THE CLEVERNESS OF MR. PARADISE.

Western Star, Issue 840, 3 May 1884, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE CLEVERNESS OF MR. PARADISE.

Old Mr Paradise was a vulgar old gentleman, whose chief merit was that he had raised himself by his own industry and ability from the humblest origin to the position of a merchant prince. He had an only daughter, of whose beauty and accomplishments he was not unjustly proud. But though he was an indulgent father in most things, he made no secret of his intention that she should marry whom he pleased, and not choose a husband for herself. Like most self-made men he desired a son-in-law as rich as himself, and was particularly on his guard against needy fortune-hunters. Unfortunately he had not the tact to discriminate between the latter class and would-be suitors whose prospects would, in the opinion of a less exacting parent, have justified them in aspiring to his daughter’s hand. Por nothing could be reasonably

urged against young Acheaon Balbernie, whose admiration for Ethel Paradise was honest and undisguised. He was Adjutant to his regiment, and was regarded as a highly-promising young officer. Besides being a gentleman by birth and education, he had a very fair private income, and, in short, most parents would have regarded him rather a good match. But Mr Paradise was by no means satisfied with the young man’s prospects and position, and when it began to dawn upon him that matters were getting serious, he immediately assumed a hostile and aggrea fr /e attitude. “1 shall have to give that young Balbernie a bit of my mind, Loo,” he remarked to his wife in an ominous tone, one afternoon, observing the young man deep in an animated conversation with Miss Ethel. “He’s always coming here.’’ “ I’m sure, John, you particularly asked him here yourself,” said Mrs Paradise, uneasily. “ I asked the whole garrison for that matter,” he returned sharply. “If he had any proper feeling, he’d have stopped away.” “ Why ?” inquired his wife. “ Why ? Because he isn’t wanted here, that’s why,” answered Mr Paradise, impatiently. “ What he is up to is as plain as a pikestaff—he’s after our Ethel.”

"Well, I’m sure, John, he is a very nice young man,” his wife ventured to say.

“He isn’t good enough for me, and I’ll tell him so at once,” said Mr Paradise, moving off towards the tennis ground with an angry frown. “ Stay a minute, John,” said his wife imploringly. I wauldn’t say anything to him if I were you—not to-day. I —think Ethel likes him, John.” “ What!” roared old Mr Paradise, growing very red in the face. “You think the girl likes him, and you’ve never said a word to me!”

Poor Mrs Paradise looked painfully guilty, and seemed completely annihilated by her husband’s furious indignation. She was a gentle, meek-spir ited lady, who had long ago realised the truth of the old adage that riches do not constitute happiness. When she married Mr Paradise he was a struggling clerk, and in those days his temper was certainly easier to put up with. Prosperity had rendered him dictatorial and overbearing to a degree which caused him to develope into a domestic tyrant. “ There’s been some hanky-panky going on. It’s no use trying to deceive me. How do you know Ethel likes the young fellow 1” “ Well, I think so,” said Mrs Paradise, shrinking beneath his gaze. “ You mean you know it, She told you so, I suppose,” he exclaimed, reading her mind as clearly as though she had spoken. “ Yes, John, she did tell me so,” said Mrs Paradise, with a guilty start. “I suppose you are going on to say they have got engaged, and you’ve been encouraging them behind my back,” he said, still fiercely interrogating her.

“ Ethel knows she cannot consider herself engaged without your consent, John,” said his wife, plucking up a little spirit from sheer desperation. “ When she told me, I said the matter must be kept secret until I had asked if you had any objections. 1 thought it better that 1 should break the news to you before Mr Balbernie spoke.” “ Weil, I won’t keep him long in suspense; and I shall have a word to say with you afterwards, Loo, about what 1 think of your conduct,” said Mr Paradise, pale with anger, and controlling himself with a great effort, as he walked towards the door.

“John ! John 1” she cried after him, half rising from her seat. “Well?” he said impatiently, over his shoulder.

“ Thiuk of poor Ethel, John,” murmured his wife.

“I am thinking of her, only you and i don’t think alike on the subject,” he growled. Poor Mrs Paradise sank back in her chair with a very frightened look upon her face, and then endeavoured to compose herself to chat with a neighbour who had just called. She had done her best, poor thing, to avert the scene which threatened her daughter’s happiness. When young Balbernie wrote Ethel Paradise the next day, expressing his unalterable devotion to her, but stating his resolve never to darken her father’s doors again, the girl felt compelled, under the circumstances, to write and release him from his engagement. However spiritless and cold-hearted the course may appear, it was undoubtedly the proper one to pursue, and Mrs Paradise joined with her husband m approving her action. It soon became evident, however, that the poor t,irl had miscalculated her fortitude in making so great a sacrifice. She had broken ofl’ the edgagemeut less from fear of her father than from a proper feeling of pride. But the loss of her lover proved a blow which seriously affected her health. The upshot was that she was sent away from home to stay with some friends in the north, while her father’s satisfaction at having got rid of young Balbernie was considerably diminished by the suffering he had caused his child.

