Lover or Friend

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

'I am afraid I must differ from you there, even at the risk of displeasing you. I must say that I think Mr. Blake is the last man to make you happy.'

'Now, what reason can you have for making such a sweeping assertion?' asked Audrey, waxing a little warm at this. Percival had no right to stand there lecturing her after this fashion; it was not in a brother-in-law's province to interfere with her choice of a lover. If her parents had given their sanction to her engagement, and allowed her to throw herself away on a poor man, it was surely no one else's business to say a dissenting word. Percival might go home and lecture his own wife if he liked. 'It is a pity you and Gage are so worldly,' she said, in what was meant to be a withering tone. Audrey had never been so near quarrelling with her brother-in-law.

'Worldly?' he repeated, in rather a perplexed tone. 'My dear girl, I confess I do not understand you.'

'It is very easy to understand,' she returned coldly. 'You and Gage object to Mr. Blake because he is poor and has not made his position; you think I am throwing myself away, because I have engaged myself to a junior classical master who has to work his way up.'

'Just so,' observed Mr. Harcourt; 'that is exactly what we do think.'

'And yet you are surprised because I call you worldly. If you only knew how differently father and I think! Perhaps he is disappointed too—indeed, I know that he is; he wanted me to marry an older man—but, all the same, he agrees with me, that a man so honourable and clever, one who has borne so high a character, who is so good a son and brother, would be likely to make a woman happy.'

Mr. Harcourt shrugged his shoulders. They were arguing from different points. Audrey was not likely to convince him: he had started with a preconceived dislike to the whole business. He now proceeded to pull Audrey's impulsive speech to pieces.

'I do not deny that Blake is a good fellow, and he is clever, too; but in marrying him you will be descending in the social scale. Who are the Blakes? No one knows anything about them—Edith always declared the father was a City man—but we do know that his mother is distinctly objectionable!'

'Excuse me, Percival, but you are speaking of a close friend. Even if she were not Cyril's mother, my friendship for her should prevent you from speaking against her in my presence.'

Mr. Harcourt groaned as he heard the word 'Cyril,' but he felt at the same time that he had gone too far: his quick temper had carried him away. He hastened to apologise.