Philip was silent. There was reason in what his father said. Phyllis would look upon £800 a year as poverty. As long as he could recollect, she had chafed and fretted about the narrow income of her father, and openly expressed her intention of not living as carefully and economically as her mother was compelled to do. Certainly Phyllis was not fit to be a poor man's wife, even if that poor man had an allowance of £800 or £1000 a year.
"But I have always thought of her as my wife," he broke out passionately; "and I cannot give her up. Think how happy you have been with my mother; and why should you deny me similar happiness?"
"Because Phyllis is nothing like your mother," answered Sidney, his eyes sparkling with anger. "Good Heavens! do you compare that empty-headed butterfly with my Margaret? Your mother would be happy in a cottage with her sons and her husband, as happy as she is now in her own house. If I thought for a moment that Phyllis would be such a wife to you as your mother is to me, I would consent willingly, though she could never be like a daughter to me. Phyllis would separate you from me. We should soon be as strangers to one another."
"No, no!" he said; "you have always seemed to love Phyllis, and so has my mother. What can you object to in her? Her father is your own nearest relation and friend. Everybody in Apley knows we have been always thrown together, as if we were some day to be married. Let me know your objections, your reasons. No one came between you and the woman you loved. Why should you not allow me to choose for myself?"
"Because you have not really chosen for yourself," answered his father. "Your nature has been played upon ever since your childhood. I can see it all now, and understand it. Phyllis is not to blame; but Phyllis's mother has laid her plot, and carried it out very successfully. Brought up for one another! Did your mother and I ever speak of your being brought up for Phyllis?"
"I cannot give her up now!" exclaimed Philip.
"Ask your mother if Phyllis would make you a true wife," urged his father.
"But I could not give her up," he reiterated. "It would break my poor Phyllis's heart. Every year of my life binds me to her; every feeling of honor as well as of love. No; it would be impossible. It is of no use to consult my mother. I will tell her I must marry Phyllis, and I will beg of her to look upon her as a daughter. In the sight of God I believe Phyllis is my wife, and I should not be free to marry anyone else. You will give your consent in time, father."
"Never!" his father answered with mingled anger and sadness. "You will be a poor man as long as I live. Tell Laura Martin she and her daughter must wait for my money till my death."