Mattie:-A Stray Volume III Part 18

"And for your own, young man. I'll go back to my work now."

But the work was in his way after that, and all the effects of his strong will could not make it endurable. Sidney's revelation had disturbed his work; he would try a little silent praying to himself--a selfish prayer he felt it was, and therefore no sound escaped him--that this choice of Sidney's might bring comfort and happiness to his daughter and himself.

He was sitting with his large-veined hands spread before his face, and Sidney was wrapt in thoughts of the change that might be in store for him, when Mattie knocked at the door.

"Sit here--I shan't come back yet awhile. We may as well end this part of the business at once."

Mattie entered, found her father busy behind the counter with his stock, said a few words, and pa.s.sed into the parlour.

It was a second version of the proceedings at Camberwell. The father holding aloof, and giving suitor and maiden fair play.

CHAPTER V.

MATTIE'S ANSWER.

Sidney Hinchford heard the door open, and knew that the end was come. In a few minutes was to be decided the tenor of his after-life. He did not move, but remained with his hands clasped upon the table--a grave and silent figure in the lamp-light.

"What makes you so thoughtful to-night, Sid?"

The more formal Mr. Sidney had been dropped long since; Mattie had resisted the encroachment as long as it was in her power, but the friendship between them had been increased as well as their intimacy, and the more familiar designation was the more natural of the two.

"Am I looking very thoughtful, then, Mattie?"

"Oh! so cross and black!"

"Black?--eh!" he repeated; "that's a singular colour to seize upon a man's countenance, when he is agitated and hopeful. Come and sit here by my side, Mattie, and hear what news I have wherewith to startle you."

"Not bad news?" she asked.

"You shall judge."

Mattie guessed the purport of the news, and there had been no necessity for her last query. She knew all that was coming now, and so prepared herself for a revelation that she had seen advancing months ago. Months ago, she had wondered how she should act on this occasion, what manner she should adopt, and in what way reply to him? She had rehea.r.s.ed it in her mind, with fear and trembling, and tear-dimmed eyes; she had dreamed of it, and been very happy in her dreams; and now at last she was at fault, and her resources not to be relied on. Very pale, with her mind disturbed, and her heart throbbing, she took her place by his side, shawled and bonneted as she was, and waited for the end.

Sidney broke the ice. The first few words faltered somewhat on his lip, but he gathered nerve as he proceeded, and finally related very calmly--almost too calmly--and plainly, the state of his feelings towards her.

"Your father and I have been speaking of you during your absence; I have suggested to him a change of life for myself and you--if you will only consent to sacrifice a life for my sake! A selfish, and an inconsiderate request, Mattie, which I should not have thought of, had I not fancied that it was in my power to make you a good husband, a true and faithful husband, and to love you more dearly as a wife than friend. But always understand, Mattie, that on your side it will be a sacrifice--that no after-repentance, only my death, can relieve you from the incubus--that for life you are tied to a blind man, and that all natural positions of life are reversed, when I ask you to be my guide, protector, comforter!

Always remember, too, Mattie, that without me you will be free, and your own mistress; you, a young woman, to whom will come fairer and brighter chances!"

It was an odd manner of proposing; possibly Mattie thought so herself, for she raised her eyes from the ground, and looked at him long and steadily.

"Sidney, have you well reflected on this step?" she asked.

"I have."

"Thought well of the sacrifice of all the past hopes you have had?--of the _incubus_ that I may be to you some day--that without me you will be free, and your own master--you, to whom the fairer, brighter chance may come, when too late! Sidney, we know not what a day may bring forth!"

"My fate is in your hands, Mattie."

"What I have been, you know--you must have thought of lately. What I am now, a poor, plain girl, self-taught and homely, who may shame you with her ignorance--you know too. Sidney, I have dwelt upon this lately--until this night, now I am face to face with the truth, I thought that I had made up my mind."

"To refuse me?"

"No--to accept you. To be your loving wife through life, aiding you, and keeping you from harm; but, now I shrink back from my answer!"

"Ah!" he said, mournfully; "it is natural."

"Not for my own sake," she added, quickly, "but for yours! For your happiness, not mine! Sidney, you have _not_ settled down; you are not resigned to this present lot in life; there is a restlessness which you subdue now you are well and strong, but which may defeat you in the days to come. Years hence, I may be a trouble to you, a regret--you, a gentleman's son, and I--a stray! I may have made amends for my past life, but I cannot forget it; there will come times when to you and me the memory may be very bitter yet!"

"No, no!"

"Sidney, when I was that neglected child, I think I had a grateful heart; for I appreciated all the kindness that helped me upwards, and turned me from the dangerous path I was pursuing. I did not forget one friend who stretched his helping hand towards me--I have remembered them all in my progress, the agents of that good G.o.d, whose will it was that I should not be lost! Sidney, I would marry you out of grat.i.tude for that past, if I honestly believed you built your happiness upon me; but I could not let you marry _me_ out of grat.i.tude, or think to make me happy by a share of affection that had no real existence. I would do all for you!" she said, vehemently; "but you must make no effort to raise _me_ from any motives but your love!"

Sidney started--coloured. Had he misunderstood Mattie until that day?--was he the victim of his own treacherous thoughts after all?--the dupe of an illusion which he had hoped to foster by believing in himself?

"Sidney, I will be patient and wait for the love--hope in it advancing nearer and nearer every day--strive for it even, if you will, and it lies in my power. But I am above all charity."

"Mattie, you are not romantic? You do not antic.i.p.ate from me, in my desolate position, all the pa.s.sionate protestations of a lover? You will believe that I look forward to you as the wife in whom alone rests the last chance of happiness for me?"

"We cannot tell what is our last chance," said Mattie; "it is beyond our foresight--G.o.d will give us many chances in life, and the best may not have fallen to your share or mine. Sidney, there _was_ a chance of happiness for you once--on which you built, and in which you never thought of me--do you regret that now?" she asked, with a woman's instinctive fear that the old love still lingered in his heart.

"Mattie, I regret nothing in the past. And in the future, I am hopeful of your aid and love. Can I say more?"

"Sidney," said Mattie, after a second pause, "I will not give you my answer to-night--I will not say that I will be your wife, for better for worse, until this day month. It is a grave question, and I ought not to decide this hastily. I must think--I _must_ think!"

"Ah! Mattie, you don't love me, or it would be easy enough to say 'Yes,'" said Sidney.

"No, not easy."

"I can read my fate--eternal isolation!" he said gloomily.

"Patience--you can trust me; let me think for a while if I can trust in you. You do not wish my unhappiness, Sid?"

"G.o.d forbid!"

"We have been good friends. .h.i.therto--brother and sister. For one more month, let us keep brother and sister still; there is no danger of our teaching ourselves to love one another less in that period. In that month will you think seriously of me--not of what will make me happy--but what will render _you_ happy, as the fairy books say, for ever afterwards? Remember that it is for ever in this life, and that I am to sit by your side and take that place in your heart which you had once reserved for another--think of all this, and be honest and fair with me."

"I see. You distrust my love. You have no faith in my stability."

"I say nothing, Sidney, but that I feel it would be wrong to answer hastily. Are you offended with my caution?"

"No--G.o.d bless you, Mattie!--you are right enough."

"This day month I will take my place at your side, and give you truly and faithfully my answer. It is not a long while to wait--we shall have both thought more intently of this change."