“Yes, I have seen that.”
“And Miss Keith’s fun has been more encouragement than she knew; constantly summoning him to the croquet-ground, and giving him to understand that Lady Temple liked to have him there. Then came that unlucky day, it seems, when he found Bessie mounting her horse at the door, and she called out that it was too wet for croquet, but Lady Temple was in the garden, and would be glad to see him. She was going to make visits, and he walked down with her, and somehow, in regretting the end of the croquet season, he was surprised into saying how much it had been to him. He says she was exceedingly kind, and regretted extremely that anything should have inspired the hope, said she should never marry again, and entreated him to forget it, then I imagine she fled in here to put an end to it.”
“She must have been much more gentle this time than she was with Keith. I had never conceived her capable of being so furious as she was then. I am very sorry, I wish we could spare her these things.”
“I am afraid that can only be done in one way, which you are not likely at present to take,” said Ermine with a serious mouth, but with light dancing in her eyes.
“I know no one less likely to marry again,” he continued, “yet no one of whom the world is so unlikely to believe it. Her very gentle simplicity and tenderness tell against her! Well, the only hope now is that the poor man has not made his disappointment conspicuous enough for her to know that it is attributed to her. It is the beginning of the fulfilment of Keith’s prediction that offers and reports will harass her into the deed!”
“There is nothing so fallacious as prophecies against second marriages, but I don’t believe they will. She is too quietly dignified for the full brunt of reports to reach her, and too much concentrated on her children to care about them.”
“Well, I have to see her to-morrow to make her sign some papers about her pension, so I shall perhaps find out how she takes it.”
He found Fanny quite her gentle composed self, as usual uncomprehending and helpless about her business affairs, and throwing the whole burthen on him of deciding on her investments; but in such a gracious, dependent, grateful way that he could not but take pleasure in the office, and had no heart for the lesson he had been meditating on the need of learning to act for herself, if she wished to do without a protector. It was not till she had obediently written her “Frances Grace Temple” wherever her prime minister directed, that she said with a crimson blush, “Is it true that poor Mr. Touchett is going away for the winter?”
“I believe he is even going before Sunday.”
“I am very glad—I mean I am very sorry. Do you think any one knows why it is?”