"I can't think what you see in him, Nora!" he once said condescendingly. "He is a regular out-and-out German, and his hat-doffing and hand-kissing make me sick. I wish he would take himself and his beastly polish back to his own country."
Whereby it will be seen that "beastly polish" was not one of Miles Ingestre's weaknesses.
On the whole, Wolff more than held his own. Although unaffected and modest as far as his own person was concerned, he was much too deeply imbued with the traditional conception of his social position to feel anything but calm amusement at the ungraciousness of his two hosts. As an officer in the King's army, and as a scion of an old and noble race, he felt himself secure against contempt even in a foreign country where such things did not count. For him they counted everywhere—they upheld him and lent him an imperturbable savoir faire where another man would have shown temper or resentment. Nevertheless, the fortnight was not a very happy one. The unspoken knowledge that Wolff was not "approved of" weighed upon Nora and himself as a fact which both recognised but felt wiser to ignore. They were ill at ease even when alone—Nora because she was ashamed of her own people, Wolff because he knew she was ashamed, and could do nothing to help her. Consequently they were happiest when together with Mrs. Ingestre. Her grace of manner and openly expressed affection for her future son-in-law lifted the shadow between them, and the hours spent at her side counted amongst the most unclouded.
There were constant "visits" during Wolff's stay. From the inevitable Mrs. Clerk, who, in spite of strong disapproval, could not refrain from gushing over the German Baron to the Manor people, who were ponderously and haughtily critical, the whole of Delford came up for the inspection. Of course, it was a "formal" inspection. "Informal inspections" had been held in church, and when Wolff had cantered through Delford on a borrowed horse, which Miles had hopefully but mistakenly prophesied would "buck him over the first hedge." On the latter occasion it is possible that more than one feminine heart was stirred to unacknowledged admiration for the bronzed face and splendid figure, and even Miles was compelled to the sulky confession that "the fellow could ride."
Thus the days passed, and, except in one long interview with the Rev. John, Wolff and Nora's marriage was treated as a tabooed subject. That interview, revealing as it did not very brilliant financial prospects, reduced the rev. gentleman to even deeper depression, and the hope of a definite settlement seemed all too far off. It was then that Mrs. Ingestre threw in the casting vote of her influence. A few days before Wolff's departure she called him to her, and the two were alone together for a long hour. In that hour Wolff learnt to know more of Mrs. Ingestre's life and character than Nora had done in all the years at her mother's side. In her desire to help her daughter to happiness, all other considerations were forgotten, and Mrs. Ingestre revealed unconsciously to Wolff's more experienced eyes a profound, if resigned, grief over her own life, stifled and clogged as it had been in her husband's atmosphere. In the quiet room her voice sounded peculiarly earnest, almost impressive.
"I need not tell you, my dear Wolff," she said, "that my husband is against your marriage with Nora. You must know that already. He has other ideas of happiness and suitability, and I can scarcely blame him, since they were once mine. Like him, I once saw in long acquaintance, similarity in ideas, and, of course, nationality, a certain wealth and position, the best foundations for a happy and successful life. Like him, I would probably have thought that you were not rich enough to marry, that you had not known each other long enough, that the difference of nationality and upbringing would be too great a stumbling-block. I have learnt since those days to think differently. The circumstances make little difference either way, so long as a great love is there. And, after all, what is a great love?" For the first time her tone was tinged with a faint cynicism. "Who can dare to call their love really great until they are on their deathbeds? We cannot be sure of our love, whether the object be well known to us or not, until it has been tried by the fires of years and custom. Custom is the hardest trial of all, and that is why I am glad rather than sorry that you and Nora know each other so little. It is because you know each other so little that you are in love, for being in love is simply the charm of standing before the closed, mysterious door of another's personality, and knocking for it to open. When the door opens, you will cease to be in love, but I believe that, because you are both worthy of it, you will find the all-enduring love waiting for you. At any rate, it seems to me the chances are as great for you as for those who, knowing each other too well, have never known the charm. Wolff, I am an old woman in suffering if not in years, and I think age and youth often join hands over the experience of middle life. Youth believes it is better to be truly happy for an hour and to suffer through all eternity rather than enjoy years of placid, passionless content. And that is what I have also come to believe. I would rather Nora enjoyed a brief but complete union with you than a lifetime of 'living together' with another man. Besides, I trust you; I believe you to be a good man, as I believe Nora to be a good woman, and I hope that in the afterwards you will learn to love each other. As to the question of nationality and wealth, they spell struggle and sacrifice for you both, Wolff. As a woman Nora will bring the greatest sacrifice, but I know that you will help her."
"With all my strength."
"And you will have patience?"
He looked at her wonderingly.
"Sometimes you will need it, Wolff. But Nora is brave and good. She will learn to love your country because she loves you. For my part—I am glad that she is leaving Delford far behind her."