The good chance which her age gave her of survivorship, had, as we know, been already pointed out to her, and she was perfectly aware of it; nevertheless she was very far in her heart from being quite contented with the proposed settlement. When she had told her father that she wished her fortune to be so settled as to make her feel herself independent during the life of her husband, she was far from expecting that the result of this request would be one hundred a-year for pin-money. It was not pin-money she wanted, good lady — it was book-money; for it was here, and here only, that she had ever felt herself restricted; and it was here, and here only, that she had ever wished for the power of being expensive in her purchases.
Her worthy father, who had allowed her fifty pounds annually for her private expenses, really and truly thought that he was going to the utmost limit of propriety, when, in order to indulge the wishes of his darling, he proposed that the double of that sum should be settled upon her; and this had been so evident to her that she preferred the letting it be so arranged, to the betraying anything like discontent at what he had proposed.
But the present occasion was so admirable an opportunity for obtaining all she wished, with no other imputation left upon her than that of preferring the power of spending money herself to that of bestowing it upon some unknown individual after her death, that she instantly determined upon profiting by it; and she subsequently did so in a way that perfectly delighted Mr. Mathews, and which at last only caused her father to smile and shake his head at what he called her feminine eagerness to enjoy the pleasure of having one bird in her hand, instead of the prospective advantage of two in the bush.
“Let me speak to you and my father together on the subject,” was her immediate reply to Mr. Mathews; “I have a whim of my own about it,” she added, “and if you will let me have my own way, I think we shall all be pleased in the end.”
“I have no doubt of it, my dear Miss King,” said the politely acquiescent lover, without ever venturing to inquire what her project might be. “Let us seek your father at once, shall we? and when this point is once settled, we shall all feel comfortable, I am sure.”
“Miss Mary has a proposal of her own to make to you, Mr. King,” said the rather anxious Mr. Mathews, as he preceded the lady into the parlour. “What it is,” he added, “I don’t know at all better than you do, and as she wished to explain it to us both together, of course I did not “ask her.” He then very gallantly handed her to a chair, and stood waiting beside her, hat in hand, to learn what her pleasure might be.
It was not very often that my heroine felt herself embarrassed when she had anything to communicate, either to her father, or to any one else; but on this occasion she felt a sort of consciousness that what she was going to ask for was rather extortionate and exacting, and this made her pause for half a moment before she spoke, though both her auditors were evidently waiting with impatience to hear her will and pleasure.
But luckily for her dignity and self-acquittal, she recollected that although what she was going to ask for was of enormously important advantage to herself, it was her purpose to offer in return what most other people would consider as more than an equivalent; she therefore took courage, and said with the air of a person in no way ashamed of what she was about to utter, “You both of you know exactly how things stand, and therefore I need not recapitulate anything. It is obvious that Mr. Mathews has very much stronger reasons than it is possible I ever can have for feeling interest, and even anxiety, as to the disposal of our joint property after the death of both. Now, I honestly confess, that I do not care the least in the world about it. I would refuse my consent to any settlement which should leave either of us, after the death of the other, with a smaller income in consequence of that event; but this contingence being provided against, I confess that I do not, and cannot feel any great anxiety as to what becomes of the property afterwards. But — I hope you will neither of you think me very unreasonable, or at least that you will be indulgent to me, if you do — the fact is that my happiness will very much depend upon my having the entire and independent control over such an annual income during my life, as may enable me to indulge myself more freely in the purchase of books than I have ever yet been able to do.”
“In the purchase of books, my dearest child!” said her father, looking as if he really thought she was not quite in her right mind. “What can you want of more books than it is in your power to get already? Why, is not everybody in the whole neighbourhood only too proud and happy to lend you every book they have?”
“My dear Sir,” said Mr. Mathews, laying his hand in gentle remonstrance upon the arm of his future father-in-law, “we may both of us be quite sure that Miss King is perfectly incapable of proposing anything unreasonable; and that she is perfectly correct as to my feeling on account of my grandson a greater interest than she does in the ultimate disposition of the property. This being the case, you know, the only possible way of settling matters in a manner to suit us both, is by her having her wish for a liberal separate allowance for what is commonly called pin-money. I am perfectly well disposed to do this, I assure you, and I most sincerely hope that you will not object to it.”
“You may be very sure,” said Mr. King, gravely, “that I shall object to nothing which you and my daughter agree in wishing for. Speak freely, my dear Mary,” he continued, turning towards her with great gentleness. “Let us hear exactly what it is you do wish. I am quite sure it can be nothing very unreasonable.”
“I know that it would be unreasonable,” replied the ambitious book-worm, colouring, “I know it would be very unreasonable, were I not able and most willing to prevent its being so, by giving up in return what certainly can never be useful to me, but what it is now evident may be very useful to Mr. Mathews. I am not only willing to let him retain, by settlement, the right of ultimately disposing — that is after my death — of his own fortune, but of mine also, upon condition—”
But before she could name this condition, her father stopped her, by exclaiming, “How can you talk such nonsense, my dear Mary? I certainly cannot give my consent to anything of the sort.”
