VII
HE was, however, by no means so much in earnest as this might seem toindicate; and, indeed, he was more than anything else amused with thewhole situation. He was not in the least in a state of tension or ofvigilance with regard to Catherine’s prospects; he was even on his guardagainst the ridicule that might attach itself to the spectacle of a housethrown into agitation by its daughter and heiress receiving attentionsunprecedented in its annals. More than this, he went so far as topromise himself some entertainment from the little drama—if drama itwas—of which Mrs. Penniman desired to represent the ingenious Mr.Townsend as the hero. He had no intention, as yet, of regulating the_dénouement_. He was perfectly willing, as Elizabeth had suggested, togive the young man the benefit of every doubt. There was no great dangerin it; for Catherine, at the age of twenty-two, was, after all, a rathermature blossom, such as could be plucked from the stem only by a vigorousjerk. The fact that Morris Townsend was poor—was not of necessityagainst him; the Doctor had never made up his mind that his daughtershould marry a rich man. The fortune she would inherit struck him as avery sufficient provision for two reasonable persons, and if a pennilessswain who could give a good account of himself should enter the lists, heshould be judged quite upon his personal merits. There were other thingsbesides. The Doctor thought it very vulgar to be precipitate in accusingpeople of mercenary motives, inasmuch as his door had as yet not been inthe least besieged by fortune-hunters; and, lastly, he was very curiousto see whether Catherine might really be loved for her moral worth. Hesmiled as he reflected that poor Mr. Townsend had been only twice to thehouse, and he said to Mrs. Penniman that the next time he should come shemust ask him to dinner.
He came very soon again, and Mrs. Penniman had of course great pleasurein executing this mission. Morris Townsend accepted her invitation withequal good grace, and the dinner took place a few days later. The Doctorhad said to himself, justly enough, that they must not have the young manalone; this would partake too much of the nature of encouragement. Sotwo or three other persons were invited; but Morris Townsend, though hewas by no means the ostensible, was the real, occasion of the feast.There is every reason to suppose that he desired to make a goodimpression and if he fell short of this result, it was not for want of agood deal of intelligent effort. The Doctor talked to him very littleduring dinner; but he observed him attentively, and after the ladies hadgone out he pushed him the wine and asked him several questions. Morriswas not a young man who needed to be pressed, and he found quite enoughencouragement in the superior quality of the claret. The Doctor’s winewas admirable, and it may be communicated to the reader that while hesipped it Morris reflected that a cellar-full of good liquor—there wasevidently a cellar-full here—would be a most attractive idiosyncrasy in afather-in-law. The Doctor was struck with his appreciative guest; he sawthat he was not a commonplace young man. “He has ability,” saidCatherine’s father, “decided ability; he has a very good head if hechooses to use it. And he is uncommonly well turned out; quite the sortof figure that pleases the ladies. But I don’t think I like him.” TheDoctor, however, kept his reflexions to himself, and talked to hisvisitors about foreign lands, concerning which Morris offered him moreinformation than he was ready, as he mentally phrased it, to swallow.Dr. Sloper had travelled but little, and he took the liberty of notbelieving everything this anecdotical idler narrated. He prided himselfon being something of a physiognomist, and while the young man, chattingwith easy assurance, puffed his cigar and filled his glass again, theDoctor 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’tthink I ever saw such assurance. And his powers of invention are mostremarkable. He is very knowing; they were not so knowing as that in mytime. And a good head, did I say? I should think so—after a bottle ofMadeira and a bottle and a half of claret!”
After dinner Morris Townsend went and stood before Catherine, who wasstanding 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 whatyou 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 tosay. I should have liked you to say: ‘If my father doesn’t think well ofyou, 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 hehad been watching him just then, would have seen a gleam of fineimpatience in the sociable softness of his eye. But there was noimpatience in his rejoinder—none, at least, save what was expressed in alittle appealing sigh. “Ah, well, then, I must not give up the hope ofbringing him round!”
He expressed it more frankly to Mrs. Penniman later in the evening. Butbefore that he sang two or three songs at Catherine’s timid request; notthat 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 onemade some exclamation—every one, that is, save Catherine, who remainedintensely silent. Mrs. Penniman declared that his manner of singing was“most artistic,” and Dr. Sloper said it was “very taking—very takingindeed”; 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. “Hethinks I’m all wrong.”
Unlike her niece, Mrs. Penniman asked for no explanation. She onlysmiled very sweetly, as if she understood everything; and, unlikeCatherine too, she made no attempt to contradict him. “Pray, what doesit matter?” she murmured softly.
“Ah, you say the right thing!” said Morris, greatly to the gratificationof Mrs. Penniman, who prided herself on always saying the right thing.
The Doctor, the next time he saw his sister Elizabeth, let her know thathe had made the acquaintance of Lavinia’s _protégé_.
“Physically,” he said, “he’s uncommonly well set up. As an anatomist, itis 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 needfor 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 isextremely insinuating; but it’s a vulgar nature. I saw through it in aminute. He is altogether too familiar—I hate familiarity. He is aplausible coxcomb.”
“Ah, well,” said Mrs. Almond; “if you make up your mind so easily, it’s agreat advantage.”
“I don’t make up my mind easily. What I tell you is the result of thirtyyears 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.