“I have influential friends, Mr. Sherwin, in many directions—there are appointments, good appointments, which would be open to me, if I pushed my interests. I might provide in this way against the chance of failure.”
“Ah!—well—yes. There’s something in that, certainly.”
“I can only assure you that my attachment to Miss Sherwin is not of a nature to be overcome by any pecuniary considerations. I speak in all our interests, when I say that a private marriage gives us a chance for the future, as opportunities arise of gradually disclosing it. My offer to you may be made under some disadvantages and difficulties, perhaps; for, with the exception of a very small independence, left me by my mother, I have no certain prospects. But I really think my proposals have some compensating advantages to recommend them—”
“Certainly! most decidedly so! I am not insensible, my dear Sir, to the great advantage, and honour, and so forth. But there is something so unusual about the whole affair. What would be my feelings, if your father should not come round, and my dear girl was disowned by the family? Well, well! that could hardly happen, I think, with her accomplishments and education, and manners too, so distinguished—though perhaps I ought not to say so. Her schooling alone was a hundred a-year, Sir, without including extras—”
“I am sure, Mr. Sherwin—”
“—A school, Sir, where it was a rule to take in no thing lower than the daughter of a professional man—they only waived the rule in my case—the most genteel school, perhaps, in all London! A drawing-room-deportment day once every week—the girls taught how to enter a room and leave a room with dignity and ease—a model of a carriage door and steps, in the back drawing-room, to practise the girls (with the footman of the establishment in attendance) in getting into a carriage and getting out again, in a ladylike manner! No duchess has had a better education than my Margaret!—”
“Permit me to assure you, Mr. Sherwin—”
“And then, her knowledge of languages—her French, and Italian, and German, not discontinued in holidays, or after she left school (she has only just left it); but all kept up and improved every evening, by the kind attention of Mr. Mannion—”
“May I ask who Mr. Mannion is?” The tone in which I put this question, cooled his enthusiasm about his daughter’s education immediately. He answered in his former tones, and with one of his former bows:
“Mr. Mannion is my confidential clerk, Sir—a most superior person, most highly talented, and well read, and all that.”
“Is he a young man?”
“Young! Oh, dear no! Mr. Mannion is forty, or a year or two more, if he’s a day—an admirable man of business, as well as a great scholar. He’s at Lyons now, buying silks for me. When he comes back I shall be delighted to introduce—”
“I beg your pardon, but I think we are wandering away from the point, a little.”
“I beg yours—so we are. Well, my dear Sir, I must be allowed a day or two—say two days—to ascertain what my daughter’s feelings are, and to consider your proposals, which have taken me very much by surprise, as you may in fact see. But I assure you I am most flattered, most honoured, most anxious—.”
“I hope you will consider my anxieties, Mr. Sherwin, and let me know the result of your deliberations as soon as possible.”
“Without fail, depend upon it. Let me see: shall we say the second day from this, at the same time, if you can favour me with a visit?”
“Certainly.”
“And between that time and this, you will engage not to hold any communication with my daughter?”
“I promise not, Mr. Sherwin—because I believe that your answer will be favourable.”
“Ah, well—well! lovers, they say, should never despair. A little consideration, and a little talk with my dear girl—really now, won’t you change your mind and have a glass of sherry? (No again?) Very well, then, the day after tomorrow, at five o’clock.”
With a louder crack than ever, the brand-new drawing-room door was opened to let me out. The noise was instantly succeeded by the rustling of a silk dress, and the banging of another door, at the opposite end of the passage. Had anybody been listening? Where was Margaret?
Mr. Sherwin stood at the garden-gate to watch my departure, and to make his farewell bow. Thick as was the atmosphere of illusion in which I now lived, I shuddered involuntarily as I returned his parting salute, and thought of him as my father-in-law!
XI
The nearer I approached to our own door, the more reluctance I felt to pass the short interval between my first and second interview with Mr. Sherwin, at home. When I entered the house, this reluctance increased to something almost like dread. I felt unwilling and unfit to meet the eyes of my nearest and dearest relatives. It was a relief to me to hear that my father was not at home. My sister was in the house: the servant said she had just gone into the library, and inquired whether he should tell her that I had come in. I desired him not to disturb her, as it was my intention to go out again immediately.
I went into my study, and wrote a short note there to Clara; merely telling her that I should be absent in the country for two days. I had sealed and laid it on the table for the servant to deliver, and was about to leave the room, when I heard the library door open. I instantly drew back, and half-closed my own door again. Clara had got the book she wanted, and was taking it up to her own sitting-room. I waited till she was out of sight, and then left the house. It was the first time I had ever avoided my sister—my sister, who had never in her life asked a question, or uttered
