She and I | Page 8

Mr Lorton," she said, "I accept your proviso; but, when you make your fortune it will be time enough to talk about it! In the meanwhile, relying upon your solemn word as a gentleman not to renew your offer to my daughter, or single her out with your attentions--which might seriously interfere with her future prospects--I shall still be pleased to welcome you occasionally"--with a marked emphasis on the word--"at my house. What we have spoken about had, now, better be forgotten by all parties as soon as possible, excepting your promise, of course, mind!" and she bowed me out triumphantly--she victorious, I thoroughly defeated.
What a sad, sad change had occurred since happy last night!
All my bright hopes were obscured, my ardent longings quenched by fashionable matter-of-fact; and, Min herself had gone from me, without one single parting word!
I was born to be unlucky, I think; everything went wrong with me now. Like the lonely, hopeless hero in Longfellow's translation of Min's favourite Coplas de Manrique, I might well exclaim in my misery--
"Let no one fondly dream again, That Hope and all her shadowy train Will not decay; Fleeting as were the dreams of old, Remembered like a tale that's told, They pass away!"
How did I know, too, but, that, ere I saw my darling again, months might elapse, during which time all thoughts of me might be banished from her heart?
One proverb tells us that "absence makes the heart grow fonder;" another, equally entitled to belief, warns anxious lovers that "out of sight" is to be "out of mind."
Which of the two could I credit?
Besides, even if she were constant and true to me, Mrs Clyde would certainly never give her consent to our engagement, I was confident--no, not if we both lived and loved until doomsday!
All these bitter thoughts flashed through my mind in a moment, one after the other.
I was angry, indignant, wretched.
CHAPTER THREE.
"NIL DESPERANDUM."
To-morrow's sun shall warmer glow, And o'er this gloomy vale of woe Diffuse a brighter ray!
"O you lovers, you lovers!"--exclaimed little Miss Pimpernell, on my unbosoming myself to her, and recounting the incidents of my unhappy interview with Min's mother, shortly after I quitted the scene of my discomfiture.--"O you lovers, you lovers! You are always, either on the heights of ecstasy, or deep down in the depths of despair! Be a man, Frank, and let her see what noble stuff there is in you! There is nothing in this world worth the having, which can be obtained by merely looking at it and longing for it. Bear in mind Monsieur Parole's favourite proverb, `On ne peut pas faire une omelette sans casser les oeufs!' You mustn't expect that a girl is going to drop into your mouth, like a ripe cherry, the moment you gape for her! Young ladies are not so easily won as that, Master Frank, let me tell you! Put your shoulder to the wheel, my boy! You will have to work and wait. Remember how long it was that Jacob remained in suspense about his first love, Rachel--seven, long years; and, then, he had to serve seven more for her after that!"
"Ah, Miss Pimpernell!"--said I,--"but, seven years were not so much to the long-lived men who existed in those times, as seven months are to us ephemerals of the nineteenth century! Jacob could very well afford to wait that time; for he was not over what we call `middle-age' when he married; and was, most likely, in the flower of his youth on his ninetieth birthday!--He did not die you know, until he had reached the ripe age of `an hundred and forty and seven years.'--Besides, he had Laban's promise to keep him up to his work; but, I have no promise, and no hope to lead me on, if I do wait--and what would I be at the end of seven years? Why, I would be thirty--quite old."
"Nonsense, Frank!"--replied the dear old lady, in her brisk cheery way, jumping round in her chair, and looking me full in the face with her twinkling black eyes.--"When you are as old as I am, you will not think thirty such a very great age, you may be sure! And, I didn't say, too, that you should have to wait seven years, or anything like it--although, if you really love Miss Min, you would think nothing of twice that time of probation. As for Jacob's age, the vicar could explain about that better than I, Master Frank, sharp though you are; you had best ask him what he thinks on the subject? What I say, is, my boy, that you must make up your mind to work, and wait for your sweetheart; work, at any rate--and wait, if needs be. `Rome wasn't built in a day;' and, when did you