THAT BOY TEDDY. "Then you refuse to obey me in this matter ?" "I do; because the commands you seek to lay upon me are neither reasonable nor right," was the passionate reply. " We will dispense with your comments upon my conduct, if you please. It is yours which is under discussion,' and if you decline to alter it there is no more to be said." A brief silence followed upon this calm, curt, half-contemptuous response to the younger man's eager, passionate speech. It was a curious scene, yet not an uncommon one— nay, -one which novelists have idealised times without number, 3incc the very earliest days of the novel and the play. It was a lofty and handsome room, well furnished, and filled with all the gems of art, literature, and vertu which wealth and taste can so easily procure. In a word, it was the library of Heatherlie Honour, which from time immemorial has been the home of the Heatherlies. In this room, on a dull December afternoon, Sir William Heatherlie and his son Will were facing each other, with bitter scorn and anger on their faces, and the fire of a settled purpose shining in their eyes. Both possessed the indomitable Heatherlie will, and neither would yield an inch to the other. It was the old story, so often idealised by my brothers and sisters of the pen, a rupture betwixt father and son, caused, of course, by a woman. They were very handsome men, and : the tall, erect, ; commanding figure of Sir William carriedhis sixty years weU. His son was in the vigour ■ and glory of his early manhood, being only in his twenty-fifth year. He was 'known ' far and wide as handsome Will Heatherlie, I and most assuredly he deserved his title, j He had not only a handsome face, but it was a good one — honest, tender, , and true, I as he was himself, to the inmost core. Father and son loved each other well, yet not infrequently,, especially since Will bad,come to man's estate, had the hot Heatherlie temper brought them . into collision with , each other, but their differences were seldom of long duration. Hitherto, however, they .had been of a trivial.nature, 'but. the cause of this rupture was a much more serious matter, involving in Will's eyes his own happiness and. that of one a thousand times' dearer than himself; in the eyes of SirWilliam the honour of the old house, the, good report of Heatherlie Honour itself . ' "lam sure that when you thihk oyer it a little, father, you will come to see ; that jit is ; ' not a very unreasonable thing I aim' asking," ' said Will, breaking the: silence, during ': which the old gentleman .had turned ;away to his writing-table as ;if the matter was , quite at an end. '" ' ; : ' Sir William passed over his sons-- some- ; what deprecating remark in absolute silence. " I wish you'd tell me your objections tc Miss Ford," pursued the young man. >" I assure you she is a thorough gentlewoman, : as my mother was." 1 Instantly his father's blazing eyes were ,' turned upon his face. "Do not, I beg :of you, insult _ ybur mother's memory by mentioning her in.the same breath with the girl who has so r pitifully befooled you," he thundered. ' "] know not, care not, whether this shrgeon's daughter possesses the out ward, forms, b: gentility ; all I have to say is, 'that nqvei while I live shall she set foot upon jtht threshold of Heatherlie Honour — no; poi after I am dead," he added-fiercely, undei his breath. i " Then am I to understand that, if liremain true to Miriam Ford, the doors oi Heatherlie Honour will be closed upon m«! for all time coming?" -,.■ "You have said it," was the curt reply. Again there was a deep and p__i_fa silence. " Father," said Will Heatherlie at length, his deep musical tones breathing something of the reproach which filled his heart, " what have I done to deserve such harsh treatmenl at your hands ? Have I not been a dutiful son ? Have I not consulted your wishes ir everything, even after I grew to man's estate?" " I do not deny that you have been anc done all you say," responded the father, ir calm, indifferent tones. " Then will you not admit that, when il comes to a matter in which my life's happiness is involved, I have earned the right tc kindly considerations at your hands?" " Anything short of disgrace has not that,' was all Sir William said. "Disgrace!" echoed Will, and his darl face flushed deeply red. " Have a care, father. What disgrace could attach to z marriage with the daughter of a man whe was revered and worshipped in Sleaford, and who, when be died, was followed to the grave by thousands of the poor, whose lifelong friend he had been ?" "Miriam Ford is a country surgeon's daughter ; you are Heatherlie, of Heatherlie, Honour, therefore there can be no marriage between yoUi" said the old man slowly. ' ' Listen, boy. For five hundred years there have been Heatherlies in Heatherlie Honour, and not once during these centuries have the records of the house been sullied by the words mesalliance or disgrace. As I stand here it shall so continue — ay, even though the old name should die with me. Better honourable extinction than dishonourable perpetuity. I have no more to say, except to ask you to choose, and choose quickly, betwixt this plebian and me." " I can choose quickly enough," said Will, hotly. . " Not for the rent-roll of Heatherlie Honour, multiplied seventy times seven, will I give up the woman I love." . " That being so, I presume that you are prepared to quit the home which you holtf in so little esteem," said Sir William, quietly, but his face was deadly pale, his eyes gleaming with passion resolutely held in curb. " At once and for ever," exclaimed Will, for his passion, too, was now fully roused. "Thank God, I have an honest heart, willing, and a pair of strong hands,' able, tc work for the wife He has given to me." " I hope the willing heart and the strong hands will not speedily find out theii woful mistake," said Sir William, witb curling lip, and glancing expressively at the white hands which had never been soiled by harder work than handling the ribbons or the sportsman's gun. " One word ere you go," he added as Will turned upon his heel. "Weigh well this matter ere you take the irrevocable step. Once you quit the doors of , Heatherlie Honour, they will be closed against you for all time coming. See to it that you know precisely what your chances in the future are. Because, though the day should come when you stand in the bitter need of aid, I will turn a deaf ear to your entreaties, even as you now have turned a deaf ear td mine." •* My decision is made," fell briefly and coldly from Will Heiatherlie's lips, and, turning upon his heel once more, he strode out of the room. Half-an-hour afterwards the old man, sitting by the library table, heard a quick step on the stair, and presently the abrupt shutting of the hall door. He rose and looked out of one of the long front windows, and saw,' as tie expected, the figure of his son, portmanteau in hand, striding down the avenue. A slow smile of scorn touched the proud lips, and he went back to his papers and his books, muttering that a month would cure tbe young fool of his folly. But Sir William had not yet fathomed the nature of his only •on, (Tolwooa.{nu!.d.)
Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/MH18910613.2.17.5
Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka
Manawatu Herald, Volume III, 13 June 1891, Page 4
Word count
Tapeke kupu
1,275Page 4 Advertisements Column 5 Manawatu Herald, Volume III, 13 June 1891, Page 4
Using this item
Te whakamahi i tēnei tūemi
No known copyright (New Zealand)
To the best of the National Library of New Zealand’s knowledge, under New Zealand law, there is no copyright in this item in New Zealand.
You can copy this item, share it, and post it on a blog or website. It can be modified, remixed and built upon. It can be used commercially. If reproducing this item, it is helpful to include the source.
For further information please refer to the Copyright guide.