CHAPTER VIII.
WHAT NEXT?
Harry called early, and was informed that the colonel was not at home.
"Something's the matter, Mr. Armstrong," said Beeves. "Master's not at
home to you to-day, he says, nor any other day till he countermands the
order--that was the word, sir. I'm sure I am very sorry, sir."
"So am I," said Harry. "How's your mistress?"
"Haven't seen her to-day, sir. Emma says she's poorly. But she is down.
Emma looks as if she knew something and wouldn't tell it. I'll get it out
of her though, sir. We'll be having that old Wade coming about the house
again, I'm afeard, sir. _He's_ no good."
"At all events you will let your master know that I have called," said
Harry, as he turned disconsolately, to take his departure.
"That I will, sir. And I'll be sure he hears me. He's rather deaf,
sometimes, you know, sir."
"Thank you, Beeves. Good morning."
Now what could have been Harry's intention in calling upon the colonel?
Why, as he had said himself, to make an apology. But what kind of apology
could he make? Clearly there was only one that would satisfy all parties--
and that must be in the form of a request to be allowed to pay his
addresses--(that used to be the phrase in my time--I don't know the young
ladies' slang for it now-a-days)--to Adela. Did I say--_satisfy all
parties_? This was just the one form affairs might take, which would least
of all satisfy the colonel. I believe, with all his rigid proprieties, he
would have preferred the confession that the doctor had so far forgotten
himself as to attempt to snatch a kiss--a theft of which I cannot imagine
a gentleman guilty, least of all a doctor from his patient; which relation
no doubt the colonel persisted in regarding as the sole possible and
everlastingly permanent one between Adela and Harry. The former was,
however, the only apology Harry could make; and evidently the colonel
expected it when he refused to see him.
But why should he refuse to see him?--The doctor was not on an equality
with the colonel. Well, to borrow a form from the Shorter Catechism:
wherein consisted the difference between the colonel and the doctor?--The
difference between the colonel and the doctor consisted chiefly in this,
that whereas the colonel lived by the wits of his ancestors, Harry lived
by his own, and therefore was not so respectable as the colonel. Or in
other words: the colonel inherited a good estate, with the ordinary
quantity of brains; while Harry inherited a good education and an
extraordinary quantity of brains. So of course it was very presumptuous in
Harry to aspire to the hand of Miss Cathcart.
In the forenoon the curate called upon me, and was shown into the library
where I was.
"What's that scapegrace brother of mine been doing, Smith?" he asked, the
moment he entered.
"Wanting to marry Adela," I replied.
"What has he done?"
"Called this morning."
"And seen Colonel Cathcart?"
"No."
"Not at home?"
"In a social sense, not at home; in a moral sense, very far from at home;
in a natural sense, seated in his own arm-chair, with his own work on the
Peninsular War open on the table before him."
"Wouldn't see him?"
"No."
"What's he to do then?"
"I think we had better leave that to him. Harry is not the man I take him
for if he doesn't know his own way better than you or I can tell him."
"You're right, Smith. How's Miss Cathcart?"
"I have never seen her so well. Certainly she did not come down to
breakfast, but I believe that was merely from shyness. She appeared in the
dining-room directly after, and although it was evident she had been
crying, her step was as light and her colour as fresh as her lover even
could wish to see them."
"Then she is not without hope in the matter?"
"If she loves him, and I think she does, she is not without hope. But I do
not think the fact of her looking well would be sufficient to prove that.
For some mental troubles will favour the return of bodily health. They
will at least give one an interest in life."
"Then you think her father has given in a little about it?"
"I don't believe it.--If her illness and she were both of an ordinary
kind, she would gain her point now by taking to her bed. But from what I
know of Adela she would scorn and resist that."
"Well, we must let matters take their course. Harry is worthy of the best
wife in Christendom."
"I believe it. And more, if Adela will make that best wife, I think he
will have the best wife. But we must have patience."
Next morning, a letter arrived from Harry to the colonel. I have seen it,
and it was to this effect:
"My dear Sir,--As you will not see me, I am forced to write to you. Let my
earnest entreaty to be allowed to address your daughter, cover, if it
cannot make up for, my inadvertence of the other evening. I am very sorry
I have offended you. If you will receive me, I trust you will not find it
hard to forget. Yours, &c."
To this the colonel replied:
"Sir,--It is at least useless, if not worse, to apply for an _ex post
facto_ permission. What I might have answered, had the courtesies of
society been observed, it may be easy for me to determine, but it is
useless now to repeat. Allow me to say that I consider such behaviour of a
medical practitioner towards a young lady, his patient, altogether
unworthy of a gentleman, as every member of a learned profession is
supposed to be. I have the honour, &c."
I returned the curate's call, and while we were sitting in his study, in
walked Harry with a rather rueful countenance.
"What do you say to that, Ralph?" said he, handing his brother the letter.
"Cool," replied Ralph. "But Harry, my boy, you have given him quite the
upper hand of you. How could you be so foolish as kiss the girl there and
then?"
"I didn't," said Harry.
"But you did just as bad. You were going to do it."
"I don't think I was. But somehow those great eyes of hers kept pulling
and pulling my head, so that I don't know what I was going to do. I
remember nothing but her eyes. Suddenly a scared look in them startled me,
and I saw it all. Mr. Smith, was it so very dishonourable of me?"
"You are the best judge of that yourself, Harry," I answered. "Just let me
look at the note."
I read it, folded it up carefully, and returning it, said:
"He's given you a good hold of him there. It is really too bad of
Cathcart, being a downright good fellow, to forget that he ran away with
Miss Selby, old Sir George, the baronet's daughter. Neither of them ever
repented it; though he was only Captain Cathcart then, in a regiment of
foot, too, and was not even next heir to the property he has now."
"Hurrah!" cried Harry.
"Stop, stop. That doesn't make it a bit better," said his brother. "I
suppose you mean to argue with him on that ground, do you?"
"No, I don't. I'm not such a fool. But if I _should_ be forced to run away
with her, _he_ can't complain, you know."
"No, no, Harry, my boy," said I. "That won't do. It would break the old
man's heart. You must have patience for a while."
"Yes, yes. I know what I mean to do."
"What?"
"When I've made up my mind, I never ask advice. It only bewilders a
fellow."
"Quite right, Hal," said his brother. "Only don't do anything foolish."
"I won't do anything she doesn't like."
"No, nor anything you won't like yourself afterwards," I ventured to say.
"I hope not," returned he, gravely, as he walked out, too much absorbed to
bid either of us _good morning_.
It was now more than time that I should return to town; but I could not
leave affairs in this unsatisfactory state. I therefore lingered on to see
what would come next.
