“Then I must try what fortune can do for me without the brewer’s dray.”
“Fortune has done quite enough for you, Mr. Staveley; I do not advise you to tempt her any further.”
“Miss Furnival, I have come to Harley Street today on purpose to tempt her to the utmost. There is my hand—”
“Mr. Staveley, pray keep your hand for a while longer in your own possession.”
“Undoubtedly I shall do so, unless I dispose of it this morning. When we were at Noningsby together, I ventured to tell you what I felt for you—”
“Did you, Mr. Staveley? If your feelings were anything beyond the common, I don’t remember the telling.”
“And then,” he continued, without choosing to notice her words, “you affected to believe that I was not in earnest in what I said to you.”
“And you must excuse me if I affect to believe the same thing of you still.”
Augustus Staveley had come into Harley Street with a positive resolve to throw his heart and hand and fortune at the feet of Miss Furnival. I fear that I shall not raise him in the estimation of my readers by saying so. But then my readers will judge him unfairly. They will forget that they have had a much better opportunity of looking into the character of Miss Furnival than he had had; and they will also forget that they have had no such opportunity of being influenced by her personal charms. I think I remarked before that Miss Furnival well understood how best to fight her own battle. Had she shown herself from the first anxious to regard as a definite offer the first words tending that way which Augustus had spoken to her, he would at once have become indifferent about the matter. As a consequence of her judicious conduct he was not indifferent. We always want that which we can’t get easily. Sophia had made herself difficult to be gotten, and therefore Augustus fancied that he wanted her. Since he had been in town he had been frequently in Harley Street, and had been arguing with himself on the matter. What match could be more discreet or better? Not only was she very handsome, but she was clever also. And not only was she handsome and clever, but moreover she was an heiress. What more could his friends want for him, and what more could he want for himself? His mother did in truth regard her as a nasty, sly girl; but then his mother did not know Sophia, and in such matters mothers are so ignorant!
Miss Furnival, on his thus repeating his offer, again chose to affect a belief that he was not in earnest. I am inclined to think that she rather liked this kind of thing. There is an excitement in the game; and it is one which may be played without great danger to either party if it be played cautiously and with some skill. As regards Augustus at the present moment, I have to say—with some regret—that he abandoned all idea of caution, and that he showed very little skill.
“Then,” said he, “I must beg you to lay aside an affectation which is so very injurious both to my honour and to my hopes of happiness.”
“Your honour, Mr. Staveley, is quite safe, I am certain.”
“I wish that my happiness were equally so,” said he. “But at any rate you will let me have an answer. Sophia—”
And now he stood up, looking at her with something really like love in his eyes, and Miss Furnival began to understand that if she so chose it the prize was really within her reach. But then was it a prize? Was not the other thing the better prize? The other thing was the better prize;—if only that affair about the Orley Farm were settled. Augustus Staveley was a good-looking handsome fellow, but then there was that in the manner and gait of Lucius Mason which better suited her taste. There are ladies who prefer Worcester ware to real china; and, moreover, the order for the Worcester ware had already been given.
“Sophia, let a man be ever so lighthearted, there will come to him moments of absolute and almost terrible earnestness.”
“Even to you, Mr. Staveley.”
“I have at any rate done nothing to deserve your scorn.”
“Fie, now; you to talk of my scorn! You come here with soft words which run easily from your tongue, feeling sure that I shall be proud in heart when I hear them whispered into my ears; and now you pretend to be angry because I do not show you that I am elated. Do you think it probable that I should treat with scorn anything of this sort that you might say to me seriously?”
“I think you are doing so.”
“Have you generally found yourself treated with scorn when you have been out on this pursuit?”
“By heavens! you have no right to speak to me so. In what way shall I put my words to make them sound seriously to you? Do you want me to kneel at your feet, as our grandfathers used to do?”
“Oh, certainly not. Our grandmothers were very stupid in desiring that.”
“If I put my hand on my heart will you believe me better?”
“Not in the least.”
“Then through what formula shall I go?”
“Go through no formula, Mr. Staveley. In such affairs as these very little, as I take it, depends on the words that are uttered. When heart has spoken to heart, or even head to head, very little other speaking is absolutely necessary.”
“And my heart has not spoken to yours?”
“Well;—no;—not with that downright plain open language which a heart in earnest always knows how to use. I suppose you think you like me?”
“Sophia, I love you well enough to make you my wife tomorrow.”
“Yes; and to be tired of your bargain on the next day. Has it ever
