There was something in this that was quite terrible to Aunt Sarah. Her Mary Lowther was to be treated in this way;—to be played with as a plaything, and then to be turned off when the time for playing came to an end! And this little game was to be played for Walter Marrable’s delectation, though the result of it would be the ruin of Mary’s prospects in life!
“I think,” said she, “that if I believed him to be so base as that, I would send him out of the house.”
“He does not mean to be base at all. He’s just like the rest of ’em,” said Parson John.
Aunt Sarah used every argument in her power to show that something should be done; but all to no purpose. She thought that if Sir Gregory were brought to interfere, that perhaps might have an effect; but the old clergyman laughed at this. What did Captain Walter Marrable, who had been in the army all his life, and who had no special favour to expect from his uncle, care about Sir Gregory? Head of the family, indeed! What was the head of the family to him? If a girl would be a fool, the girl must take the result of her folly. That was Parson John’s doctrine—that and a confirmed assurance that this engagement, such as it was, would lead to nothing. He was really very sorry for Mary, in whose praise he said ever so many good-natured things; but she had not been the first fool, and she would not be the last. It was not his business, and he could do no good by interfering. At last, however, he did promise that he would himself speak to Walter. Nothing would come of it, but, as his cousin asked him, he would speak to his nephew.
He waited for four-and-twenty hours before he spoke, and during that time was subject to none of those terrors which were now making Miss Marrable’s life a burden to her. In his opinion it was almost a pity that a young fellow like Walter should be interrupted in his amusement. According to his view of life, very much wisdom was not expected from ladies, young or old. They, for the most part, had their bread found for them; and were not required to do anything, whether they were rich or poor. Let them be ever so poor, the disgrace of poverty did not fall upon them as it did upon men. But then, if they would run their heads into trouble, trouble came harder upon them than on men; and for that they had nobody to blame but themselves. Of course it was a very nice thing to be in love. Verses and pretty speeches and easy-spoken romance were pleasant enough in their way. Parson John had no doubt tried them himself in early life, and had found how far they were efficacious for his own happiness. But young women were so apt to want too much of the excitement! A young man at Bullhampton was not enough without another young man at Loring. That, we fear, was the mode in which Parson John looked at the subject—which mode of looking at it, had he ever ventured to explain it to Mary Lowther, would have brought down upon his head from that young woman an amount of indignant scorn which would have been very disagreeable to Parson John. But then he was a great deal too wise to open his mind on such a subject to Mary Lowther.
“I think, sir, I’d better go up and see Curling again next week,” said the Captain.
“I dare say. Is anything not going right?”
“I suppose I shall get the money, but I shall like to know when. I am very anxious, of course, to fix a day for my marriage.”
“I should not be over quick about that, if I were you,” said Parson John.
“Why not? Situated as I am, I must be quick. I must make up my mind at any rate where we’re to live.”
“You’ll go back to your regiment, I suppose, next month?”
“Yes, sir. I shall go back to my regiment next month, unless we may make up our minds to go out to India.”
“What, you and Mary?”
“Yes, I and Mary.”
“As man and wife?” said Parson John, with a smile.
“How else should we go?”
“Well, no. If she goes with you, she must go as Mrs. Captain Marrable, of course. But if I were you, I would not think of anything so horrible.”
“It would be horrible,” said Walter Marrable.
“I should think it would. India may be very well when a man is quite young, and if he can keep himself from beer and wine; but to go back there at your time of life with a wife, and to look forward to a dozen children there, must be an unpleasant prospect, I should say.”
Walter Marrable sat silent and black.
“I should give up all idea of India,” continued his uncle.
“What the deuce is a man to do?” asked the Captain.
The parson shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking of,” said the Captain. “If I could get a farm of four or five hundred acres—”
“A farm!” exclaimed the parson.
“Why not a farm? I know that a man can do nothing with a farm unless he has capital. He should have £10 or £12 an acre for his land, I suppose. I should have that and some trifle of an income besides if I sold out. I suppose my uncle would let me have a farm under him?”
“He’d see you—further first.”
“Why shouldn’t I do as well with a farm as another?”
“Why not turn shoemaker? Because you have not learned the business. Farmer, indeed! You’d never
