Free The Last and the First by Ivy Compton-Burnett Page A

Heriot,
    You will be surprised by my writing to you, and even more surprised by what I write. I should be held to know you very little. But I seem to myself to know you well. And I am venturing to ask you if you will be my wife.
    I can offer material ease, a suitable settlement, and all my feeling.
    If you do not accept my offer I will ask simply and openly that my mother shall not know of it.
    Yours in devotion, if hardly in hope,
    Hamilton Grimstone.’
    â€œWell, so it is the truth. What do you feel about it? I think I like the way he writes. It is a good letter, simple and open and to the point. What do you find your feeling is? I daresay you want time to think.”
    â€œNo, I know what it is. It is what it would be, a want of it. I am surprised, and I suppose I am grateful, butnothing more. I hardly know him. I don’t even like him much. He has shown an interest in me, but I have felt nothing on my side.”
    â€œWell, don’t decide in haste. Your feelings may respond to his. That is a thing that can happen. This is not a chance that comes every day. You may not have so many. As far as I know you have had very few. You have not been happy of late. You were dissatisfied at home, and the school scheme is hardly a success. It does not leave you with much. And this offers you your own life at a time when you need it, and know your need. You should think and think again. Your tastes may be simple, but you are dependent and used to ease. And we don’t know what the future may bring.”
    â€œWe know enough,” said Sir Robert. “There is nothing that necessitates her accepting a man against her will. I have provided for my daughters. Her feelings are the only question. She must judge for herself.”
    â€œI have judged, Father, or I have not had to. I could not have a moment’s doubt. My surprise at the offer adds to the certainty. I will answer the letter and forget the whole thing as he will wish it forgotten.”
    â€œIt is a light way to deal with a matter of this moment,” said Eliza. “It is a step you can’t retrace. You may realise what you are losing, when it is too late. Do not make light of my words. I am not saying them lightly. It is the advice I would give to my own daughter.”
    â€œI daresay it is, and it may be sound on the surface. But it has no depth or meaning. Nothing that would count is there.”
    â€œHow do you feel about it, Madeline?”
    â€œAs Hermia does, Mater. There can be no question.”
    â€œThere can be none,” said Sir Robert. “The matter can fall into the past.”
    â€œWell, we will leave you to discuss it by yourselves,” said Eliza, going to the door. “I don’t know what your conclusion will be. We can hear it later.”
    â€œShe does not know,” said Hermia, “though we may think she has been told. She is so used to imposing her view that she can believe in nothing else. And there is the chance of my being disposed of. I see it is becoming a problem.”
    â€œOh, that could only be a secondary thought,” said Madeline.
    â€œIt may have been, but it was there.”
    â€œI look up to you, Hermia,” said Roberta. “It is hard to believe in your history. You have escaped from home, a mighty effort, imposed a levy on the family a mightier, met a reverse with quiet courage, won a good man’s love and risen to the height of refusing it. Suppose we all lived as fully?”
    â€œAnd you have not come to the end,” said Angus. “You still have to deal with the letter. May I see the answer? Or is it not for any eyes but yours?”
    â€œIt had better be only for mine. It can hardly show me to advantage. Refusing something is not a becoming task. It does not put me in the better place.”
    â€œI should hardly have thought he had a claim to it.”
    â€œWell, perhaps in a sense,” said Madeline. “He was anyhow thinking of someone