“What can’t be, papa?” said Nora.
Sir Marmaduke perceived at once that there was no indication of obedience in his daughter’s voice, and he prepared himself for battle. He conceived himself to be very strong, and thought that his objections were so well founded that no one would deny their truth and that his daughter had not a leg to stand on. “This, that your mamma tells me of about Mr. Stanbury. Do you know, my dear, that he has not a shilling in the world?”
“I know that he has no fortune, papa—if you mean that.”
“And no profession either;—nothing that can be called a profession. I do not wish to argue it, my dear, because there is no room for argument. The whole thing is preposterous. I cannot but think ill of him for having proposed it to you; for he must have known—must have known, that a young man without an income cannot be accepted as a fitting suitor for a gentleman’s daughter. As for yourself, I can only hope that you will get the little idea out of your head very quickly;—but mamma will speak to you about that. What I want you to understand from me is this—that there must be an end to it.”
Nora listened to this speech in perfect silence, standing before her father, and waiting patiently till the last word of it should be pronounced. Even when he had finished she still paused before she answered him. “Papa,” she said at last, and hesitated again before she went on.
“Well, my dear.”
“I can not give it up.”
“But you must give it up.”
“No, papa. I would do anything I could for you and mamma, but that is impossible.”
“Why is it impossible?”
“Because I love him so dearly.”
“That is nonsense. That is what all girls say when they choose to run against their parents. I tell you that it shall be given up. I will not have him here. I forbid you to see him. It is quite out of the question that you should marry such a man. I do hope, Nora, that you are not going to add to mamma’s difficulties and mine by being obstinate and disobedient.” He paused a moment, and then added, “I do not think that there is anything more to be said.”
“Papa.”
“My dear, I think you had better say nothing further about it. If you cannot bring yourself at the present moment to promise that there shall be an end of it, you had better hold your tongue. You have heard what I say, and you have heard what mamma says. I do not for a moment suppose that you dream of carrying on a communication with this gentleman in opposition to our wishes.”
“But I do.”
“Do what?”
“Papa, you had better listen to me.” Sir Marmaduke, when he heard this, assumed an air of increased authority, in which he intended that paternal anger should be visible; but he seated himself, and prepared to receive, at any rate, some of the arguments with which Nora intended to bolster up her bad cause. “I have promised Mr. Stanbury that I will be his wife.”
“That is all nonsense.”
“Do listen to me, papa. I have listened to you and you ought to listen to me. I have promised him, and I must keep my promise. I shall keep my promise if he wishes it. There is a time when a girl must be supposed to know what is best for herself—just as there is for a man.”
“I never heard such stuff in all my life. Do you mean that you’ll go out and marry him like a beggar, with nothing but what you stand up in, with no friend to be with you, an outcast, thrown off by your mother—with your father’s—curse?”
“Oh, papa, do not say that. You would not curse me. You could not.”
“If you do it at all, that will be the way.”
“That will not be the way, papa. You could not treat me like that.”
“And how are you proposing to treat me?”
“But, papa, in whatever way I do it, I must do it. I do not say today or tomorrow; but it must be the intention and purpose of my life, and I must declare that it is, everywhere. I have made up my mind about it. I am engaged to him, and I shall always say so—unless he breaks it. I don’t care a bit about fortune. I thought I did once, but I have changed all that.”
“Because this scoundrel has talked sedition to you.”
“He is not a scoundrel, papa, and he has not talked sedition. I don’t know what sedition is. I thought it meant treason, and I’m sure he is not a traitor. He has made me love him, and I shall be true to him.”
Hereupon Sir Marmaduke began almost to weep. There came first a half-smothered oath and then a sob, and he walked about the room, and struck the table with his fist, and rubbed his bald head impatiently with his hand. “Nora,” he said, “I thought you were so different from this! If I had believed this of you, you never should have come to England with Emily.”
“It is too late for that now, papa.”
“Your mamma always told me that you had such excellent ideas about marriage.”
“So I have—I think,” said she, smiling.
“She always believed that you would make a match that would be a credit to the family.”
“I tried it, papa;—the sort of match that you mean. Indeed I was mercenary enough in what I believed to be my views of life. I meant to marry a rich man—if I could, and did not think much whether I should love him or not. But when the rich man came—”
“What rich man?”
“I suppose mamma has told you about Mr. Glascock.”
“Who is Mr. Glascock? I have not heard a word about Mr. Glascock.” Then Nora was forced to tell her
