The letter, when it was forwarded, ran thus:
“Dear Mrs. Thorpe,
“I write on a subject that touches very nearly the happiness of my future life (‘it touches mine, R.’) You must have seen, I imagine, how much I have admired and loved you (‘my sentiments exactly R.’); nor can you be blind to the fact that no other woman occupies the place in my esteem which has been wholly given to you (‘couldn’t have expressed myself better, R.’) I now offer you my hand and heart (‘savours of the complete letter writer, but true notwithstanding, R.’), together with all my worldly possessions (‘£50, all included, R.’) You know, I fancy, my ways and habits as no other woman can know them (‘too well by half, R.’) My temper is equable, and I am, I think, companionable (‘query? R.’) My nephew Ronald will continue to live with us; you know him well (‘I should just think so, R.’) He is a really good-hearted, well-meaning lad (‘thanks, old man, R.’), but a little uppish at times, and thinks he knows everything, like all the boys of the present day (‘I retract my thanks, R.’) But I fancy that you and he will get on together (‘admirably, R.’)
“I shall await your answer with impatience, and anxiously hope it may be favourable (‘to me, R.’)
“I remain,
“Your sincere admirer,
“A. Heyward.”
(‘Your loving friend, R.’)
The answer came next day, and was a crushing blow to my uncle’s hopes. She thanked him gratefully for the offer, and regretted the disappointment her answer would cause him. But her affections, she said, had long been bestowed on his nephew, and she had lately had reason to believe (italics at Ronald’s request) that the feeling was reciprocated. She was in a position, she added, to disregard monetary considerations in the choice of a husband.
* * * *
There was strife within the gates of Broadwater on the announcement of Ronald’s engagement. The uncle was furious at being supplanted this second time, and, to make matters worse, the offender in this case was the nephew of his choice. So wroth was he that he nearly made me his heir out of spite, and, for two or three days, my price rose considerably on the matrimonial market. But, on giving tongue to his wrath, he found himself without a supporter. “A servile war had broken out” (to quote from ‘Cometh up,’—sweetest of all love stories, but, Great Dionysius! what Greek!) and his sister was in a state of open rebellion. It was she who headed the rising, and with her went all the servants, which left our uncle in a minority of one. She was, naturally enough, well pleased at the progress of events, and anticipated with satisfaction the continuance of her reign.
Ronald, so soon as his month’s probation was ended, was thankful to be received out of the fray into the sanctuary of Thorpe. Not that he was at peace, even there. His conscience gave him twinges, and I had a word to say to him on the subject, and his wife had a word or two more. But it was all for his good, and he had brought it upon himself by treating matrimony (of all estates in the world) in a spirit of graceless levity.
* * * * *
And what of myself? Well, reader, I had lost my chance, or, perhaps, willingly foregone it. All Ronald’s pet schemes had been safe in my hands, and I was little likely to oppose the present one, when, almost from the first, I had pictured its realisation, and seen how necessary it was to the happiness and stability of his life. My unselfishness—call it passivity if you will—carried with it its own reward, for neither of the two was happy without me, and Thorpe Hill practically became my home.
Judy, or Retrieved
Ronald became her ‘fidus Achates’ and Lord High Almoner in all her acts of charity. Occasionally, it is true, he misunderstood or exceeded his instructions, as, for instance, when he went round with a parcel of physic to a sick cottager.