News of the Engagement
Mr. Nixon was an old friend of the family, a man of forty-nine or fifty, who owned a hundred and seventy-five
small houses in the town. He collected the rents himself, and attended to the repairs himself, and was known as
a good landlord. He lived alone in Commerce Street, and , though not talkative, was usually jolly, with one or
two good stories to tell. He was my mother¡¯s trustee, and had morally helped her in the difficult times before
my father¡¯s early death.
¡°Well, young man,¡± cried he coming in. ¡°So you¡¯re back in old Bursley!¡±
I greeted him as gaily as I could, and then he shook hands with my mother, neither of them speaking.
¡°Mr. Nixon has come to supper, Philip,¡± said my mother.
I liked Mr. Nixon, but I was not too well pleased by this information, for I wanted to talk confidentially to my
mother. And here was Mr. Nixon in to supper! I could not break it gently to my mother that I was engaged to a
strange young woman in the presence of Mr. Nixon. Mr. Nixon had been in to supper several times during previous
visits of mine, but never on the first night.
However, I had to make the best of it. And we sat down and began on the ham, the sausages, the eggs,
and toasts, the jams, and the celery. But we, none of us, ate very much, despite my little mother¡¯s protestations.
My suspicion was that perhaps something had gone wrong with my mother¡¯s affairs, and that Mr. Nixon was
taking the first opportunity to explain things to me. But such a possibility did not interest me, for I could
easily afford to keep my mother and a wife too. I was still preoccupied in my engagement¡ªand surely there is
nothing astonishing in that¡ªand I began to compose the words in which, immediately on the departure of Mr. Nixon
after supper, I would break to my mother the news of my engagement.
When we had reached the Stilton and celery, I said that I must walk down to the post-office, as I had to send off a letter.
¡°Can¡¯t you do it tomorrow, my dear?¡± asked my mother.
¡°No, I can¡¯t,¡± I said.
Imagine! To leave Agnes two days without news of my safe arrival and without assurance of my love! I had started writing the letter in the train,
near Willesden, and finished in the drawing-room.
¡°A lady in the case?¡± Mr. Nixon called out gaily.
¡°Yes,¡± I replied with firmness.
I went out, bought a picture postcard showing St. Luke¡¯s Square, Bursley, and posted the card and the letter to my dear
Agnes. I hoped that Mr. Nixon would have departed before my return; he had not mentioned my mother¡¯s affairs at all
during supper. But he had not departed. I found him alone in the drawing-room, smoking a very fine cigar.
¡°Where¡¯s mother?¡± I asked.
¡°She¡¯s just gone out of the room,¡± he said. ¡°Come and sit down. Have a cigar. I want to have chat with you, Philip.¡±
I obeyed, taking one of the very fine cigars.
¡°Well, Uncle Nixon?¡± I encouraged him, wishing to get the chat over because my mind was full of Agnes. I sometimes called him uncle for fun.
¡°Well, my boy,¡± he began. ¡°It¡¯s no use me beating about the bush. What do you think of me as a stepfather?¡±
I was struck, when I heard these words.
¡°What?¡± I stammered. ¡°You don¡¯t mean to say¡ªyou and mother ¡ª ?¡±
He nodded.
¡°Yes, I do, my boy. Yesterday she promised that she¡¯d marry me. It¡¯s been going on for some time. But I don¡¯t expect she¡¯s given you any hint in her letters. In fact, I know she hasn¡¯t. It would have been rather difficult, wouldn¡¯t it? She couldn¡¯t have written: ¡®My dear Philip, an old friend, Mr. Nixon, is falling in love with me and I believe I¡¯m falling in love with him. One of these days he¡¯ll propose to me. ¡¯ She couldn¡¯t have written like that, could she?¡±
I laughed. I could not help laughing.
¡°Shake hands,¡± I said warmly. ¡°I¡¯m delighted.¡±
And soon afterwards my mother came in, shyly.
¡°The boy is delighted, Sarah,¡± said Mr. Nixon shortly.
I said nothing about my own engagement that night. I had never realised that my mother was desirable, and that a man might desire her, and that her lonely existence in that house was not all that
she had the right to demand from life. And I was ashamed of my characteristic filial selfish egoism.
So I decided that I would not intrude my joy on hers until the next morning. We live and learn.
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