“Well; some generals do. But I must confess your wife is generally very successful. Come; we’ll go upstairs; and don’t you tell her that I’ve been finding fault. She’s as good as gold, and I can’t afford to quarrel with her; but I think she has tripped here.”
When the old doctor and Butler Cornbury reached the drawing-room the names of Rowan and Tappitt had not been as yet banished from the conversation; but to them had been added some others. Rachel’s name had been again mentioned, as had also that of Rachel’s sister.
“Papa, who do you think is going to be married?” said Miss Harford.
“Not you, my dear, is it?” said the doctor.
“Mr. Prong is going to be married to Mrs. Prime,” said Miss Harford, showing by the solemnity of her voice that she regarded the subject as one which should by its nature repress any further joke.
Nor was Dr. Harford inclined to joke when he heard such tidings as these. “Mr. Prong!” said he. “Nonsense; who told you?”
“Well, it was Baker told me.” Mrs. Baker was the housekeeper at the Baslehurst rectory, and had been so for the last thirty years. “She learned it at Drabbit’s in the High Street, where Mrs. Prime had been living since she left her mother’s cottage.”
“If that’s true, Comfort,” said the doctor, “I congratulate you on your parishioner.”
“Mrs. Prime is no parishioner of mine,” said the vicar of Cawston. “If it’s true, I’m very sorry for her mother—very sorry.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Mrs. Cornbury.
“Poor, wretched, unfortunate woman!” said the doctor. “Her little bit of money is all in her own hands; is it not?”
“I believe it is,” said Mr. Comfort.
“Ah, yes; I dare say it’s true,” said the vicar. “She’s been running after him ever since he’s been here. I don’t doubt it’s true. Poor creature!—poor creature! Poor thing!” And the doctor absolutely sighed as he thought of the misery in store for Mr. Prong’s future bride. “It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good,” he said after a while. “He’ll go off, no doubt, when he has got the money in his hand, and we shall be rid of him. Poor thing;—poor thing!”
Before the evening was over Mrs. Cornbury and her father had again discussed the question of Rachel’s possible engagement with Luke Rowan. Mr. Comfort had declared his conviction that it would be dangerous to encourage any such hopes; whereas his daughter protested that she would not see Rachel thrown over if she could help it. “Don’t condemn him yet, papa,” she said.
“I don’t condemn him at all, my dear; but I hardly think we shall see him back at Baslehurst. And he shouldn’t have gone away without paying his debts, Patty!”
XIX
Mr. Comfort Calls at the Cottage
Mrs. Ray, in her trouble occasioned by Luke’s letter, had walked up to Mr. Comfort’s house, but had not found him at home. Therefore she had written to him, in his own study, a few very simple words, telling the matter on which she wanted his advice. Almost any other woman would have half hidden her real meaning under a cloud of ambiguous words; but with her there was no question of hiding anything from her clergyman. “Rachel has had a letter from young Mr. Rowan,” she said, “and I have begged her not to answer it till I have shown it to you.” So Mr. Comfort sent word down to Bragg’s End that he would call at the cottage, and fixed an hour for his coming. This task was to be accomplished by him on the morning after Dr. Harford’s dinner; and he had thought much of the coming conference between himself and Rachel’s mother while Rowan’s character was being discussed at Dr. Harford’s house: but on that occasion he had said nothing to anyone, not even to his daughter, of the application which had been made to him by Mrs. Ray. At eleven o’clock he presented himself at the cottage door, and, of course, found Mrs. Ray alone. Rachel had taken herself over to Mrs. Sturt, and greatly amazed that kindhearted person by her silence and confusion. “Why, my dear,” said Mrs. Sturt, “you hain’t got a word today to throw at a dog.” Rachel acknowledged that she had not; and then Mrs. Sturt allowed her to remain in her silence.
“Oh, Mr. Comfort, this is so good of you!” Mrs. Ray began as soon as her friend was inside the parlour. “When I went up to the parsonage I didn’t think of bringing you down here all the way;—I didn’t indeed.” Mr. Comfort assured her that he thought nothing of the trouble, declared that he owed her a visit, and then asked after Rachel.
“To tell you the truth, then, she’s just stepped across the green to Mrs. Sturt’s, so as to be out of the way. It’s a trying time to her, Mr. Comfort—very; and whatever way it goes, she’s a good girl—a very good girl.”
“You needn’t tell me that, Mrs. Ray.”
“Oh! but I must. There’s her sister thinks she’s encouraged this young man too freely, but—”
“By the by, Mrs. Ray, I’ve been told that Mrs. Prime is engaged to be married herself.”
“Have you, now?”
“Well, yes; I heard it in Baslehurst yesterday;—to Mr. Prong.”
“She’s kept it so close, Mr. Comfort, I didn’t think anybody had heard it.”
“It is true, then?”
“I can’t say she has accepted him yet. He has offered to her;—there’s no doubt about that, Mr. Comfort—and she hasn’t said him no.”
“Do let her look sharp after her money,” said Mr. Comfort.
“Well, that’s just it. She’s not a bit inclined to give it up to him, I can tell you.”
“I can’t say, Mrs. Ray, that the connection is one that I like very much, in any way. There’s no reason at all why your eldest daughter should not marry again, but—”
“What can I do, Mr. Comfort? Of course I know he’s not just what
