My Lady's Money

by Wilkie Collins

  CHAPTER XVI.

  PAYING his court to the ex-schoolmistress on the next day, Hardyman madesuch excellent use of his opportunities that the visit to the stud-farmtook place on the day after. His own carriage was placed at the disposalof Isabel and her aunt; and his own sister was present to confer specialdistinction on the reception of Miss Pink.

  In a country like England, which annually suspends the sitting of itsLegislature in honor of a horse-race, it is only natural and proper thatthe comfort of the horses should be the first object of consideration ata stud-farm. Nine-tenths of the land at Hardyman's farm was devoted, inone way or another, to the noble quadruped with the low forehead and thelong nose. Poor humanity was satisfied with second-rate and third-rateaccommodation. The ornamental grounds, very poorly laid out, were alsovery limited in extent--and, as for the dwelling-house, it was literallya cottage. A parlor and a kitchen, a smoking-room, a bed-room, and aspare chamber for a friend, all scantily furnished, sufficed for themodest wants of the owner of the property. If you wished to feast youreyes on luxury you went to the stables.

  The stud-farm being described, the introduction to Hardyman's sisterfollows in due course.

  The Honorable Lavinia Hardyman was, as all persons in society know,married rather late in life to General Drumblade. It is saying a greatdeal, but it is not saying too much, to describe Mrs. Drumblade as themost mischievous woman of her age in all England. Scandal was the breathof her life; to place people in false positions, to divulge secretsand destroy characters, to undermine friendships, and aggravateenmities--these were the sources of enjoyment from which this dangerouswoman drew the inexhaustible fund of good spirits that made her abrilliant light in the social sphere. She was one of the privilegedsinners of modern society. The worst mischief that she could work wasascribed to her "exuberant vitality." She had that ready familiarity ofmanner which is (in _her_ class) so rarely discovered to be insolence indisguise. Her power of easy self-assertion found people ready to accepther on her own terms wherever she went. She was one of those big,overpowering women, with blunt manners, voluble tongues, and goggleeyes, who carry everything before them. The highest society modestlyconsidered itself in danger of being dull in the absence of Mrs.Drumblade. Even Hardyman himself--who saw as little of her as possible,whose frankly straightforward nature recoiled by instinct from contactwith his sister--could think of no fitter person to make Miss Pink'sreception agreeable to her, while he was devoting his own attentions toher niece. Mrs. Drumblade accepted the position thus offered withthe most amiable readiness. In her own private mind she placed aninterpretation on her brother's motives which did him the grossestinjustice. She believed that Hardyman's designs on Isabel contemplatedthe most profligate result. To assist this purpose, while the girl'snearest relative was supposed to be taking care of her, was Mrs.Drumblade's idea of "fun." Her worst enemies admitted that the honorableLavinia had redeeming qualities, and owned that a keen sense of humor wasone of her merits.

  Was Miss Pink a likely person to resist the fascinations of Mrs.Drumblade? Alas, for the ex-schoolmistress! before she had been fiveminutes at the farm, Hardyman's sister had fished for her, caught her,landed her. Poor Miss Pink!

  Mrs. Drumblade could assume a grave dignity of manner when the occasioncalled for it. She was grave, she was dignified, when Hardyman performedthe ceremonies of introduction. She would not say she was charmed tomeet Miss Pink--the ordinary slang of society was not for Miss Pink'sears--she would say she felt this introduction as a privilege. It wasso seldom one met with persons of trained intellect in society. Mrs.Drumblade was already informed of Miss Pink's earlier triumphs in theinstruction of youth. Mrs. Drumblade had not been blessed with childrenherself; but she had nephews and nieces, and she was anxious about theireducation, especially the nieces. What a sweet, modest girl Miss Isabelwas! The fondest wish she could form for her nieces would be that theyshould resemble Miss Isabel when they grew up. The question was, as tothe best method of education. She would own that she had selfish motivesin becoming acquainted with Miss Pink. They were at the farm, no doubt,to see Alfred's horses. Mrs. Drumblade did not understand horses; herinterest was in the question of education. She might even confess thatshe had accepted Alfred's invitation in the hope of hearing MissPink's views. There would be opportunities, she trusted, for a littleinstructive conversation on that subject. It was, perhaps, ridiculous totalk, at her age, of feeling as if she was Miss Pink's pupil; and yetit exactly expressed the nature of the aspiration which was then in hermind.

