“No,” said the clergyman, struck with a sense of remissness. “I forgot that. The fact is, I hardly had the oppor——”
“Never mind. It is just as well that you did not: it might have made mischief.”
“I do not think it is of the least use to pursue her with any further overtures. Besides, I really could not undertake to conduct them.”
“May I ask,” said Mr. Lind, turning on him suddenly, “what objection you have to Marian’s wishes being consulted in this matter?”
The Rev. George recoiled, speechless.
“I certainly think,” said Mr. Lind, more smoothly, “that Marian might have trusted to my indulgence instead of hurrying away to a lodging and writing the news in all directions. But I must say I have received some very nice letters about it. Jasper is quite congratulatory. The Court Journal has a paragraph this week alluding to it with quite good taste. Conolly is a very remarkable man; and, as the Court Journal truly enough remarks, he has won a high place in the republic of art and science. As a Liberal, I cannot say that I disapprove of Marian’s choice; and I really think that it will be looked on in society as an interesting one.”
Mr. Lind’s son eyed him dubiously for quite a long time. Then he said, slowly, “Am I to understand that I may now speak of the marriage as a recognized thing?”
“Why not, pray?”
“Of course, since you wish it, and it cannot be helped—” The clergyman again looked at his father, still more dubiously. He saw in his eye that there would be a quarrel if the interview lasted much longer. So he said “I must go home now. I have to write my sermon for next Sunday.”
“Very good. Do not let me detain you. Good-bye.”