A Simpleton | Page 7

Kent Villa to go
smoothly--or go elsewhere.

"Come, young people," said he, "don't make a disturbance. Where's the
grievance? Have I said he shall never marry you? Have I forbidden him
to correspond? or even to call, say twice a year. All I say is, no
marriage, nor contract of marriage, until there is an income." Then he
turned to Christopher. "Now if you can't make an income without her,
how could you make one with her, weighed down by the load of
expenses a wife entails? I know her better than you do; she is a good
girl, but rather luxurious and self- indulgent. She is not cut out for a
poor man's wife. And pray don't go and fancy that nobody loves my
child but you. Mine is not so hot as yours, of course; but believe me, sir,
it is less selfish. You would expose her to poverty and misery; but I say
no; it is my duty to protect her from all chance of them; and, in doing it,
I am as much your friend as hers, if you could but see it. Come, Dr.
Staines, be a man, and see the world as it is. I have told you how to
earn my daughter's hand and my esteem: you must gain both, or
neither."
Dr. Staines was never quite deaf to reason: he now put his hand to his
brow and said, with a sort of wonder and pitiful dismay, "My love for
Rosa selfish! Sir, your words are bitter and hard." Then, after a struggle,
and with rare and touching candor, "Ay, but so are bark and steel; yet
they are good medicines." Then with a great glow in his heart and tears
in his eyes, "My darling shall not be a poor man's wife, she who would
adorn a coronet, ay, or a crown. Good-by, Rosa, for the present." He
darted to her, and kissed her hand with all his soul. "Oh, the sacrifice of
leaving you," he faltered; "the very world is dark to me without you.
Ah, well, I must earn the right to come again." He summoned all his
manhood, and marched to the door. There he seemed to turn calmer all
of a sudden, and said firmly, yet humbly, "I'll try and show you, sir,
what love can do."
"And I'll show you what love can suffer," said Rosa, folding her
beautiful arms superbly.
It was not in her to have shot such a bolt, except in imitation; yet how
promptly the mimic thunder came, and how grand the beauty looked,
with her dark brows, and flashing eyes, and folded arms! much grander
and more inspired than poor Staines, who had only furnished the idea.
But between these two figures swelling with emotion, the
representative of common sense, Lusignan pere, stood cool and

impassive; he shrugged his shoulders, and looked on both lovers as a
couple of ranting novices he was saving from each other and
almshouses.
For all that, when the lover had torn himself away, papa's composure
was suddenly disturbed by a misgiving. He stepped hastily to the
stairhead, and gave it vent. "Dr. Staines," said he, in a loud whisper
(Staines was half way down the stairs: he stopped). "I trust to you as a
gentleman, not to mention this; it will never transpire here. Whatever
we do--no noise!"
CHAPTER II
.
Rosa Lusignan set herself pining as she had promised; and she did it
discreetly for so young a person. She was never peevish, but always sad
and listless. By this means she did not anger her parent, but only made
him feel she was unhappy, and the house she had hitherto brightened
exceeding dismal.
By degrees this noiseless melancholy undermined the old gentleman,
and he well-nigh tottered.
But one day, calling suddenly on a neighbor with six daughters, he
heard peals of laughter, and found Rosa taking her full share of the
senseless mirth. She pulled up short at sight of him, and colored high;
but it was too late, for he launched a knowing look at her on the spot,
and muttered something about seven foolish virgins.
He took the first opportunity, when they were alone, and told her he
was glad to find she was only dismal at home.
But Rosa had prepared for him. "One can be loud without being gay at
heart," said she, with a lofty, languid air. "I have not forgotten your last
words to HIM. We were to hide our broken hearts from the world. I try
to obey you, dear papa; but, if I had my way, I would never go into the
world at all. I have but one desire now--to end my days in a convent."
"Please begin them first. A convent! Why, you'd turn it