Was It Right to Forgive? Part 8

But Peter entered as he was speaking, and Yanna for a moment made no attempt to alter the significant position of Harry towards herself; for he was holding her hand, while his whole att.i.tude was that of an imploring lover.

Yanna rose and left the room, as her father came forward. "Well, sir?"

said Peter, not unkindly, but with an interrogative emphasis Harry could not pretend to ignore. He rose and offered his hand to Peter. "I have been telling Yanna that I love her," he said, "and she has promised to be my wife." The young man's hand lay in Peter's hand as he made this confession, and Peter led him to the fireside.

"Sit down, sir. I have something to say to you; and as you see, I am very wet. The storm was driving in my face." Then Harry looked outward, and saw the empty lawn blinded with rain, and the gray hills and the gray clouds meeting.

Peter removed his coat and shoes silently, but as soon as this act was done, he drew his chair near to Harry's and said:

"You must have known, Mr. Filmer, that I was not blind to the love you have acknowledged to-day. Nothing that affects Yanna escapes me."

"Then you do not disapprove of my love, sir?"

"I am glad that you love Yanna. I am glad that she loves you. I have not, either by look, or word, or deed, tried to influence Yanna this way or that way. I was resolved that Destiny undirected, and undisturbed, should work out her own ends. But now I may tell you, that a marriage between you and Yanna will bring back all the Van Hoosen lands into the Van Hoosen succession; and Yanna will only be going to her natural home."

"I do not understand you, sir."

"I will make what I say plain enough. All the land the Filmers own in this locality came from the Van Hoosens. The first white owner of it was a Peter Van Hoosen, in the year 1750. He owned nearly every acre between the two rivers, and when he died he left it equally between his son John and his daughter Cornelia. Cornelia married Abram Deitrich, and their only surviving child, Anna, married a man called Maas. They had many children, but the eldest bought from his brothers and sisters their shares of the land, and at his death left it to his only child, Martin. And it came to pa.s.s that Martin's daughter, called Mary, married your grandfather, Dominie Filmer, bringing him as her portion all the land which you possess near Woodsome."

"I remember well that my grandmother's name was Mary Maas."

"I am descended from the son of the original Peter Van Hoosen; and the son's descendants have been far less fortunate than those of the daughter Cornelia. All of them had many children, and their half of the land was continually subdivided, and turned into cash. I was born poor and landless, being the fifth in descent from my namesake, the first owner. Cousin Alida, however, has re-acquired much of the original tract, left to her ancestor John Van Hoosen, and this land, I know, will come to Yanna; so that your marriage with Yanna will, in a great measure, bring old Peter's estate intact into the family of his descendant.

"Knowing these things, I have watched the growth of love between Yanna and yourself with much interest; yet quite determined to leave affairs beyond my guiding, without my meddling. Your father knows the whole of our generations; we have talked it over often; and I think he is rather proud of the Dutch element in his nature. He told me it gave him the patient industry, and the love of detail, without which his great book would be a great failure. But this is aside from the question that fills your heart, I know. Speak to me, then, as freely as you wish, about Yanna."

"I love Yanna; I feel as if I had always loved her! I have no hope that does not drift to her."

"That is well, and as it should be. I also love her. I have no words to say how nor yet how much. But I do not wish to part with her just yet. Wait a little while."

"I must perforce wait, sir. I cannot marry for some time; my income is necessary to my family."

"For how long must you wait?"

"I know not precisely--but my sister's marriage will make a great difference."

"When does your sister marry?"

"As yet there is no prospect of her marriage. Doubtless this winter will make a change."

"Well, I do not complain of a circ.u.mstance that leaves my daughter to bless my own life. But there has been talk--a great deal of talk--people do not believe that it is Antony you come to see day after day, and week in, and week out. Adriana's name has been named with your name, and if her father and brother had not been at her side it would have been shadowed in the contact. Now to-morrow night you have a great entertainment; there could be no better time to announce your engagement. It will please your father to explain to the Woodsome people all that I have told you; and Antony can say in response all that is pleasant and necessary. To turn your ball into a betrothal feast would give Woodsome people a winter's conversation, and set Yanna where she ought to stand."

Harry was silent, and Peter looked at him with a changing face. At length the young man said: "I do not think that would do, sir. Father cares nothing at all for society, and he would most likely be delighted to take the romantic part you a.s.sign him. But mother would feel the situation cruelly. It would get into the papers, and we should never hear the last of it. I could not bear it for Yanna's sake. I do not like people discussing her antecedents and prospects. I do not like them to speak of her at all. Mother is indeed very anxious that we should keep our engagement secret for a short time. She thinks it will help Rose to a settlement, and so hasten her own marriage."

"Mr. Filmer, do you know what you are doing? You are asking my daughter to marry you, and then you are asking her to tell no one you have done so. Your proposal is an insult; take back your offer. No honorable man would make it. No honorable girl could accept it."

"Yanna has given me her word. She has promised to be my wife."

Peter did not answer him; but throwing open the door, he called, "Yanna! Yanna! Come here to me!"

Something in his voice frightened Yanna. She came hastily downstairs, the tears she had been shedding still upon her cheeks. "Yanna," said her father, as he drew her close to his side, "Mr. Filmer wants to marry you--sometime. In the meantime, he does not want you to tell any one that he wants to marry you. Do you think that an honorable offer?"