  In these terms, feeling her way with the utmost nicety, Mrs. Drumbladewound the net of flattery round and round Miss Pink until her hold onthat innocent lady was, in every sense of the word, secure. Before halfthe horses had been passed under review, Hardyman and Isabel were out ofsight, and Mrs. Drumblade and Miss Pink were lost in the intricaciesof the stables. "Excessively stupid of me! We had better go back, andestablish ourselves comfortably in the parlor. When my brother missesus, he and your charming niece will return to look for us in thecottage." Under cover of this arrangement the separation becamecomplete. Miss Pink held forth on education to Mrs. Drumblade in theparlor; while Hardyman and Isabel were on their way to a paddock at thefarthest limits of the property.

  "I am afraid you are getting a little tired," said Hardyman. "Won't youtake my arm?"

  Isabel was on her guard: she had not forgotten what Lady Lydiard hadsaid to her. "No, thank you, Mr. Hardyman; I am a better walker than youthink."

  Hardyman continued the conversation in his blunt, resolute way. "Iwonder whether you will believe me," he asked, "if I tell you that thisis one of the happiest days of my life."

  "I should think you were always happy," Isabel cautiously replied,"having such a pretty place to live in as this."

  Hardyman met that answer with one of his quietly-positive denials. "Aman is never happy by himself," he said. "He is happy with a companion.For instance, I am happy with you."

  Isabel stopped and looked back. Hardyman's language was becoming alittle too explicit. "Surely we have lost Mrs. Drumblade and my aunt,"she said. "I don't see them anywhere."

  "You will see them directly; they are only a long way behind." With thisassurance, he returned, in his own obstinate way, to his one object inview. "Miss Isabel, I want to ask you a question. I'm not a ladies' man.I speak my mind plainly to everybody--women included. Do you like beinghere to-day?"

  Isabel's gravity was not proof against this very downright question."I should be hard to please," she said laughing, "if I didn't enjoy myvisit to the farm."

  Hardyman pushed steadily forward through the obstacle of the farm tothe question of the farm's master. "You like being here," he repeated."Do you like Me?"

  This was serious. Isabel drew back a little, and looked at him. Hewaited with the most impenetrable gravity for her reply.

  "I think you can hardly expect me to answer that question," she said

  "Why not?"

  "Our acquaintance has been a very short one, Mr. Hardyman. And, if _you_are so good as to forget the difference between us, I think _I_ ought toremember it."

  "What difference?"

  "The difference in rank."

  Hardyman suddenly stood still, and emphasized his next words by digginghis stick into the grass.

  "If anything I have said has vexed you," he began, "tell me so plainly,Miss Isabel, and I'll ask your pardon. But don't throw my rank in myface. I cut adrift from all that nonsense when I took this farm and gotmy living out of the horses. What has a man's rank to do with a man'sfeelings?" he went on, with another emphatic dig of his stick. "I amquite serious in asking if you like me--for this good reason, that Ilike you. Yes, I do. You remember that day when I bled the oldlady's dog--well, I have found out since then that there's a sort ofincompleteness in my life which I never suspected before. It's you whohave put that idea into my head. You didn't mean it, I dare say, but youhave done it all the same. I sat alone here yesterday evening smokingmy pipe--and I didn't enjoy it. I br
eakfasted alone this morning--and Ididn't enjoy _that_. I said to myself, She's coming to lunch, that's onecomfort--I shall enjoy lunch. That's what I feel, roughly described. Idon't suppose I've been five minutes together without thinking of you,now in one way and now in another, since the day when I first saw you.When a man comes to my time of life, and has had any experience, heknows what that means. It means, in plain English, that his heart is seton a woman. You're the woman."

