“It’s a sort of matter in which a man is apt to be selfish, and it’s my belief that if she were asked she’d say the same thing. Of course you can take her abroad and you can keep her there as long as you please.”
“I can;—and I mean to do it.”
“I am utterly powerless to prevent you, and so is she. In this contention between us I have only one point in my favour.”
“You have no point in your favour, sir.”
“The young lady’s good wishes. If she be not on my side—why then I am nowhere. In that case you needn’t trouble yourself to take her out of Plumplington. But if—”
“You may withdraw, Mr. Hughes,” said the banker. “The interview is over.” Then Philip Hughes withdrew, but as he went he shut the door after him in a very confident manner.
VI
The Young Ladies Are to Be Taken Abroad
How should Philip Hughes see Emily before she had been carried away to “foreign parts” by her stern father? As he regarded the matter it was absolutely imperative that he should do so. If she should be made to go, in her father’s present state of mind, without having reiterated her vows, she might be persuaded by that foreign-living English gentleman whom she would find abroad, to give him her hand. Emily had no doubt confessed her love to Philip, but she had not done so in that bold unshrinking manner which had been natural to Polly Peppercorn. And her lover felt it to be incumbent upon him to receive some renewal of her assurance before she was taken away for a prolonged residence abroad. But there was a difficulty as to this. If he were to knock at the door of the private house and ask for Miss Greenmantle, the servant, though she was in truth Philip’s friend in the matter, would not dare to show him up. The whole household was afraid of Mr. Greenmantle, and would receive any hint that his will was to be set aside with absolute dismay. So Philip at last determined to take the bull by the horns and force his way into the drawing-room. Mr. Greenmantle could not be made more hostile than he was; and then it was quite on the cards, that he might be kept in ignorance of the intrusion. When therefore the banker was sitting in his own more private room, Phlip passed through from the bank into the house, and made his way upstairs with no one to announce him.
With no one to announce him he passed straight through into the drawing-room, and found Emily sitting very melancholy over a half-knitted stocking. It had been commenced with an idea that it might perhaps be given to Philip, but as her father’s stern severity had been announced, she had given up that fond idea, and had increased the size, so as to fit them for the paternal feet. “Good gracious, Philip,” she exclaimed, “how on earth did you get here?”
“I came upstairs from the bank.”
“Oh, yes; of course. But did you not tell Mary that you were coming?”
“I should never have been let up had I done so. Mary has orders not to let me put my foot within the house.”
“You ought not to have come; indeed you ought not.”
“And I was to let you go abroad without seeing you! Was that what I ought to have done? It might be that I should never see you again. Only think of what my condition must be.”
“Is not mine twice worse?”
“I do not know. If it be twice worse than mine then I am the happiest man in all the world.”
“Oh, Philip, what do you mean?”
“If you will assure me of your love—”
“I have assured you.”
“Give me another assurance, Emily,” he said, sitting down beside her on the sofa. But she started up quickly to her feet. “When you gave me the assurance before, then—then—”
“One assurance such as that ought to be quite enough.”
“But you are going abroad.”
“That can make no difference.”
“Your father says, that you will meet there some Englishman who will—”
“My father knows nothing about it. I shall meet no Englishman, and no foreigner; at least none that I shall care about. You oughtn’t to get such an idea into your head.”
“That’s all very well, but how am I to keep such ideas out? Of course there will be men over there; and if you come across some idle young fellow who has not his bread to earn as I do, won’t it be natural that you should listen to him?”
“No; it won’t be natural.”
“It seems to me to be so. What have I got that you should continue to care for me?”
“You have my word, Philip. Is that nothing?” She had now seated herself on a chair away from the sofa, and he, feeling at the time some special anxiety to get her into his arms, threw himself down on his knees before her, and seized her by both her hands. At that moment the door of the drawing-room was opened, and Mr. Greenmantle appeared within the room. Philip Hughes could not get upon his feet quick enough to return the furious anger of the look which was thrown on him. There was a difficulty even in disembarrassing himself of poor Emily’s hands; so that she, to her father, seemed to be almost equally a culprit with the young man. She uttered a slight scream, and then he very gradually rose to his legs.
“Emily,” said the angry father, “retire at once to your chamber.”
“But, papa, I must explain.”
“Retire at once to your chamber, miss. As for this young man, I do not know whether the laws of his country will not punish him for this intrusion.”
Emily was terribly frightened by this allusion to her country’s laws. “He has done nothing, papa; indeed he has done nothing.”
“His very presence here, and on his knees! Is that nothing? Mr. Hughes, I desire that
