not a word was said about the shed on that occasion. He went to work at his other task at once, and when that was well on hand the squire was quite unfitted for the consideration of any less important matter, however able to discuss it Belton might have been himself.
"I've got something particular that I want to say to you, sir," Belton began.
Now Mr. Amedroz was of opinion that his cousin had been saying something very particular ever since his arrival, and was rather frightened at this immediate prospect of a new subject.
"There's nothing wrong; is there?"
"No, nothing wrong;—at least, I hope it's not wrong. Would not it be a good plan, sir, if I were to marry my cousin Clara?"
What a terrible young man! Mr. Amedroz felt that his breath was so completely taken away from him that he was quite unable to speak a word of answer at the moment. Indeed, he was unable to move, and stood still, where he had been fixed by the cruel suddenness of the proposition made to him.
"Of course I know nothing of what she may think about it," continued Belton. "I thought it best to come to you before I spoke a word to her. And I know that in many ways she is above me. She is better educated, and reads more, and all that sort of thing. And it may be that she'd rather marry a London man than a fellow who passes all his time in the country. But she couldn't get one who would love her better or treat her more kindly. And then as to the property; you must own it would be a good arrangement. You'd like to know it would go to your own child and your own grandchild;—wouldn't you, sir? And I'm not badly off, without looking to this place at all, and could give her everything she wants. But then I don't know that she'd care to marry a farmer." These last words he said in a melancholy tone, as though aware that he was confessing his own disgrace.
The squire had listened to it all, and had not as yet said a word. And now, when Belton ceased, he did not know what word to speak. He was a man whose thoughts about women were chivalrous, and perhaps a little old-fashioned. Of course, when a man contemplates marriage, he could do nothing better, nothing more honourable, than consult the lady's father in the first instance. But he felt that even a father should be addressed on such a subject with great delicacy. There should be ambages in such a matter. The man who resolved to commit himself to such a task should come forward with apparent difficulty,—with great diffidence, and even with actual difficulty. He should keep himself almost hidden, as behind a mask, and should tell of his own ambition with doubtful, quivering voice. And the ambages should take time. He should approach the citadel to be taken with covered ways,—working his way slowly and painfully. But this young man, before he had been in the house three days, said all that he had to say without the slightest quaver in his voice, and evidently expected to get an answer about the squire's daughter as quickly as he had got it about the squire's land.
"You have surprised me very much," said the old man at last, drawing his breath.
"I'm quite in earnest about it. Clara seems to me to be the very girl to make a good wife to such a one as I am. She's got everything that a woman ought to have;—by George she has!"
"She is a good girl, Mr. Belton."
"She is as good as gold, every inch of her."
"But you have not known her very long, Mr. Belton."
"Quite long enough for my purposes. You see I knew all about her beforehand,—who she is, and where she comes from. There's a great deal in that, you know."
Mr. Amedroz shuddered at the expressions used. It was grievous to him to hear his daughter spoken of as one respecting whom some one knew who she was and whence she came. Such knowledge respecting the daughter of such a family was, as a matter of course, common to all polite persons. "Yes," said Mr. Amedroz, stiffly: "you know as much as that about her, certainly."
"And she knows as much about me. Now the question is, whether you have any objection to make?"
"Really, Mr. Belton, you have taken me so much by surprise that I do not feel myself competent to answer you at once."
"Shall we say in an hour's time, sir?" An hour's time! Mr. Amedroz, if he could have been left to his own guidance, would have thought a month very little for such a work.
"I suppose you would wish me to see Clara first," said Mr. Amedroz.
"Oh dear, no. I would much rather ask her myself;—if only I could get your consent to my doing so."
"And you have said nothing to her?"
"Not a word."
"I am glad of that. You would have behaved badly, I think, had you done so while staying under my roof."
"I thought it best, at any rate, to come to you first. But as I must be back at Plaistow on this day week, I haven't much time to lose. So if you could think about it this afternoon, you know—"
Mr. Amedroz, much bewildered, promised that he would do his best, and eventually did bring himself to give an answer on the next morning. "I have been thinking about this all night," said Mr. Amedroz.
"I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you," said Belton, feeling rather ashamed of his own remissness as he remembered how soundly he had himself slept.
"If you are quite sure of yourself—"
"Do you mean sure of loving her? I am as sure of that as anything."
"But men are so apt to change their fancies."
"I don't know much about my fancies; but I don't often change my purpose when I'm in earnest. In such a matter as this I couldn't change. I'll say as much as that for myself, though it may seem bold."
"Of course, in regard to money such a marriage would be advantageous to my child. I don't know whether you know it, but I shall have nothing to give her—literally nothing."
"All the better, sir, as far as I am concerned. I'm not one who wants to be saved from working by a wife's fortune."
"But most men like to get something when they marry."
"I want to get nothing;—nothing, that is, in the way of money. If Clara becomes my wife I'll never ask you for one shilling."
"I hope her aunt will do something for her." This the old man said in a wailing voice, as though the expression of such a hope was grievous to him.
"If she becomes my wife, Mrs. Winterfield will be quite at liberty to leave her money elsewhere." There were old causes of dislike between Mr. Belton and Mrs. Winterfield, and even now Mrs. Winterfield was almost offended because Mr. Belton was staying at Belton Castle.
"But all that is quite uncertain," continued Mr. Amedroz.
"And I have your leave to speak to Clara myself?"
"Well, Mr. Belton; yes; I think so. I do not see why you should not speak to her. But I fear you are a little too precipitate. Clara has known you so very short a time, that you can hardly have a right to hope that she should learn to regard you at once as you would have her do." As he heard this, Belton's face became long and melancholy. He had taught himself to think that he could dispense with that delay till Christmas which he had at first proposed to himself, and that he might walk into the arena at once, and perhaps win the battle in the first round. "Three days is such a very short time," said the squire.
