The Doctor, in the goodness of his heart, waved his hand as if to make light of it, and save Mr. Jack Maldon from any further reminder. But Mrs. Markleham changed her chair for one next the Doctor’s, and putting her fan on his coat-sleeve, said:
“No, really, my dear Doctor, you must excuse me if I appear to dwell on this rather, because I feel so very strongly. I call it quite my monomania, it is such a subject of mine. You are a blessing to us. You really are a Boon, you know.”
“Nonsense, nonsense,” said the Doctor.
“No, no, I beg your pardon,” retorted the Old Soldier. “With nobody present, but our dear and confidential friend Mr. Wickfield, I cannot consent to be put down. I shall begin to assert the privileges of a mother-in-law, if you go on like that, and scold you. I am perfectly honest and outspoken. What I am saying, is what I said when you first overpowered me with surprise—you remember how surprised I was?—by proposing for Annie. Not that there was anything so very much out of the way, in the mere
act of the proposal—it would be ridiculous to say that!—but because, you having known her poor father, and having known her from a baby six months old, I hadn’t thought of you in such a light at all, or indeed as a marrying man in any way,—simply that, you know.”
“Aye, aye,” returned the Doctor, good-humoredly. “Never mind.”
“But I do mind,” said the Old Soldier, laying her fan upon his lips. “I mind very much. I recal these things that I may be contradicted if I am wrong. Well! Then I spoke to Annie, and I told her what had happened. I said, ‘My dear, here’s Doctor Strong has positively been and made you the subject of a handsome declaration and an offer.’ Did I press it in the least? No. I said, ‘Now, Annie, tell me the truth this moment; is your heart free?’ ‘Mama,’ she said, crying, ‘I am extremely young’—which was perfectly true—‘and I hardly know if I have a heart at all.’ ‘Then, my dear,’ I said, ‘you may rely upon it, it’s free. At all events, my love,’ said I, ‘Doctor Strong is in an agitated state of mind, and must be answered. He cannot be kept in his present state of suspense.’ ‘Mama,’ said Annie, still crying, ‘would he be unhappy without me? If he would, I honor and respect him so much, that I think I will have him.’ So it was settled. And then, and not till then, I said to Annie, ‘Annie, Doctor Strong will not only be your husband, but he will represent your late father: he will represent the head of our family, he will represent the wisdom and station, and I may say the means, of our family; and will be, in short, a Boon to it.’ I used the word at the time, and I have used it again, to-day. If I have any merit, it is consistency.”
The daughter had sat quite silent and still during this speech, with her eyes fixed on the ground; her cousin standing near her, and looking on the ground too. She now said very softly, in a trembling voice:
“Mama, I hope you have finished?”
“No, my dear Annie,” returned the Soldier, “I have not quite finished. Since you ask me, my love, I reply that I have not. I complain that you really are a little unnatural towards your own family; and, as it is of no use complaining to you, I mean to complain to your husband. Now, my dear Doctor, do look at that silly wife of yours.”