During one of our ensuing talks, my father said to me: “Son, you talk of marriage as if it was an end; it is not an end, it is only a means towards an end. You have no idea of the responsibilities you propose to undertake; you are a mere child in worldly things. Where would you be without me?”
“But I have you, father,” I replied. “And why shouldn’t my marriage turn out as well as other people’s marriages? We all have to start. You married young.”
“My poor innocent,” said my father. “Yes, I married young, but I had brains and health, no social position and no education.”
“Have I no brains, governor?” I asked.
“You have, son, but not the kind that makes a living easily, and you have no health to fall back on.” My face fell.
“Cheer up, boy,” he added thereupon, by way of consolation. “You may be lucky—ay, and happy, yet never marry!”
“But I am engaged to Muriel Joseph,” said I.
This made him laugh, and he walked away. Here in truth he made a mistake. He should have taken me off into the woods and talked to me for four days. Heart-to-heart talks in the wide privacy of the woods, when there is no hurry, are very enlightening. Every effort was now made to separate Muriel and me, to stop our correspondence and prevent our meetings; but we had too many friends and supporters, and really suffered but little inconvenience from the watchfulness of Mrs. Joseph, Lizette and others. The obstacles put in our way only added zest to the game and a touch of stubbornness to our determination. Muriel’s home became very much divided against itself, and after a very miserable six months she was goaded into open rebellion, packed her trunks and took refuge with a friendly aunt.
Dear, sweet, long-suffering, beautiful Aunt Molly. She seems now to have been nearer to me than any aunt of my own. Although she was the sister of Mrs. Joseph, she is entitled to all the adjectives with which I have introduced her. In exterior she was prim and proper, but she had an old-fashioned romantic heart. She was old and nearly bald, and wore lace caps, but her face was young and sweet and her smile winning. She was a widow who had seen a most miserable married life, but this had not soured her, and she was an inveterate matchmaker. So it was a great joy to her to take poor persecuted Muriel in.
The Doctor was a forceful and masterful man in every department of his life except that of his home, where the female element predominated. He followed Muriel, and used every endeavour to bring her to what he called her senses, but she demanded terms to which he knew Mrs. Joseph would not listen.