GEORGE SHAW - The Complete Works

“I was surprised, Alice,” he said, when he had seated himself opposite to her, “to learn from Aunt Emily that you had come to live here without consulting me. I—”

“Consult you!” she said, contemptuously, interrupting him. “I never heard of such a thing! Why should I consult you as to my movements?”

“Well, I should not have used the word consult, particularly to such an independent little lady as sweet Alice Goff. Still, I think you might — merely as a matter of form, you know — have informed me of the step you were taking. The relations that exist between us give me a right to your confidence.”

“What relations, pray?”

“What relations!” he repeated, with reproachful emphasis.

“Yes. What relations?”

He rose, and addressed her with tender solemnity. “Alice,” he began; “I have proposed to you at least six times—”

“And have I accepted you once?”

“Hear me to the end, Alice. I know that you have never explicitly accepted me; but it has always been understood that my needy circumstances were the only obstacle to our happiness. We — don’t interrupt me, Alice; you little know what’s coming. That obstacle no longer exists. I have been made second master at Sunbury College, with three hundred and fifty pounds a year, a house, coals, and gas. In the course of time I shall undoubtedly succeed to the head mastership — a splendid position, worth eight hundred pounds a year. You are now free from the troubles that have pressed so hard upon you since your father’s death; and you can quit at once — now — instantly, your dependent position here.”

“Thank you: I am very comfortable here. I am staying on a visit with Miss Carew.”

Silence ensued; and he sat down slowly. Then she added, “I am exceedingly glad that you have got something good at last. It must be a great relief to your poor mother.”

“I fancied, Alice — though it may have been only fancy — I fancied that YOUR mother was colder than usual in her manner this morning. I hope that the luxuries of this palatial mansion are powerless to corrupt your heart. I cannot lead you to a castle and place crowds of liveried servants at your beck and call; but I can make you mistress of an honorable English home, independent of the bounty of strangers. You can never be more than a lady, Alice.”

“It is very good of you to lecture me, I am sure.”

“You might be serious with me,” he said, rising in illhumor, and walking a little way down the room.

“I think the offer of a man’s hand ought to be received with respect.”

“Oh! I did not quite understand. I thought we agreed that you are not to make me that offer every time we meet.”

“It was equally understood that the subject was only deferred until I should be in a position to resume it without binding you to a long engagement. That time has come now; and I expect a favorable answer at last. I am entitled to one, considering how patiently I have waited for it.”

“For my part, Wallace, I must say I do not think it wise for you to think of marrying with only three hundred and fifty pounds a year.”

“With a house: remember that; and coals and gas! You are becoming very prudent, now that you live with Miss Whatshername here. I fear you no longer love me, Alice.”

“I never said I loved you at any time.”

“Pshaw! You never said so, perhaps; but you always gave me to understand that—”

“I did nothing of the sort, Wallace; and I won’t have you say so.”

“In short,” he retorted, bitterly, “you think you will pick up some swell here who will be a better bargain than I am.”

“Wallace! How dare you?”

“You hurt my feelings, Alice, and I speak out. I know how to behave myself quite as well as those who have the entree here; but when my entire happiness is at stake I do not stand on punctilio. Therefore, I insist on a straightforward answer to my fair, honorable proposal.”

“Wallace,” said Alice, with dignity; “I will not be forced into giving an answer against my will. I regard you as a cousin.”

“I do not wish to be regarded as a cousin. Have I ever regarded you as a cousin?”

“And do you suppose, Wallace, that I should permit you to call me by my Christian name, and be as familiar as we have always been together, if you were not my cousin? If so, you must have a very strange opinion of me.”

“I did not think that luxury could so corrupt—”

“You said that before,” said Alice, pettishly. “Do not keep repeating the same thing over and over; you know it is one of your bad habits. Will you stay to lunch? Miss Carew told me to ask you.”

“Indeed! Miss Carew is very kind. Please inform her that I am deeply honored, and that I feel quite disturbed at being unable to accept her patronage.”

Alice poised her head disdainfully. “No doubt it amuses you to make yourself ridiculous,” she said; “but I must say I do not see any occasion for it.”

“I am sorry that my behavior is not sufficiently good for you. You never found any cause to complain of it when our surroundings were less aristocratic. I am quite ashamed of taking so much of your valuable time. GOOD-morning.”

“Good-morning. But I do not see why you are in such a rage.”

“I am not in a rage. I am only grieved to find that you are corrupted by luxury. I thought your principles were higher. Good-morning, Miss Goff. I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you again in this very choice mansion.”

“Are you really going, Wallace?” said Alice, rising.

“Yes. Why should I stay?”

She rang the bell, greatly disconcerting him; for he had expected her to detain him and make advances for a reconciliation. Before they could exchange more words, Bashville entered.

“Goodbye,” said Alice, politely.

“Goodbye,” he replied, through his teeth. He walked loftily out, passing Bashville with marked scorn.

He had left the house, and was descending the terrace steps, when he was overtaken by the footman, who said, civilly,

“Beg your pardon, sir. You’ve forgotten this, I think.” And he handed him a walking-stick.

Parker’s first idea was that his stick had attracted the man’s attention by the poor figure it made in the castle hall, and that Bashville was requesting him, with covert superciliousness, to remove his property. On second thoughts, his self-esteem rejected this suspicion as too humiliating; but he resolved to show Bashville that he had a gentleman to deal with. So he took the stick, and instead of thanking Bashville, handed him five shillings.

Bashville smiled and shook his head. “Oh, no, sir,” he said, “thank you all the same! Those are not my views.”

“The more fool you,” said Parker, pocketing the coins, and turning away.

Bashville’s countenance changed. “Come, come, sir,” he said, following Parker to the foot of the stops, “fair words deserve fair words. I am no more a fool than you are. A gentleman should know his place as well as a servant.”

“Oh, go to the devil,” muttered Parker, turning very red and hurrying away.

“If you weren’t my mistress’s guest,” said Bashville, looking menacingly after him, “I’d send you to bed for a week for sending me to the devil.”

Table of Contents

Miss Carew remorselessly carried out her intention of going to London, where she took a house in Regent’s Park, to the disappointment of Alice, who had hoped to live in Mayfair, or at least in South Kensington. But Lydia set great store by the high northerly ground and open air of the park; and Alice found almost perfect happiness in driving through London in a fine carriage and fine clothes. She liked that better than concerts of classical music, which she did not particularly relish, or even than the opera, to which they went often. The theatres pleased her more, though the amusements there were tamer than she had expected. Society was delightful to her because it was real London society. She acquired a mania for dancing; went out every night, and seemed to herself far more distinguished and attractive than she had ever been in Wiltstoken, where she had nevertheless held a sufficiently favorable opinion of her own manners and person.