CHAPTER XXI
A REJECTED SUITOR
There were many domestic arrangements to be made in connection withthe new commercial ones which affected Hepburn and Coulson.
The Fosters, with something of the busybodiness which is apt tomingle itself with kindly patronage, had planned in their own mindsthat the Rose household should be removed altogether to the housebelonging to the shop; and that Alice, with the assistance of thecapable servant, who, at present, managed all John's domesticaffairs, should continue as mistress of the house, with Philip andCoulson for her lodgers.
But arrangements without her consent did not suit Alice at any time,and she had very good reasons for declining to accede to this. Shewas not going to be uprooted at her time of life, she said, norwould she consent to enter upon a future which might be souncertain. Why, Hepburn and Coulson were both young men, she said,and they were as likely to marry as not; and then the bride would besure to wish to live in the good old-fashioned house at the back ofthe shop.
It was in vain she was told by every one concerned, that, in case ofsuch an event, the first married partner should take a house of hisown, leaving her in undisputed possession. She replied, withapparent truth, that both might wish to marry, and surely the wifeof one ought to take possession of the house belonging to thebusiness; that she was not going to trust herself to the fancies ofyoung men, who were always, the best of them, going and doing thevery thing that was most foolish in the way of marriage; of whichstate, in fact, she spoke with something of acrimonious contempt anddislike, as if young people always got mismatched, yet had not thesense to let older and wiser people choose for them.
'Thou'll not have been understanding why Alice Rose spoke as she didthis morning,' said Jeremiah Foster to Philip, on the afternoonsucceeding the final discussion of this plan. 'She was a-thinking ofher youth, I reckon, when she was a well-favoured young woman, andour John was full of the thought of marrying her. As he could nothave her, he has lived a bachelor all his days. But if I am not avast mistaken, all that he has will go to her and to Hester, for allthat Hester is the child of another man. Thee and Coulson shouldhave a try for Hester, Philip. I have told Coulson this day ofHester's chances. I told him first because he is my wife's nephew;but I tell thee now, Philip. It would be a good thing for the shopif one of ye was married.'
Philip reddened. Often as the idea of marriage had come into hismind, this was the first time it had been gravely suggested to himby another. But he replied quietly enough.
'I don't think Hester Rose has any thought of matrimony.'
'To be sure not; it is for thee, or for William Coulson, to make herthink. She, may-be, remembers enough of her mother's life with herfather to make her slow to think on such things. But it's in her tothink on matrimony; it's in all of us.'
'Alice's husband was dead before I knew her,' said Philip, ratherevading the main subject.
'It was a mercy when he were taken. A mercy to them who were left, Imean. Alice was a bonny young woman, with a smile for everybody,when he wed her--a smile for every one except our John, who nevercould do enough to try and win one from her. But, no! she would havenone of him, but set her heart on Jack Rose, a sailor in awhale-ship. And so they were married at last, though all her ownfolks were against it. And he was a profligate sinner, and wentafter other women, and drank, and beat her. She turned as stiff andas grey as thou seest her now within a year of Hester's birth. Ibelieve they'd have perished for want and cold many a time if it hadnot been for John. If she ever guessed where the money came from, itmust have hurt her pride above a bit, for she was always a proudwoman. But mother's love is stronger than pride.'
Philip fell to thinking; a generation ago something of the same kindhad been going on as that which he was now living through, quickwith hopes and fears. A girl beloved by two--nay, those two soidentical in occupation as he and Kinraid were--Rose identical evenin character with what he knew of the specksioneer; a girl choosingthe wrong lover, and suffering and soured all her life inconsequence of her youth's mistake; was that to be Sylvia'slot?--or, rather, was she not saved from it by the event of theimpressment, and by the course of silence he himself had resolvedupon? Then he went on to wonder if the lives of one generation werebut a repetition of the lives of those who had gone before, with novariation but from the internal cause that some had greater capacityfor suffering than others. Would those very circumstances which madethe interest of his life now, return, in due cycle, when he was deadand Sylvia was forgotten?
