“It doesn’t seem decent to discuss it,” Kit said. “As if I’d nothing to do but decide to beckon Helen.”
“Between ourselves, Kit, I think Helen has already made the first signals,” said Miss Carrington. “The woman usually does; Thackeray and George Bernard Shaw are right. I should be sorry to see you giving yourself the airs of a conqueror, but as an honest working basis between us we may as well admit the truth that Helen is of the same mind as Barkis.”
“Oh, Lord!” groaned Kit, helplessly. “I’m not in the least in love with her, Aunt Anne. I never could be.”
“No,” admitted Miss Carrington, judicially, “you are not. I think quite likely you never would be. I don’t recall asking you to be, my dear boy.”
Kit looked at her, his honest, rebellious young soul in his eyes.
“Christopher Carrington, listen to me with your intelligence, not merely with your ears,” began Miss Carrington, bracing herself to her task. “I rather like your feeling, which your silence announces more eloquently than words, as novelists say. Youth is the time for dreams. It is for its elders to see to it that the dreams do not become nightmares. I want, I urge you to marry Helen Abercrombie because she is preëminently suitable. She is of our class; she is handsome, highly accomplished, wealthy. She is a woman to help on a man’s career. Not only that, but she has it in her power to launch a man on his career. Her father was the best governor this state ever had. He will be nominated and reëlected this coming year. He is certain to have an important portfolio in a not-far-distant cabinet; it is more than likely that he will be his party’s presidential candidate next time. And that party is going in next time; heaven knows the country has had enough of the muddle of the past years at the other party’s hands! As Governor Abercrombie’s son-in-law you would be secure of a good diplomatic appointment. And there is nothing like such an experience to make a man, Kit! It would give you what nothing else could of dignity, of savoir faire. I will not allow you to turn aside from such opportunity. Then, if the not unlikely sequence follows, as President Abercrombie’s son-in-law——”
Miss Carrington shrugged her shoulders with an outward gesture of her open palms that ended her sentence for her eloquently, a trick that she had learned in her own long years abroad. A bright red spot burned in each cheek and her guarded eyes gleamed with the fire of ambition. Kit stared at her; she rarely revealed herself to this extent. He cried: “Aunt Anne, that’s all very fine, but would you have me marry a woman whom I did not love for ignoble, selfish motives?”
“Ignoble!” cried his aunt, sharply. “Do you call ambitions such as any manly man would leap toward, ignoble? Why, what else is there in life but its prizes? The bigger the better, but prizes at least. Selfish, yes! Who isn’t selfish? Children are frightened by words, not men. Of course you’re selfish. But if you enjoy beclouding your conscience tell yourself you’ll use your attainment unselfishly. You won’t, but many better, cleverer men than you, my little Christopher, befuddle themselves with pretty terms. In the meantime win, win, win your ends! Let me tell you, Kit, that there’s more sensible unselfishness in marrying for prudence than for romance: the result of that endures!”
Kit looked at his aunt with genuine pity. He knew that her ambition for him represented all that was in her of ideals, of love. A remembrance of Major Pendennis and young Arthur flitted across his mind; he pitied his aunt, but he feared lest one day he might pity himself.
“You don’t know, Aunt Anne,” he said, gently. “It must be frightful to be married to someone whom you can’t love. In the marriage you urge upon me there would be neither love nor respect; I should not love my wife, nor respect myself. You can’t realize it, Aunt Anne.”