“I daresay, if the truth were known, our ancestors had their foibles.”
“Madness has, unfortunately, the habit of going obliquely, father; it often attacks the nephew or niece, rather than the son or daughter. This Herbert Pym may develop into a Sir Roderick.”
“Madness may do that, Hugh; but surely not eccentricity.”
Hugh paced the room and thought deeply. He had felt there was some mystery connected with Sir Roderick’s wife, Lilia’s mother. But that any scandal was attached to her name he had not believed. For himself, he would not care. But when his sister was in question, he felt it behoved him to be uncompromisingly judicial.
“I do not think mother would have liked Daisy’s marrying this young man, father,” he said at last.
“If you say that, you cannot have understood her, Hugh,” said the rector, warmly. “She was the largest-hearted woman on earth. Scandal was her greatest horror. When young Pym came to me and asked for Daisy, I felt she would have liked him. It was just that which influenced me.”
“Well, you know best, father. Shall I see him and talk to him? Perhaps I might say things to him that you could scarcely say.”
“I wish you would see him,” said his father, reassured.
Hugh left him with the understanding that whenever it suited the Rev. Herbert Pym to make an appointment he was ready to receive him as his probable brother-in-law.
But the meeting was destined to be postponed. Next morning, just before noon, the porter came again.