Which speech, delivered for Prudence’s benefit, William considered particularly tactful. He had in mind his sister’s reflections on Mr Morgan’s age. But Mr Morgan was not helpful.
“I’m forty-three to-day,” he acknowledged, with, in William’s opinion, quite unnecessary candour. “I decided on this date for making the journey from sentimental reasons; it occurred to me as an altogether agreeable way of celebrating the occasion.”
He did not look in Prudence’s direction while he spoke, for which consideration she was obliged to him: she felt the eyes of the rest focussed upon herself, and guessed what was in their thoughts in connection with these confidences. It did not in the least surprise her to hear William playfully observe that they would have to contrive something special in the way of entertainment to mark the event and make this birthday a memorable one. He looked meaningly at Prudence, and slyly at Mr Morgan, and remarked that birthdays conferred peculiar privileges and gave a right to indulgence. But Mr Morgan repudiated this.
“At my age one doesn’t insist on those prerogatives,” he said. “The only advantage I take of the day is to give myself pleasure. I have done that.”
From which Prudence gathered to her relief that he did not intend to press his suit that day. Nor did he. He rather skilfully evaded the tête-à-têtes with her, which every member of the household seemed in conspiracy to bring about. He was giving her time to commit to heart the lesson which he had told her he wanted her to learn. It was a lesson which she could not master with him for teacher; but she came to feel a very warm friendship for him, which in lieu of anything better seemed not insufficient to begin with.
Mr Morgan had been at Court Heatherleigh a week before he broached the question of marriage with her; and Prudence, lulled into a sense of security by his avoidance of the subject, doubted whether he intended to propose to her, and was divided between a state of mortification and relief. The proposal when it came startled her the more by reason of this adaptation of Mr Morgan from the rôle he had been cast for to the less romantic rôle of friend. It found her immensely unprepared, as the delayed falling of anything long expected is apt to do when launched suddenly and with irrelevant haste. She was altogether unaware of what was in his mind at the moment when he sprung the thing upon her.
They were playing billiards together after dinner, with Mary acting as marker and making a third in the conversation that confined itself almost exclusively to the game. Prudence, in the interest of making a brake, did not observe when Mary left the room; she became aware of her absence for the first time on looking round to call the score. Mr Morgan marked for her. When he approached the table, instead of playing, he laid his cue on the cloth and took Prudence’s hand.
“Come and sit down,” he said, drawing her to the settee. “We’ll finish the game presently.”
Prudence relinquished her cue to him and sat down. He put the cue away in the rack and seated himself beside her.
“I’ve been a long time coming to my point,” he said, coming to it rather abruptly now that he was once started; “but I think you must have understood my reason for delay. I did not want to hurry you. You know why I came down... Prudence, will you marry me?”