Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 22, August, 1878Various
History
Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 22, August, 1878
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- Periodicals
My self-control vanished: my lip trembled. "What does mother say?" I
asked almost in a whisper.
He put his hands on my shoulders, laughing softly: "She says she has a
son whose love and respect she so highly prizes she will do nothing to
forfeit them."
"Does she love you, Mr. Floyd?" I questioned bluntly.
"I think she does--a little," he answered, dropping his eyes. "But,"
he went on more hurriedly, "in such a marriage love is not everything,
Floyd, although it is much. There is sympathy, constant close
companionship: of these both your mother and I have bitterly felt the
need."
"Don't say any more, sir," I cried, humbled to the dust. "When I first
saw what was coming I suppose I thought only of myself: now--"
"Now you think of two other people, and withdraw your opposition. I
confess I can't see how you will be worse off. Come now, give me your
hand, you young rascal! I shall go home with you to-morrow, and--"
"Will it take place at once?" I asked with a pang at my heart.
"What? our marriage? You are hurrying matters charmingly. Mrs.
Randolph has not yet accepted me. But I will confess to you, my boy,
that I shall be more than happy, more than proud, if I can persuade
her to allow me to introduce her to my friends in Washington in
December."
We walked about for more than an hour after, but said no more about
the matter, although it was stirring below every thought and word of
each of us. I felt the weariness of soul which succeeds a struggle,
and my guardian tried, but unsuccessfully, to conceal the elation
which follows victory. Yet subdued and unhappy though I was, haunted
by a sense of terrible loss, I was proud and glad to have contented
him. He talked to me intimately, and discussed my plans for the
future. I was to enter college the next year, and he pointed out
the fact, to which I was not insensible, that our old life at home
would necessarily have been broken up when I left Belfield. He spoke
of my pecuniary means, and frankly informed me that his property
amounted to three hundred thousand dollars, and that this amount he
had divided into thirds--one for my mother, one for Helen and one
for me.
"Oh, sir," I burst out, "you must not be so generous to me."
"And why not? My little girl has too much already: it has always been
one of the discomforts of my life that she is so rich, so raised above
all human wants, that I have had it in my power to do nothing for
her. I have seen poor men buying clothes and shoes for their little
sunburned children, and envied them."
We had been lounging toward the house, and now had reached the
terrace, where we found Mr. Raymond pacing feebly up and down in the
mild sunshine leaning on Frederick's arm. Mr. Floyd stepped forward
and took the valet's place, investing the slight courtesy with the
charm of his grand manner.
"Where is Helen?" asked Mr. Raymond. "I supposed that she was with
you, James."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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