“Oh, indeed.”
“For the end of the shooting. And who do you think he has asked to be one of the party?”
“Not Mr. Reginald?”
“I don’t think they ever spoke in their lives. Who but Larry Twentyman!”
“No!”
“It’ll be the making of Larry. I only hope he won’t cock his beaver too high.”
“Is he coming?”
“I suppose so. He’ll be sure to come. His Lordship only tells me that there are to be six of ’em on Saturday and five on Friday night. But the lad there knew who they all were. There’s Mr. Surbiton and Captain Battersby and Sir George are to come over with his lordship from Rufford. And young Mr. Hampton is to join them here, and Larry Twentyman is to shoot with them on Saturday and dine afterwards. Won’t those two Botseys be jealous; that’s all?”
“It only shows what they think of Larry,” said the attorney.
“Larry Twentyman is a very good fellow,” said the landlord. “I don’t know a better fellow round Dillsborough, or one who is more always on the square. But he’s weak. You know him as well as I, Mr. Masters.”
“He’s not so weak but what he can keep what he’s got.”
“This’ll be the way to try him. He’d melt away like water into sand if he were to live for a few weeks with such men as his Lordship’s friends. I suppose there’s no chance of his taking a wife home to Chowton with him?” The attorney shook his head. “That’d be the making of him, Mr. Masters; a good girl like that who’d keep him at home. If he takes it to heart he’ll burst out somewhere and spend a lot of money.”
The attorney declined Mr. Runciman’s offer of a glass of beer and slowly made his way round the corner of the inn by Hobb’s gate to the front door of Hoppet Hall. Then he passed on to the churchyard, still thinking of the misery of his position. When he reached the church he turned back, still going very slowly, and knocked at the door of Hoppet Hall. He was shown at once by Reginald’s old housekeeper up to the library, and there in a few minutes he was joined by the master of the house. “I was over looking for you an hour or two ago,” said Reginald.
“I heard you were there, Mr. Morton, and so I thought I would come to you. You didn’t see Mary?”
“I just saw her—but could hardly say much. She had written to my aunt about going to Cheltenham.”
“I saw the letter before she sent it, Mr. Morton.”
“So she told me. My aunt would be delighted to have her, but it seems that Mrs. Masters does not wish her to go.”
“There is some trouble about it, Mr. Morton;—but I may as well tell you at once that I wish her to go. She would be better for awhile at Cheltenham with such a lady as your aunt than she can be at home. Her stepmother and she cannot agree on a certain point. I dare say you know what it is, Mr. Morton?”
“In regard, I suppose, to Mr. Twentyman?”
“Just that. Mrs. Masters thinks that Mr. Twentyman would make an excellent husband. And so do I. There’s nothing in the world against him, and as compared with me he’s a rich man. I couldn’t give the poor girl any fortune, and he wouldn’t want any. But money isn’t everything.”
“No indeed.”
“He’s an industrious steady young man too, and he has had my word with him all through. But I can’t compel my girl to marry him if she don’t like him. I can’t even try to compel her. She’s as good a girl as ever stirred about a house.”
“I can well believe that.”
“And nothing would take such a load off me as to know that she was going to be well married. But as she don’t like the young man well enough, I won’t have her hardly used.”
“Mrs. Masters perhaps is—hard to her.”
“God forbid I should say anything against my wife. I never did, and I won’t now. But Mary will be better away; and if Lady Ushant will be good enough to take her, she shall go.”
“When will she be ready, Mr. Masters?”
“I must ask her about that;—in a week perhaps, or ten days.”
“She is quite decided against the young man?”
“Quite. At the bidding of all of us she said she’d take two months to think of it. But before the time was up she wrote to him to say it could never be. It quite upset my wife; because it would have been such an excellent arrangement.”
Reginald wished to learn more but hardly knew how to ask the father questions. Yet, as he had been trusted so far, he thought that he might be trusted altogether. “I must own,” he said, “that I think that Mr. Twentyman would hardly be a fit husband for your daughter.”
“He is a very good young man.”
“Very likely;—but she is something more than a very good young woman. A young lady with her gifts will be sure to settle well in life some day.” The attorney shook his head. He had lived long enough to see many young ladies with good gifts find it difficult to settle in life; and perhaps that mysterious poem which Reginald found in Mary’s eyes was neither visible nor audible to Mary’s father. “I did hear,” said Reginald, “that Mr. Surtees—”
“There’s nothing in that.”
“Oh, indeed. I thought that perhaps as she is so determined not to do as her friends would wish, that there might be something else.” He said this almost as a question, looking close into the attorney’s eyes as