"No!--but, father, Harry has reasons we cannot properly appreciate.

Society is cruel to those who have to live in it."

"Right is right, and wrong is wrong, wherever and however men and women live! It is wrong to ask a woman to marry, and then say, 'Do not tell any one I have asked you.'"

"Sir!" cried Harry, approaching Yanna, "Sir! you state the situation most cruelly. It is not fair to me. I am in a great strait. Yanna, dearest Yanna! cannot you say a word for me?"

"There is nothing to be said," answered Peter. "Under no circ.u.mstances will I recognize a secret engagement. To do so is to engage my daughter to sorrow, and hope deferred, and miserable backbiting! Any engagement between Yanna and yourself, Mr. Filmer, must be openly acknowledged on both sides. I make no point of it being acknowledged at the ball to-morrow; that was perhaps an old man's romancing--but if you will have no publicity, I will have no secrecy."

"May I speak alone with Yanna, sir?"

"You may. I put no bond on Yanna's words or actions, in any way. Honor will constrain her to treat herself, and her father also, with honor!"

Then he went out of the room, and left Harry standing by Yanna's side.

He took her in his arms, and she did not immediately, or with anger, withdraw herself. She was more able than Peter to understand the 'great strait' in which the young man found himself. She suffered Harry to kiss the tears off her eyelids and to whisper anew his adoring affection for her.

"Cannot you trust me, Yanna?" he asked. "Cannot you trust me a little while, dearest one?"

"I will trust you, Harry; and you must trust me; for there can be no engagement between us until father is satisfied. Perhaps Antony will explain things in some better way to him."

"No, he will not! Antony is perfectly ferocious on a question relating to any woman's honor. I know that he loves my sister Rose to distraction, and I know equally well that if he ever dares to ask her to be his wife he will do so in the most straightforward, conventional manner. Once when I complained of the strictness of society's rules about women, he said, 'Considering the usual man, society could not make rules too strict.' Antony will not help us by a syllable."

"Then speak to your mother again. Our marriage may be delayed; but our engagement ought to be a recognized one."

"But privately. Cannot we understand each other privately? Look in my eyes, darling, and see my promise there! Give me yours in a kiss."

"Harry, why do you ask me to deceive my father?"

"You love your father better than you love me, Yanna."

She did not answer this accusation in words, though he saw the answer fly into her face; and he was so ashamed of his unreasonableness that he went into the hall and put on his overcoat, and she stood silent, watching him the while. In a few minutes he turned to her with his hat in his hand. "Well, then, Yanna, I am to go away without a promise from you? When may I come again?"

"When you love me with _all_ your heart--when you can put me before every other human being. Please, Harry, say nothing of this event to Rose. Why should we trouble her? And as I have promised to be at Filmer to-morrow morning, it will be best, dear, if you can avoid meeting me. I shall not remain more than an hour or two."

"Very well. I will keep myself out of your way."

"You know what I mean, Harry. Why do you make my meaning worse than it is?"

"Good-bye, Yanna! I am too miserable to split hairs over a meaning."

He was really petted and humiliated, and even a lover in this mood finds it hard to be just and kind. Without another word, he went to the stable for his horse and buggy; and Yanna, watching at the window, saw him drive furiously down the avenue, without giving her any further recognition. For the young man--little accustomed to disappointment of any kind, and still less to a want of personal appreciation--had become angry at his failure. Though he had not permitted himself consciously to make any account of his superior social position, it had influenced his estimate of his probable success; and yet he was forced to acknowledge that his wealth or social position had never been taken into account at all. His acceptance or refusal had hung entirely upon a moral question--the expediency or inexpediency of a secret engagement. Altogether, he felt the situation to have been most unpleasant.

"Nothing has come of it," he thought, "but an a.s.surance of Yanna's love; and what is the use of love that will not sacrifice anything for me?" And as he looked at this question only in its relation to Yanna's sacrificing for him, he did not arrive at any just conception of his own duty in the circ.u.mstances.

Mrs. Filmer had been covertly watching for his return; and she was annoyed to find that he went directly to his own apartments, and did not reappear that night. Rose grumbled at his carelessness, and once she went to his door and asked him to come down and look at some of the arrangements; but he refused in the most positive manner. It was altogether a cross, unpleasant evening; the servants were quarreling in every part of the house; Rose was worrying over Harry's indifference; and Mrs. Filmer had a slight sick headache, and said more unkind things than she permitted herself when in good health. Mr. Filmer did not improve the general tone, for he sat quiet, in a provoking mood, watching the burning hickory logs, and listening to the fretful remarks flying between the mistress and her servants, and the mother and her daughter. Their plain speech and honest opinions amused him; and he complacently remarked: "My dear Emma, this little household discussion is very interesting to me. I always have said, 'Let us be sincere and truthful with each other, no matter how unpleasant we may make ourselves.'"

In the morning the storm was over, and there was a clearer atmosphere in the house. But Harry did not appear at the breakfast table. "It is a shame!" said Rose, with great sincerity. "If Harry was against the ball, he ought to have said so at the beginning. I wonder what is the matter with him!"

Mrs. Filmer knew what was the matter, and she privately gave Yanna the blame of all her worries. But for Yanna, Harry would have been enthusiastically busy about all the necessary details which were so annoying to her. She did not love Yanna for her interference; but she was a modern lady, and she was able to keep her dislike to herself.