Nobody Part 120

"What makes what you call a 'great match'?" Madge asked.

"Money,--and family."

"I understand money," Madge went on; "but what do you mean by 'family,'

Mrs. Wishart?"

"My dear, if you lived in the world, you would know. It means name, and position, and standing. I suppose at Shampuashuh you are all alike--one is as good as another."

"Indeed," said Madge, "you are much mistaken, Mrs. Wishart. We think one is much better than another."

"Do you? Ah well,--then you know what I mean, my dear. I suppose the world is really very much alike in all places; it is only the names of things that vary."

"In Shampuashuh," Madge went on, "we mean by a good family, a houseful of honest and religious people."

"Yes, Madge," said Lois, looking up, "we mean a little more than that.

We mean a family that has been honest and religious, and educated too, for a long while--for generations. We mean as much as that, when we speak of a good family."

"That's different," said Mrs. Wishart shortly.

"Different from what you mean?"

"Different from what is meant here, when we use the term."

"You _don't_ mean anything honest and religious?" said Madge.

"O, honest! My dear, everybody is honest, or supposed to be; but we do not mean religious."

"Not religious, and only supposed to be honest!" echoed Madge.

"Yes," said Mrs. Wishart. "It isn't that. It has nothing to do with that. When people have been in society, and held high positions for generation after generation, it is a good family. The individuals need not be all good."

"Oh--!" said Madge.

"No. I know families among the very best in the State, that have been wicked enough; but though they have been wicked, that did not hinder their being gentlemen."

"Oh--!" said Madge again. "I begin to comprehend."

"There is too much made of money now-a-days," Mrs. Wishart went on serenely; "and there is no denying that money buys position. _I_ do not call a good family one that was not a good family a hundred years ago; but everybody is not so particular. Not here. They are more particular in Philadelphia. In New York, any n.o.body who has money can push himself forward."

"What sort of family is Mr. Dillwyn's?"

"O, good, of course. Not wealthy, till lately. They have been poor, ever since I knew the family; until the sister married Chauncey Burrage, and Philip came into his property."

"The Caruthers are rich, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"And now the young one has made a great match? Is she handsome?"

"I never heard so. But she is rolling in money."

"What else is she?" inquired Madge dryly.

"She is a Dulcimer."

"That tells me nothing," said Madge. "By the way you speak it, the word seems to have a good deal of meaning for you."

"Certainly," said Mrs. Wishart. "She is one of the Philadelphia Dulcimers. It is an old family, and they have always been wealthy."

"How happy the gentleman must be!"

"I hope so," said Mrs. Wishart gravely. "_You_ used to know Tom quite well, Lois. What did you think of him?"

"I liked him," said Lois. "Very pleasant and amiable, and always gentlemanly. But I did not think he had much character."

Mrs. Wishart was satisfied; for Lois's tone was as disengaged as anything could possibly be.

Lois could not bring herself to say anything to Madge that night about the turn in her fortunes. Her own thoughts were in too much agitation, and only by slow degrees resolving themselves into settled conclusions.

Or rather, for the conclusions were not doubtful, settling into such quiet that she could look at conclusions. And Lois began to be afraid to do even that, and tried to turn her eyes away, and thought of the hour of half-past ten next morning with trembling and heart-beating.

It came with tremendous swiftness, too. However, she excused herself from going to the _matinee_, though with difficulty. Mrs. Wishart was sure she ought to go; and Madge tried persuasion and raillery. Lois watched her get ready, and at last contentedly saw the two drive off.

That was good. She wanted no discussion with them before she had seen Mr. Dillwyn again; and now the coast was clear. But then Lois retreated to her own room up-stairs to wait; she could not stay in the drawing-room, to be found there. She would have so much time for preparation as his ring at the door and his name being brought up-stairs would give her. Preparation for what? When the summons came, Lois went down feeling that she had not a bit of preparation.

Philip was standing in the middle of the floor, waiting for her; and the apparition that greeted him was so unexpected that he stood still, feasting his eyes with it. He had always seen Lois calm, collected, moving and speaking with frank independence, although with perfect modesty. Now?--how was it? Eyes cast down, colour coming and going; a look and manner, not of shyness, for she came straight to him, but of the most lovely maidenly consciousness; of all things, that which a lover would most wish to see. Yet she came straight to him, and as he met her and held out his hand, she put hers in it.

"What are you going to say to me this morning, Lois?" he said softly; for the pure dignity of the girl was a thing to fill him with reverence as well as with delight, and her hand seemed to him something sacred.

Her colour stirred again, but the lowered eyelids were lifted up, and the eyes met his with a most blessed smile in them.

"I am very happy, Mr. Dillwyn," she said.

Everybody knows how words fail upon occasion; and on this occasion the silence lasted some considerable time. And then Philip put Lois into one of the big easy-chairs, and went down on one knee at her feet, holding her hand. Lois tried to collect her spirits to make remonstrance.

"O, Mr. Dillwyn, do not stay there!" she begged.

"Why not? It becomes me."

"I do not think it becomes you at all," said Lois, laughing a little nervously,--"and I am sure it does not become me."

"Mistaken on both points! It becomes me well, and I think it does not become you ill," said he, kissing the hand he held. And then, bending forward to carry his kiss from the hand to the cheek,--"O my darling, how long I have waited for this!"

"Long?" said Lois, in surprise. How pretty the incredulity was on her innocent face.

"Very long!--while you thought I was liking somebody else. There has never been any change in me, Lois. I have been patiently and impatiently waiting for you this great while. You will not think it unreasonable, if that fact makes me intolerant of any more waiting, will you?"

"Don't keep that position!" said Lois earnestly.

"It is the position I mean to keep all the rest of my life!"