‘He is not strong enough,’ said his mother. ‘He wished it, but he is better where he is; he could not bear the work here.’
‘No; I told him the utmost I should allow would be an exchange now and then when my curates were overdone,’ said Mr. Parsons.
‘And so you are quite deserted,’ said Honor, feeling the more drawn towards her friends.
‘Starting afresh, with a sort of honeymoon, as I tell Anne,’ replied Mr. Parsons; and such a bright look passed between them, as though they were quite sufficient for each other, that Honor felt there was no parallel between their case and her own.
‘Ah! you have not lost your children yet,’ said Mrs. Parsons.
‘They are not with me,’ said Honor, quickly. ‘Lucy is with her cousins, and Owen—I don’t exactly know how he means to dispose of himself this vacation; but we were all to meet here.’ Guessing, perhaps, that Mr. Parsons saw into her dissatisfaction, she then assumed their defence. ‘There is to be a grand affair at Castle Blanch, a celebration of young Charles Charteris’s marriage, and Owen and Lucy will be wanted for it.’
‘Whom has he married?’
‘A Miss Mendoza, an immense fortune—something in the stockbroker line. He had spent a good deal, and wanted to repair it; but they tell me she is a very handsome person, very ladylike and agreeable; and Lucy likes her greatly. I am to go to luncheon at their house to-morrow, so I shall treat you as if you were at home.’
‘I should hope so,’ quoth Mr. Parsons.
‘Yes, or I know you would not stay here properly. I’m not alone, either. Why, where’s the boy gone? I thought he was here. I have two young Fulmorts, one staying here, the other looking in from the office.’