It was a mystery, furthermore, how my grandfather could have secured so good a copy. For the possession of the finest gallery in the world has never tempted the Spaniard of to-day to cultivate art, nor has he established in his capital city a community of copyists like that which flourishes at Rome. With such fine traditions of painting to his credit, he is therewith content, and a copy of real excellence, which this undoubtedly was, would, I felt sure, be wholly beyond the range of his capacity.
With the difficulties of the picture still unsolved, I dismissed it from my thoughts, merely telling Peggy to hang it in my sitting-room, where it would find itself in congenial harmony with Eric’s Antinous. Peggy, I could see, resented its introduction altogether, as savouring of Papistry and the Scarlet Woman, and would have preferred to turn it with its face to the wall; only I declined to consider her feelings. “I wonder what Eric would say of the picture? I’ll ask him some day,” I said to Marion, who was in raptures over the delicate beauty of the portrait.
My happiness during all this period, but for my anxiety about Riverdale, would have been whole and unalloyed. No one was more surprised than myself to find how many friends I had made during my short residence at Fleetwater. Peggy was the only one who held aloof and was chary of congratulation.
Naturally the Rectory girls were wild with delight. Hardly had they recovered their equanimity after the excitement of Gertie’s birthday, when, lo and behold, they foresaw in the near distance a vision of other and greater festivities that promised to outrival even the ceremonial on Chapel Hill.
From the first the Rector had shown himself a warm friend, and whenever I was free of my duties in the parish, the chances were you would have found me in his company, either helping him to keep down the trout in the Rectory stream, or taking lessons from him in gardening, whereat Marion and I formed the students of his class.
“No arrangement—none, Stirling,” he said, “could have been more in accordance with my plans for the future. So soon as I am too old for work—and I’ve had a twinge or two of gout already—you and Marion will come to the Rectory, while I retire to a little property lower down the river, where I’ll catch all the trout that you allow to escape you in their travels past the garden. You know, of course, that the Park and Manor House are strictly entailed, and will go to a distant cousin. So, for the present, I shall consider that I only hold the living in keeping for you.”
Information privately received from Marion had left me in no fear concerning the result of my proposed interview with the Squire. From the first he had shown a warm liking for me—all the warmer, perhaps, because I was staunch, from his point of view, on the question of fox-hunting; thinking, as I honestly did, that the Rector was hardly so fair as usual in his denunciation of the sport.
I was to dine alone with him that evening, and when Marion had left us to our wine he came at once to the subject. “I am perfectly satisfied, Stirling,” he said, “with Marion’s choice. Personally I have a strong liking for you, and have no ambition whatever that she should make what is called a great marriage. Though I honestly confess I am somewhat disappointed that she has thrown over Riverdale, who I am sure is devoted to her, and would infallibly have proposed later on. Indeed, it’s been a puzzle to me and to all of us why he’s held back so long. However, all this is none of our business. I would never prejudice a girl’s inclination by so much as a word. But, to speak candidly, I could not have given her to you or to any man who had not a small fortune of his own to start with. And this, not so much for her sake—she will have enough and to spare—as her husband’s. There is nothing that places a man in a more false situation than the fact of his being entirely dependent on his wife’s property. Indeed, no man of any spirit would accept the position.
“There is only one thing more, and then I will dismiss you to join Marion in the drawing-room. To make your income secure, I would suggest to you—simply as a friend—that you remove the part of your capital which you have in the bank—these new concerns are none of them too safe—and place it in some good security that can be recognised by trustees. And now, for I know you are longing to join Marion, I’ll only say that I congratulate you on your success as heartily as I congratulate myself.”
In the drawing-room Marion sang to me my favourite songs, amongst them, of course, ‘The Message’ and ‘The Requital.’ Last of all I asked for ‘My Queen,’ the song which above all others realises the entire self-abandonment which is the very hall-mark of love. For a love that is true and worth the name will impose on itself no restrictions and no limitations, giving itself wholly and unreservedly, without asking the reason why and wherefore, to the object of its worship.