The Corner of Harley Street Part 14

Two days later came a wire from Rupert asking if he might spend a night with us on his way to Yorks.h.i.+re. And in the evening he duly arrived.

n.o.body else was dining with us that night, and our little party at the table was perhaps quieter than usual. After dinner we were going to smoke our pipes in the library with Esther and Molly, when Rupert drew me aside and asked me to take him into the consulting-room.

"I want you just to run over me," he said, with his eyes on a dangling stethoscope, "to run over me rather thoroughly."

I glanced at him anxiously. But in his evening clothes he seemed even lither and more bronzed than ever.

"Feeling bad anywhere?" I inquired. But he shook his head.

"Rather fit," he admitted, as he took off his coat and waistcoat. And as I suspected, I could find nothing wrong with him. On the contrary, he appeared to be in the very pink of condition, for all his tropical sojournings.

"Good," he said; "and, as a matter of fact, I saw Manson this morning, and West this afternoon, and they both told me the same thing."

I began to laugh at him, though he was speaking very seriously. "You're surely not becoming a hypochondriac?" I asked.

"No," he said gravely; "I don't think so. But I'm forty-seven, you see.

And I want to get married."

I was, perhaps, rather taken aback at this, though I scarcely knew why.

And he himself appeared to consider the idea as savouring somewhat of presumption. For he blushed a little as he slowly collected his clothes.

Somehow we had neither of us thought of him as being a marrying man.

Then, as he began to dress himself again, I congratulated him, and asked him if the lady was known to me. He hesitated for a moment, and then smiled.

"Yes, I think she is," he said; "though I doubt if you'd consider me much of a husband for her."

He filled his pipe thoughtfully.

"For though in some ways she seems to me to be rather old for her years--old-fas.h.i.+oned, you know, and womanly, and all that--she's really rather young."

He seemed to consider this a difficulty. Then he looked at me with a kind of deprecating straightness.

"You'd be giving her," he said, "to a fellow who's old enough to be her father."

I suppose that I looked a little surprised.

"Yes, I do," he said humbly; "I mean Molly."

We sucked our pipes in silence for a minute or two, looking at one another through the tobacco smoke. Then I asked him if he had ever pointed out to Molly her striking lack of modernity. He shook his head.

"Hadn't the pluck," he confessed; "but it's so obvious, isn't it?"

He glanced at me anxiously.

"But you mustn't think I'm against it," he said. "It's so rare nowadays.

And I think it's beautiful; and anyway, it's just what I've been wanting all my life."

"You'll let me talk to Esther?" I asked presently.

"I should like to talk to her myself," he answered, "only I'm such a fool at these things."

He lit another match.

"Look here," he went on, "I don't want you to tell me what you both think for a week--till I come back from Yorks.h.i.+re. I'm too old for her, I know. But I seem to be pretty sound, and I--well, dash it all, Peter, you know her better than I do, although you--d'you know, by the way, that you rather put me off her in that last letter of yours?"

"Did I?" I asked. "Perhaps that was because I don't really know her so well."

"Well, first," he said, "there was that Lynn affair, of course. But that's dead, isn't it?"

"Quite," I told him; "and they've both gone out of mourning."

"And then," he went on, "you made me think of a rather up-to-date young woman, quite nice, of course," he looked at me apologetically, "but perhaps just a little bit self-complacent. Whereas I found in her, instead, everything that I've always wors.h.i.+pped most, you know--from rather a long way off."

That was a week ago. And since he left, as you will imagine, both Esther and I have done a good deal of thinking. For on the one side we couldn't help feeling the absurdity of regarding Rupert as a son-in-law.

And on the other we should be giving our daughter--or rather watching her go--into the hands of one of our oldest friends. Given love too, how well should they be mated; both so strong, but he so abidingly simple, so unchallenged by surrounding mysteries, and she so eager, so delicately tuned to each pa.s.sing subtlety of thought.

Characteristically enough, he had neither told us, before he went, how clearly he had shown Molly his feelings, nor asked us to discuss with her, or to withhold, his announcement to ourselves. And so we said nothing to her about it. But just now, as we were expecting his arrival, I discovered, I think, that our desire for her had been fulfilled. For with a shyness bringing back to me a little girl that I had forgotten, she had perched herself on the arm of my chair; so that when his voice was in the hall there wasn't very far to bend.

"You told me to wait for Heaven, you know," she reminded me. And her eyes confessed that it was standing at the door.

Your affect. brother, PETER.

P.S.--I can see you pursing those wise lips of yours, and muttering that Heaven has been a little sudden. But I believe that there are precedents for this.

XXVIII

_To Miss Josephine Summers, The Cottage, Potham, Beds._

91B HARLEY STREET, W., _November_ 26, 1910.

MY DEAR AUNT JOSEPHINE,

We shall be very disappointed if you don't come to Molly's wedding, although it is to be rather a quiet one, or at any rate as quiet as we can manage to keep it--not because we are anything but desirous that as many people as are kind enough to do so may rejoice with us over the occasion; but because, from Molly downwards, we have a temperamental shrinking from crowded churches, pavement druggets, hired exotics, and paid choir-boys. And you mustn't worry because your favourite porter has been transferred to Leeds, and therefore won't be able to look after your luggage at St. Pancras. Because one of us will be sure to meet you with the carriage, and escort both you and it quite safely to Harley Street.

I have received your cheque, and will buy the little medicine-chest for Rupert to-morrow. As you say, it's most important that the breadwinner should try to keep himself in as good a state of health as possible, even if he is so liable, as Rupert is, to be suddenly shot. And we all think the old bracelet that you have sent to Molly very beautiful. Both of them will so much want to thank you personally for your gifts that you must really make up your mind, I think, to take the risks of the journey (the most recent statistics show these to be quite small) and stay with us here for a couple of nights from December 6th.

Yr. affect. nephew, PETER HARDING.

XXIX

_To the Rev. Bruce Harding, S. Peter's College, Morecambe Bay._