Chapter 42

"May be hanged!" said the young man; "I mean--never mind--I don't mean him any harm, though, by Jove, if you make such a pet of him, I don't know what I shall think. Miss Phoebe, I've come over post-haste, as you may see; chiefly to see you; and to try a horse as well," he added, "which the governor has just bought. He's a very good 'un to go; and pleased the governor would be if he knew the use I had put him to," he concluded, with a half-laugh.

Phoebe knew as well as he did what that use was. He had brought his father's horse out for the first time, to carry him here to propose to her, in spite of his father. This was the delicate meaning which it amused him to think of. She understood it all, and it brought a glow of colour to her face; but it did not steel her heart against him. She knew her Clarence, and that his standard of fine feeling and mental elevation was not high.

"Look here," he said, "I wish I could speak to you, Miss Phoebe, somewhere better than in the street. Yes, in the garden--that will do. It ain't much of a place either to make a proposal in, for that's what I've come to do; but you don't want me to go down on my knees, or make a fuss, eh? I got up in the middle of the night to be here first thing and see you. I never had a great deal to say for myself," said Clarence, "you won't expect me to make you fine speeches; but I _am_ fond of you--awfully fond of you, Phoebe, that's the truth. You suit me down to the ground, music and everything. There's no girl I ever met that has taken such a hold upon me as you."

Phoebe heard him very quietly, but her heart beat loud. She stood on the gravel between the flower-borders, where the primroses were beginning to wither, and glanced over her life of the past and that of the future, which were divided by this moment like the two beds of flowers; one homely, not very distinguished, simple enough--the other exalted by wealth to something quite above mediocrity. Her heart swelled, full as it was with so many emotions of a totally different kind. She had gained a great prize, though it might not be very much to look at; more or less, she was conscious this golden apple had been hanging before her eyes for years, and now it had dropped into her hand. A gentle glow of contentment diffused itself all over her, not transport, indeed, but satisfaction, which was better.

"Mr. Copperhead--" she said, softly.

"No, hang it all, call me Clarence, Phoebe, if you're going to have me!" he cried, putting out his big hands.

"Grandmamma is looking at us from the window," she said, hurriedly, withdrawing a little from him.

"Well, and what does that matter? The old lady won't say a word, depend upon it, when she knows. Look here, Phoebe, I'll have an answer. Yes or no?"

"Have you got your father's consent--Clarence?"

"Ah, it is yes then! I thought it would be yes," he cried, seizing her in his arms. "As for the governor," added Clarence, after an interval, snapping his fingers, "I don't care _that_ for the governor. When I've set my mind on a thing, it ain't the governor, or twenty governors, that will stop me."