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April’s Message
by
“Ah, my hair, my eyes! Is it these you care for? You would not love me, then, if I were old and ugly?”
“Eh,–I love you.”
“Animal!”
There was a longer silence now. “Tweet!” said a bird, pertly.
Then Marian said, “Let us go to my father.”
“To tell him–?”
“Why, that I love you, I suppose, and that I cannot marry Jack, not even to be a duchess. Oh, I did so much want to be a duchess! But when you came back to me yonder in the forest, somehow I stopped wanting anything more. Something–I hardly know–something seemed to say, as you came striding through the dead leaves, laughing and so very pale,–something seemed to say, ‘You love him’–oh, quite audibly.”
“Audibly! Why, the woods whispered it, the birds trilled it, screamed it, the very leaves underfoot crackled assent. Only they said, ‘You love her–the girl yonder with glad, frightened eyes, Spring’s daughter.’ Oh, I too, heard it, Marian! ‘Follow,’ the birds sang, ‘follow, follow, follow, for yonder is the heart’s desire!”
The Duke of Ormskirk raised his head, his lips sketching a whistle. “Ah! ah!” he muttered. “Eureka! I have recaptured it–the message of April.”
IV
When these two had gone the Duke flung out his hands in a comprehensive gesture of giving up the entire matter. “Well,” said he, “you see how it is!”
“I do,” Lord Brudenel assented. “And if you intend to sit patient under it, I, at least, wear a sword. Confound it, Jack, do you suppose I am going to have promiscuous young men dropping out of the skies and embracing my daughter?” The Earl became forceful in his language.
“Harry,–” the Duke began.
“The fellow hasn’t a penny–not a stick or a stiver to his name! He’s only a rascally, impudent younger son–and even Venour has nothing except Agard Court yonder! That–that crow’s nest!” Lord Brudenel spluttered. “They mooned about together a great deal a year ago, but I thought nothing of it; then he went away, and she never spoke of him again. Never spoke of him–oh, the jade!”
The Duke of Ormskirk considered the affair, a mild amusement waking in his plump face.
“Old friend,” said he, at length, “it is my opinion that we are perilously near to being a couple of fools. We planned this marriage, you and I–dear, dear, we planned it when Marian was scarcely out of her cradle! But we failed to take nature into the plot, Harry. It was sensible–Oh, granted! I obtained a suitable mistress for Ingilby and Bottreaux Towers, a magnificent ornament for my coach and my opera-box; while you–your pardon, old friend, if I word it somewhat grossly,–you, in effect, obtained a wealthy and not uninfluential husband for your daughter. Nay, I think you are fond of me, but that is beside the mark; it was not Jack Bulmer who was to marry your daughter, but the Duke of Ormskirk. The thing was as logical as a sale of bullocks,–value for value. But now nature intervenes, and”–he snapped his fingers,–“eh, well, since she wants this Humphrey Degge, of course she must have him.”
Lord Brudenel mentioned several penalties which he would voluntarily incur in case of any such preposterous marriage.
“Your style,” the Duke regretfully observed, “is somewhat more original than your subject. You have a handsome daughter to barter, and you want your price. The thing is far from uncommon. Yet you shall have your price, Harry. What estate do you demand of your son-in-law?”
“What the devil are you driving at?” said Lord Brudenel.
Composedly the Duke of Ormskirk spread out his hands. “You have, in effect, placed Marian in the market,” he said, “and I offer to give Lord Humphrey Degge the money with which to purchase her.”
“Tis evident,” the Earl considered, “that you are demented!”
“Because I willingly part with money? But then I have a great deal of money. I have money, and I have power, and the King occasionally pats me upon the shoulder, and men call me ‘your Grace,’ instead of ‘my Lord,’ as they do you. So I ought to be very happy, ought I not, Harry? Ah, yes, I ought to be entirely happy, because I have had everything, with the unimportant exception of the one thing I wanted.”