“Send for your lover,” he said to her finally while in a rage, “send for him; marry him if you will. I give my consent. Tell him this and you will see him withdraw, or I will be very much surprised. If he marries you, you will rue it to the end of your days. I am through with you.”
These things being duly reported to me, I went back forthwith to Montreal with fire in my eye and determination in my soul. What else could I do? Could I allow an old man, dominated by a foolish, headstrong woman, to dare me to marry his daughter whom I dearly loved?
Supported by my old chum, John, I bearded the Doctor in his office. When he saw me he frowned and greeted me with one word: “Well?” I suspect that he had more confidence in me and more kind feelings towards me than he dared show, for he had to do what he was told.
“Well,” I replied, “I have come to ask for the written consent to your daughter’s marriage with me. You have declared that you will consent; are you prepared to do it? If you do, we will be married this evening at her aunt’s house.”
The old man scowled and grunted; but said nothing. He sat down at his desk, wrote his consent and handed it to me.
“Let me tell you, young man,” he said, “you are doing me a great injury; you are doing my daughter an injustice, and you are ruining yourself. But I will not stop you, for I must put an end to the intolerable condition of things in my house; surprises, explosions, plots and counter-plots; it is impossible. Take my daughter. She will lead you by the nose for the rest of your life.”
I might have argued the case with him, but I knew it would be useless. I offered him my hand as a tacit hand of good faith, but he was pleased to ignore it, and John and I withdrew, two very much shaken young men.
Muriel and I were married the same evening at the house of Muriel’s aunt; and John was my best man. Doctor Joseph was present, silent, stern and unrelenting. It was a very informal affair, a marriage in haste, which has been repented several times since. But when it is looked back upon, at this date, by the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Wesblock, it is seen to have been on the whole good and not to be regretted. Doctor Joseph took his gloomy presence away immediately after the ceremony, and we made a bold attempt at being merry.
Aunt Molly was radiant, in her glory; it was one of the happiest events of her life. She produced plum cake and her very best wine, which was a sacred thing never even to be thought of except on momentous occasions. “Oh, you naughty young things,” she said, “you will be very, very happy and the Doctor will forgive you, I know.” The Doctor sat silent. If he had spoken, he would have wept. I was really sorry for him. Aunt Molly did her best to cheer him up by talking at him. She did not dare to address him directly. But he neither moved nor spoke.
Two young, foolish things we were, Muriel and I, thinking that our troubles were all over, whereas they had not yet begun. My wife was not eighteen and I was twenty-one.