“I dare say not. But that’s not the question. Roby can take care of himself.”
“Quite so.”
“And so I dare say can Mr. Lopez.” At this moment Emily entered the room. “My dear,” said her father, “I am speaking to your aunt. Would you mind going downstairs and waiting for us? Tell them we shall be ready for dinner in ten minutes.” Then Emily passed out of the room, and Mrs. Roby assumed a grave demeanour. “The man we are speaking of has been to me and has made an offer for Emily.” As he said this he looked anxiously into his sister-in-law’s face, in order that he might tell from that how far she favoured the idea of such a marriage—and he thought that he perceived at once that she was not averse to it. “You know it is quite out of the question,” he continued.
“I don’t know why it should be out of the question. But of course your opinion would have great weight with Emily.”
“Great weight! Well;—I should hope so. If not, I do not know whose opinion is to have weight. In the first place the man is a foreigner.”
“Oh, no;—he is English. But if he were a foreigner: many English girls marry foreigners.”
“My daughter shall not;—not with my permission. You have not encouraged him, I hope.”
“I have not interfered at all,” said Mrs. Roby. But this was a lie. Mrs. Roby had interfered. Mrs. Roby, in discussing the merits and character of the lover with the young lady, had always lent herself to the lover’s aid—and had condescended to accept from the lover various presents which she could hardly have taken had she been hostile to him.
“And now tell me about herself. Has she seen him often?”
“Why, Mr. Wharton, he has dined here, in the house, over and over again. I thought that you were encouraging him.”
“Heavens and earth!”
“Of course she has seen him. When a man dines at a house he is bound to call. Of course he has called—I don’t know how often. And she has met him round the corner.”—“Round the corner,” in Manchester Square, meant Mrs. Roby’s house in Berkeley Street.—“Last Sunday they were at the Zoo together. Dick got them tickets. I thought you knew all about it.”
“Do you mean that my daughter went to the Zoological Gardens alone with this man?” the father asked in dismay.
“Dick was with them. I should have gone, only I had a headache. Did you not know she went?”
“Yes;—I heard about the Gardens. But I heard nothing of the man.”
“I thought, Mr. Wharton, you were all in his favour.”
“I am not at all in his favour. I dislike him particularly. For anything I know he may have sold pencils about the streets like any other Jew-boy.”
“He goes to church just as you do—that is, if he goes anywhere; which I dare say he does about as often as yourself, Mr. Wharton.” Now Mr. Wharton, though he was a thorough and perhaps a bigoted member of the Church of England, was not fond of going to church.
“Do you mean to tell me,” he said, pressing his hands together, and looking very seriously into his sister-in-law’s face; “do you mean to tell me that she—likes him?”
“Yes;—I think she does like him.”
“You don’t mean to say—she’s in love with him?”
“She has never told me that she is. Young ladies are shy of making such assertions as to their own feelings before the due time for doing so has come. I think she prefers him to anybody else; and that were he to propose to herself, she would give him her consent to go to you.”
“He shall never enter this house again,” said Mr. Wharton passionately.
“You must arrange that with her. If you have so strong an objection to him, I wonder that you should have had him here at all.”
“How was I to know? God bless my soul!—just because a man was allowed to dine here once or twice! Upon my word, it’s too bad!”
“Papa, won’t you and aunt come down to dinner?” said Emily, opening the door gently. Then they went down to dinner, and during the meal nothing was said about Mr. Lopez. But they were not very merry together, and poor Emily felt sure that her own affairs had been discussed in a troublesome manner.
V
“No One Knows Anything About Him”
Neither at dinner, on that evening at Manchester Square, nor after dinner, as long as Mrs. Roby remained in the house, was a word said about Lopez by Mr. Wharton. He remained longer than usual with his bottle of port wine in the dining-room; and when he went upstairs, he sat himself down and fell asleep, almost without a sign. He did not ask for a song, nor did Emily offer to sing. But as soon as Mrs. Roby was gone—and Mrs. Roby went home, round the corner, somewhat earlier than usual—then Mr. Wharton woke up instantly and made inquiry of his daughter.
There had, however, been a few words spoken on the subject between Mrs. Roby and her niece which had served to prepare Emily for what was coming. “Lopez has been to your father,” said Mrs. Roby, in a voice not specially encouraging for such an occasion. Then she paused a moment; but her niece said nothing, and she continued, “Yes—and your father has been blaming me—as if I had done anything! If he did not mean you to choose for yourself, why didn’t he keep a closer lookout?”
“I haven’t chosen anyone, Aunt Harriet.”
“Well;—to speak fairly, I thought you had; and I have nothing to say against your choice. As young men go, I think Mr. Lopez is as good as the best of them. I don’t know why you shouldn’t have him. Of course you’ll have money, but then I suppose he makes a large income himself. As to Mr. Fletcher, you don’t care a bit about him.”
“Not in that way, certainly.”
“No doubt
