“It is always possible,” said Mr. Masters.
“But you don’t think there is anybody?”
“It is very hard to say, Mr. Morton.”
“You don’t expect anything of that sort?”
Then the attorney broke forth into sudden confidence. “To tell the truth then, Mr. Morton, I think there is somebody, though who it is I know as little as the baby unborn. She sees nobody here at Dillsborough to be intimate with. She isn’t one of those who would write letters or do anything on the sly.”
“But there is someone?”
“She told me as much herself. That is, when I asked her she would not deny it. Then I thought that perhaps it might be somebody at Cheltenham.”
“I think not.”
“She was there so short a time, Mr. Morton; and Lady Ushant would be the last person in the world to let such a thing as that go on without telling her parents.”
“I don’t think there was anyone at Cheltenham. She was only there a month.”
“I did fancy that perhaps that was one reason why she should want to go back.”
“I don’t believe it. I don’t in the least believe it,” said Reginald enthusiastically. “My aunt would have been sure to have seen it. It would have been impossible without her knowledge. But there is somebody?”
“I think so, Mr. Morton;—and if she does go to Cheltenham perhaps Lady Ushant had better know.” To this Reginald agreed, or half agreed. It did not seem to him to be of much consequence what might be done at Cheltenham. He felt certain that the lover was not there. And yet who was there at Dillsborough? He had seen those young Botseys about. Could it possibly be one of them? And during the Christmas vacation the rector’s scamp of a son had been home from Oxford—to whom Mary Masters had barely spoken. Was it young Mainwaring? Or could it be possible that she had turned an eye of favour on Dr. Nupper’s elegantly-dressed assistant. There was nothing too monstrous for him to suggest to himself as soon as the attorney had left him.
But there was a young man in Dillsborough—one man at any rate young enough to be a lover—of whom Reginald did not think; as to whom, had his name been suggested as that of the young man to whom Mary’s heart had been given, he would have repudiated such a suggestion with astonishment and anger. But now, having heard this from the girl’s father, he was again vexed, and almost as much disgusted as when he had first become aware that Larry Twentyman was a suitor for her hand. Why should he trouble himself about a girl who was ready to fall in love with the first man that she saw about the place? He tried to pacify himself by some such question as this, but tried in vain.
XLVIII
The Dinner at the Bush
Here is the letter which at his brother-in-law’s advice Lord Rufford wrote to Arabella:
Rufford, .
My dear Miss Trefoil,
It is a great grief to me that I should have to answer your letter in a manner that will I fear not be satisfactory to you. I can only say that you have altogether mistaken me if you think that I have said anything which was intended as an offer of marriage. I cannot but be much flattered by your good opinion. I have had much pleasure from our acquaintance, and I should have been glad if it could have been continued. But I have had no thoughts of marriage. If I have said a word which has, unintentionally on my part, given rise to such an idea I can only beg your pardon heartily. If I were to add more after what I have now said perhaps you would take it as an impertinence.
He had desired to make various additions and suggestions which however had all been disallowed by Sir George Penwether. He had proposed among other things to ask her whether he should keep Jack for her for the remainder of the season or whether he should send the horse elsewhere, but Sir George would not allow a word in the letter about Jack. “You did give her the horse then?” he asked.
“I had hardly any alternative as the things went. She would have been quite welcome to the horse if she would have let me alone afterwards.”
“No doubt; but when young gentlemen give young ladies horses—”
“I know all about it, my dear fellow. Pray don’t preach more than you can help. Of course I have been an infernal ass. I know all that. But as the horse is hers—”
“Say nothing about the horse. Were she to ask for it of course she could have it; but that is not likely.”
“And you think I had better say nothing else.”
“Not a word. Of course it will be shown to all her friends and may possibly find its way into print. I don’t know what steps such a young lady may be advised to take. Her uncle is a man of honour. Her father is an ass and careless about everything. Mistletoe will not improbably feel himself bound to act as though he were her brother. They will, of course, all think you to be a rascal—and will say so.”
“If Mistletoe says so I’ll horsewhip him.”
“No you won’t, Rufford. You will remember that this woman is a woman, and that a woman’s friends are bound to stand up for her. After all your hands are not quite clean in the matter.”
“I am heavy enough on myself, Penwether. I have been a fool and I own it. But I have done nothing unbecoming a gentleman.” He was almost tempted to quarrel with his brother-in-law, but at last he allowed the letter to be sent just as Sir George had written it, and then tried to banish the affair from his mind for the present so that he might enjoy his life
