Part 60 (1/2)
”So am I,” said poor Grace. ”Oh, pray forgive me. I am so unhappy.” And she hid her face in her hands.
”Of course I forgive you,” said Raby. ”But, unfortunately, I knew nothing of all this, and went and put him under her charge; and here he has found a precedent for marrying a Dence--found it on this confounded bra.s.s! Well, no matter. Life is one long disappointment. What does he say? Where is the letter gone to? It has vanished.”
”I have got it safe,” said Grace, deprecatingly.
”Then please let me know what he says.”
”What, read his letter to you?”
”Why not, pray? I'm his uncle. He is my heir-at-law. I agree with Amboyne, he has some fine qualities. It is foolish of me, no doubt, but I am very anxious to know what he says about marrying my tenant's daughter.” Then, with amazing dignity, ”Can I be mistaken in thinking I have a right to know who my nephew intends to marry?” And he began to get very red.
Grace hung her head, and, trembling a little, drew the letter very slowly out of her bosom.
It just flashed through her mind how cruel it was to make her read out the death-warrant of her heart before two men; but she summoned all a woman's fort.i.tude and self-defense, prepared to hide her anguish under a marble demeanor, and quietly opened the letter.
CHAPTER XX.
”You advise me to marry one, when I love another; and this, you think, is the way to be happy. It has seldom proved so, and I should despise happiness if I could only get it in that way.
”Yours, sadly but devotedly,
”H. LITTLE.
”Will you wait two years?”
Grace, being on her defense, read this letter very slowly, and as if she had to decipher it. That gave her time to say, ”Yours, et cetera,”
instead of ”sadly and devotedly.” (Why be needlessly precise?) As for the postscript, she didn't trouble them with that at all.
She then hurried the letter into her pocket, that it might not be asked for, and said, with all the nonchalance she could manage to a.s.sume, ”Oh, if he loves somebody else!”
”No; that is worse still,” said Mr. Raby. ”In his own rank of life, it is ten to one if he finds anything as modest, as good, and as loyal as Dence's daughter. It's some factory-girl, I suppose.”
”Let us hope not,” said Grace, demurely; but Amboyne noticed that her cheek was now flushed, and her eyes sparkling like diamonds.
Soon afterward she strolled apart, and took a wonderful interest in the monuments and things, until she found an opportunity to slip out into the church-yard. There she took the letter out, and kissed it again and again, as if she would devour it; and all the way home she was as gay as a lark. Amboyne put himself in her place.
When they got home, he said to her, ”My dear Miss Carden, I have a favor to ask you. I want an hour's conversation with Mr. Raby. Will you be so very kind as to see that I am not interrupted?”
”Oh yes. No; you must tell me, first, what you are going to talk about.
I can't have gentlemen talking nonsense together UNINTERRUPTEDLY.”
”You ladies claim to monopolize nonsense, eh? Well, I am going to talk about my friend, Mr. Little. Is he nonsense?”
”That depends. What are you going to say about him?”
”Going to advance his interests--and my own hobby. Such is man.”