“I tell you all just as it is, and I leave it to your wisdom to suggest what had better be done. He wished me to promise that I would undertake to induce you to tell Miss Wortle of his conversation with me. He said that he had a right to demand so much as that, and that, though he would not for the present go to Bowick, he should write to you. The young gentleman seems to have a will of his own—which I cannot say that I regret. What you will do as to the young lady—whether you will or will not tell her what I have written—I must leave to yourself. If you do, I am to send word to her from Lady Bracy to say that she shall be delighted to see her here. She had better, however, come when that inflammatory young gentleman shall be at Oxford. Yours very faithfully,
This letter certainly did a great deal to invigorate the Doctor, and to console him in his troubles. Even though the debated marriage might prove to be impossible, as it had been declared by the voices of all the Wortles one after another, still there was something in the tone in which it was discussed by the young man’s father which was in itself a relief. There was, at any rate, no contempt in the letter. “I may at once say that, as far as you and your girl are concerned, I shall be very well pleased.” That, at any rate, was satisfactory. And the more he looked at it the less he thought that it need be altogether impossible. If Lord Bracy liked it, and Lady Bracy liked it—and young Carstairs, as to whose liking there seemed to be no reason for any doubt—he did not see why it should be impossible. As to Mary—he could not conceive that she should make objection if all the others were agreed. How could she possibly fail to love the young man if encouraged to do so? Suitors who are good-looking, rich, of high rank, sweet-tempered, and at the same time thoroughly devoted, are not wont to be discarded. All the difficulty lay in the lad’s youth. After all, how many noblemen have done well in the world without taking a degree? Degrees, too, have been taken by married men. And, again, young men have been persistent before now, even to the extent of waiting three years. Long engagements are bad—no doubt. Everybody has always said so. But a long engagement may be better than none at all.
He at last made up his mind that he would speak to Mary; but he determined that he would consult his wife first. Consulting Mrs. Wortle, on his part, generally amounted to no more than instructing her. He found it sometimes necessary to talk her over, as he had done in that matter of visiting Mrs. Peacocke; but when he set himself to work he rarely failed. She had nowhere else to go for a certain foundation and support. Therefore he hardly doubted much when he began his operation about this suggested engagement.
“I have got that letter this morning from Lord Bracy,” he said, handing her the document.
“Oh dear! Has he heard about Carstairs?”
“You had better read it.”
“He has told it all,” she exclaimed, when she had finished the first sentence.
“He has told it all, certainly. But you had better read the letter through.”
Then she seated herself and read it, almost trembling, however, as she went on with it. “Oh dear;—that is very nice what he says about you and Mary.”
“It is all very nice as far as that goes. There is no reason why it should not be nice.”
“It might have made him so angry!”
“Then he would have been very unreasonable.”
“He acknowledges that Mary did not encourage him.”
“Of course she did not encourage him. He would have been very unlike a gentleman had he thought so. But in truth, my dear, it is a very good letter. Of course there are difficulties.”
“Oh;—it is impossible!”
“I do not see that at all. It must rest very much with him, no doubt;—with Carstairs; and I do not like to think that our girl’s happiness should depend on any young man’s constancy. But such dangers have to be encountered. You and I were engaged for three years before we were married, and we did not find it so very bad.”
“It was very good. Oh, I was so happy at the time.”
“Happier than you’ve been since?”
“Well; I don’t know. It was very nice to know that you were my lover.”
“Why shouldn’t Mary think it very nice to have a lover?”
“But I knew that you would be true.”
“Why shouldn’t Carstairs be true?”
“Remember he is so young. You were in orders.”
“I don’t know that I was at all more likely to be true on that account. A clergyman can jilt a girl just as well as another. It depends on the nature of the man.”
“And you were so good.”
“I never came across a better youth than Carstairs. You see what his father says about his having a will of his own. When a young man shows a purpose of that kind he generally sticks to it.”
The upshot of it all was, that Mary
