. But I don't know that a large place like Newton is sure to make a man happy. Perhaps you'd like to wash your hands before dinner." Gregory, in the meantime, was walking round the garden with Mary and Clarissa. The dinner was very quiet, but pleasant and cheerful. Sir Thomas talked a good deal, and so did Patience. Mary also was at her ease, and able to do all that was required of her. Ralph certainly was not gay. He was seated next to Clarissa, and spoke a few words now and again; but he was arranging matters in his mind; and Patience, who was observing them all, knew that he was pre-occupied. Clarissa, who now and again would forget her sorrow and revert to her former self,—as she had done in the picture-gallery,—could not now, under the eye as it were of her father, her sister, and her old lover, forget her troubles. She knew what was expected of her; but she could not do it;—she could not do it at least as yet. Nevertheless, Patience, who was the engineer in the present crisis, was upon the whole contented with the way in which things were going. The three girls sat with the gentlemen for a quarter of an hour after the decanters were put upon the table, and then withdrew. Sir Thomas immediately began to talk about Newton Priory, and to ask questions which might interest the parson without, as he thought, hurting the feelings of the disinherited Ralph. This went on for about five minutes, during which Gregory was very eloquent about his church and his people, when, suddenly, Ralph rose from his chair and withdrew. "Have I said anything that annoyed him?" asked Sir Thomas anxiously. "It is not that, I think," said Gregory. Ralph walked across the passage, opened the door of the drawing-room, in which the three girls were at work, walked up to the chair in which Mary Bonner was sitting, and said something in so low a voice that neither of the sisters heard him. "Certainly I will," said Mary, rising from her chair. Patience glanced round, and could see that the colour, always present in her cousin's face, was heightened,—ever so little indeed; but still the tell-tale blush had told its tale. Ralph stood for a moment while Mary moved away to the door, and then followed her without speaking a word to the other girls, or bestowing a glance on either of them. "He is going to propose to her," said Clarissa as soon as the door was shut. "No one can be sure," said Patience. "Only fancy,—asking a girl to go out of the room,—in that brave manner! I shouldn't have gone because I'm a coward; but it's just what Mary will like." "Let me get my hat, Mr. Newton," said Mary, taking the opportunity to trip up-stairs, though her hat was hanging in the hall. When she was in her room she merely stood upright there, for half a minute, in the middle of the chamber, erect and stiff, with her arms and fingers stretched out, thinking how she would behave herself. Half a minute sufficed for her to find her clue, and then she came down as quickly as her feet would carry her. He had opened the front door, and was standing outside upon the gravel, and there she joined him. "I had no other way but this of speaking to you," he said. "I don't dislike coming out at all," she answered. Then there was silence for a moment or two as they walked along into the gloom of the shrubbery. "I suppose you are going down to Norfolk soon?" she said. "I do not quite know. I thought of going to-morrow." "So soon as that?" "But I've got something that I want to settle. I think you must know what it is." Then he paused again, almost as though he expected her to confess that she did know. But Mary was well aware that it was not for her to say another word till he had fully explained in most open detail what it was that he desired to settle. "You know a good deal of my history, Miss Newton. When I thought that things were going well with me,—much better than I had ever allowed myself to expect in early days, I,—I,—became acquainted with you." Again he paused, but she had not a word to say. "I dare say you were not told, but I wrote to your uncle then, asking him whether I might have his consent to,—just to ask you to be my wife." Again he paused, but after that he hurried on, speaking the words as quickly as he could throw them forth from his mouth. "My father died, and of course that changed everything. I told your uncle that all ground for pretension that I might have had before was cut from under me. He knew the circumstances of my birth,—and I supposed that you would know it also." Then she did speak. "Yes, I did," she said. "Perhaps I was foolish to think that the property would make a difference. But the truth of it is, I have not got over the feeling, and shall never get over it. I love you with all my heart,—and though it be for no good, I must tell you so." "The property can make no difference," she said. "You ought to have known that, Mr. Newton." "Ah;—but it does. I tried to tell you the other day something of my present home." "Yes;—I know you did;—and I remember it all." "There is nothing more to be said;—only to ask you to share it with me." She walked on with him in silence for a minute; but he said nothing more to press his suit, and certainly it was her turn to speak now. "I will share it with you," she said, pressing her arm upon his. "My Mary!" "Yes;—your Mary,—if you please." Then he took her in his arms, and pressed her to his bosom, and kissed her lips and forehead, and threw back her hat, and put his fingers among her hair. "Why did you say that the property would make a difference?" she asked, in a whisper. To this he made no answer, but walked on silently, with his arm round her waist, till they came out from among the trees, and stood upon the bank of the river. "There are people in the boats. You must put your arm down," she said. "I wonder how you will like to be a farmer's wife?" he asked. "I have not an idea." "I fear so much that you'll find it rough and hard." "But I have an idea about something." She took his hand, and looked up into his face as she continued. "I have an idea that I shall like to be your wife." He was in a seventh heaven of happiness, and would have stood there gazing on the river with her all night, if she would have allowed him. At last they walked back into the house together,—and into the room where the others were assembled, with very little outward show of embarrassment. Mary was the first to enter the room, and though she blushed she smiled also, and every one knew what had taken place. There was no secret or mystery, and in five minutes her cousins were congratulating her. "It's all settled for you now," said Clarissa laughing. "Yes, it's all settled for me now, and I wouldn't have it unsettled for all the world." While this was being said in the drawing-room,—being said even in the presence of poor Gregory, who could not but have felt how hard it was for him to behold such bliss, Sir Thomas and Ralph had withdrawn into the opposite room. Ralph began to apologise for his own misfortunes,—his misfortune in having lost the inheritance, his misfortune in being illegitimate; but Sir Thomas soon cut his apologies short. "You think a great deal more of it than she does, or than I do," said Sir Thomas. "If she does not regard it, I will never think of it again," said Ralph. "My greatest glory in what had been promised me was in thinking that it might help to win her." "You have won her without such help as that," said Sir Thomas, with his arm on the young man's shoulder. There was another delicious hour in store for him as they sat over their late tea. "Do you still think of going to Norfolk to-morrow?" she said to him, with that composure which in her was so beautiful, and, at the same time, so expressive. "By an early train in the morning." "I thought that perhaps you might have stayed another day now." "I thought that perhaps you might want me to come back again," said Ralph;—"and, if so, I could make arrangements;—perhaps for a week or ten days." "Do come back," she said. "And do stay." Ralph's triumph as he returned that evening to London received Gregory's fullest sympathy; but still it must have been hard to bear. Perhaps his cousin's parting words contained for him some comfort. "Give her a little time, and she will be yours yet. I shall find it all out from Mary, and you may be sure we shall help you." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2