“Of course, mamma, we knew that we should find the house such as it was left a hundred years ago. He told us that himself.”
“He should have put something in it to make it at any rate decent before we came in.”
“What’s the use if he’s to live always at foreign courts?”
“He intends to come home sometimes, I suppose, and, if he didn’t, you would.” Lady Augustus was not going to let her daughter marry a man who could not give her a home for at any rate a part of the year. “Of course he must furnish the place and have an immense deal done before he can marry. I think it is a piece of impudence to bring one to such a place as this.”
“That’s nonsense, mamma, because he told us all about it.”
“The more I see of it all, Arabella, the more sure I am that it won’t do.”
“It must do, mamma.”
“Twelve hundred a year is all that he offers, and his lawyer says that he will make no stipulation whatever as to an allowance.”
“Really, mamma, you might leave that to me.”
“I like to have everything fixed, my dear—and certain.”
“Nothing really ever is certain. While there is anything to get you may be sure that I shall have my share. As far as money goes I’m not a bit afraid of having the worst of it—only there will be so very little between us.”
“That’s just it.”
“There’s no doubt about the property, mamma.”
“A nasty beggarly place!”
“And from what everybody says he’s sure to be a minister or ambassador or something of that sort.”
“I’ve no doubt he will. And where’ll he have to go to? To Brazil, or the West Indies, or some British Colony,” said her ladyship showing her ignorance of the Foreign Office service. “That might be very well. You could stay at home. Only where would you live? He wouldn’t keep a house in town for you. Is this the sort of place you’d like?”
“I don’t think it makes any difference where one is,” said Arabella disgusted.
“But I do—a very great difference. It seems to me that he’s altogether under the control of that hideous old termagant. Arabella, I think you’d better make up your mind that it won’t do.”
“It must do,” said Arabella.
“You’re very fond of him it seems.”
“Mamma, how you do delight to torture me;—as if my life weren’t bad enough without your making it worse.”
“I tell you, my dear, what I’m bound to tell you—as your mother. I have my duty to do whether it’s painful or not.”
“That’s nonsense, mamma. You know it is. That might have been all very well ten years ago.”
“You were almost in your cradle, my dear.”
“Psha! cradle! I’ll tell you what it is, mamma. I’ve been at it till I’m nearly broken down. I must settle somewhere;—or else die;—or else run away. I can’t stand this any longer and I won’t. Talk of work—men’s work! What man ever has to work as I do?” I wonder which was the hardest part of that work, the hairdressing and painting and companionship of the lady’s maid or the continual smiling upon unmarried men to whom she had nothing to say and for whom she did not in the least care! “I can’t do it any more, and I won’t. As for Mr. Morton, I don’t care that for him. You know I don’t. I never cared much for anybody, and shall never again care at all.”
“You’ll find that will come all right after you are married.”
“Like you and papa, I suppose.”
“My dear, I had no mother to take care of me, or I shouldn’t have married your father.”
“I wish you hadn’t, because then I shouldn’t be going to marry Mr. Morton. But, as I have got so far, for heaven’s sake let it go on. If you break with him I’ll tell him everything and throw myself into his hands.” Lady Augustus sighed deeply. “I will, mamma. It was you spotted this man, and when you said that you thought it would do, I gave way. He was the last man in the world I should have thought of myself.”
“We had heard so much about Bragton!”
“And Bragton is here. The estate is not out of elbows.”
“My dear, my opinion is that we’ve made a mistake. He’s not the sort of man I took him to be. He’s as hard as a file.”
“Leave that to me, mamma.”
“You are determined then?”
“I think I am. At any rate let me look about me. Don’t give him an opportunity of breaking off till I have made up my mind. I can always break off if I like it. No one in London has heard of the engagement yet. Just leave me alone for this week to see what I think about it.” Then Lady Augustus threw herself back in her chair and went to sleep, or pretended to do so.
A little after half-past seven she and her daughter, dressed for dinner, went down to the library together. The other guests were assembled there, and Mrs. Morton was already plainly expressing her anger at the tardiness of her son’s guests. The Senator had got hold of Mr. Mainwaring and was asking pressing questions as to church patronage—a subject not very agreeable to the rector of St. John’s, as his living had been bought for him with his wife’s money during the incumbency of an old gentleman of
