Part 27 (1/2)

”And can you not?”

”No, my lady.”

”Dear me! I thought everybody could read and write nowadays.”

”La, no, my lady! not half of them in our village.”

”Your parents are much to blame, my poor girl. Well, but it is not too late. Now I think of it, there is an adult school in the village. Shall I arrange for you to go to it?”

”Thank you, my lady. But then--”

”Well?”

”All my fellow-servants would have a laugh against me.”

”The person you are engaged to, will he not instruct you?”

”Oh, he have no time to teach me. Besides, I don't want him to know, either. But I won't be his wife to shame him.” (Another sigh.)

”Mary,” said Lady Ba.s.sett, in the innocence of her heart, ”you shall not be mortified, and you shall not lose a good marriage. I will try and teach you myself.”

Mary was profuse in thanks. Lady Ba.s.sett received them rather coldly.

She gave her a few minutes' instruction in her dressing-room every day; and Mary, who could not have done anything intellectual for half an hour at a stretch, gave her whole mind for those few minutes. She was quick, and learned very fast. In two months she could read a great deal more than she could understand, and could write slowly but very clearly.

Now by this time Lady Ba.s.sett had become so interested in her pupil that she made her read letters and newspapers to her at those parts of the toilet when her services were not required.

Mary Wells, though a great chatterbox, was the closest girl in England.

Limpet never stuck to a rock as she could stick to a lie. She never said one word to Ba.s.sett about Lady Ba.s.sett's lessons. She kept strict silence till she could write a letter, and then she sent him a line to say she had learned to write for love of him, and she hoped he would keep his promise.

Ba.s.sett's vanity was flattered by this. But, on reflection, he suspected it was a falsehood. He asked her suddenly, at their next meeting, who had written that note for her.

”You shall see me write the fellow to it when you like,” was the reply.

Ba.s.sett resolved to submit the matter to that test some day. At present, however, he took her word for it, and asked her who had taught her.

”I had to teach myself. n.o.body cares enough for me to teach me. Well, I'll forgive you if you will write me a nice letter for mine.”

”What! when we can meet here and say everything?”

”No matter; I have written to you, and you might write to me. They all get letters, except me; and the jades hold 'em up to me: they see I never get one. When you are out, post me a letter now and then. It will only cost you a penny. I'm sure I don't ask you for much.”

Ba.s.sett humored her in this, and in one of his letters called her his wife that was to be.

This pleased her so much that the next time they met she hung round his neck with a good deal of feminine grace.

Richard Ba.s.sett was a man who now lived in the future. Everybody in the county believed he had written that anonymous letter, and he had no hope of s.h.i.+ning by his own light. It was bitter to resign his personal hopes; but he did, and sullenly resolved to be obscure himself, but the father of the future heirs of Huntercombe. He would marry Mary Wells, and lay the blame of the match upon Sir Charles, who had blackened him in the county, and put it out of his power to win a lady's hand.

He told Wheeler he was determined to marry; but he had not the courage to tell him all at once what a wife he had selected.