"It will be quite a surprise to her. I am sure it will."
"You think, then, that there has been nothing said,—not a word about it?"
"I am sure there has not, papa. Clarissa had some joke with Mary,—quite as a joke."
"Then there has been a joke?"
"It meant nothing. And as for Mr. Newton, he could not have dreamed of anything of the kind. We all liked him."
"So did I. The property will be much better with him than with the other. Mary is a very lucky girl. That's all I can say. As for the letter, it's the best letter I ever read in my life."
There was some delay before Sir Thomas could write an answer to young Newton. It was, indeed, his left arm that had suffered; but even with so much of power abstracted, writing is not an easy task. And this was a letter the answering of which could not be deputed to any secretary. On the third day after its receipt Sir Thomas did manage with much difficulty to get a reply written.
Dear Mr. Newton,—
I have had my left arm broken in the election here. Hence the delay. I can have no objection. Your letter does you infinite honour. I presume you know that my niece has no fortune.
Yours, most sincerely,
Thomas Underwood.
"What a pity it is," said Sir Thomas, "that a man can't have a broken arm in answering all letters. I should have had to write ever so much had I been well. And yet I could not have said a word more that would have been of any use."
Sir Thomas was kept an entire week at the Percycross Standard after his election was over before the three doctors and the innkeeper between them would allow him to be moved. During this time there was very much discussion between the father and daughter as to Mary's prospects; and a word or two was said inadvertently which almost opened the father's eyes as to the state of his younger daughter's affections. It is sometimes impossible to prevent the betrayal of a confidence, when the line between betrayal and non-betrayal is finely drawn. It was a matter of course that there should be much said about that other Ralph, the one now disinherited and dispossessed, who had so long and so intimately been known to them; and it was almost impossible for Patience not to show the cause of her great grief. It might be, as her father said, that the property would be better in the hands of this other young man; but Patience knew that her sympathies were with the spendthrift, and with the dearly-loved sister who loved the spendthrift. Since Clarissa had come to speak so openly of her love, to assert it so loudly, and to protest that nothing could or should shake it, Patience had been unable not to hope that the heir might at last prove himself worthy to be her sister's husband. Then they heard that his inheritance was sold. "It won't make the slightest difference to me," said Clary almost triumphantly, as she discussed the matter with Patience the evening before the journey to Percycross. "If he were a beggar it would be the same." To Patience, however, the news of the sale had been a great blow. And now her father told her that this young man had been thinking of marrying another girl, a tailor's daughter;—that such a marriage had been almost fixed. Surely it would be better that steps should be taken to wean her sister from such a passion! But yet she did not tell the secret. She only allowed a word to escape her, from which it might be half surmised that Clarissa would be a sufferer. "What difference will it make to Clary?" asked Sir Thomas.