CHAPTER VII
He was, however, by no means so much in earnest as this might seem to
indicate; and, indeed, he was more than anything else amused with the
whole situation. He was not in the least in a state of tension or of
vigilance with regard to Catherine's prospects he was even on his
guard against the ridicule that might attach itself to the spectacle
of a house thrown into agitation by its daughter and heiress
receiving attentions unprecedented in its annals. More than this, he
went so far as to promise himself some entertainment from the little
drama--if drama it was--of which Mrs. Penniman desired to represent
the ingenious Mr. Townsend as the hero. He had no intention, as yet,
of regulating the denouement. He was perfectly willing, as Elizabeth
had suggested, to give the young man the benefit of every doubt.
There was no great danger in it; for Catherine, at the age of twenty-
two, was, after all, a rather mature blossom, such as could be
plucked from the stem only by a vigorous jerk. The fact that Morris
Townsend was poor--was not of necessity against him; the Doctor had
never made up his mind that his daughter should marry a rich man.
The fortune she would inherit struck him as a very sufficient
provision for two reasonable persons, and if a penniless swain who
could give a good account of himself should enter the lists, he
should be judged quite upon his personal merits. There were other
things besides. The Doctor thought it very vulgar to be precipitate
in accusing people of mercenary motives, inasmuch as his door had as
yet not been in the least besieged by fortune-hunters; and, lastly,
he was very curious to see whether Catherine might really be loved
for her moral worth. He smiled as he reflected that poor Mr.
Townsend had been only twice to the house, and he said to Mrs.
Penniman that the next time he should come she must ask him to
dinner.
He came very soon again, and Mrs. Penniman had of course great
pleasure in executing this mission. Morris Townsend accepted her
invitation with equal good grace, and the dinner took place a few
days later. The Doctor had said to himself, justly enough, that they
must not have the young man alone; this would partake too much of the
nature of encouragement. So two or three other persons were invited;
but Morris Townsend, though he was by no means the ostensible, was
the real, occasion of the feast. There is every reason to suppose
that he desired to make a good impression; and if he fell short of
this result, it was not for want of a good deal of intelligent
effort. The Doctor talked to him very little during dinner; but he
observed him attentively, and after the ladies had gone out he pushed
him the wine and asked him several questions. Morris was not a young
man who needed to be pressed, and he found quite enough encouragement
in the superior quality of the claret. The Doctor's wine was
admirable, and it may be communicated to the reader that while he
sipped it Morris reflected that a cellar-full of good liquor--there
was evidently a cellar-full here--would be a most attractive
idiosyncrasy in a father-in-law. The Doctor was struck with his
appreciative guest; he saw that he was not a commonplace young man.
"He has ability," said Catherine's father, "decided ability; he has a
very good head if he chooses to use it. And he is uncommonly well
turned out; quite the sort of figure that pleases the ladies. But I
don't think I like him." The Doctor, however, kept his reflexions to
himself, and talked to his visitors about foreign lands, concerning
which Morris offered him more information than he was ready, as he
mentally phrased it, to swallow. Dr. Sloper had travelled but
little, and he took the liberty of not believing everything this
anecdotical idler narrated. He prided himself on being something of
a physiognomist, and while the young man, chatting with easy
assurance, puffed his cigar and filled his glass again, the Doctor
sat with his eyes quietly fixed on his bright, expressive face. "He
has the assurance of the devil himself," said Morris's host; "I don't
think I ever saw such assurance. And his powers of invention are
most remarkable. He is very knowing; they were not so knowing as
that in my time. And a good head, did I say? I should think so--
after a bottle of Madeira and a bottle and a half of claret!"
After dinner Morris Townsend went and stood before Catherine, who was
standing before the fire in her red satin gown.
"He doesn't like me--he doesn't like me at all!" said the young man.
"Who doesn't like you?" asked Catherine.
"Your father; extraordinary man!"
"I don't see how you know," said Catherine, blushing.
"I feel; I am very quick to feel."
"Perhaps you are mistaken."
"Ah, well; you ask him and you will see."
"I would rather not ask him, if there is any danger of his saying
what you think."
Morris looked at her with an air of mock melancholy.
"It wouldn't give you any pleasure to contradict him?"
"I never contradict him," said Catherine.
"Will you hear me abused without opening your lips in my defence?"
"My father won't abuse you. He doesn't know you enough."
Morris Townsend gave a loud laugh, and Catherine began to blush
again.
"I shall never mention you," she said, to take refuge from her
confusion.
"That is very well; but it is not quite what I should have liked you
to say. I should have liked you to say: 'If my father doesn't think
well of you, what does it matter?'"
"Ah, but it would matter; I couldn't say that!" the girl exclaimed.
He looked at her for a moment, smiling a little; and the Doctor, if
he had been watching him just then, would have seen a gleam of fine
impatience in the sociable softness of his eye. But there was no
impatience in his rejoinder--none, at least, save what was expressed
in a little appealing sigh. "Ah, well, then, I must not give up the
hope of bringing him round!"
He expressed it more frankly to Mrs. Penniman later in the evening.
But before that he sang two or three songs at Catherine's timid
request; not that he flattered himself that this would help to bring
her father round. He had a sweet, light tenor voice, and when he had
finished every one made some exclamation--every one, that is, save
Catherine, who remained intensely silent. Mrs. Penniman declared
that his manner of singing was "most artistic," and Dr. Sloper said
it was "very taking--very taking indeed"; speaking loudly and
distinctly, but with a certain dryness.
"He doesn't like me--he doesn't like me at all," said Morris
Townsend, addressing the aunt in the same manner as he had done the
niece. "He thinks I'm all wrong."
Unlike her niece, Mrs. Penniman asked for no explanation. She only
smiled very sweetly, as if she understood everything; and, unlike
Catherine too, she made no attempt to contradict him. "Pray, what
does it matter?" she murmured softly.
"Ah, you say the right thing!" said Morris, greatly to the
gratification of Mrs. Penniman, who prided herself on always saying
the right thing.
The Doctor, the next time he saw his sister Elizabeth, let her know
that he had made the acquaintance of Lavinia's protege.
"Physically," he said, "he's uncommonly well set up. As an
anatomist, it is really a pleasure to me to see such a beautiful
structure; although, if people were all like him, I suppose there
would be very little need for doctors."
"Don't you see anything in people but their bones?" Mrs. Almond
rejoined. "What do you think of him as a father?"
"As a father? Thank Heaven I am not his father!"
"No; but you are Catherine's. Lavinia tells me she is in love."
"She must get over it. He is not a gentleman."
"Ah, take care! Remember that he is a branch of the Townsends."
"He is not what I call a gentleman. He has not the soul of one. He
is extremely insinuating; but it's a vulgar nature. I saw through it
in a minute. He is altogether too familiar--I hate familiarity. He
is a plausible coxcomb."
"Ah, well," said Mrs. Almond; "if you make up your mind so easily,
it's a great advantage."
"I don't make up my mind easily. What I tell you is the result of
thirty years of observation; and in order to be able to form that
judgement in a single evening, I have had to spend a lifetime in
study."
"Very possibly you are right. But the thing is for Catherine to see
it."
"I will present her with a pair of spectacles!" said the Doctor.