“Then I must submit, Sir,” she replied very gently, but looking most completely discomfited.
This look was more than poor Mr. King could stand, and he immediately added, “Of course, my dear, I don’t really mean that I will not consent to anything and everything that you seriously wish. But it seems difficult to believe that you are really in earnest.”
“Perhaps when I name the amount of the annual sum over which I desire to have the immediate control,” replied his daughter, “you may find it difficult to believe that I could be so unreasonable the other way, and let me assure you both, that I should be of the same opinion, were I not fully aware of the value of what I am willing to pay for it. But the plain truth is that it is a matter of perfect indifference to me what becomes of Mr. Mathews’ property or mine either, after I am dead; whereas I must own that my enjoyment of life would be very greatly increased if I might be permitted to have the uncontrolled disposal of five hundred a year from the day of my marriage, till such time as, in the course of nature I may expect to have the disposal of more.”
My heroine was quite right in her guess that both the old gentlemen would feel a good deal of astonishment, and a little dismay at the amount of her demand, for the countenance of each very eloquently expressed both; and moreover it appeared that they were both struck dumb by it, for an interval of perfect silence followed.
Miss King looked from one to the other and laughed.
“I knew you would be both of you startled by the amount of my demand,” she said, “nor should I have made it so high, were I not folly aware of the value of what I resign; and this value, in a marketable point of view, observe, is not at all lessened by the fact that, unless I were to dispose of it to some speculating Israelite, its value would be no value to me. Fortunately for my wishes, however, the case is widely different with respect to Mr. Mathews. A young man stan
ds in the near relation of grandson to him, who is stated to be in every way worthy of his affection, and for the sake of securing the power of ultimately providing for him, I can conceive it to be very probable that he may be willing to allow me the independent privilege I ask for.”
“But what on earth can you want to have five hundred a year pocket-money for, my dearest Mary?” demanded her father, looking in her face with an expression that spoke both astonishment and curiosity. “You will never spend it, my poor dear child!” he added, dolorously shaking his head; “and then you will find too late, that you have given up a substance for a shadow.”
“Not a shadow, Mr. King, — not a shadow; five hundred per annum is not a shadow!” said Mr. Mathews, rather eagerly “No, Mr. Mathews, it certainly is not,” said the lady. “Did I not feel the truth of your observation I certainly should not make such a proposal as I have done.”
“No, no, that is quite true, to be sure,” said the reasonable Mr. King. “It certainly is a very large portion of income to give up, Mary But must it be quite a secret, my dear, what it is you really want to do with it?”
“No, my dear father, not at all. I wish to have the independent command of this sum chiefly — I believe I might truly say, entirely, for the purpose of buying books, and maps, but it might serve me now and then perhaps, to pay the expenses of a journey,” was the reply of Miss King.
“Books and maps! God bless my soul! That does seem very extraordinary to be sure,” returned her father, certainly looking rather embarrassed, and as if he did not quite like to look his future son-in-law in the face.
Mr. Mathews was quite aware of his advantage; he saw plainly that the reasonable and well-ordered mind of Mr. King had made him instantly as conscious as he was himself of the wild absurdity of Miss Mary’s notions on the article of pin-money; but he was too anxious to obtain the object he had in view to let either the father or daughter perceive how very ridiculous he thought her proposal, his only wish, on the contrary, was to give it a sufficient degree of plausibility in the old gentleman’s eyes to induce him to consent to the terms proposed.
The idea of founding a family in the county, which family he was already fully determined should ultimately take his own name; and the prospect of having a grandson to introduce, so very handsome, and so very like himself, as the description of this interesting young stranger gave him every reason to expect, altogether so delighted Mr. Mathews, that if his affianced bride had asked for the full half of their united income in order therewith to purchase lollypops, he would not have felt disposed to make any objection.
“Well, Mr. King,” he said, “my opinion is that we owe it, to Miss King’s excellent judgment and understanding on all subjects, to yield to her wishes on this. In whatever way she may think proper to dispose of the five hundred a year which she has asked for, I, for one, feel perfectly confident that it will not be ill spent. A fine library, Mr. King, is a very gentlemanlike sort of thing. The sum mentioned may, perhaps, be rather out of proportion to the general income, but I am perfectly ready to consent to the terms proposed.”
Having made this very amiable and conciliatory speech, Mr. Mathews looked in the face of his venerable neighbour, in full expectation of receiving an approving glance in return. But he was disappointed, for Mr. King looked anxious, and very far from satisfied.
“Come now,” resumed Mr. Mathews; “do not let us differ about a question which, after all, may turn out to be of very little importance to any of us. Depend upon it, Mr. King, Miss King will never spend her five hundred per annum in books, if she finds out that there is anything else she likes better; and as for my side of the bargain, I will tell you, Sir, what I will agree to, in order to make it easier and more palatable to you. The fact is, you know, that if it were not for this young grandson of mine, I should not care at all, more than your daughter seems to do, about the destination of the property after we are both dead and buried; and it may turn out that when I have seen and made acquaintance with the young chap, I may feel no great satisfaction in letting him have it either. Therefore, to give your daughter another chance of having to dispose of the whole, I shall be quite willing to have it specified in the settlement that if I do not, by my last will and testament, constitute this said young man, known by the name of Stephen Cornington, my heir, the joint amount of the settled property is to be left at the disposal of your daughter. Will that make the arrangement more satisfactory to you, Mr. King?”
