Poor Mary!
"And I think it will perhaps be better," continued Lady Arabella, "that we should have a larger party than we intended at your affair. The countess, I'm sure, would come now. We couldn't put it off for ten days; could we, dear?"
"Put it off ten days!"
"Yes; it would be convenient."
"I don't think Mr Oriel would like that at all, mamma. You know he has made all his arrangements for his Sundays—"
Pshaw! The idea of the parson's Sundays being allowed to have any bearing on such a matter as Frank's wedding would now become! Why, they would have—how much? Between twelve and fourteen thousand a year! Lady Arabella, who had made her calculations a dozen times during the night, had never found it to be much less than the larger sum. Mr Oriel's Sundays, indeed!
After much doubt, Lady Arabella acceded to her daughter's suggestion, that Mary should be received at Greshamsbury instead of being called on at the doctor's house. "If you think she won't mind the coming up first," said her ladyship. "I certainly could receive her better here. I should be more—more—more able, you know, to express what I feel. We had better go into the big drawing-room to-day, Beatrice. Will you remember to tell Mrs Richards?"
"Oh, certainly," was Mary's answer when Beatrice, with a voice a little trembling, proposed to her to walk up to the house. "Certainly I will, if Lady Arabella will receive me;—only one thing, Trichy."
"What's that, dearest?"
"Frank will think that I come after him."