“Bless my heart, Kitty! Is not that saying a deal?”
“No. It would be no more than justice. If you should force on me a husband whom I despised or disliked, would I not think it very wicked and cruel? Then would it not be just as wicked and cruel if I should force on you a son-in-law whom you despised and disliked? There is not one law of kindness for the parents, and another law, less kind, for the daughter, is there?”
“Thou art quite right, Kitty. The laws of the Home and the Family are equal laws. God bless thee for a good child.”
And, oh, how sweet were Kitty’s slumbers that night! It is out of earth’s delightful things we form our visions of the world to come; and Kate understood, because of her own pure, true, hopeful love, how “God is love,” and how, therefore, He would deny her any good thing.
So the summer went its way, peacefully and happily. In the last days of August, Edgar was married with great pomp and splendour; and afterwards the gates of Gisbourne stood wide-open, and there were many signs and promises of wonderful improvements and innovations. For the young man was a born leader and organiser. He loved to control, and soon devised means to secure what was so necessary to his happiness. The Curzons had made their money in manufactures; and Annie approved of such use of money. So very soon, at the upper end of Gisbourne, a great mill, and a fine new village of cottages for its hands, arose as if by magic,–a village that was to example and carry out all the ideas of Reform.
“Edgar is making a lot of trouble ready for himself,” said the Squire to his wife; “but Edgar can’t live without a fight on hand. I’ll warrant that he gets more fighting than he bargains for; a few hundreds of those Lancashire and Yorkshire operatives aren’t as easy to manage as he seems to think. They have ‘reformed’ their lawgivers; and they are bound to ‘reform’ their masters next.”
The Squire had said little about this new influx into his peaceful neighbourhood, but it had grieved his very soul; and his wife wondered at his reticence, and one day she told him so.
“Well, Maude,” he answered, “when Edgar was one of my household, I had the right to say this and that about his words and ways; but Edgar is now Squire, and married man, and Member of Parliament. He is a Reformer too, and bound to carry out his ideas; and, I dare say, his wife keeps the bit in his mouth hard enough, without me pulling on it too. I have taken notice, Maude, that these sweet little women are often very masterful.”
“I am sure his grandfather Belward would never have suffered that mill chimney in his sight for any money.”
“Perhaps he could not have helped it.”