Chapter 23: Bride’s Proposal

“PAPA,” said Bride softly, coming into the Duke’s study and standing behind his chair with her arms loosely clasped about his neck, “will you let me marry Eustace now?”

The Duke gave a very slight start, and then sat perfectly still. He could not see Bride’s face, and he was glad for a moment that his own could not be seen.

“My dear child,” he said, after an appreciable pause, “do you mean that you do not know?”

“I think I know everything,” answered Bride softly. “I know that Eustace will be as he is now for two or three years—perhaps all his life; but I do not think it will be that—I mean not all his life. I had a long talk before he went with the doctor from London, and he said he was almost confident that power would return, only the patient must have good nursing, care, and freedom from worry of mind, or anxious fears for himself, which might react unfavourably upon him. It is only for a few years he will be helpless; and I want to be his wife during those years, to help him through with them, to keep him from the worry and the care which I believe he will feel if he thinks he may perhaps never be a strong man again, never be able to ask me to marry him. I know that he loves me, papa, and that I can do more for him than anybody else. I know that even now he is beginning to lose heart, not because his work is stopped—he is most wonderfully brave over that—but because he thinks he may lose me. Does it sound vain to say that? But indeed it is true. I can read Eustace through and through, because I love him so. Why should I not be his wife? Then I could nurse him back to health and strength, and he could stay here with us all the time, and we should be so happy together!”

The Duke had been silent at first from sheer amaze. He had never yet entered into all the still depths of Bride’s nature; and though personally conscious of his disappointment that his daughter and heir could not now think of marriage till the health of the latter was reestablished, he had never thought of a different solution of the difficulty with regard to Eustace in his helpless and lonely condition. He had been grieving over the situation in silence many long days, but the thing that Bride suggested so quietly and persuasively had never entered his head.

Yet even as she spoke there came upon him a conviction of the truth of her words. None knew better than he the comfort and support that a man can receive from a loving and tender wife. He was beginning to recognise in his daughter those very traits of character which had been so strongly developed in her mother. Well could he understand what it would be to Eustace to be nursed and tended, consoled and strengthened, by such a wife. Doubtless it would be an enormously powerful factor in his recovery, and the father had long wished with a great desire to see the future of his child settled before many more months should pass. It had been a sad blow to him to hear that Eustace’s recovery must be so slow, for he felt very sure he should not live to see him on his feet again; and what would become of Bride, left so utterly alone in the world?

Now he drew her gently towards him, and she knelt beside him at his feet, looking up into his face with a soft and lovely colour in her cheeks.

“Has Eustace spoken of this to you, my dear?” he said.

“Ah no!” she answered quickly. “Is it likely he would? He calls himself a helpless log; and I know that the worst trouble of all is, that he thinks his helplessness divides him from me. Papa, I want you to go to him. I want you to tell him that we will be married very soon—as soon as it can be arranged—and that I will nurse him back to health. Tell him that we will stay happily together here, and have only one home, here at Penarvon. I know you do not want to lose me, yet I know (for you have told me) that you would like to see me Eustace’s wife. Well, it is all so easy. Do you not see it so yourself? Dearest father, I love him, and he loves me. What can anything else matter? Does not his weakness and his helplessness make me love him all the more? I want to have the right to be with him always, to lighten the load which will weigh on him, however brave and patient he is, heavily sometimes. I shall never love anybody else; and I think he will not either. Why should we wait? Why should we not have the happiness of belonging to one another before he is strong again as well as after? Why should those years be wasted for us both?”

The Duke looked into her soft, unfathomable eyes, and he ceased to oppose her.

“It shall be as you wish, my dear,” he said. “I believe had it been with me as it is with Eustace, your mother would have done just what you propose to do. God has His angels here below amongst us still. I will go and speak of this to Eustace, if you wish it. You are right, my child, in saying that I would fain see you married to Eustace, since you love each other. I had not thought of this way, but perhaps it is the best.”

“You will come and tell me what he says,” answered Bride, with a lovely blush upon her face; and the Duke went slowly upstairs to the sick-room.

Eustace was gaining vital power rapidly and most satisfactorily, and was not paralysed in the ordinary acceptation of the term; but he had received such violent blows in the spine, either from the force of the waves whilst he was tossed to and fro at their mercy, or by being dashed upon rocks—though there were few outward bruises or cuts—that the whole nervous power had been most seriously impaired, and he could neither raise himself in bed nor move any of his limbs, although sensation was not materially affected. It was a case likely to be tedious and trying rather than dangerous or hopeless. There was every prospect of an ultimate recovery; but great patience would be needed, and any premature attempts at exertion might lead to bad results. Eustace had heard his fate with resolute courage, and had breathed no word of repining since; but a gravity had settled down upon him which deepened rather than lessened day by day; and Bride had been quick to note this, and trace it to its source.

With the Duke, the relations of the young man were now of a most cordial character. His kinsman had played a father’s part to him during these past days, and his visits were always welcome in the monotony of sick-room life.

“I have been talking to Bride,” said the elder man, as he took his accustomed seat; “we have been talking about your marriage, Eustace, and neither she nor I see why it should be indefinitely postponed. Indeed, there seems good reason for hastening it on, since she can then be your companion and nurse, as is not possible now, greatly as she wishes it. We cannot think of parting with you till you are well and strong once more, and that will not be for some time even at best. Have I your authority to arrange with Mr. St. Aubyn for a marriage here as quickly as it can be arranged? Since your minds are both made up, there appears no reason why Bride should not have the comfort of caring for you and making you her charge. Perhaps you hardly estimate the joy which such a charge is to a woman of her loving nature. But you know her well enough to believe that she never speaks a word that is not literal truth; and as she wishes to have that privilege, I confess I see no legitimate objection.”