If you have anything to tell me of your happiness, I shall be delighted to hear it; I will not set my heart against this other man;—but you can hardly expect me to say that he will be as much to me as might have been that other. God bless you,
And this was the other letter.
Barracks, 1st September, 186‒.
Dearest Love,
I hope this will be one of the last letters I shall write from this abominable place, for I am going to sell out at once. It is all settled, and I’m to be a sort of deputy Squire at Dunripple, under my uncle. As that is to be my fate in life, I may as well begin it at once. But that’s not the whole of my fate, nor the best of it. You are to be admitted as deputy Squiress—or rather as Squiress in chief, seeing that you will be mistress of the house. Dearest Mary, may I hope that you won’t object to the promotion?
I have had a long letter from Mrs. Brownlow; and I ran over yesterday and saw my uncle. I was so hurried that I could not write from Dunripple. I would send you Mrs. Brownlow’s letter, only perhaps it would not be quite fair. I dare say you will see it some day. She says ever so much about you, and as complimentary as possible. And then she declares her purpose to resign all rights, honours, pains, privileges, and duties of mistress of Dunripple into your hands as soon as you are Mrs. Marrable. And this she repeated yesterday with some stateliness, and a great deal of high-minded resignation. But I don’t mean to laugh at her, because I know she means to do what is right.
My own, own, Mary, write me a line instantly to say that it is right—and to say also that you agree with me that as it is to be done, ’twere well it were done quickly.
It was of course necessary that Mary should consult with her aunt before she answered the second letter. Of that which she received from Mrs. Fenwick she determined to say nothing. Why should she ever mention to her aunt again a name so painful to her as that of Mr. Gilmore? The thinking of him could not be avoided. In this, the great struggle of her life, she had endeavoured to do right, and yet she could not acquit herself of evil. But the pain, though it existed, might at least be kept out of sight.
“And so you are to go and live at Dunripple at once,” said Miss Marrable.
“I suppose we shall.”
“Ah, well! It’s all right, I’m sure. Of course there is not a word to be said against it. I hope Sir Gregory won’t die before the Colonel. That’s all.”
“The Colonel is his father, you know.”
“I hope there may not come to be trouble about it, that’s all. I shall be very lonely, but of course I had to expect that.”
“You’ll come to us, Aunt Sarah? You’ll be as much there as here.”
“Thank you, dear. I don’t quite know about that. Sir Gregory is all very well; but one does like one’s own house.”
From all which Mary understood that her dear aunt still wished that she might have had her own way in disposing of her niece’s hand—as her dear friends at Bullhampton had wished to have theirs.
The following were the answers from Mary to the two letters given above;—
Loring, 3rd September, 186‒.
Dear Janet,
I am very, very, very sorry. I do not know what more I can say. I meant to do well all through. When I first told Mr. Gilmore that it could not be as he wished it, I was right. When I made up my mind that it must be so at last, I was right also. I fear I cannot say so much of myself as to that middle step which I took, thinking it was best to do as I was bidden. I meant to be right, but of course I was wrong, and I am very, very sorry. Nevertheless, I am much obliged to you for writing to me. Of course I cannot but desire to know what he does. If he writes and seems to be happy on his travels, pray tell me.
I have much to tell you of my own happiness—though, in truth, I feel a remorse at being happy when I have caused so much unhappiness. Walter is to sell out and to live at Dunripple, and I also am to live there when we are married. I suppose it will not be long now. I am writing to him today, though I do not yet know what I shall say to him. Sir Gregory has assented, and arrangements are to be made, and lawyers are to be consulted, and we are to be what Walter calls deputy Squire and Squiress at Dunripple. Mrs. Brownlow and Edith Brownlow are still to live there, but I am to have the honour of ordering the dinner, and looking wise at the housekeeper. Of course I shall feel very strange at going into such a house.
