Mrs. Allen presently appeared in her black silk dress, with her gold watch hanging in front, and saluted the minister’s wife with the usual good-humoured, slightly democratic freedom which always annoyed Mrs. Broad.
“My dear Mrs. Allen,” began Mrs. Broad, “I have called to announce to you a surprising piece of intelligence, although I dare say you know it all. Your son George has asked Mr. Broad to be allowed to consider himself as Priscilla’s suitor. We have discussed the matter together, and I have come to know what your views are. I may say that we had destined—hoped—that—er—Priscilla would find her sphere as a minister’s wife in the metropolis; but it is best, perhaps, to follow the leadings of Providence.”
“Well, Mrs. Broad, I must say I was a little bit disappointed myself—to tell you the plain truth; but it is of no use to contradict young people in love with one another.”
Mrs. Broad was astonished. Disappointed! But she remembered her husband’s admonitions. So she contented herself with an insinuation.
“What I meant, my dear Mrs. Allen, was that, as the Flavels have been a ministerial family for so long, it would have been gratifying to me, of course, if Priscilla had bestowed herself upon—upon somebody occupying the same position.”
“That is just what my mother used to say. I was a Burton, you remember. They were large tanners in Northamptonshire, and she did not like my going to a shop. But you know, Mrs. Broad, you had better be in a shop and have plenty of everything, and not have to pinch and screw, than have a brass knocker on your door, and not be able to pay for the clothes you wear. That’s my belief, at any rate.”
The dart entered Mrs. Broad’s soul. She remembered some “procrastination”—to use her husband’s favourite word—in settling a draper’s bill, even when it was diminished by the pew rent, and she wondered if Mrs. Allen knew the facts. Of course she did; all Cowfold knew every fact connected with everybody in the town. She discerned it was best to retreat.
“I wished to tell you, Mrs. Allen, that we do not intend to offer the least objection”—she thought that perhaps a little professional unction might reduce her antagonist—“and I am sure I pray that God will bless their union.”
“As I said before, Mrs. Broad, neither shall we object. We shall let George do as he likes. He is a real good boy, worth a princess, and if he chooses to have Miss Broad, we shan’t hinder him. She will always be welcome here, and it will be a consolation to you to know she will never want anything.” Mrs. Allen shook her silk dress out a little, and offered Mrs. Broad a glass of wine. Her feelings were a little flustered, and she needed support, but she refused.
“No thank you, Mrs. Allen. I must be going.”
XXII
The Oracle Warns—After the Event
It is no part of my business to tell the story of the lovemaking between George and Priscilla. Such stories have been told too often. Every weakness in her was translated by George into some particularly attractive virtue. He saw nothing, heard nothing, which was not to her advantage. Once, indeed, when he was writing the letter that was forever to decide his destiny, it crossed his mind that this was an epoch—a parting of the ways—and he hesitated as he folded it up. But no warning voice was heard; nothing smote him; he was doing what he believed to be the best; he was allowed to go on without a single remonstrant sign. The messenger was despatched, and his fate was sealed. His mother and father had held anxious debate. They believed Priscilla to be silly, and the question was whether they should tell George so. The more they reflected on the affair the less they liked it; but it was agreed that they could do nothing, and that to dissuade their son would only embitter him against them.
“Perhaps,” said Mrs. Allen, “when she has a family she will be better.”
Mrs. Allen had a belief that children cured a woman of many follies.
Nevertheless the mother could not refrain, when she had to talk to George about his engagement, from “letting out” just a word.
“I hope you will be happy, my dear boy. The great thing is not to have a fool for a wife. There has never, to my knowledge, been a woman amongst the Burtons or the Allens who was a fool.”
George felt nothing at the time, for he suspected nothing; but the words somehow remained with him, and reappeared later on in black intensity like invisible writing under heat.
So they were married, and went to live in a cottage, small, but very respectable, in the Shott Road. For the first six months both were in bliss. Priscilla was constantly backwards and forwards to her mother, who took upon herself at once the whole direction of her affairs; but there was no rupture with the Allens, for, whatever her other faults might be, Priscilla was not given to making quarrels, and there was little or no bitterness or evil temper in her. George came home after his work was over at the shop, and sometimes went out to supper with his wife, or read to her the newspaper, which came once a week. Like his father, he was an ardent politician, and, from the very beginning of the struggle, an enthusiastic Free Trader. The Free Trade creed was, indeed, the cause of serious embarrassment, for not only were the customers agricultural and Protectionist,
