"That will be a very proper little attention, Mr. Rowan, and we shall be happy to drink success to the establishment. Here's some cake and wine on the table, and perhaps you'll do us the favour to take a glass,—so as to bury any past unkindness. T., my love, will you pour out the wine?"
It was twelve o'clock in the day, and the port wine, which had been standing for the last week in its decanter, was sipped by Luke Rowan without any great relish. But it also served its purpose,—and the burial service over past unkindness was performed with as much heartiness as the nature of the entertainment admitted. It was not as yet full four months since Rowan had filled Rachel's glass with champagne in that same room. Then he had made himself quite at home in the house as a member of Mr. Tappitt's family; but now he was going to be at home there as master of the establishment. As he put down the glass he could not help looking round the room, and suggesting to himself the changes he would make. As seen at present, the parlour of the brewery was certainly a dull room. It was very long since the wainscoting had been painted, longer since the curtains or carpets had been renewed. It was dark and dingy. But then so were the Tappitts themselves. Before Rachel should be brought there he would make the place as bright as herself.
They said to him no word about his marriage. As for Tappitt he said few words about anything; and Mrs. Tappitt, with all her wish to be gracious, could not bring herself to mention Rachel Ray. Even between her and her daughters there was no longer any utterance of Rachel's name. She had once declared to Augusta, with irrepressible energy, that the man was a greater fool than she had ever believed possible, but after that it had been felt that the calamity would be best endured in silence.
When that interview in the dining-room was over, Rowan saw no more of Mrs. Tappitt. Business made it needful that he should be daily about the brewery, and there occasionally he met the poor departing man wandering among the vats and empty casks like a brewer's ghost. There was no word spoken between them as to business. The accounts, the keys, and implements were all handed over through Worts; and Rowan found himself in possession of the whole establishment with no more trouble than would have been necessary in settling himself in a new lodging.
That promise which he had half made of sending bridecake to Mrs. Sturt before Christmas was not kept, but it was broken only by a little. They were married early in January. In December Mrs. Rowan came back to Baslehurst, and became the guest of her son, who was then keeping a bachelor's house at the brewery. This lady's first visit to the cottage after her return was an affair of great moment to Rachel. Everything now had gone well with her except that question of her mother-in-law. Her lover had come back to her a better lover than ever; her mother petted her to her heart's content, speaking of Luke as though she had never suspected him of lupine propensities; Mr. Comfort talked to her of her coming marriage as though she had acted with great sagacity through the whole affair, addressing her in a tone indicating much respect, and differing greatly from that in which he had been wont to catechise her when she was nothing more than Mrs. Ray's girl at Bragg's End; and even Dolly had sent in her adhesion, with more or less cordiality. But still she had feared Mrs. Rowan's enmity, and when Luke told her that his mother was coming to Baslehurst for the Christmas,—so that she might also be present at the marriage,—Rachel felt that there was still a cloud in her heavens. "I know your mother won't like me," she said to Luke. "She made up her mind not to like me when she was here before." Luke assured her that she did not understand his mother's character,—asserting that his mother would certainly like any woman that he might choose for his wife as soon as she should have been made to understand that his choice was irrevocable. But Rachel remembered too well the report as to that former visit to the cottage which Mrs. Rowan had made together with Mrs. Tappitt; and when she heard that Luke's mother was again in the parlour she went down from her bedroom with hesitating step and an uneasy heart. Mrs. Rowan was seated in the room with her mother and sister when she entered it, and therefore the first words of the interview had been already spoken. To Mrs. Ray the prospect of the visit had not been pleasant, for she also remembered how grand and distant the lady had been when she came to the cottage on that former occasion; but Rachel observed, as she entered the room, that her mother's face did not wear that look of dismay which was usual to her when she was in any presence that was disagreeable to her.
"My dear child!" said Mrs. Rowan rising from her seat, and opening her arms for an embrace. Rachel underwent the embrace, and kissed the lady by whom she found herself to be thus enveloped. She kissed Mrs. Rowan, but she could not, for the life of her, think of any word to speak which would be fitting for the occasion.
"My own dear child!" said Mrs. Rowan again; "for you know that you are to be my child now as well as your own mamma's."
"It is very kind of you to say so," said Mrs. Ray.
"Very kind, indeed," said Mrs. Prime; "and I'm sure that you will find Rachel dutiful as a daughter." Rachel herself did not feel disposed to give any positive assurance on that point. She intended to be dutiful to her husband, and was inclined to think that obedience in that direction was quite enough for a married woman.
"Now that Luke is going to settle himself for life," continued Mrs. Rowan, "it is so very desirable that he should be married at once. Don't you think so, Mrs. Ray?"