Ruby usually accompanied us; and as the two old people
naturally occupied the seat of honour at the back of the carriage, why,
of course Ruby and I had to sit together with our backs to the horses--a
mode of progression which I had never before known to be so agreeable. Every evening, Ruby and I walked out on the terrace in the moonlight;
and I need hardly say that the moon, in spite of her pretended coldness,
is really the most romantic and sentimental satellite in the whole solar
system. To cut a long story short, by the end of the fortnight I was
very distinctly in love with Ruby; and if you won't think the avowal a
conceited one, I venture to judge by the sequel that Ruby was almost
equally in love with me. One afternoon, towards the close of my second week at Cannes, Ruby and I
were sitting together on the retired seat in the grounds beside the pond
with the goldfish. It was a delicious sunny afternoon, with the last
touch of southern summer in the air, and Ruby was looking even prettier
than usual, in her brocade pattern print dress, and her little straw hat
with the scarlet poppies. (Ruby always dressed--I may say dresses--in
the very simplest yet most charming fashion). There was something in the
time and place that moved me to make a confession I had for some time
been meditating; so I looked straight in her face, and not being given
to long speeches, I said to her just this, "Ruby, you are the sweetest
girl I ever saw in my life. Will you marry me?" Ruby only looked at me with a face full of merriment, and burst out
laughing. "Why, Mr. Payne," she said (she had dropped that hideous
prefix long ago), "you've hardly known me yet a fortnight, and here you
come to me with a regular declaration. How can I have had time to think
about my answer to such a point-blank question?" "If you like, Ruby," I answered, "we can leave it open for a little; but
it occurs to me you might as well say 'yes' at once: for if we leave it
open, common sense teaches me that you probably mean to say yes in the
long-run." And to clench the matter outright, I thought it best to stoop
across and kiss Ruby just once, by way of earnest. Ruby took the kiss
calmly and sedately; so then I knew the matter was practically settled. "But there's one thing, Mr. Payne, I must really insist upon," Ruby said
very quietly; "and that is that I mustn't be called Mrs. Aikin-Payne. If
I marry you at all, I must marry you as plain Mr. Payne without any
Aikin. So that's clearly understood between us." Here was a terrible condition indeed! I reasoned with Ruby, I explained
to Ruby, I told Ruby that if she positively insisted upon it I must go
back to my three hundred a year and my paltry schoolmastership, and must
give up my uncle Aikin's money. Ruby would hear of no refusal. "You have always the alternative of marrying somebody else, you know,
Mr. Payne," she said with her most provoking and bewitching smile; "but
if you really do want to marry me, you know the conditions." "But, Ruby, you would never care to live upon a miserable pittance of
three hundred a year! I hate the name as much as you do, but I think I
should try to bear it for the sake of twelve hundred a year and perfect
comfort." No, Ruby was inexorable. "Take me or leave me," she said with provoking
calmness, "but if you take me, give up your uncle's ridiculous
suggestion. You can have three days to make your mind up. Till then, let
us hear no more about the subject." IV. During those three days I kept up a brisk fire of telegrams with old
Blenkinsopp in Chancery Lane; and at the end of them I came mournfully
to the conclusion that I must either give up Ruby or give up the twelve
hundred a year. If I had been a hero of romance I should have had no
difficulty at all in deciding the matter: I would have nobly refused the
money off-hand, counting it as mere dross compared with the loving heart
of a beautiful maiden. But unfortunately I am not a hero of romance; I
am only an ordinary graduate of an English university. Under these
circumstances, it did seem to me very hard that I must throw away twelve
hundred a year for a mere sentimental fancy. And yet, on the other hand,
not only did I hate the name myself, but I couldn't bear to impose it on
Ruby; and as to telling Ruby that I wouldn't have her, because I
preferred the money, that was clearly quite impossible. The more I
looked the thing in the face, the more certain it appeared that I must
relinquish my dream of wealth and go back (with Ruby) to my
schoolmastering and my paltry three hundred. After all, lots of other
fellows marry on that sum; and to say the truth, I positively shrank
myself from going through life under the ridiculous guise of an
Aikin-Payne. The upshot of it all was that at the end of the three days, I took Ruby
a little walk alone among the olive gardens behind the shrubbery. "Ruby," I said to her, falteringly, "you're the most fantastic,
self-willed, imperious little person I ever met with, and I want to make
just one more appeal to you. Won't you reconsider your decision, and
take me in spite of the surname?" Ruby grubbed up a little weed with the point of her parasol, and looked
away from me steadfastly as she answered with her immovable and annoying
calmness, "No, Mr. Payne, I really can't reconsider the matter in any
way. It was you who took three days to make your mind up. Have you made
it up yet or not, pray?" "I _have_ made it up, Ruby." "And you mean----?" she said interrogatively, with a faint little tremor
in her voice which I had never before noticed, and which thrilled
through me with the ecstasy of a first discovery. "And I mean," I answered, "to marry you, Ruby, if you will condescend to
take me, and let my Uncle Aikin's money go to Halifax. Can you manage,
Ruby, to be happy, as a poor schoolmaster's wife in a very tiny
cottage?" To my joy and surprise, Ruby suddenly seized both my hands in hers,
kissed me twice of her own accord, and began to cry as if nothing could
stop her. "Then you do really and truly love me," she said through her
tears, holding fast to my hands all the time; "then you're really
willing to make this great sacrifice for me!" "Ruby," I said, "my darling, don't excite yourself so. And indeed it
isn't a very great sacrifice either, for I hate the name so much I
hardly know whether I could ever have endured to bear it." "You shan't bear it," Ruby cried, eagerly, now laughing and clapping her
hands above me. "You shan't bear it, and yet you shall have your Uncle
Aikin's money all the same for all that." "Why, what on earth do you mean, Ruby?" I asked in amazement. "Surely,
my darling, you can't understand how strict the terms of the will
actually are. I'm afraid you have been deluding yourself into a belief
in some impossible compromise. But you must make your mind up to one
thing at once, that unless I call myself Aikin-Payne, you'll have to
live the rest of your life as a poor schoolmaster's wife.