Hugh had listened, but he was annoyed and unsympathetic.
“Arthur is too young.”
“Oh, my dear Hugh, so much the better. Your dear father was very little older, and I only wish I could see you—”
“Mysie has a right to a wider out-look.”
“But, my dear, she quite adores him; she always did. And she is the most constant little creature. There cannot be a word against Arthur.”
“Oh, no; he is exceedingly well-conducted,” said Hugh, dryly.
“And what a pity to come between young people! It always does them harm, even where it’s inevitable. Disappointments are very bad things.”
“Most people have to survive them. However, mother, if you are satisfied on Mysie’s behalf, I can have nothing to say. I see Arthur. I’ll get it over at once.”
Hugh crossed the lawn, but had he wished to win Mysie for himself he could hardly have felt a bitterer pang of jealousy than that which came upon him as he looked at Arthur’s gladsome eyes and heard the proud satisfaction in his tones through all their embarrassment.
“I have nothing to say, Hugh, but that we have chosen each other. I think I can make her happy, and I will do my best to be helpful to you, and to place myself in a less unequal position as regards her fortune.”