PAGE 6
His Other Engagement
by
“Never mind that,” said Ethel, “what does it offer you?”
“A gentleman’s sport, I suppose,” he answered rather slowly. “That is, a fair and exciting effort to get something that is made for human use, in a way that involves some hardship, a little risk, a good deal of skill and patience and perseverance, and plenty of out-of-door life. I guess it must be an inheritance of the old days when people lived by the chase; but, whatever it is, almost every real man feels a certain kind of gratification in being able to get game or fish by the exertion of his own pluck or skill. Some day perhaps this will all be changed, and we shall be contented to take our exercise in the form of massage or croquet, and our food in compressed tablets. But not yet!”
Ethel shook her head and smiled rather sadly. “Bolton,” she said, “you discourage me. You argue in this way because you like fishing.”
“I do,” he answered, promptly. “And so far as I can see, that is the principal reason why your friends, Aurora W. Chime and the Reverend Wilbur Short, and the rest of them, condemn it. They object to the evident pleasure of the fisherman more than to the imaginary suffering of the fish.”
“Bolton!” she exclaimed earnestly, “that is not a fair thing to say. They are truly good and noble teachers. They live on a lofty plane and labour for the spreading of the Higher Light. You will know them when we are married. They will be far better company for you than the thoughtless fishermen in your clubs.”
Bolton looked a little glum. But he behaved like a gentleman, and cheered up. “Well, well,” he said, “of course–you know–your friends, my friends! I’ll be glad to meet them, and hear what they have to say, and consider it all very, very seriously. I promised you that, dearest, you remember. But that reminds me–there are two of the men on the Ste. Marjorie now, at the club-house–Colonel Lang and the Doctor–old Harvey, you know–fine old chap. It’s only twenty miles away. Couldn’t we send word to them and ask them to come down for to-morrow? I’m so proud and happy about it all; I’d like to have them here, if you don’t mind.”
“Why, certainly,” she answered, smiling with manifest pleasure, “that will be delightful. We’ll send a messenger at once with a note to them. But stop a moment–I have a better plan than that! Why not drive over yourself, this afternoon, to invite them? You’ll be glad to see them again; and if you stay here you’ll only be in the way until to-morrow,” laughed she. “Why not go over and spend the night at the club-house and come back early in the morning? That will be quite like the ancient days–the young adventurer hurrying out of the forest to meet his bride.”
Bolton insisted that he couldn’t think of it–didn’t want to go–would much rather stay where he was. But Ethel was captivated with the novelty of the idea. She always liked her own plans. Besides, she really wished to have him out of the way for the rest of the day and the evening. There was a good deal to be done–letters to be written–a long, personal, uplifting talk with Nancy Bangs, and with Gladys, and with Victoria, and with each of her brothers separately–just half-an-hour of soul-counsel for each one: three hours altogether. She would see them in regular succession, beginning with the youngest brother, and winding up with Nancy. Then she was charmed with the picture of Bolton coming in, post haste, in the morning, as if he had just arrived from a journey across the great northern wilderness. So she carried her point, and when he had agreed to it, he found that he rather liked the plan too. It gave him something to do, a chance to practise his habit of putting things through with determination.