‘Nor I,’ said he.
‘Nor the dear children. Oh, if your dear brother were only here! We are longing to hear all about it,’ she said, as she settled herself in the arm-chair, a relic of his mother.
p. 42He repeated what he had told Mary about the family, the Park, and the London house.
‘I suppose there is a fine establishment of servants and carriages?’
‘The servants are to be paid off. As to the carriages and the rest of the personal property, they go to Miss Morton; but the executors are arranging about my paying for such furniture as I shall want.’
‘And jewels?’
‘There are some heirlooms, but I have not seen them. How are the children?’
‘Very well; very much delighted. Dear Herbert is the noblest boy. He was ready to begin on his navigation studies this next term, but of course there is no occasion for that now.’
‘It is a pity, with his taste for the sea, that he is too old to be a naval cadet.’
‘The army is a gentleman’s profession, if he must have one.’
‘I must consider what is best for him.’
‘Yes, my Lord,’ impressively. ‘I am hoping to know what you mean to do for your dear brother’s dear orphans,’ and her handkerchief went up to her eyes.
‘I hope at any rate to give Herbert the education of a gentleman, and to send his sisters to good schools. How are they getting on?’
‘Dear Ida, she is that clever and superior that a master in music and French is all she would want. Besides, you know, she is that delicate. Connie is the bookish one; she is so eager about the examination that she will go on at her school; though I p. 43would have taken her away from such a low place at once.’
‘It is a good school, and will have given her a good foundation. I must see what may be best for them.’
‘And, of course, you will put us in a situation becoming the family of your dear brother,’ she added, with another application of the handkerchief.
‘I mean to do what I can, you may be sure, but at present it is impossible to name any amount. I neither know what income is coming to me, nor what will be my expenses. I meant to come and see you as soon as there was anything explicit to tell you; but of course this first year there will be much less in hand than later.’
‘Well,’ she said, pouting, ‘I can put up with something less in the meantime, for of course your poor dear brother’s widow and children are your first consideration, and even a nobleman as a bachelor cannot have so many expenses.’
‘I shall not long continue a bachelor,’ was the answer, given with a sort of shy resolution.
‘Now, Lord Northmoor! You don’t mean to say that you intend to go on with that ridiculous affair; when, if you marry at all, it ought to be one who will bring something handsome into the family.’
‘Once for all, Emma, I will hear no more on that subject. A twenty years’ engagement is not lightly to be broken.’
‘A wretched little teacher,’ she began, but she was cut short.
‘Remember, I will hear no more of this, and’ (nothing but despair of other means could have p. 44inspired him) ‘it is for your own interest to abstain from insulting my future wife and myself by such remonstrances.’
Even then she muttered, ‘Very hard! Not even good-looking.’
‘That is as one may think,’ said he, mentally contrasting the flaunting, hardened complexion before him with the sweet countenance he had never perceived to be pinched or faded; and as he heard something between a scornful sniff and a sob, he added, ‘I am wanted in the office, so, if you have no more to say of any consequence, I must leave you, and Hannah shall give you some tea.’
‘Oh, oh, that you should leave your poor brother’s widow in this way!’ and she melted into tears and sobs.
‘I can’t help it, Emma,’ he said, distressed and perplexed. ‘They want me about some business of Mr. Claughton’s, and I can’t keep them waiting. These are office hours, you know. Have some tea, and I will come to you again.’
But Mrs. Emma swallowed her sobs as soon as he was gone, and instead of waiting for the tea, set forth for Miss Lang’s. On asking for Miss Marshall she was shown into the drawing-room, where, after she had waited a few minutes, nursing her wrath to keep it warm, the small figure appeared, whom she had no hesitation in accosting thus—
‘Now, Miss Marshall, do I understand that you are resolved to attempt thrusting yourself on his Lordship, Lord Northmoor’s family?’
Mary, entirely taken by surprise, could only falter, ‘I can only do whatever he wishes.’
p. 45‘That is just a mere pretence. I wonder you are not ashamed to play on his honourable feelings, when you know everything is changed, and that it is absolutely ridiculous and derogatory for a peer of the realm to stoop to a mere drudge of a teacher.’
‘It is,’ owned Mary; but she went back to her formulary, ‘it must be as he wishes.’
‘If he is infatuated enough to pretend to wish it, I tell you it is your simple duty to refuse him.’
Whatever might be Mary’s own views of her duty, to have it inculcated in such a manner stirred her whole soul into opposition, which was shown, not in words, but in a tiny curve of the lips, such as infuriated her visitor, so that vulgarity and violence were under no restraint, and whether all self-command was lost in passion, or whether there was an idea that bullying might gain the day, Mrs. Morton’s voice rose into a shrill scream as she denounced the nasty, mean-spirited viper, worming herself—
The folding doors suddenly opened and in a dignified tone Miss Lang announced, ‘Lady Kenton wishes to be