Meanwhile Acheson Balbernie’s regh ment had been ordered to another part of the country, and old Air Paialise saw nor heard anything of him

for some time. After an absence of nearly three months, Ethel returned home, having apparently entirely recovered from her disappointment. Old Mr Paradise, whose pride and affection were centred in his daughter, was immensely relieved by the improvement he perceived in her, and felt that at length he could honestly congratulate himself upon having interfered to prevent what he considered would ha ve been an unfortunate marriage. One day, however, he was walking through the grounds attached to his house, when he met his daughter’s maid hurrying through towards the lodge gates with a letter in her hand. Something suspicious in the girl’s demeanour attracted his attention, and he had the curiosity to ask what her errand was. On her replying that she was going into the village to post a letter for her young mistress, old Mr Paradise asked* to see it, and to his amazement found it was addressed to young Balbernie. “I’ll post this,’’ he said gruffly. “ But look here now; take a walk down the village and come back as if nothing had happened. Don’t say you gave the letter to me. Don’t say anything about it. Do you understand ?”

“Tes, sir,” faltered the girl, thoroughly alarmed by his tone and gestures.

As soon as the girl’s back was turned, he opened the letter without the faintest scruple. Whatever he supposed, he was thoroughly taken aback by what he read. His daughter wrote that she had obtained her mother’s consent to be married privately in London, and that her mother would make an excuse and accompany her to town on the day named in the following week, when the ceremony could be performed. This was the gist of the letter, which contained allusions from which Mr Paradise gathered, with rage and astonishment, that the lovers had recently met and become reconciled, and that his wife had connived at, if not actually suggested the renewal of their attachment. \Yhat infuriated him above everything else was that, judging from certain expressions in his daughter’s letter, young Balbernie seemed by no means overawed by him, and one would have imagined that young Balbernie was the rich man and he the poor one. To say that old Paradise foamed at the mouth with rage and indignation would hardly be an exaggeration. His daughter’s disobedience, his wife’s treachery, and young Balbernie’s calm contempt for his parental authority rendered him utterly furious. He put the letter in his pocket and hurried towards the house as fast as his legs could carry him, bursting to give vent to his pent up feelings. But on arriving there he found a neighbour’s carriage at the door as well as his own. This reminded him that he was due at the local bench, of which, for the time being, he was chairman, and the recollection of his judicial importance helped to soothe his angry agitation. It occurred to him, too, that he could not very well reproach his wife and daughter before visitors, but his impatience was so great that he could not bear the idea of stifling his wrath until the guests departed. He wisely resolved, however, to keep his magisterial engagement, and reserve the scene with his wife until his return. it was observed at the local bench that morning that a remarkable change came over the worshipful the chairman in the course of the proceedings. At the opening of the Court, there was a look of suppressed irritation upon his brow, which boded ill for the unfortunate prisoners who were to come before him. But, half an hour later, he suddenly recovered from his illhumour, and for the rest of the day nis demeanour was, for him, quite amiable and inoffensive. The cause of this phenomenon was that during a short pause which ensued between one case and another, a brother magistrate had whispered to him behind his hand—“l say, Paradise I Do you remember that young Balbernie whom I introduced to you last summer ?” “Yes, I do,” he returned, shortly. “ Have you heard he has come in for a fortune—nearly half a million, they say.

“ Eeally, now I' HoW do you know?** inquired old Mr Paradise, quickly. •‘I saw it announced in a Scotch paper but I heard ic before. An uncl e died and left him everything. By-the» by, I heard he was spooney on your daughter, Paradise.” . The next case being then called on, Mr Paradise was spared the necessity of replying to this awkward remark. The news fairly took his breath away, but though he could hardly realise it, it had the effect of banishing his evil temper. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he had made a fool of himself ; but on the other hand the discovery that his daughter and young Balbernie had come together again was now a great relief to him, instead of a source of anger and indignation. Having got what particulars his brother magistrate could furnish of young Balbernie’s fortune, Mr Paradise returned home in the best possible spirits, in joyful anticipation of the agreeable task of withdrawing his opposition to his child’s wishes, and bringing about the marriage without delay. But he was a shrewd old gentleman, and during the drive home it occurred to him that upon the whole it might be wiser, under the circum? stances, uot to volunteer his consent}

He therefore resolved to allow the conspiracy which he had discovered to take its course. There was something in the notion which tickled his sense of humour; and the prospect of quietly looking on while his wife and daughter imagined he was ignorant of their proceedings, promised to afford him amusement. W hen the marriage had taken place, he would be able to play the part of a magnanimous and forgiving parent, while his neighbours would ifut be able to accuse him of bringing about the marriage in consequence of;his son-in-law’s altered circumstances.

