m. grascour was a belgian, about forty years old, who looked as though he were no more than thirty, except that his hair was in patches beginning to be a little gray. he was in the government service of his country, well educated, and thoroughly a gentleman. as is the case with many belgians, he would have been taken to be an englishman were his country not known. he had dressed himself in english mirrors, living mostly with the english. he spoke english so well that he would only be known to be a foreigner by the correctness of his language. he was a man of singularly good temper, and there was running through all that he did somewhat of a chivalric spirit, which came from study rather than nature. he had looked into things and seen whether they were good, or at any rate popular, and endeavored to grasp and to make his own whatever he found to be so. he was hitherto unmarried, and was regarded generally by his friends as a non-marrying man. but florence mountjoy was powerful over him, and he set to work to make her his wife. he was intimate at the house of sir magnus, and saw, no doubt, that anderson was doing the same thing. but he saw also that anderson did not succeed. he had told himself from the first that if anderson did succeed he would not wish to do so. the girl who would be satisfied with anderson would hardly content him. he remained therefore quiet till he saw that anderson had failed. the young man at once took to an altered mode of life which was sufficiently marked. he went, like sir proteus, ungartered. everything about him had of late "demonstrated a careless desolation." all this m. grascour observed, and when he saw it he felt that his own time had come.
he took occasion at first to wait upon lady mountjoy. he believed that to be the proper way of going to work. he was very intimate with the mountjoys, and was aware that his circumstances were known to them. there was no reason, on the score of money, why he should not marry the niece of sir magnus. he had already shown some attention to florence, which, though it had excited no suspicion in her mind, had been seen and understood by her aunt; and it had been understood also by mr. anderson. "that accursed belgian! if, after all, she should take up with him! i shall tell her a bit of my mind if anything of that kind should occur."
"my niece, m. grascour!"
"yes, my lady." m. grascour had not quite got over the way of calling lady mountjoy "my lady." "it is presumption, i know."
"not at all."
"i have not spoken to her. nor would i do so till i had first addressed myself to you or to her mother. may i speak to mrs. mountjoy?"
"oh, certainly. i do not in the least know what the young lady's ideas are. she has been much admired here and elsewhere, and that may have turned her head."
"i think not."
"you may be the better judge, m. grascour."
"i think that miss mountjoy's head has not been turned by any admiration. she does not appear to be a young lady whose head would easily be turned. it is her heart of which i am thinking." the interview ended by lady mountjoy passing the belgian lover on to mrs. mountjoy.
"florence!" said mrs. mountjoy.
"yes, mrs. mountjoy;—i have the great honor of asking your permission. i am well known to sir magnus and lady mountjoy, and they can tell what are my circumstances. i am forty years of age."
"oh yes; everything is, i am sure, quite as it should be. but my daughter thinks about these things for herself." then there was a pause, and m. grascour was about to leave the room, having obtained the permission he desired, when mrs. mountjoy thought it well to acquaint him with something of her daughter's condition. "i ought to tell you that my daughter has been engaged."
"indeed!"
"yes; and i hardly know how to explain the circumstances. i should say that she had been promised to her cousin, captain scarborough; but to this she will not give her assent. she has since met a gentleman, mr. annesley, for whom she professes an attachment. neither can i, nor can her uncle and aunt, hear of mr. annesley as a husband for florence. she is therefore at present disengaged. if you can gain her affections, you have my leave." with this permission m. grascour departed, professing himself to be contented.
he did not see florence for two or three days, no doubt leaving the matter to be discussed with her by her mother and her aunt. to him it was quite indifferent what might be the fate of captain scarborough, or of mr. annesley, or indeed of mr. anderson. and, to tell the truth, he was not under any violent fear or hope as to his own fate. he admired miss mountjoy, and thought it would be well to secure for a wife such a girl, with such a fortune as would belong to her. but he did not intend to go "ungartered," nor yet to assume an air of "desolation." if she would come to him, it would be well; if she would not, why, it would still be well. the only outward difference made by his love was that he brushed his clothes and his hair a little more carefully, and had his boots brought to a higher state of polish than was usual.
her mother spoke to her first. "my dear, m. grascour is a most excellent man."
"i am sure he is, mamma."
"and he is a great friend to your uncle and lady mountjoy."
"why do you say this, mamma? what can it matter to me?"
"my dear, m. grascour wishes you to—to—to become his wife."
"oh, mamma, why didn't you tell him that it is impossible?"
"how was i to know, my dear?"