  Isabel had thus far made several attempts to interrupt him, withoutsuccess. But, when Hardyman's confession attained its culminating point,she insisted on being heard.

  "If you will excuse me, sir," she interposed gravely, "I think I hadbetter go back to the cottage. My aunt is a stranger here, and shedoesn't know where to look for us."

  "We don't want your aunt," Hardyman remarked, in his most positivemanner.

  "We do want her," Isabel rejoined. "I won't venture to say it's wrong inyou, Mr. Hardyman, to talk to me as you have just done, but I am quitesure it's very wrong of me to listen."

  He looked at her with such unaffected surprise and distress that shestopped, on the point of leaving him, and tried to make herself betterunderstood.

  "I had no intention of offending you, sir," she said, a littleconfusedly. "I only wanted to remind you that there are some thingswhich a gentleman in your position--" She stopped, tried to finish thesentence, failed, and began another. "If I had been a young lady in yourown rank of life," she went on, "I might have thanked you for paying mea compliment, and have given you a serious answer. As it is, I am afraidthat I must say that you have surprised and disappointed me. I can claimvery little for myself, I know. But I did imagine--so long as therewas nothing unbecoming in my conduct--that I had some right to yourrespect."

  Listening more and more impatiently, Hardyman took her by the hand, andburst out with another of his abrupt questions.

  "What can you possibly be thinking of?" he asked.

  She gave him no answer; she only looked at him reproachfully, and triedto release herself.

  Hardyman held her hand faster than ever.

  "I believe you think me an infernal scoundrel!" he said. "I can stand agood deal, Miss Isabel, but I can't stand _that_. How have I failed inrespect toward you, if you please? I have told you you're the woman myheart is set on. Well? Isn't it plain what I want of you, when I saythat? Isabel Miller, I want you to be my wife!"

  Isabel's only reply to this extraordinary proposal of marriage was afaint cry of astonishment, followed by a sudden trembling that shook herfrom head to foot.

  Hardyman put his arm round her with a gentleness which his oldest friendwould have been surprised to see in him.

  "Take your time to think of it," he said, dropping back again into hisusual quiet tone. "If you had known me a little better you wouldn't havemistaken me, and you wouldn't be looking at me now as if you were afraidto believe your own ears. What is there so very wonderful in my wantingto marry you? I don't set up for being a saint. When I was a younger manI was no better (and no worse) than other young men. I'm getting on nowto middle life. I don't want romances and adventures--I want an easyexistence with a nice lovable woman who will make me a good wife. You'rethe woman, I tell you again. I know it by what I've seen of you myself,and by what I have heard of you from Lady Lydiard. She said you wereprudent, and sweet-tempered, and affectionate; to which I wish to addthat you have just the face and figure that I like, and the modestmanners and the blessed absence of all slang in your talk, which I don'tfind in the young women I meet with in the present day. That's my viewof it: I think for myself. What does it matter to me whether you're thedaughter of a Duke or the daughter of a Dairyman? It isn't your father Iwant to marry--it's you. Listen to reason, there's a dear! We have onlyone question to settle before we go back to your aunt. You wouldn'tanswer me when I asked it a little while since. Will you answer now?_Do_ you like me?"

  Isabel looked up at him timidly.

  "In my position, sir," she asked, "have I any right to like you? Whatwould your relations and friends think, if I said Yes?"

