“Provided,” Mr Kingsworth said punctiliously, “that the young lady whom he had chosen had no objection to make to the proposal.”
Mary Lacy was a tall, dark-eyed girl, graceful and distinguished, with a cultivated mind and strong enthusiastic temper.
George went to see her, and told her of the plan proposed. Their home, he said, “had been lonely since their mother’s death, and his father required both her presence within the house, and his assistance about the estate.”
Miss Lacy listened, thoughtfully. “You think we are so much wanted as to make this a duty?” she said.
“Don’t you like the notion, Mary?” said George, surprised.
“I should like it very much,” said Mary, with clear directness, “if you were the eldest and the heir. But as it is, I think I want you to make a career for yourself. But oh, George, I am ashamed of being so selfish and worldly-minded. Of course we must do it if your father wants us. And, don’t you think, don’t you think, George, that if Kingsworth was very bright and cheerful, it would be better for your brother too?”
“I am quite sure that every one will be the better for having you there, my dearest!”
“I will try, I will try my very best to have it so,” said Mary, earnestly.
What better could she wish than to help her husband to sacrifice his natural desire for an independent career to his father’s need? she would be wealthy, and her marriage settlements were to be handsome, there was no difficulty on that score, but she was ambitious enough to feel that the choice was a sacrifice, and enthusiastic enough to glory in being able to think of George as a hero, worthy of the good old Kingsworth name. So when the honeymoon was over, the bride came home, a young light-hearted creature, spite of her lofty carriage and shy manners, ready to love and respect her new relations, and with a specially kind thought, and as kind a look as her bashfulness permitted for James, who was to be helped to reform by his good brother, and reinstated in his father’s favour.
James admired her very much. As he said, he could not have the luck to fix his affections on so undeniable an object. He had a very different ideal in his mind. What would his father say to the pretty penniless nursery governess, who had won his affections? He did not care what his father said, but he did care for what his father did, and a vague idea crossed his mind that his new sister-in-law might be a kind and generous ally.