Old Mr Paradise thought himself very clejpr indeed when he had arrived at this determination, and chuckled a good deal at his own acuteness. He first posted his daughter’s letter, which he had fortunately opened in such a manner that he was able to seal it again without leaving any conspicuous trace of its having been tampered with. He also took the precaution to bribe his daughter’s maid, and had the satisfaction of learning that she had not mentioned that he had intercepted the letter. He often felt strongly tempted to mention young Balbernie’s name, for the purpose of enjoying their consternation ; but he refrained from doing so from his anxiety not to give the slightest ground for suspicion that he guessed what was in the wind. Besides, he was sufficiently diverted by watching the secret preparations which were going forward. He derived a grim sort of satisfaction, in the midst of his good humour, from his poor wife’s tremulous eagerness to appear calm and unconcerned. It was evident that her conscience smote her severely for her disloyalty, and that she was thoroughly cowed at the prospect of incurring his anger and indignation. His daughter, on the other hand, had an air of quiet determination, in spite of her natural trepidation, which impressed Mr Paradise with the conviction that perhaps after all his poor wife, in giving her countenance and support to the conspiracy, was only acting as she thought for the best in a desperate situation. When the day fixed for the wedding arrived, Mr Paradise started off early in the morning for a neighbouring town, from whence he proposed to travel to London. He had learnt from his daughter’s letter the name of the church where the ceremony was to take place, and he intended to be present as a spectator if he could creep in unobserved. His wife bad mentioned that she was going to take Ethel to London for a day’s shopping, and he gravely accepted the announcement, while secretly laughing in his sleeve. It is possible, had he known nothing, his suspicion might have been aroused by the manner in, which his daughter clung to him when she kissed him before he left. Indeed, he almost broke down himself at that critical moment, and found it necessary 1 to assume an aspect of boisterous hilarity in oriieji to hide his emotion.

Mr Paradise managed to be present at his daughter’s wedding. It. took place in a large and gloomy church at the West end of London, and he contrived to mingle with the small crowd of passers-by, who had been attracted by the signs of the quiet wedding. When Mrs Paradise arrived back later in the day, she was greeted by her husband, who met her in the hall, and at once inquired, in a perfectly natural manner, what had become of Ethel.

“ I will tell you, John. Gome into the diningroom, she said, leading the way with a faltering step and a face as white as marble.

Old Mr Paradise followed, secretly gratified by his wife’s fear-stricken aspect. But when she turned upon him, the agony of apprehension which was visible in her scared face and imploring gaae touched a chord of pity in his heart, and disarmed his resentment.

“Never mind, Loo, old girl,)* he interposed, not unkindly, as she moved her pale lips to speak. “ I know what you are going to say. You are going to say that Ethel has married young Balberme.”

“ Oh, John I How did you guess ?” she cried, clasping her hands, and staring at him in a terrified way* “It was no use trying to conceal anything from me, Loo,” he said, unable to resist the temptation of revealing his shrewdness. “ I’ve known what was up for the last fortnight. Why, I went to the church this jmorning. But you needn’t let out that I knew it before this moment," he added hastily, repeating of his rash confession.

“ Then you will forgive them, John,” exclaimed his wife, passionately, seizing his hand and kissing it. “ There I there! I suppose 1 must,” he returned with apparent reluctance. She is your only child, and I daresay Balbernie isn’t such a bad young fellow. In fact, Loo, I’ve done it already, and I’ve been and made a fool of myself.” “ What do you mean ?” she inquired, nervously. “I didn’t want my girl to go to her husband empty-handed,” said the old man with conscious pride; “so 1 went to my lawyer and I settled a hundred thousand pounds on her. I guess there are not many fathers in England who can do that without winking.”

“ Oh, John 1 It is good, it is noble o£ you,” cried his wife, hysterically. “ What’s more,” resumed old Paradise, as if resolved to outdo himself in generosity,-‘‘ I'll write a letter to

the young fellow, and say that I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. It’s no use doing things by halves, Loo; and as he is our daughter’s husband, we had better make the best of it.”

“ He walked from the room as he spoke, leaving his wife too dazed to realize the full measure of relief and joy which his behaviour brought her. After a short interval he returned with a letter which he had written to his son-in-law. It was short and to the point, but was decidedly cordial in its tone, and could hardly fail to reconcile the young man to his father-in-law. Among other things it mentioned the handsome settlement he had made upon his daughter, and enclosed was a cheque for £SOO to enable the young couple to purchase a wedding present from him during their honeymoon. This letter the old man went out and posted with his own hand then and there.

During the evening he caught his wife looking at him once or twice in rather an anxious, wistful manner, and being in high good humour, he said at length—- “ What’s up, old lady? Out with it. You’ve something on your mind.” “No, John, I haven’t,” she said rather hastily. “ I was only wondering if you had heard the report about Ethel’s husband having come in for a fortune.”

“ Goodness gracious! What do you mean ?” he exclaimed, with every appearance of extreme surprise. “ Oh ! It is all right, then,” said his wife, with an air of inexpressible relief “ The fact is he has been a good deal annoyed by a report which appeared in a Scotch paper. A cousin of his—almost a namesake—came in for a large fortune the other day, and every one jumped at the conclusion that it was he. He has been overwhelmed with congratulations, and I thought perhaps you had heard the news, and that was why you —you ” “ Loo!” cried Mr Paradise, in a voice of thunder, after a short pause, during which he grew purple in the face. “ It’s perfectly disgraceful of you to think that I could be such a mean hypocrite! I’m ashamed of you!”— Truth.