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第153章

On that second Sunday,--the Boncassens were to return to London on the following Tuesday,--he found himself alone with Isabel's father. The American had been brought out at his own request to see the stables, and had been accompanied round the premises by Silverbridge, Mr Wharton, by Isabel, and by Lady Mary. As they got out into the park the party were divided, and Silverbridge found himself with Mr Boncassen. Then it occurred to him that the proper thing for a young man in love was to go, not to his own father, but to the lady's father. Why should not he do as others always did? Isabel no doubt had suggested a different course. But that which Isobel suggested was at the present moment impossible to him. Now at this instant, without a moment's forethought, he determined to tell his story to Isabel's father,--as any other young lover might tell it to any other father.

'I am very glad to find ourselves alone, Mr Boncassen,' he said.

Mr Boncassen bowed and showed himself prepared to listen. Though so many at Matching had seen the whole play, Mr Boncassen had seen nothing of it.

'I don't know whether you are aware of what I have got to say.'

'I cannot quite say that I am, my lord. But whatever it is, I am sure I shall be delighted to hear it.'

'I want to marry your daughter,' said Silverbridge. Isabel had told him that he was downright, and in such a matter he had hardly as yet learned how to express himself with those paraphrases in which the world delights. Mr Boncassen stood stock still, and in the excitement of the moment pulled off his hat. 'The proper thing is to ask your permission to go on with it.'

'You want to marry my daughter!'

'Yes. That is what I have got to say.'

'Is she aware of your--intention?'

'Quite aware. I believe I may say that if other things go straight, she will consent.'

'And your father--the Duke?'

'He knows nothing about it,--as yet.'

'Really this takes me by surprise. I am afraid you have not given enough thought to the matter.'

'I have been thinking about it for the last three months,' said Lord Silverbridge.

'Marriage is a very serious thing.'

'Of course it is.'

'And men generally like to marry their equals.'

'I don't know about that. I don't think that counts for much.

People don't always know who are their equals.'

'That is quite true. If I were speaking to you or to your father theoretically I should perhaps be unwilling to admit superiority on your side because of your rank and wealth. I could make an argument in favour of any equality with the best Briton that ever lived,--as would become a true-born Republican.'

'That is just what I mean.'

'But when the question becomes one of practising,--a question for our lives, for our happiness, for our own conduct, then, knowing what must be the feelings of an aristocracy in such a country as this, I am prepared to admit that your father would be as well justified in objecting to a marriage between a child of his and a child of mine, as I should be in objecting to one between my child and the son of some mechanic in our native city.'

'He wouldn't be a gentleman,' said Silverbridge.

'That is a word of which I don't quite know the meaning.'

'I do,' said Silverbridge confidently.

'But you could not define it. If a man be well educated, and can keep a good house over his head, perhaps you may call him a gentleman. But there are many such with whom your father would not wish to be so closely connected to as you propose.'

'But I may have your sanction?' Mr Boncassen again took off his hat and walked along thoughtfully. 'I hope you don't object to me personally.'

'My dear young lord, your father has gone out of his way to be civil to me. Am I to return his courtesy by bringing a great trouble upon him?'

'He seems to be very fond of Miss Boncassen.'

'Will he continue to be fond of her when he has heard this? What does Isabel say?'

'She says the same as you, of course.'

'Why of course;--except that it is evident to you as it is to me that she could not with propriety say anything else.'

'I think she would,--would like it, you know.'

'She would like to be your wife!'

'Well;--yes. If it were all serene, I think she would consent.'

'I daresay she would consent,--if it were all serene. Why should she not? do not try her too hard, Lord Silverbridge. You say you love her?'

'I do indeed.'

'Then think of the position in which you are placing her. You are struggling to win her heart.' Silverbridge as he heard this assured himself that there was no need for any further struggling in that direction. 'Perhaps you have won it. Yet she may feel that she cannot become your wife. She may well say to herself that this which is offered to her is so great, that she does not know how to refuse it; and may yet have to say, at the same time, that she cannot accept it without disgrace. You would not put one that you love into such a position?'

'As for disgrace,--that is nonsense. I beg your pardon, Mr Boncassen.'

'Would it be no disgrace that she should be known here, in England, to be your wife, and that none of those of your rank,--of what would then be her own rank,--should welcome her into the new world?'

'That would be out of the question.'

'If your own father refused to welcome her, would not others follow suit?'

'You don't know my father.'

'You seem to know him well enough to fear that he would object.'

'Yes;--that is true.'

'What more do I want to know?'

'If she were once my wife he would not reject her. Of all human beings he is in truth the kindest and most affectionate.'

'And therefore you would try him after this fashion? No, my lord, I cannot see my way through these difficulties. You can say what you please to him as to your own wishes. But you must not tell him that you have any sanction from me.'

That evening the story was told to Mrs Boncassen, and the matter was discussed among the family. Isabel in talking to them made no scruple of declaring her own feelings; and though in speaking to Lord Silverbridge she had spoken very much as her father had done afterwards, yet in this family conclave she took her lover's part.

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