CHAPTER XLV.ROBERT MACPHERSON AND COL. SCHUYLER.
From the moment Robert bore Emma in his arms to the shore, and kissed her, as he set her safe upon the land, he knew he stood committed, and that silence was no longer possible. And so he made his confession to her, and told her of his love, and asked if she would be his wife, and the mistress of Glenthorpe. Had he been poor, with no Glenthorpe, Emma might have hesitated, for in her way she was very proud, andgood bloodwas her weakness; but Robert was not poor, and she was very much in love with him, and said she would be his if her father was willing, and she thought he would be, for he had never expected as much for her as he did for Julia, whose beauty ought to command a brilliant match.
Robert was not one to delay any duty long, especially if it were a disagreeable one, and while Godfrey was breathing words of passionate love into Gertie’s ear, he was closeted with Col. Schuyler and with Edith too. He had asked her to be present, from a feeling that he should find in her a powerful ally. But he had no conception of the real nature of her feelings when he toldwhohe was, and said: “The man you buried in your yard, and who saved Godfrey’s life, was my own uncle, the brother of my mother.”
He stopped there a moment, waiting for the first shock to pass away, and Edith felt the iron fingers touch her throat slightly, while she was conscious of an impulse to grasp the young man’s hand and claim him for her own kindred. But such confession on her part must not be made now. It was too late for that, and she did not speak, but listened breathlessly while Robert confessed next his love for the colonel’s daughter, and asked if he might have her. Colonel Schuyler thought of Jennie Nesbit and that cottage in Alnwick, and all his family pride rose within him as he said, without a moment’s hesitancy:
“I am surprised that after the fraud practised upon us so long, you should presume to ask for my daughter, especially when you consider the difference between our families. No, I cannot give her to you.”
This was the colonel’s reply, while Edith, who thought only of the sweet-faced, white-haired old lady knitting in the sunshine, and of the boy-lover coming to her through the twilight in the years agone, rose, and going to her husband’s side said to him:
“Yes, Howard, youwillgive her to him and forgive him for the foolish pride which has so long kept him silent with regard to his mother’s family.”
The colonel was disturbed, and answered a little impatiently: “It’s the family I object to, as well as the deception.”
“Yes, I know,” and Edith’s white fingers threaded his hair caressingly. “I can imagine that; but, Howard, consider the difference between Robert and those whom we saw in Alnwick, and remember there is a nobility from within which should level all outward distinctions. You chosemewithout money, family, or name, and Robert has all these. The Macphersons are among the first in Scotland, and you will not condemn him for the accident of his mother’s birth. You can afford to be generous. Let me go for Emma now, and see you make her happy by giving her to the man she loves.”
She had caressed him all the time, and her caresses did quite as much toward mollifying him as her arguments. She saw the wavering of his purpose in his eyes, and, as he did not forbid her, she went at once for Emma, whom she led into the room, and whose hand she placed in Robert’s, as she said:
“Now, husband, give them your blessing, and say that you are willing.”
“I cannot say I am willing,” the colonel answered, in a husky voice: “but we sometimes assent to what we do not like, and if Emma wants this young man, and thinks she can be happy with him away from all her family, I will not oppose her,—only let everything be done very quietly and unostentatiously. I could not endure a parade.”
And thus he gave his consent, which hurt almost as much as it pleased, though Emma put her arms around his neck, and thanked him for having made her so happy; but Robert merely bowed his thanks, and, with a manner as lofty and haughty as that of any Schuyler, left the room. Emma soon joined him, and with her he forgot in part the little sting, and thought only of the future, when she would be his wife and the mistress of Glenthorpe, a place finer even than Schuyler Hill, with a long line of noble ancestry, and a coat-of arms to give importance to it.