“If it be so I’ll drag him back to England by the collar of his coat, and disgrace him before the steps of his father’s hall.”
And the archdeacon as he uttered the threat looked his character as an irate British father much better than he did his other character as a clergyman of the Church of England. The archdeacon had been greatly worsted by Mrs. Proudie, but he was a man who knew how to fight his battles among men,—sometimes without too close a regard to his cloth.
“Had Lord Dumbello intended any such thing he would have written, or got some friend to write by this time,” said Mrs. Grantly. “It is quite possible that he might wish to be off, but he would be too chary of his name not to endeavour to do so with decency.”
Thus the matter was discussed, and it appeared to them both to be so serious that the archdeacon resolved to go at once to London. That Lord Dumbello had gone to France he did not doubt; but he would find some one in town acquainted with the young man’s intentions, and he would, no doubt, be able to hear when his return was expected. If there were real reason for apprehension he would follow the runagate to the Continent, but he would not do this without absolute knowledge. According to Lord Dumbello’s present engagements he was bound to present himself in August next at Plumstead Episcopi, with the view of then and there taking Griselda Grantly in marriage; but if he kept his word in this respect no one had a right to quarrel with him for going to Paris in the meantime. Most expectant bridegrooms would, no doubt, under such circumstances have declared their intentions to their future brides; but if Lord Dumbello were different from others, who had a right on that account to be indignant with him? He was unlike other men in other things; and especially unlike other men in being the eldest son of the Marquis of Hartletop. It would be all very well for Tickler to proclaim his whereabouts from week to week; but the eldest son of a marquis might find it inconvenient to be so precise! Nevertheless the archdeacon thought it only prudent to go up to London.
“Susan,” said the archdeacon to his wife, just as he was starting;—at this moment neither of them were in the happiest spirits,—“I think I would say a word of caution to Griselda.”
“Do you feel so much doubt about it as that?” said Mrs. Grantly. But even she did not dare to put a direct negative to this proposal, so much had she been moved by what she had heard!
“I think I would do so, not frightening her more than I could help. It will lessen the blow if it be that the blow is to fall.”
“It will kill me,” said Mrs. Grantly; “but I think that she will be able to bear it.”
On the next morning Mrs. Grantly, with much cunning preparation, went about the task which her husband had left her to perform. It took her long to do, for she was very cunning in the doing of it; but at last it dropped from her in words that there was a possibility—a bare possibility—that some disappointment might even yet be in store for them.
“Do you mean, mamma, that the marriage will be put off?”