"mamma, i am engaged to marry harry annesley, and no word shall ever turn me from that purpose, unless it be spoken by himself. the crier may say that all round the town if he wishes. you must know that it is so. what can be the use of sending m. grascour or any other gentleman to me? it is only giving me pain and him too. i wish, mamma, you could be got to understand this." but mrs. mountjoy could not altogether be got as yet to understand the obstinacy of her daughter's character.
there was one point on which florence received information from these two suitors who had come to her at brussels. they were both favored, one after the other, by her mother; and would not have been so favored had her mother absolutely believed in captain mountjoy. it seemed to her as though her mother would be willing that she should marry any one, so long as it was not harry annesley. "it is a pity that there should be such a difference," she said to herself. "but we will see what firmness can do."
then lady mountjoy spoke to her. "you have heard of m. grascour, my dear?"
"yes; i have heard of him, aunt."
"he intends to do you the honor of asking you to be his wife."
"so mamma tells me."
"i have only to say that he is a man most highly esteemed here. he is well known at the court, and is at the royal parties. should you become his wife, you would have all the society of brussels at your feet."
"all the society of brussels would do no good."
"perhaps not."
"nor the court and the royal parties."
"if you choose to be impertinent when i tell you what are his advantages and condition in life, i cannot help it."
"i do not mean to be impertinent."
"what you say about the royal parties and the court is intended for impertinence, knowing as you do know your uncle's position."
"not at all. you know my position. i am engaged to marry another man, and cannot therefore marry m. grascour. why should he be sent to me, except that you won't believe me when i tell you that i am engaged?" then she marched out of the room, and considered within her own bosom what answer she would give to this new belgian suitor.
she was made perfectly aware when the belgian suitor was about to arrive. on the day but one after the interview with her aunt she was left alone when the other ladies went out, and suspected that even the footmen knew what was to happen, when m. grascour was shown into the drawing-room. there was a simple mode of dealing with the matter on his part,—very different from that state of agitation into which harry had been thrown when he had made his proposition. she was quite prepared to admit that m. grascour's plan might be the wisest; but harry's manner had been full of real love, and had charmed her. m. grascour was not in the least flustered, whereas poor harry had been hardly able to speak his mind. but it had not mattered much whether harry spoke his mind or not, whereas all the eloquence in the world could have done no good for m. grascour. florence had known that harry did love her, whereas of m. grascour she only knew that he wanted to make her his wife.
"miss mountjoy," he said, "i am charmed to find you here. allow me to add that i am charmed to find you alone." florence, who knew all about it, only bowed. she had to go through it, and thought that she would be able to do so with equanimity. "i do not know whether your aunt or your mother have done me the honor of mentioning my name to you."
"they have both spoken to me."
"i thought it best that they should have the opportunity of doing so. in our country these things are arranged chiefly by the lady's friends. with your people i know it is different. perhaps it is much better that it should be so in a matter in which the heart has to be concerned."
"it would come to the same thing with me. i must decide for myself."
"i am sure of it. may i venture to feel a hope that ultimately that decision may not go against me?" m. grascour, as he said this, did throw some look of passion into his face. "but i have spoken nothing as yet of my own feelings."
"it is unnecessary."
this might be taken in either one of two senses; but the gentleman was not sufficiently vain to think that the lady had intended to signify to him that she would accept his love as a thing of which she could have no doubt. "ah, miss mountjoy," he continued, "if you would allow me to say that since you have been at brussels not a day has passed in which mingled love and respect have not grown within my bosom. i have sat by and watched while my excellent young friend mr. anderson has endeavored to express his feelings. i have said to myself that i would bide my time. if you could give yourself to him, why then the aspiration should be quenched within my own breast. but you have not done so, though, as i am aware, he has been assisted by my friend sir magnus. i have seen, and have heard, and have said to myself at last, 'now, too, my turn may come.' i have loved much, but i have been very patient. can it be that my turn should have come at last?" though he had spoken of mr. anderson, he had not thought it expedient to say a word either of captain scarborough or of mr. annesley. he knew quite as much of them as he did of mr. anderson. he was clever, and had put together with absolute correctness what mrs. mountjoy had told him, with other little facts which had reached his ears.
