Читать книгу The Way Beyond - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 16

"So ... she is to be Rosemary Ford!" said Charmian, glancing from eager-eyed son to grave-faced spouse and back again. Sir Peter very nearly snorted.

"Rosemary!" he repeated. "Such name positively suggests romantical nonsense! Why not Martha or Polly or Maria, something more suited to the child's station? Why on earth must you name her—Rosemary?"

"Well, Peterdear, as you may remember, poor Prudence wished to call her child after me,—but one Charmian Sophia was enough, so we named her Rosemary instead. And I think Rosemary is a charming name, so quaintly pretty."

"So do I, Mother!" quoth eager Richard. "It is the sweetest, dearest name, the only name for her."

"And do you really and truly love her, my Dick?"

"Mother, I adore her, I worship——"

"My dear Richard!" exclaimed his father, in sighful remonstrance, "such perfervid extravagance proclaims your extreme youth——"

"But, Peterdear, we were extremely young once!"

"Yet never so fulsome, I hope."

"Well,—there are certain passages in our Broad Highway that seem written by a man—extremely young, and——"

"Now, my dear soul, do pray be relevant. The question now under discussion is,—can a youth, an irresponsible youth, indeed a mere boy, be possessed of that cool and seasoned judgement so absolutely necessary to the wise choice of a life-partner? Emphatically—no!"

"And yet perhaps—emphatically—yes! For surely this depends on the youth himself, Peter, his character, his education, ancestry and inherited instincts."

"Possibly, my dear, but——"

"No,—certainly, Peterdear, beyond all possibility of doubt!"

"Now, Charmian! My dear! Can any inexperienced, infatuate youth be capable of a lasting, an indomitable and a long-suffering affection?"

"Yes, our Richard, of course."

"Heavens above!" murmured Sir Peter, with gesture of hopeless resignation. "Pray what possible logical reason can you advance in support of such wild assertion?"

"Heredity, Peter! For, thank God, your love for me has proved so wonderfully lasting and extremely indomitable,—as mine for you so steadfast and wonderfully long-suffering that I quite marvel at it—sometimes,—now, for instance!" Here, while her husband pondered this, eyeing her somewhat askance, she, smiling a little roguishly, turned to her son, to view him with eyes very gentle and wise with Motherhood.

"My Richard," said she, reaching him her hand, "your father of course is perfectly right! Few young men of twenty can be expected to know the true greatness of Love, how very reverent and wonderful it is, and so high above anything base that it can make us poor humans almost divine. But, Dick, dear, because our love, your father's and mine, is of this sort, I dare to think that you the son of our love may be sufficiently wise in spite of your youth, to be sure of yourself and her,—to know if this love is indeed real and true."

"Mother, I am sure, oh indeed I am, positively and absolutely ... she is so patient, so strong and gentle ... I think, with her to help me, I may do something really worth while ... some day."

"And are you as sure that Rosemary loves you?"

"Well ... I hope so," answered Richard, fervently; "it seems very wonderful but I think she does. You see, Mother, I ... I feel so unworthy that sometimes I hardly believe it and ... oh by George,—her letter! I was forgetting her letter! Where on earth—ah, here it is!" and from the breast of his coat he drew Rosemary's letter, very tenderly, like the precious thing it was, and gave it to his mother; now as she took it he bowed his dark head and kissed her hand so ardently that she smiled and murmured:

"Dear boy!" Then she opened the letter and having read it, glanced at Sir Peter, the smile still curving her lips.

"My stately soul," said she, "pray incline your august ear, listen to this, Peter!" And in her softest, sweetest voice she read these words:

"'DEAR LADY VIBART, it truly seems as though God had only made me to love your Richard, just to serve and help and guard him as only a loving woman may. Always in my heart I have known myself his yet feared to let him know my heart for your sake, and his, and mine—because I am only Rosemary Ford and no more than God and you have made me and in worldly estate no fit wife for your son. Yet even so, I pray that love shall make me worthy, and that if in obeying Richard's will, I grieve you to-day, perhaps you may grow to love me a little someday, for Richard's sake and the sake of one that is now and always your grateful, humble, most loving—

ROSEMARY.'"

"Well, Peter?"

"Indeed, my dear, she expresses herself so admirably well that she is, I judge, either a very clever woman or a simple, warm-hearted girl. She is either ingenious or ingenuous——"

"Heavens!" exclaimed my lady. "Can there be any doubt as to which? And she Black George's daughter! Dare you sit there and cast a doubt on the sincerity of such a letter?"

"Not for the world, my dear! I merely ventured——"

"She writes straight from her heart, Peter. You haven't seen her very recently, have you?"

"Why no, to be sure."

"Well, I have. I visited her at Miss Courcy-Blythe's Academy in Brighton last Spring. I found her grown to a lovely, an amazingly beautiful creature and yet very gentle, entirely unaffected and with the charmingest manners, such poise and grace, such dignity, Peter!"

"Oh ... indeed, my dear!" said Sir Peter, while young Richard looked at his mother with glistening eyes, such look of adoring, speechless gratitude indeed as if he would have knelt, then and there, to kiss the slim, shapely foot of her.

"In a word, Peter, a lady."

"Oh ... indeed!" murmured Sir Peter again. "She has then evidently profited by her very careful education."

"She has," nodded my lady, "and so beyond even my expectation, Peter, that I think we are very fortunate." Sir Peter stared:

"Fortunate? We? How, pray?"

"That our son should have chosen so very wisely." Sir Peter arose, almost hastily.

