"Mrs. Masters perhaps is—hard to her."
"God forbid I should say anything against my wife. I never did, and I won't now. But Mary will be better away; and if Lady Ushant will be good enough to take her, she shall go."
"When will she be ready, Mr. Masters?"
"I must ask her about that;—in a week perhaps, or ten days."
"She is quite decided against the young man?"
"Quite. At the bidding of all of us she said she'd take two months to think of it. But before the time was up she wrote to him to say it could never be. It quite upset my wife; because it would have been such an excellent arrangement."
Reginald wished to learn more but hardly knew how to ask the father questions. Yet, as he had been trusted so far, he thought that he might be trusted altogether. "I must own," he said, "that I think that Mr. Twentyman would hardly be a fit husband for your daughter."
"He is a very good young man."
"Very likely;—but she is something more than a very good young woman. A young lady with her gifts will be sure to settle well in life some day." The attorney shook his head. He had lived long enough to see many young ladies with good gifts find it difficult to settle in life; and perhaps that mysterious poem which Reginald found in Mary's eyes was neither visible nor audible to Mary's father. "I did hear," said Reginald, "that Mr. Surtees—"
"There's nothing in that."