"m. grascour, i suppose i am very much obliged to you. i ought to be." here he bowed his head. "but my only way of being grateful is to tell you the truth." again he bowed his head. "i am in love with another man. that's the truth." here he shook his head with the smallest possible shake, as though deprecating her love, but not doing so with any harshness. "i engaged to marry him, too." there was another shake of the head, somewhat more powerful. "and i intend to marry him." this she said with much bold assurance. "all my old friends know that it is so, and ought not to have sent you to me. i have given a promise to harry annesley, and harry annesley alone can make me depart from it." this she said in a low voice, but almost with violence, because there had come another shake of the head in reply to her assurance that she meant to marry annesley. "and though he were to make me depart from it,—which he will never do,—i should be just the same as regards anybody else. can't you understand that when a girl has given herself, heart and soul, to a man, she won't change?"
"girls do change—sometimes."
"you may know them; i don't,—not girls that are worth anything."
"but when all your friends are hostile?"
"what can they do? they can't make me marry another person. they may hinder my happiness; but they can't hand me over, like a parcel of goods, to any one else. do you mean to say that you would accept such a parcel?"
"oh yes—such a parcel!"
"you would accept a girl who would come to you telling you that she loved another man? i don't believe it of you."
"i should know that my tenderness would beget tenderness in you."
"it wouldn't do anything of the kind. it would be all horror,—horror. i should kill myself, or else you, or perhaps both."
"is your aversion so strong?"
"no, not at all;—not at present. i like you very much. i do indeed. i'd do anything for you—in the way of friendship. i believe you to be a real gentleman."
"but you would kill me!"
"you make me talk of a condition of things which is quite, quite impossible. when i say that i like you, i am talking of the present condition of things. i have not the least desire to kill you, or myself, or anybody. i want to be taken back to england, and there to be allowed to marry mr. henry annesley. that's what i want. but i intend to remain engaged to him. that's my purpose, and no man and no woman shall stir me from it." he smiled, and again shook his head, and she began to doubt whether she did like him so much. "now i've told you all about myself," she said, rising to her feet. "you may believe me or not, as you please; but, as i have believed you, i have told you all." then she walked out of the room.
m. grascour, as soon as he was alone, left the room and the house, and, making his way into the park, walked round it twice, turning in his mind his success and his want of success. for, in truth, he was not at all dispirited by what had occurred. with her other belgian lover,—that is, with mr. anderson,—florence had at any rate succeeded in making the truth appear to be the truth. he did believe that she had taken such a fancy to that "fellow harry annesley" that there would be no overcoming it. he had got a glimpse into the firmness of her character which was denied to m. grascour. m. grascour, as he walked up and down the shady paths of the park, told himself that such events as this so-called love on the part of florence were very common in the lives of english young ladies. "they are the best in the world," he said to himself, "and they make the most charming wives; but their education is such that there is no preventing these accidents." the passion displayed in the young lady's words he attributed solely to her power of expression. one girl would use language such as had been hers, and such a girl would be clever, eloquent, and brave; another girl would hum and haw, with half a "yes" and a quarter of a "no," and would mean just the same thing. he did not doubt but that she had engaged herself to harry annesley; nor did he doubt that she had been brought to brussels to break off that engagement; and he thought it most probable that her friends would prevail. under these circumstances, why should he despair?—or why, rather, as he was a man not given to despair, should he not think that there was for him a reasonable chance of success? he must show himself to be devoted, true, and not easily repressed.
she had used, he did not doubt, the same sort of language in silencing anderson. mr. anderson had accepted her words, but he knew too well the value of words coming from a young lady's mouth to take them at their true meaning. he had at this interview affected a certain amount of intimacy with florence of which he thought that he appreciated the value. she had told him that she would kill him,—of course in joke; and a joke from a girl on such an occasion was worth much. no belgian girl would have joked. but then he was anxious to marry florence because florence was english. therefore, when he went back to his own home he directed that the system of the high polish should be continued with his boots.
"i don't suppose he will come again," florence had said to her mother, misunderstanding the character of her latest lover quite as widely as he misunderstood hers. but m. grascour, though he did not absolutely renew his offer at once, gave it to be understood that he did not at all withdraw from the contest. he obtained permission from lady mountjoy to be constantly at the embassy, and succeeded even in obtaining a promise of support from sir magnus. "you're quite up a tree," sir magnus had said to his secretary of legation. "it's clear she won't look at you."
"i have pledged myself to abstain," said poor anderson, in a tone which seemed to confess that all chance was over with him.
"i suppose she must marry some one, and i don't see why grascour should not have as good a chance as another." anderson had stalked away, brooding over the injustice of his position, and declaring to himself that this belgian should never be allowed to marry florence mountjoy in peace.
but m. grascour continued his attentions; and this it was which had induced florence to tell her mother that the belgian was "a great trouble," which ought to be avoided by a return to england.
