“Of course I am, dear Eddy,” cried Miss Pritty, holding up her cheek for a kiss. “Sit down. Why, you were in London when I last heard of you.”
“True, but I’m not in London now, as you see. I’ve been a week here.”
“A week, Eddy! And you did not come to see me till now?”
“Well, I ought to apologise,” replied the youth, with a slight look of confusion, “but—the fact is, I came down partly on business, and—and—so you see I’ve been very busy.”
“Of course,” laughed Miss Pritty; “people who have business to do are usually very busy! Well, I forgive you, and am glad to see you—but—”
“Well, aunt—but what?”
“In short, Eddy, I happen to be particularly engaged this evening—on business, too, like yourself; but, after all, why should I not introduce you to my friend? You might help us in our discussion—it is to be about the poor. Do you know much about the poor and their miseries?”
Edgar smiled sadly as he replied—
“Yes, I have had some experimental knowledge of the poor—being one of them myself, and my poverty too has made me inconceivably miserable.”
“Come, Eddy, don’t talk nonsense. You know I mean the very poor, the destitute. But let us go up-stairs and have a cup of tea.”
The idea of discussing the condition of the poor over a cup of tea with two ladies was not attractive to our hero in his then state of mind, and he was beginning to excuse himself when his aunt stopped him:—
“Now, don’t say you can’t, or won’t, for you must. And I shall introduce you to a very pretty girl—oh! such a pretty one—you’ve no idea—and so sweet!”
Miss Pritty spoke impressively and with enthusiasm, but as the youth knew himself to be already acquainted with and beloved by the prettiest girl in the town he was not so much impressed as he might have been. However, being a good-natured fellow, he was easily persuaded.
All the way up-stairs, and while they were entering the boudoir, little Miss Pritty’s tongue never ceased to vibrate, but when she observed her nephew gazing in surprise at her friend, whose usually calm and self-possessed face was covered with confusion, she stopped suddenly.
“Good-evening, Miss Hazlit,” said Edgar, recovering himself, and holding out his hand as he advanced towards her; “I did not anticipate the pleasure of meeting you here.”
“Then you are acquainted already!” exclaimed Miss Pritty, looking as much amazed as if the accident of two young people being acquainted without her knowledge were something tantamount to a miracle.
“Yes, I have met Mr Berrington at my father’s several times,” said Aileen, resuming her seat, and bestowing a minute examination on the corner of her handkerchief.
If Aileen had added that she had met Mr Berrington every evening for a week past at her father’s, had there renewed the acquaintance begun in London a year before, and had been wooed and won by him before his stern repulse by her father, she would have said nothing beyond the bare truth; but she thought, no doubt, that it was not necessary to add all that.
“Well, well, what strange things do happen!” said Miss Pritty, resuming her duties at the tea-table. “Sugar, Eddy? And cream?—Only to think that Aileen and I have known each other so well, and she did not know that you were my nephew; but after all it could not well be otherwise, for now I think of it, I never mentioned your name to her. Out of sight, out of mind, Eddy, you know, and indeed you don’t deserve to be remembered. If we all had our deserts, some people that I know of would be in a very different position from what they are, and some people wouldn’t be at all.”
“Why, aunt,” said Edgar, laughing. “Would you—”
“Some more cake, Eddy?”
“No, thank you. I was going to say—”
“Have you enough cream? Allow me to—”
“Quite enough, thanks. I was about to remark—”
“Some sugar, Aileen?—I beg your pardon—yes—you were about to say—”
“Oh! Nothing,” replied Edgar, half exasperated by these frequent interruptions, but laughing in spite of himself, “only I’m surprised that sentence of annihilation should be passed on ‘some people’ by one so amiable as you are.”
“Oh! I didn’t exactly mean annihilation,” returned Miss Pritty, with a pitiful smile; “I only mean that I wouldn’t have had them come into existence, they seem to be so utterly useless in the world, and so interfering, too, with those who want to be useful.”
“Surely that quality, or capacity of interference, proves them to be not utterly useless,” said Edgar, “for does it not give occasion for the exercise of patience and forbearance?”
“Ah!” replied Miss Pritty, with an arch smile, shaking her finger at her nephew, “you are a fallacious reasoner. Do you know what that means? I can’t help laughing still at the trouble I used to have in trying to find out the meaning of that word fallacious, when I was at Miss Dullandoor’s seminary for young ladies—hi! Hi! Some of us were excessively young ladies, and we were taught everything by rote, explanations of meanings of anything being quite ignored by Miss Dullandoor. Do you remember her sister? Oh! I’m so stupid to forget that it’s exactly thirty years to-day since she died, and you can’t be quite that age yet; besides, even if you were, it would require that you should have seen, and recognised, and remembered her on her deathbed about the time of your own birth. Oh! She was so funny, both in face and figure. One of the older girls made a portrait of her for me which I have yet. I’ll go fetch it; the expression is irresistible—it is killing. Excuse me a minute.”
Miss Pritty rose and tripped—she never walked—from the room. During much of the previous conversation our hero had been sorely perplexed in his mind as to his duty in present circumstances. Having been forbidden to hold any intercourse with Aileen, he questioned the propriety of his remaining to spend the evening with her, and had made up his mind to rise and tear himself away when this unlooked-for opportunity for a tête-à-tête occurred. Being a man of quick wit and strong will, he did not neglect it. Turning suddenly to the fair girl, he said, in a voice low and measured—
“Aileen, your father commanded me to have no further intercourse with you, and he made me aware that he had laid a similar injunction on yourself. I know full well your true-hearted loyalty to him, and do not intend to induce you to disobey. I ask you to make no reply to what I say that is not consistent with your promise to your father. For myself, common courtesy tells me that I may not leave your presence for a distant land without saying at least good-bye. Nay, more, I feel that I break no command in making to you a simple deliberate statement.”
Edgar paused for a moment, for, in spite of the powerful restraint put on himself, and the intended sedateness of his words, his feelings were almost too strong for him.
“Aileen,” he resumed, “I may never see you again. Your father intends that I shall not. Your looks seem to say that you fear as much. Now, my heart tells me that I shall; but, whatever betide, or wherever I go, let me assure you that I will continue to love you with unalterable fidelity. More than this I shall not say, less I could not. You said that these New Testaments”—pointing to a pile of four or five which lay on the table—“are meant to be given to poor men. I am a poor man: will you give me one?”
“Willingly,” said Aileen, taking one from the pile.
She handed it to her lover without a single word, but with a tender anxious look that went straight to his heart, and took up its lodging there—to abide for ever!
The youth grasped the book and the hand at once, and, stooping, pressed the latter fervently to his lips.
At that moment Miss Pritty was heard tripping along