“It was very stupid,” said Bessie, “of none of those girls to have Uncle George to marry them. My aunt fancied he would be nervous, but I know he did marry a couple when Mr. Lifford was away; I mean him to marry me, as I told them all.”
“You had better wait till you know whether he will,” observed Alick.
“Will? Oh, he is always pleased to feel he can do like other people,” returned Bessie, “and I’ll undertake to see that he puts the ring on the right—I mean the left finger. Because you’ll have to give me away, you know, Alick, so you can look after him.”
“You seem to have arranged the programme pretty thoroughly,” said Rachel.
“After four weddings at home, one can’t but lay by a little experience for the future,” returned Bessie; “and after all, Alick need not look as if it must be for oneself. He is quite welcome to profit by it, if he has the good taste to want my uncle to marry him.”
“Not unless I were very clear that he liked my choice,” said Alick, gravely.
“Oh, dear! Have you any doubts, or is that meant for a cut at poor innocent me, as if I could help people’s folly, or as if he was not gone to Rio Janeiro,” exclaimed Bessie, with a sort of meek simplicity and unconsciousness that totally removed all the unsatisfactoriness of the speech, and made even her brother smile while he looked annoyed; and Lady Temple quietly changed the conversation. Alick Keith was obliged to go away early, and the three ladies sat long in the garden outside the window, in the summer twilight, much relishing the frank-hearted way in which this engaging girl talked of herself and her difficulties to Fanny as to an old friend, and to Rachel as belonging to Fanny.
“I am afraid that I was very naughty,” she said, with a hand laid on Lady Temple’s, as if to win pardon; “but I never can resist plaguing that dear anxious brother of mine, and he did so dreadfully take to heart the absurdities of that little Charlie Carleton, as if any one with brains could think him good for anything but a croquet partner, that I could not help giving a little gentle titillation. I saw you did not like it, dear Lady Temple, and I am sorry for it.”
“I hope I did not vex you,” said Fanny, afraid of having been severe.
“Oh, no, indeed; a little check just makes one feel one is cared for,” and they kissed affectionately: “you see when one has a very wise brother, plaguing him is irresistible. How little Stephana will plague hers, in self-defence, with so many to keep her in order.”