Ayala's Angel [162]
open to him the one further chance with Sir Thomas; and this chance he could try with the comfortable feeling that he might be almost indifferent as to what Sir Thomas might say. To be prepared for either lot is very self-assuring when any matter of difficulty has to be taken in hand. On arriving at the house in Lombard Street he soon found himself ushered once more into Sir Thomas's presence. "Well, Mr Houston, what can I do for you today?" asked the man of business, with a pleasant smile.
"It is the old story, Sir Thomas."
"Don't you think, Mr Houston, that there is something -- a little -- unmanly shall I call it, in coming so often about the same thing?"
"No, Sir Thomas, I do not. I think my conduct has been manly throughout."
"Weak, perhaps, would have been a better word. I do not wish to be uncourteous, and I will therefore withdraw unmanly. Is it not weak to encounter so many refusals on the same subject?" "I should feel myself to have been very strong if after so many refusals I were to be successful at last."
"There is not the least chance of it."
"Why should there be no chance if your daughter's happiness depends upon it?"
"There is no chance, because I do not believe that my daughter's happiness does depend upon it. She is foolish, and has made a foolish proposition to you."
"What proposition?" asked Houston, in surprise, having heard nothing of that intercepted letter.
"That journey to Ostend, with the prospect of finding a good-natured clergyman in the town! I hardly think you would be fool enough for that."
"No, Sir Thomas, I should not do that. I should think it wrong." This he said quite gravely, asking no questions; but was very much at a loss to know where Sir Thomas had got his information. "I am sure you would think it foolish: and it would be foolish. I pledge you my word, that were you to do such a thing I should not give you a shilling. I should not let my girl starve; but I should save her from suffering in such a manner as to let you have no share of the sustenance I provided for her."
"There is no question of that kind," said Frank, angrily.
"I hope not -- only as I know that the suggestion has been made I have thought it well to tell you what would be my conduct if it were carried out."
"It will not be carried out by me," said Frank.
"Very well; I am glad to hear it. To tell the truth, I never thought that you would run the risk. A gentleman of your sort, when he is looking for a wife with money, likes to have the money quite certain."
"No doubt," said Frank, determined not to be browbeaten.
"And now, Mr Houston, let me say one word more to you and then we may part, as I hope, good friends. I do not mean my daughter Gertrude to marry any man such as you are -- by that I mean an idle gentleman without means. Should she do so in my teeth she would have to bear the punishment of sharing that poor gentleman's idleness and poverty. While I lived she would not be allowed absolutely to want, and when I died there would be some trifle for her, sufficient to keep the wolf from the door. But I give you my solemn word and honour that she shall never be the means of supplying wealth and luxury to such a husband as you would be. I have better purposes for my hard-earned money. Now, good-day." With that he rose from his chair and put out his hand. Frank rose also from his chair, took the hand that was offered him, and stepped out of Travers and Treason into Lombard Street, with no special desire to shake the dust off his feet as he did so. He felt that Sir Thomas had been reasonable -- and he felt also that Gertrude Tringle would perhaps have been dear at the money. Two or three days afterwards he despatched the following little note to poor Gertrude at Merle Park:
DEAR GERTRUDE,
I have seen your father again, and found him to be absolutely obdurate. I am sure he is quite in earnest when he tells me that he will not give his daughter to an impoverished idle fellow such as I am. Who shall say that he is wrong? I did not dare to tell him so,
"It is the old story, Sir Thomas."
"Don't you think, Mr Houston, that there is something -- a little -- unmanly shall I call it, in coming so often about the same thing?"
"No, Sir Thomas, I do not. I think my conduct has been manly throughout."
"Weak, perhaps, would have been a better word. I do not wish to be uncourteous, and I will therefore withdraw unmanly. Is it not weak to encounter so many refusals on the same subject?" "I should feel myself to have been very strong if after so many refusals I were to be successful at last."
"There is not the least chance of it."
"Why should there be no chance if your daughter's happiness depends upon it?"
"There is no chance, because I do not believe that my daughter's happiness does depend upon it. She is foolish, and has made a foolish proposition to you."
"What proposition?" asked Houston, in surprise, having heard nothing of that intercepted letter.
"That journey to Ostend, with the prospect of finding a good-natured clergyman in the town! I hardly think you would be fool enough for that."
"No, Sir Thomas, I should not do that. I should think it wrong." This he said quite gravely, asking no questions; but was very much at a loss to know where Sir Thomas had got his information. "I am sure you would think it foolish: and it would be foolish. I pledge you my word, that were you to do such a thing I should not give you a shilling. I should not let my girl starve; but I should save her from suffering in such a manner as to let you have no share of the sustenance I provided for her."
"There is no question of that kind," said Frank, angrily.
"I hope not -- only as I know that the suggestion has been made I have thought it well to tell you what would be my conduct if it were carried out."
"It will not be carried out by me," said Frank.
"Very well; I am glad to hear it. To tell the truth, I never thought that you would run the risk. A gentleman of your sort, when he is looking for a wife with money, likes to have the money quite certain."
"No doubt," said Frank, determined not to be browbeaten.
"And now, Mr Houston, let me say one word more to you and then we may part, as I hope, good friends. I do not mean my daughter Gertrude to marry any man such as you are -- by that I mean an idle gentleman without means. Should she do so in my teeth she would have to bear the punishment of sharing that poor gentleman's idleness and poverty. While I lived she would not be allowed absolutely to want, and when I died there would be some trifle for her, sufficient to keep the wolf from the door. But I give you my solemn word and honour that she shall never be the means of supplying wealth and luxury to such a husband as you would be. I have better purposes for my hard-earned money. Now, good-day." With that he rose from his chair and put out his hand. Frank rose also from his chair, took the hand that was offered him, and stepped out of Travers and Treason into Lombard Street, with no special desire to shake the dust off his feet as he did so. He felt that Sir Thomas had been reasonable -- and he felt also that Gertrude Tringle would perhaps have been dear at the money. Two or three days afterwards he despatched the following little note to poor Gertrude at Merle Park:
DEAR GERTRUDE,
I have seen your father again, and found him to be absolutely obdurate. I am sure he is quite in earnest when he tells me that he will not give his daughter to an impoverished idle fellow such as I am. Who shall say that he is wrong? I did not dare to tell him so,