"Charmian, you astonish me. I thought we had agreed——"

"So we did, Peter, so we shall, we always agree—in the end. The only person who may not agree is George, Black George himself. Does he know anything of the matter, Richard?"

"Well, no, Mother, not as yet, but——"

"A great pity to have kept him in ignorance; a very foolish mistake, Richard, and I fear will complicate matters."

"Then, Mother, you think he will object to me?"

"Not to you, perhaps, as to this marriage. Indeed, my poor Richard, I'm afraid he may object to it even more than your father seemed inclined to——"

"Object?" repeated Sir Peter, amazed and a little shocked. "Object? To our son? Black George? Now, my dear,—why in the world should he?"

"Because, Peterdear, Black George is every bit as proud as Sir Peter Vibart, as Peter Vibart ought to remember."

"Why then," cried Richard, starting eagerly afoot, "I'll go to him ... I'll ride at once! By heaven, I'll see him this very night——"

"No!" said Sir Peter, with his air of calm finality, "I shall go myself. It is a long while since I saw Cranbrook or Sissinghurst. I shall ride over there to-morrow.... Though considering Richard's breathless haste——"

"What haste, Peter?"

"Well, his so very imminent marriage——"

"Imminent!" cried Charmian, horrified. "What an idea! Such marriage cannot be hurried, it must be an event, a ceremony. And, I think, in Town. Yes, and in the Autumn. We shall be back then in St. James's Square as usual. Why, Peter, our son's wedding is important as our own—almost. An occasion to dwell upon, to anticipate and remember."

"One would think so, my dear, but—ask Richard."

"Gracious me! What has he to do with it? We shall settle everything of course, Rosemary and I. To scheme out her own and the bridesmaids' dresses will be a matter requiring the utmost care and deliberation."

"Undoubtedly, my dear. But—what says Richard?"

"Rosemary should make an exquisitely beautiful bride! She shall wear my own wedding-veil and the pearls, or perhaps the emeralds would go better with her hair. As to her gown ... mm——"

"But ... Mother," ventured Richard, at this juncture.

"Well, dear? ... I think a poplin ... or brocaded damask ... and yet she's such a stately creature ... plain white satin."

"You see, Mother," said Richard a little louder, "I don't ... I mean to say we ... Rosemary and I ... don't want any fuss of any kind whatever and——"

"Fuss?" exclaimed my lady, starting. "Fuss——"

"Well, what I mean is ... not a grand marriage ... guests and speeches and such frightful things ... besides there's no time——"

"Pray don't be foolish, Richard! No time? Absurd! A true marriage is always an event, and my son's marriage must be a very great event, at least to Rosemary and me. Men never seem to understand."

"But, Mother dear, we are getting it over and done with in our own way, very quietly and almost at once, in fact—on Thursday—Thursday. So you see——"

He said no more, for Charmian had risen and was looking down on him in that particular manner that always renewed within him the memory of past, boyish delinquencies; so Richard sat mute, flushing guiltily, whereat Sir Peter's lips twitched, and turning to the window recess he leaned there smiling and expectant. And, after a moment of somewhat strained silence, Charmian spoke:

"On Thursday?"

"Yes, Mother. I——"

"No, Richard!"

"But, Mother, you see——"

"I do not!"

"Mother, indeed I am determined——"

"But so is your mother!"

"Will you please let me explain."

"Not a word till I have spoken."

"But, Mother, truly I——"

"Richard, pray hush. You have told me that you love Rosemary."

"I do, I do—with all my heart and soul."

"Oh, Richard! And yet can respect her so little that you would make her name a bye-word."

"A bye-word? Mother, I'd die first!"

"Pray do not interrupt me! A bye-word, Richard, a hateful bye-word ... throughout the County and in London too ... odious people like the Earl of Abbeymere!"

"In Heaven's name—how?"

"By wedding her in such mad haste and apparent stealth, of course. Think, think what people would imagine and say! Thoughtless boy! Do you dare imagine your father or I will permit you to take such cruel advantage of Rosemary's devotion and wed her in such sly haste—as if you were ashamed? Never!"

"Mother, I can only tell you that we want to marry so soon just because we love each other so much that nothing else matters. I'll admit it never occurred to me that people might talk a little at first. Well, let them, confound them,—we shan't care, you see Rosemary is like me and——"

"Nonsense, Richard, she is a girl! And a girl always cares, especially a girl like Rosemary. And then, poor child, not a stitch of trousseaux! Monstrous!"

"Well, I can buy her whatever she needs."

"Ridiculous! Such garments are never bought, they only—happen!" Now at this Richard was dumb, while Sir Peter, still gazing out of the window, very nearly chuckled.

"Then lastly, Richard, such detestable, stealthy marriage would lead her proud father, and the censorious world, to imagine you had eloped in defiance to your parents' will and wishes, and consequently that we were opposed to such union. And then, quite finally, I, and your father of course, absolutely and utterly forbid any such wicked folly.... And now you may speak, to tell me you will be guided by your mother's sanity and gentle pleading 'suasion and your dear father's kindly judgement."

"Why then, mother, when would you have us marry,—when?"

"In the Autumn. October is a charming month. Rosemary and I will settle the exact day."

"October?" gasped Richard. "Oh, but that is ages to wait——"

"Do I plead successfully, Richard dear, or must I see Rosemary and tell the poor child that such marriage will break my heart?"

"Oh, I agree!" moaned Richard.

"Then come into my boudoir, Dick dear, and help me write my future daughter a letter." So saying she arose and meeting her husband's eloquent glance, smiled a little roguishly ere she went away upon her tall son's arm.

Then, stepping out upon the sunny terrace, Sir Peter began to laugh.