The Three Fates

by F. Marion Crawford

“I cannot tell why, I am sure,” said Mrs. Trimm, “but it is always done, and I should be so sorry if you had to leave us just now.”

“It would not be pleasant,” George answered, thoughtfully. He had wished to inform Constance as soon as possible.

So the matter was decided, somewhat to his dissatisfaction in one respect, but quite in accordance with his inclinations in all others. And it was thereupon further agreed that as soon as the weather permitted, they would all return to town, and make active preparations for the wedding. Totty could see no reason whatever why the day should not be fixed early in November. She declared emphatically that she hated long engagements, and that in this case especially there could be no object in putting off the marriage. She assured Mamie that by using a little energy everything could be made ready in plenty of time, and she promised that there should be no hitch in the proceedings.

The week that followed the events last narrated slipped pleasantly and quickly away. As George had said at once, he was a very happy man; that is to say, he believed himself to be so, because the position in which he found himself was new, agreeable and highly flattering to his vanity. He could not but believe that he was taken into the family of his cousin solely on his own merits. Being in total ignorance of the fortune between which and himself the only barrier was the enfeebled health of an invalid old man, he very naturally attributed Totty’s anxiety to see him marry her daughter to the causes she enumerated. He was still modest enough to feel that he was being very much overrated, and to fear lest he might some day prove a disappointment to his future wife and her family; for the part of the desirable young man was new to him, and he did not know how he should acquit himself in the performance of it. But the delicious belief that he was loved for himself, as he was, gave energy to his good resolutions and maintained at a genial warmth the feelings he entertained for her who loved him.

He must not be judged too harshly. In offering to marry Mamie, he had felt that he was doing his duty as an honourable man, and he assured himself as well as he could that he was able to promise the most sincere affection and unchanging fidelity in return for her passionate love. It was in one respect a sacrifice, for it meant that he must act in contradiction to the convictions of his whole life. He had always believed in love, and he had frequently preached that true and mutual passion was the only foundation for lasting happiness in marriage. At the moment of acceding to Mrs. Trimm’s very clearly expressed proposal, George had felt that Mamie would be to him hereafter what she had always been hitherto, neither more nor less. He did not wish to marry her, and if he agreed to do so, it was because he was assured that her happiness depended upon it, and that he had made himself responsible for her happiness by his conduct towards her. Being once persuaded of this, and assured that he alone had done the mischief, he was chivalrous enough to have married the girl, though she had been ugly, ill-educated and poor, instead of being rich, refined and full of charm, and to all outward appearances he would have married her with as good a grace and would have behaved towards her afterwards with as much consideration as though he had loved her. But the fact that Mamie possessed so many real and undeniable graces and advantages had made the sacrifice seem singularly easy, and the twenty-four hours that succeeded the moment of forming the resolution, had sufficed to destroy the idea of sacrifice altogether. Hitherto, George had fought against the belief that he was loved, and had done his best to laugh at it. Now, he was at liberty to accept that belief and to make it one of the chief pleasures of his thoughts. It flattered his heart, as Totty’s professed appreciation of his fine qualities flattered his intelligence. In noble natures flattery produces a strong desire to acquit the debt which seems to be created by the acceptance of undue praise. Men of such temper do not like to receive and give nothing in return, nor can they bear to be thought braver, more generous or more gifted than they are. Possessing that high form of self-esteem which is honourable pride, they feel all the necessity of being in their own eyes worthy of the estimation they enjoy in the opinion of other men. The hatred of all false positions is strong in them and they are not quick to believe that they are justly valued by the world.

George found it easy to imagine that he loved the young girl, when he had once admitted the fact that she loved him. It was indeed the pleasantest deception he had ever submitted to, or encouraged himself in accepting. He hid from himself the fact that his heart had never been satisfied, considering that it was better to take the realities of a brilliant future than to waste time and sentiment in dreaming of illusions. There was nothing to be gained by weighing the undeveloped capabilities of his affections against the manifestations of them which had hitherto been thrust upon his notice. He was doing what he believed to be best for every one as well as for himself, and no good could come of a hypercriticism of his sensibilities. Mamie was supremely happy, and it was pleasant to feel that he was at once the cause and the central figure in her happiness. The course of true love should run pleasantly for her at least, and its course would not be hard for him to follow.

A fortnight passed before he thought of fulfilling his promise and visiting Grace. The attraction was not great, but he felt a certain curiosity to know how she was recovering from the shock she had sustained. Once more he crossed the river and walked up the long avenue to the old house. As he was passing through the garden he unexpectedly came upon Constance, who was wandering idly through the deserted walks.

“It is so long since we have met!” she exclaimed, with an intonation of gladness, as she put out her hand.

“Yes,” George answered. “I came once to see your sister, but you were not with her. How is she?”

“She is well—as well as any one could expect. I have tried to persuade her to go away, but she will not, though I am sure it is bad for her to stay here.”