When Mary Campbell was nineteen, and her estate perfectly clear, it seemed
to her uncle a proper time to consummate the hopes for which he had toiled
and planned. He explained them fully to his son, and then said, "Now,
Allan, go and ask Mary to be your wife. The sooner I see you in your own
place, the happier I shall be."
A spirit of contradiction sprang up in the young man's heart, as soon as
the words were uttered. Probably, it was but the development of an
antagonism that had been lying latent for years. He remained silent so
long, that his father's anger rose.
"Have you nothing to say, sir?" he asked. "A good wife and an old and
honorable estate are worth a few words of acknowledgment."
"I do not wish to marry Drumloch, sir." John Campbell turned white, and
the paper in his hand shook violently. "Do you mean me to understand that
I have been working ten years for a disappointment? I will not have ten
Years of my life wasted to pleasure a foolish youth."
"Is it right for me to marry a woman I do not love, and so waste my whole
life?"
A conversation begun in such a spirit was not likely to end
satisfactorily. Indeed it closed in great anger, and the renewal of the
subject day after day, only made both men more determined to stand by the
position they had taken toward each other. Allan almost wondered at his
own obstinacy. Before his father had so broadly stated the case to him, he
had rather liked his cousin. She was a calm, cheerful, sensible girl, with
very beautiful eyes, and that caressing, thoughtful manner which is so
comfortable in household life. He believed that if he had been left any
freedom of choice, he would have desired only Mary Campbell to be his
wife. But he told himself that he would not be ordered into matrimony,
or compelled to sacrifice his right of choice, for any number of
dead-and-gone Campbells.
There was no prospect of any reconciliation between father and son, except
by Allan's unconditional surrender. Allan did not regard this step as
impossible in the future, but for the present he knew it was. He decided
to leave home for a few months, and when the subject was opened again to
be himself the person to move the question. He felt that in the matter of
his own marriage he ought at least to make the proposition; it was enough
for his father to agree to it. The trouble had arisen from the reversal of
this natural order.
Mary had perceived that there was dissension between her uncle and cousin,
but she had not associated herself with it. She was sure that it was about
money, for evidently Allan had lived an extravagant life when he was
abroad. So, when he said to her one morning, "Mary, father and I cannot
agree at present, and I think I will go away for a few weeks;" she
answered, "I think you are right, Allan. If one has a hurt, it does not do to be
always looking at it, and touching it. If you have a quarrel with uncle,
let it rest, and then it will heal. Do you want--any money, Cousin Allan?
I have plenty, and I do not use it."