Perplexed thoughts of this and a similar kind kept returning intoPhilip's mind whenever he had leisure to give himself up toconsideration of anything but the immediate throng of business. Andevery time he dwelt on this complication and succession of similarevents, he emerged from his reverie more and more satisfied with thecourse he had taken in withholding from Sylvia all knowledge of herlover's fate.
It was settled at length that Philip was to remove to the housebelonging to the shop, Coulson remaining with Alice and herdaughter. But in the course of the summer the latter told hispartner that he had offered marriage to Hester on the previous day,and been refused. It was an awkward affair altogether, as he livedin their house, and was in daily companionship with Hester, who,however, seemed to preserve her gentle calmness, with only a tingemore of reserve in her manner to Coulson.
'I wish yo' could find out what she has again' me, Philip,' saidCoulson, about a fortnight after he had made the proposal. The pooryoung man thought that Hester's composure of manner towards himsince the event argued that he was not distasteful to her; and as hewas now on very happy terms with Philip, he came constantly to him,as if the latter could interpret the meaning of all the littleoccurrences between him and his beloved. 'I'm o' right age, not twomonths betwixt us; and there's few in Monkshaven as would think onher wi' better prospects than me; and she knows my folks; we're kindo' cousins, in fact; and I'd be like a son to her mother; andthere's noane i' Monkshaven as can speak again' my character.There's nought between yo' and her, is there, Philip?'
'I ha' telled thee many a time that she and me is like brother andsister. She's no more thought on me nor I have for her. So becontent wi't, for I'se not tell thee again.'
'Don't be vexed, Philip; if thou knew what it was to be in love,thou'd be always fancying things, just as I am.'
'I might be,' said Philip; 'but I dunnut think I should be alwaystalking about my fancies.'
'I wunnot talk any more after this once, if thou'll just find outfra' thysel', as it were, what it is she has again' me. I'd go tochapel for iver with her, if that's what she wants. Just ask her,Philip.'
'It's an awkward thing for me to be melling wi',' said Hepburn,reluctantly.
'But thou said thee and she were like brother and sister; and abrother would ask a sister, and niver think twice about it.'
'Well, well,' replied Philip, 'I'll see what I can do; but, lad, Idunnot think she'll have thee. She doesn't fancy thee, and fancy isthree parts o' love, if reason is t' other fourth.'
But somehow Philip could not begin on the subject with Hester. Hedid not know why, except that, as he said, 'it was so awkward.' Buthe really liked Coulson so much as to be anxious to do what thelatter wished, although he was almost convinced that it would be ofno use. So he watched his opportunity, and found Alice alone and atleisure one Sunday evening.
She was sitting by the window, reading her Bible, when he went in.She gave him a curt welcome, hearty enough for her, for she wasalways chary in her expressions of pleasure or satisfaction. But shetook off her horn spectacles and placed them in the book to keep herplace; and then turning more fully round on her chair, so as to facehim, she said,--
'Well, lad! and how does it go on? Though it's not a day for t' askabout worldly things. But I niver see thee now but on Sabbath day,and rarely then. Still we munnot speak o' such things on t' Lord'sday. So thee mun just say how t' shop is doing, and then we'll leavesuch vain talk.'
'T' shop is doing main an' well, thank ye, moth
er. But Coulson couldtell yo' o' that any day.'
'I'd a deal rayther hear fra' thee, Philip. Coulson doesn't know howt' manage his own business, let alone half the business as it tookJohn and Jeremiah's heads--ay, and tasked 'em, too--to manage. I'veno patience with Coulson.'
'Why? he's a decent young fellow as ever there is in Monkshaven.'
'He may be. He's noane cut his wisdom-teeth yet. But, for thatmatter, there's other folks as far fra' sense as he is.'
'Ay, and farther. Coulson mayn't be so bright at all times as hemight be, but he's a steady-goer, and I'd back him again' any chapo' his age i' Monkshaven.'
