“No; I don’t say that. If they love one another of course it is right that they should marry. I only wish we had known him longer.”
“I am not sure that these things always go much better because young people have known each other all their lives. It seems to be certain that he is an industrious, steady young man. Everybody seems to speak well of him now.”
“Well, mother, I have nothing to say against him—not a word. And if it will give Rachel any pleasure—though I don’t suppose it will, the least in the world; but if it would, she may know that I think she has done wisely to accept him.”
“Indeed it will; the greatest pleasure.”
“And I hope they will be happy together for very many years. I love Rachel dearly, though I fear she does not think so, and anything I have said, I have said in love, not in anger.”
“I’m sure of that, Dorothea.”
“Now that she is to be settled in life as a married woman, of course she must not look for counsel either to you or to me. She must obey him, and I hope that God may give him grace to direct her steps aright.”
“Amen!” said Mrs. Ray, solemnly. It was thus that Mrs. Prime read her recantation, which was repeated on that evening to Rachel with some little softening touches. “You won’t be living together in the same house after a bit,” said Mrs. Ray, thinking, with some sadness, that those little evening festivities of buttered toast and thick cream were over for her now—“but I do hope you will be friends.”
“Of course we will, mamma. She has only to put out her hand the least little bit in the world, and I will go the rest of the way. As for her living, I don’t know what will be best about that, because Luke says that of course you’ll come and live with us.”
It was two or three days after this that Rachel saw the Tappitt girls for the first time since the fact of her engagement had become known. It was in the evening, and she had been again walking with Luke, when she met them; but at that moment she was alone. Augusta would have turned boldly away, though they had all come closely together before either had been aware of the presence of the other. But to this both Martha and Cherry objected.
“We have heard of your engagement,” said Martha, “and we congratulate you. You have heard, of course, that we are going to move to Torquay, and we hope that you will be comfortable at the brewery.”
“Yes,” said Augusta, “the place isn’t what it used to be, and so we think it best to go. Mamma has already looked at a villa near Torquay, which will suit us delightfully.”
Then they passed on, but Cherry remained behind to say another word. “I am so happy,” said Cherry, “that you and he have hit it off. He’s a charming fellow, and I always said he was to fall in love with you. After the ball of course there wasn’t a doubt about it. Mind you send us cake, dear; and by-and-by we’ll come and see you at the old place, and be better friends than ever we were.”
XXX
Conclusion
Early in November Mr. Tappitt officially announced his intention of abdicating, and the necessary forms and deeds and parchment obligations were drawn out, signed and sealed, for the giving up of the brewery to Luke Rowan. Mr. Honyman’s clerk revelled in thinly-covered folio sheets to the great comfort and profit of his master; while Mr. Sharpit went about Baslehurst declaring that Tappitt was an egregious ass, and hinting that Rowan was little better than a clever swindler. What he said, however, had but little effect on Baslehurst. It had become generally understood that Rowan would spend money in the town, employing labour and struggling to go ahead, and Baslehurst knew that such a man was desirable as a citizen. The parchments were prepared, and the signatures were written with the necessary amount of witnessing, and Tappitt and Rowan once more met each other on friendly terms. Tappitt had endeavoured to avoid this, pleading, both to Honyman and to his wife, that his personal dislike to the young man was as great as ever; but they had not permitted him thus to indulge his wrath. Mr. Honyman pointed out to Mrs. Tappitt that such ill-humour might be very detrimental to their future interests, and Tappitt had been made to give way. We may as well declare at once that the days of Tappitt’s domestic dominion were over, as is generally the case with a man who retires from work and allows himself to be placed, as a piece of venerable furniture, in the chimney corner. Hitherto he, and he only, had known what funds could be made available out of the brewery for household purposes; and Mrs. Tappitt had been subject, at every turn of her life, to provoking intimations of reduced profits: but now there was the clear thousand a year, and she could demand her rights in accordance with that sum. Tappitt, too, could never again stray away from home with mysterious hints that matters connected with malt and hops must be discussed at places in which beer was consumed. He had no longer left to him any excuse for deviating from the regular course of his life even by a hair’s breadth; and before two years were over he had learned to regard it almost as a favour to be allowed to take a walk with one of his own girls. No man should abdicate—unless,
