Sawn Off: A Tale of a Family Tree. George Manville Fenn
I know you to be a straightforward English gentleman who sees my position, and I ask you to be lenient with my father and forbearing towards him.”
“But you see this is all selfishness, Denis Rolleston.”
“Yes, sir; but you don’t know all.”
“All what? That you have a silly, boyish liking for my child.”
“Silly! boyish!” cried the young man, flushing. “Don’t you be hard upon me too.”
“It’s the simple truth,” said the Doctor drily; “and very simple too. Here are you, son of the nobleman who holds this handsome estate, with a right to look very high in a matrimonial alliance, and yet you come hanging about here after a young lady, daughter of such a nobody as an eccentric old naturalist who has spent the past thirty years abroad. You must be very weak-minded, young man.”
“Words, sir,” cried Denis eagerly. “You know in your heart you think I am as wise as I know I am.”
His eyes met Veronica’s again, and there was a proud look of happiness in his glance.
“Bah—bah—bah! Heroics, sentiment. Rubbish!” cried the Doctor. “Come, be frank. Your father knows of your inclinations?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And he flew into a rage when he found it out?”
Denis was silent.
“Of course he did, and threatened to disown you, eh? There, you need not answer: I know it all by heart. Quite natural. You expect to be Lord Pinemount some day, and must choose a suitable wife.”
“You told me not to indulge in heroics, sir, so I will remain silent.”
“Quite right. It will not do. Your father threatened to disown you, disinherit you, and all that sort of thing, eh?” Denis made no answer.
“There, you see, Veronica, my child. You have done wrong in encouraging this young man so far. You don’t want to blight his prospects?”
“Ah, no, papa,” cried Veronica, with the tears slowly welling over from her eyes.
“Then you are quite ready to forget what has passed?” Veronica slowly covered her eyes with her hands, and was silent, while Denis stepped to her side and took her hand.
“Let me answer for her, sir,” he said firmly. “I have never spoken out plainly to her in the happy days I have known your daughter. It has seemed enough to be near her, and to feel that I might hope; but I do speak out now, and say—‘Veronica, I love you dearly: let me tell your father that you care for me, and will never change.’ ”
“Very pretty and sentimental,” said the Doctor coldly, “but I cannot let this go on. I believe your father would disinherit you if you persisted in this—this—this mésalliance.”
“On your child’s part, sir?” said Denis, smiling, and then giving her a loving look.
“No, the other way, sir. I’m not going to let my child stoop to enter a family where they look down upon her; and I’m not going to let a young fellow in your position ruin himself with his father for her sake. No, no: no more—that will do. Lord and Lady Pinemount must come and ask for the alliance; so now you had better go.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll go,” said the young man quietly, as he raised Veronica’s hands to his lips—“I’ll go, for I don’t feel downhearted. I tell you this, though, that I will never give her up. I’m going to wait.”
“Humph!”
“And now, before I go, sir, I want to apologise again for the annoyance I have given you.”
“You? none at all. Always were civil enough.”
“You don’t know, sir, so I will confess. It was I who destroyed those hoardings.”
“You!” cried the Doctor; and Veronica started.
“I was so annoyed, sir, that I came twice over and sawed the supports, and let them down; and as they were put up again, I came last night, deluged the hateful boards with spirits, and set fire to them.”
“And a pretty mess you have got me in, sir,” cried the Doctor angrily. “Do you know I am summoned to appear before the magistrates?”
“That’s all over, sir, for I shall tell my father it was my doing. Good-bye, Veronica: I shall wait. You will shake hands, sir?”
“Humph! oughtn’t to, after such a scampish trick. Well, there, good-bye, my lad. Don’t come here again till you are asked.”
There was a sad and long pressure of two hands directly after; and Denis went off back towards the Manor, while Veronica, after kissing her father, stole up to her room for the maiden’s consolation—salt and water, warm, shed copiously into a piece of cambric.
“Can’t help liking the young dog,” said the Doctor. “Humph!” he added, laughing: “nice son to destroy his father’s ungodly works! So it was he?”
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