  Hardyman gave her waist a little admonitory squeeze with his arm

  "What? You're at it again? A nice way to answer a man, to call him'Sir,' and to get behind his rank as if it was a place of refuge fromhim! I hate talking of myself, but you force me to it. Here is myposition in the world--I have got an elder brother; he is married,and he has a son to succeed him, in the title and the property. Youunderstand, so far? Very well! Years ago I shifted my share of the rank(whatever it may be) on to my brother's shoulders. He is a thorough goodfellow, and he has carried my dignity for me, without once dropping it,ever since. As for what people may say, they have said it already, frommy father and mother downward, in the time when I took to the horses andthe farm. If they're the wise people I take them for, they won't be atthe trouble of saying it all over again. No, no. Twist it how you may,Miss Isabel, whether I'm single or whether I'm married, I'm plain AlfredHardyman; and everybody who knows me knows that I go on my way,and please myself. If you don't like me, it will be the bitterestdisappointment I ever had in my life; but say so honestly, all thesame."

  Where is the woman in Isabel's place whose capacity for resistance wouldnot have yielded a little to such an appeal as this?

  "I should be an insensible wretch," she replied warmly, "if I didn't feelthe honor you have done me, and feel it gratefully."

  "Does that mean you will have me for a husband?" asked downrightHardyman.

  She was fairly driven into a corner; but (being a woman) she tried toslip through his fingers at the last moment.

  "Will you forgive me," she said, "if I ask you for a little more time? Iam so bewildered, I hardly know what to say or do for the best. You see,Mr. Hardyman, it would be a dreadful thing for me to be the cause ofgiving offense to your family. I am obliged to think of that. It wouldbe so distressing for you (I will say nothing of myself) if your friendsclosed their doors on me. They might say I was a designing girl, who hadtaken advantage of your good opinion to raise herself in the world. LadyLydiard warned me long since not to be ambitious about myself and notto forget my station in life, because she treated me like her adopteddaughter. Indeed--indeed, I can't tell you how I feel your goodness, andthe compliment--the very great compliment, you pay me! My heart is free,and if I followed my own inclinations--" She checked herself, consciousthat she was on the brink of saying too much. "Will you give me a fewdays," she pleaded, "to try if I can think composedly of all this? Iam only a girl, and I feel quite dazzled by the prospect that you setbefore me."

  Hardyman seized on those words as offering all the encouragement that hedesired to his suit.

  "Have your own way in this thing and in everything!" he said, with anunaccustomed fervor of language and manner. "I am so glad to hear thatyour heart is open to me, and that all your inclinations take my part."

  Isabel instantly protested against this misrepresentation of what shehad really said, "Oh, Mr. Hardyman, you quite mistake me!"

  He answered her very much as he had answered Lady Lydiard, when she hadtried to make him understand his proper relations towards Isabel.

  "No, no; I don't mistake you. I agree to every word you say. How can Iexpect you to marry me, as you very properly remark, unless I give you aday or two to make up your mind? It's quite enough for me that you likethe prospect. If Lady Lydiard treated you as her daughter, why shouldn'tyou be my wife? It stands to reason that you're quite right to marry aman who can raise you in the world. I like you to be ambitious--thoughHeaven knows it isn't much I can do for you, except to love you with allmy heart. Still, it's a great encouragement to hear that her Ladyship'sviews agree with mine--"

  "They don't agree, Mr. Hardyman!" protested poor Isabel. "You areentirely misrepresenting--"

  Hardyman cordially concurred in this view of the matter. "Yes! yes! Ican't pretend to represent her Ladyship's language, or yours either; Iam obliged to take my words as they come to me. Don't disturb yourself:it's all right--I u
nderstand. You have made me the happiest man living.I shall ride over to-morrow to your aunt's house, and hear what you haveto say to me. Mind you're at home! Not a day must pass now without myseeing you. I do love you, Isabel--I do, indeed!" He stooped, and kissedher heartily. "Only to reward me," he explained, "for giving you time tothink."

  She drew herself away from him--resolutely, not angrily. Before shecould make a third attempt to place the subject in its right lightbefore him, the luncheon bell rang at the cottage--and a servantappeared evidently sent to look for them.

  "Don't forget to-morrow," Hardyman whispered confidentially. "I'll callearly--and then go to London, and get the ring."