Grown to be a woman--yes, she was; ordering and arranging things with a woman's wisdom and skill; ordering _him_, Mr. Copley felt with a queer sensation; and yet, so simple and free and sweet in all her words and ways as might have become seven instead of seventeen. St. Leger might be glad if he could get her! Yet she was inconvenient to Mr. Copley.
She stood in his way, like the angel in Balaam's; only not with a sword drawn, but with loving looks, and kisses, and graces, and wiles of affection; and who could withstand an angel? He gave up trying; he let her have her way; and when dinner time came, Dolly and he had an almost jovial dinner. Until Mr. Copley rose from table, unlocked a cupboard, and took out a bottle of wine. Dolly's heart gave a sudden leap that meant a throe of pain. Was there another fight to be fought? How should she fight another fight? But the emergency pressed her.
"O father," she cried, "is that sherry?"
"No, it is better," said her father--pouring out a glass,--"it is Madeira."
Dolly saw the hand tremble that grasped the bottle, and she sprang up.
She went round to her father, fell down on her knees before him, and laid one hand on the hand that had just seized the glass, the other on his shoulder.
"Please, father, don't take it! please don't take it!" she said in imploring tones. Mr. Copley paused.
"Not take it? Why not?" said he.
"It is not good for you. I know you ought not to take it, father.
Please, please, don't!"
Dolly's eagerness and distress were too visible to be disregarded, by Mr. Copley at least. Her hand was trembling too. His still held the glass, but he looked uncertainly at Dolly, and asked her why it should not be good for him? Every gentleman in the land drank wine--that could afford it.
"But, father," said Dolly, "can you afford it?"
"Yes," said Mr. Copley. "Get up, Dolly. Here is the wine; it costs no more to drink it than to let it alone." And he swallowed the wine in the glass at a single draught.
"O father, don't take any more!" cried Dolly, seeing a preparatory movement of the hand towards the bottle. "O father! don't, don't! One glass is enough. Don't take any more to-day!"
"You talk like a goose, Dolly," said Mr. Copley, filling his glass. "I feel better already for that. It has done me good."
"You only think so. It is not doing you good. O father! if you love me, put the bottle away. Don't take a drop more!"
Dolly had turned pale in her agony of pleading; and her father, conscious in part, and ashamed with that secret consciousness, and taken by surprise at her action, looked at her and--did not drink.
"What's the matter with you, child?" he said, trying for an unconcerned manner. "Why should not I take wine, like everybody else in the world?"
"Father, it isn't good for people."
"I beg your pardon; it is very good for me. Indeed, I cannot be well without it."
"That's the very thing, father; people cannot do without it; and then it comes to be the master; and then--they cannot help themselves. Oh, do let it alone!"
"What's the matter, Dolly?" Mr. Copley repeated with an air of injury, which was at the same time miserably marred by embarrassment. "Do you think I cannot help myself? or how am I different from every other gentleman who takes wine?"
"Father, a great many of them are ruined by it."
"Well, I am not ruined by it yet."
"Father, how can you tell what might be? Father, I can't bear it!"
Dolly could not indeed; she broke down. She sat on the floor and sobbed.
If Mr. Copley could have been angry with her; but he could not, she was so sweet in every pleading look and tone. If he could have dismissed her pleading as the whimsy of a fool; but he could not, for he knew it was wise truth. If he had been further gone in the habit which was growing upon him, to the point of brutality; but he was not yet; he was a man of affectionate nature. So he did not get angry, and though he wished Dolly at Brierley instead of in his room, he could not let her break her heart, seeing that she was there. He looked at her in uncomfortable silence for a minute or two; and then the bitterness of Dolly's sobs was more than he could stand. He rose and put the bottle away, locked it up, and came back to his place. Dolly's distress hindered her knowing what he had done.
"It's gone," Mr. Copley said in an injured tone, as of one oppressed and persecuted. "It is put away, Dolly; you need not sit there any longer."
Dolly looked up, rose from the floor, came into her father's arms, laid her two arms about his neck and her weary head upon his shoulder. It was a soft little head, and the action was like a child. Mr. Copley clasped her tenderly.
"Dolly," he said,--"my child--you are giving yourself a great deal more trouble than you need."
Dolly murmured, "Thank you, father!"
"You mustn't be superstitious."
Alas! Dolly had seen his face already altered by the indulgence of his new habits. Involuntarily her arms pressed him closer, and she only by an effort prevented a new outbreak of bitter sorrow. That was not best just now. She put a force upon herself; after a while looked up, and kissed her father; kissed him again and again.
"I declare!" said Mr. Copley, half delighted and half conscience-stricken, "you are a little witch, Dolly. Is this the way you are going to rule other folks beside me? Mr. St. Leger, for instance?"
"Mercy, father! no," said Dolly, recoiling.
"I don't believe he would be hard to manage. He's desperately in love with you, Dolly."
"Father, I don't want to manage. And I don't think Lawrence is in any danger. It isn't in him to be desperate about anything."
"So much the better, I think," said her father. "What if he should want to go with us to Venice?"
"Don't let him! We do not want him."
"He would be useful, I daresay. And I should have to take my secretary, Dolly."
"Take that other fellow, the one I saw in your office to-day."
"What, Babbage? He's a raw article, Dolly, very raw. I put him there to answer questions. The fellow was in a forlorn state here with nothing to do."
They calmed down after a while; and the rest of the evening was largely spent in considering plans and details of their projected movements. It was agreed that Dolly should rejoin Mrs. Jersey the next day, to be ready to return to Brierley with her; that then all preparations should be made for a speedy start to the Continent. Father and daughter talked themselves into ordinary composure, and when they had bid each other good night, Dolly went to rest with a feeling of some hopefulness.
CHAPTER XVII.
RUPERT.
Mrs. Jersey could not leave town the next day. Dolly had to wait. It was hard waiting. She half wished she had stayed that day also with her father; yet when she asked herself why?--she shuddered. To take care of him? to watch and keep guard over him? What use, for one day, when she could do it no longer? Mr. Copley must be left to himself; and a feeling of helplessness stole over her. From the momentary encouragement and hope, she fell back again to take a more comprehensive view of the subject; she saw that all was not gained yet, and it might be that nothing! And she could do no more, except pray.
Poor Dolly did that; but the strain of fear, the horror of shame, the grief of hurt affection, began to make her very sore. She was not getting accustomed to her burden; it was growing more insupportably galling; the only hope for the whole family lay in getting together and remaining together, and in this journey taking Mr. Copley away from his haunts and his tempters. Yet Dolly reflected with trembling that the temptation, both temptations, would meet them on their way; if a man desired to drink or to play, he would never be at a loss for the opportunity or the companions. Dolly wrung her hands and prayed again.
However, something was gained; and Dolly on her return reported to her mother that they were to set off for the Continent in a few days. She brought down money, moreover, to pay off the servants; and with a heart so far lightened, went bravely at the preparations to be made.
"And will your father go with us to Venice?"
"Of course, mother. We cannot go without him."
"What if Venice shouldn't agree with me?"
"Oh, then we'll go on further. I think Naples would agree with you.