Part 9 (2/2)
”On the contrary, she said she thought we ought by all means to go,”
returned the Major.
”Wonderful, indeed. And when shall you go?”
”Not for some time, I think. Not for a year.”
”I hope not. What a lonely old man I shall be when you are all gone.”
”Nay, Vicar, I hope not,” said the Major. ”You will stay behind to see your daughter happily married, and your grand-children about your knees.”
The Vicar sighed heavily, and the Major continued.
”By-the-bye, Miss Thornton seems to have made a conquest already. Young Hawker seems desperately smitten; did it ever strike you?”
”Yes, it has struck me; very deep indeed,” said the Vicar; ”but what can I do?”
”You surely would not allow her to marry him?”
”How can I prevent it? She is her own mistress, and I never could control her yet. How can I control her when her whole heart and soul is set on him?”
”Good G.o.d!” said the Major, ”do you really think she cares for him?”
”Oh, she loves him with her whole heart. I have seen it a long while.”
”My dear friend, you should take her away for a short time, and see if she will forget him. Anything sooner than let her marry him.”
”Why should she not marry him?” said the Vicar. ”She is only a farmer's grand-daughter. We are n.o.body, you know.”
”But he is not of good character.”
”Oh, there is nothing more against him than there is against most young fellows. He will reform and be steady. Do you know anything special against him?” asked the Vicar.
”Not actually against him; but just conceive, my dear friend, what a family to marry into! His father, I speak the plain truth, is a most disreputable, drunken old man, living in open sin with a gipsy woman of the worst character, by whom George Hawker has been brought up. What an atmosphere of vice! The young fellow himself is universally disliked, and distrusted too, all over the village. Can you forgive me for speaking so plain?”
”There is no forgiveness necessary, my good friend;” said the Vicar. ”I know how kind your intentions are. But I cannot bring myself to have a useless quarrel with my daughter merely because I happen to dislike the object of her choice. It would be quite a useless quarrel. She has always had her own way, and always will.”
”What does Miss Thornton say?” asked the Major.
”Nothing, she never does say anything. She regards Hawker as Mary's accepted suitor; and though she may think him vulgar, she would sooner die than commit herself so far as to say so. She has been so long under others, and without an opinion save theirs, that she cannot form an opinion at all.”
They had turned and were walking home, when the Vicar, sticking his walking-cane upright in the gra.s.s, began again.
”It is the most miserable and lamentable thing that ever took place in this world. Look at my sister again: what a delicate old maid she is!
used to move and be respected, more than most governesses are, in the highest society in the land. There'll be a home for her when I die.
Think of her living in the house with any of the Hawkers; and yet, sir, that woman's sense of duty is such that she'd die sooner than leave her niece. Sooner be burnt at the stake than go one inch out of the line of conduct she has marked out for herself.”
The Vicar judged his sister most rightly: we shall see that hereafter.
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