'I know who I'd sooner back in many a thing, Philip!' She said itwith so much meaning that he could not fail to understand that hehimself was meant, and he replied, ingenuously enough,--
'If yo' mean me, mother, I'll noane deny that in a thing or two Imay be more knowledgeable than Coulson. I've had a deal o' time onmy hands i' my youth, and I'd good schooling as long as fatherlived.'
'Lad! it's not schooling, nor knowledge, nor book-learning ascarries a man through t' world. It's mother-wit. And it's noaneschooling, nor knowledge, nor book-learning as takes a young woman.It's summat as cannot be put into words.'
'That's just what I told Coulson!' said Philip, quickly. 'He weresore put about because Hester had gi'en him the bucket, and came tome about it.'
'And what did thou say?' asked Alice, her deep eyes gleaming at himas if to read his face as well as his words. Philip, thinking hecould now do what Coulson had begged of him in the neatest manner,went on,--
'I told him I'd help him all as I could---'
'Thou did, did thou? Well, well, there's nought sa queer as folks,that a will say,' muttered Alice, between her teeth.
'--but that fancy had three parts to do wi' love,' continued Philip,'and it would be hard, may-be, to get a reason for her not fancyinghim. Yet I wish she'd think twice about it; he so set upon havingher, I think he'll do himself a mischief wi' fretting, if it goes onas it is.'
'It'll noane go on as it is,' said Alice, with gloomy oracularness.
'How not?' asked Philip. Then, receiving no answer, he went on, 'Heloves her true, and he's within a month or two on her age, and hischaracter will bear handling on a' sides; and his share on t' shopwill be worth hundreds a year afore long.'
Another pause. Alice was trying to bring down her pride to saysomething, which she could not with all her efforts.
'Maybe yo'll speak a word for him, mother,' said Philip, annoyed ather silence.
'I'll do no such thing. Marriages are best made wi'out melling. Howdo I know but what she likes some one better?'
'Our Hester's not th' lass to think on a young man unless he's beena-wooing on her. And yo' know, mother, as well as I do--and Coulsondoes too--she's niver given any one a chance to woo her; living halfher time here, and t' other half in t' shop, and niver speaking tono one by t' way.'
'I wish thou wouldn't come here troubling me on a Sabbath day wi'thy vanity and thy worldly talk. I'd liefer by far be i' that worldwheere there's neither marrying nor giving in marriage, for it's alla moithering mess here.' She turned to the closed Bible lying on thedresser, and opened it with a bang. While she was adjusting herspectacles on her nose, with hands trembling with passion, she heardPhilip say,--
'I ask yo'r pardon, I'm sure. I couldn't well come any other day.'
'It's a' t' same--I care not. But thou might as well tell truth.I'll be bound thou's been at Haytersbank Farm some day this week?'
Philip reddened; in fact, he had forgotten how he had got toconsider his frequent visits to the farm as a regular piece ofoccupation. He kept silence.
Alice looked at him with a sharp intelligence that read his silencethrough.
'I thought so. Next time thou thinks to thyself, 'I'm moreknowledgeable than Coulson,' just remember Alice Rose's words, andthey are these:--If Coulson's too thick-sighted to see through aboard, thou'rt too blind to see through a window. As for comin' andspeakin' up for Coulson, why he'll be married to some one else aforet' year's out, for all he thinks he's so set upon Hester now. Go thyways, and leave me to my Scripture, and come no more on Sabbath dayswi' thy vain babbling.'
So Philip returned from his mission rather crestfallen, but quite asfar as ever from 'seeing through a glass window.'
Before the year was out, Alice's prophecy was fulfilled. Coulson,who found the position of a rejected lover in the same house withthe girl who had refused him, too uncomfortable to be endured, assoon as he was convinced that his object was decidedly out of hisreach, turned his attention to some one else. He did not love hisnew sweetheart as he had done Hester: there was more of reason andless of fancy in his attachment. But it ended successfully; andbefore the first snow fell, Philip was best man at his partner'swedding.