“Whatever he is, papa,” said Madeline, with a blush, yet a proud erection of the head, “it is certain that he is the only man in the world for me.”
“Well, well,” said Mr Thursley, “well, well. I had nothing to say against it before, and I don’t know that I have anything now. But he must change his mind, you know. He’s done it frequently before. He must just have to do it again. My daughter is not going to marry a man with five hundred a-year.”
To this Madeline made absolutely no reply.
“You understand,” said Mr Thursley, getting up, “that about that there’s nothing to be said. You don’t leave this house but for a house as good. You don’t go from having everything your own way here, to pinching and scraping and counting your pence in another man’s house. Come, Maddie, you are a girl of sense, and you must talk sense to him. What would the pair of you luxurious highly bred young people, wanting everything of the best, what could you do on five hundred a-year?”
“I should have something of my own, papa,” she said, with downcast eyes.
“Not from me, Madeline. I should not encourage any such venture by the gift of a sixpence. You would have that ten thousand pounds of course, which your wise aunt left you to make ducks and drakes with--if you have not made ducks and drakes of it already.”
“I have done only what Mr Mentore has advised me to do.”
“You’re safe enough in old Mentore’s hands; but--granted you have that--it would not double your husband’s large income. Nine hundred a-year. My dear, what would you do upon that, Gervase and you?”
“I suppose, papa,” said Madeline, “there are thousands to whom it would be wealth, in comparison with those to whom it is poverty.”
“What does that matter?” he cried. “What does any general rule matter? You are individuals, Gervase and you; and to you it would be poverty. I will not consent to marry my daughter to a man who has only five hundred a-year, and no prospect of any more.”
“Papa,” said Madeline, timidly, “his father--would not shut him out for ever. He must be his heir.”
“And so must you be my heir,” said Mr Thursley. “Do you think it safe to calculate on that? I may not die for the next twenty years.”
“Papa!” cried Madeline. “_Father!_” with quick-springing tears in her eyes.