“Yes, sir, I must say it will,” replied the old man; “for this young person being so perfectly unknown to you it is impossible not to feel that you may yourself be averse, in the long run, to endowing him with all your own property, and that of your wife into the bargain.”
“Of course, my dear sir, — of course. Then shall it be so settled between us?” returned Mr. Mathews, turning first to the father and then to the daughter.
“Yes,” replied Mr. King, “I will agree to this, if it be Mary’s wish that it should be so. Though I think she is making but a bad bargain too.”
But Mary was stedfast to her purpose, and replied, “I thank you heartily, my dearest father, for your compliance.” And it was so that the settlements were finally drawn; a separate allowance of five hundred a year being secured to the heiress from the day of her marriage, and a right to bequeath the whole property to his grandson, Stephen Cornington, being vested in Mr. Mathews; but with the proviso that if he did not so bequeath the property to his grandson, Stephen Cornington, the right of disposing of it by will, was to revert to the said heiress.
CHAPTER IX.
AFTER this interesting little incident, all matters went on in the most satisfactory manner possible till the day arrived which was doomed to convert Mary King into Mary Mathews.
Not a word, not a look, and scarcely a thought arose on the part of the bride that could have been fairly quoted as a proof that she would greatly have preferred remaining single; and yet, dearly as she loved buying books, her stipulated five hundred a year did not recur to her on her wedding-day with any very cordial feeling of delight. But from the moment she decided that it would be more wrong to torment the last days of her father by opposing him, than it would be to marry Mr. Mathews, greatly as she would have preferred remaining single, her mind had become perfectly tranquil on the subject, and she would as soon have thought of being unhappy because the days were short and cold at Christmas, as because she was going to have a husband when she would rather have remained without one.
There was a good deal of sound practical philosophy in this, but the strong and sturdy resoluteness which led to it had not been acquired without an effort more determined than agreeable. She felt fully repaid, however, for all it might have cost her, by the effect which her marriage produced on her father; for he positively looked a dozen years younger as he addressed her as “Mrs. Mathews;” every meal was eaten with relish, and every word he spoke was uttered with gaiety.
None of this was lost upon his daughter, and she received it as a well-pleased creditor receives the payment of a debt that was doubtful, and her heart gave a receipt in full for it most thankfully.
Nevertheless, this comfortable satisfaction at the result of the deed she had done did not render her unmindful of all the necessary regulations requisite to ensure the peace and comfort of her future life. She had already openly and honestly bargained with Mr. Mathews for the uncontrolled disposal of her time, and the adhering to this bargain she felt to be of infinitely more importance to her happiness than even the unchecked expenditure of her now ample book-fund.
“I must begin at once,” reasoned the well-judging Mrs. Mathews. “If I begin at once, and firmly, I may go on easily; but any relaxation of discipline at first may be fatal.”
The result of this reasoning was her giving a smiling, but very decided refusal to her bridegroom’s polite proposal the morning after their marriage, that they should take a walk together in the home pastures.
“No, Mr. Mathews!” she said, in the most a
miable manner possible: “no! neither now, nor upon any future occasion can I do anything of the kind. I think, my good friend, that you must remember my having told you on the day when I accepted your proposal, that I had been accustomed all my life to have my time left entirely at my own disposal, and you must remember also that you promised it should be so still.”
“Most certainly, my dearest Mrs. Mathews — most certainly I remember it perfectly! And I remember, too, that I admired then, as I do now, the very great superiority of mind which rendered you so independent of all frivolous amusements. I only thought that you might perhaps like a little walk, because it is such a very beautiful day!”
“My habits are too inveterate, Mr. Mathews,” she replied, “for even a beautiful day to change them.”
“Well, to be sure! my wife is one of ten thousand!” he exclaimed; “I don’t know how to be thankful enough for my own happiness!” and these grateful words were accompanied by an attempt to take her hand. How it was that the attempt failed Mr Mathews himself would have been greatly at a loss to explain; but fail it certainly did.
“A wonderful woman! — a most wonderful and extraordinary woman you certainly are, my dear Mrs. Mathews! Everybody knows what an admirable daughter you have made, and now I feel,” he added with an air of rapture, “that you will be equally admirable as a wife.”
“I don’t know that, Mr. Mathews,” replied the bride, rather gravely; “nay, I am not quite sure but that there may be some danger of the contrary. If I am a good daughter, it is probably because I learned to be so when I was young. That time for learning how to behave is past, Mr. Mathews, and all you can reasonably hope now is that if I am not young enough to learn to be very good, I may prove too old to turn out very bad. And now, good-bye. I have lost I don’t know how many minutes in idle talk, Mr. Mathews, and we must not do the same thing again, if you please, because I think it very wrong.”
Collected Works of Frances Trollope Page 384