“Only, sister, please do understand that I care for Hubert with all my heart,” said Vera, much less childishly than Magdalen had expected.
However, she went, while Magdalen succeeded in saying what she had intended—that Hubert must not consider himself in the smallest degree bound by what had been accident, entirely unintentional and innocent.
“You are generous, Miss Prescott. You understand! But the world! It was public.”
“Never mind the world. You see what sensible people think.”
“But, indeed, Miss Prescott, I cannot leave you to suppose I am only actuated by the fact of that awkward situation. Of course that would never have been if I did not deeply, entirely love your sister. It has only precipitated matters. I entreat of you to give her to me, as one who is—who is devoted to her! If my station is inferior I will work—”
“That is not the point. Vera is too young for such things. What does your father say?”
“My father sees that I am right.”
“I see what that means,” said Magdalen, smiling. “But where is he? I should like to talk to him.”
Mr. Delrio, pretty well knowing what was going on, was found endeavouring to distract his mind by sketching the Goyle. He and Magdalen walked up and down the drive together, perfectly agreeing that it would be senseless cruelty to permit an early marriage between these two young people, and that it was a pity there should be an engagement; but this could hardly be prevented, since Mr. Delrio could only give advice, and leave a self-supporting worthy son to judge for himself; but the elder sister and the trustee could stipulate for delay till Vera should be of age.
So Hubert was called, and acquiesced, cheerfully observing that he trusted that four years would make him able to render Vera’s life an easy and pleasant one; and after heartily thanking both Miss Prescott and his father, he went off to rejoice the heart of the maiden, who was sitting under the pear-tree, watching with anxious eyes.