“And may I ask you, madam, what you propose by inveigling a young man”—
“Really, Mrs. Jericho,” said Mrs. Carraways, and even with the most placid manner she managed to rise above the violence of her visitor—“really, I must hear nothing of this. Mr. Carraways has, I believe, communicated with Mr. Jericho; and I take it, as they are agreed”—and Mrs. Carraways was most provoking in her humility—“as they are of accord, the less we women interfere the better.”
“That may be your degraded opinion of the rights of women, Mrs. Carraways; of the rights of a mother. Happily, however, I have other notions; other feelings. To be sure, you may very calmly contemplate the marriage of your daughter with a husband of untold affluence—of untold affluence, ma’am.”
“Untold,—I believe so; yes, untold,” observed Mrs. Carraways, very quietly.
Mrs. Jericho would not pause in her course to notice the sarcasm. “But, madam, it is otherwise to the mother whose child, whose only son, is to be lured, entrapped, and cruelly sacrificed to the hopeless condition of a penniless wife.”
“I assure you, madam,”—Mrs. Carraways’ cheek tingled a little; but she had made up her mind to be cool, and cool she would be though—as she afterwards phrased it—her blood was boiling—“I assure you, Mr. Carraways has no thought of Mr. Pennibacker’s probable, I might say, his problematical wealth; though, no doubt, it must be immense, if all the stories be true about the mines of platina.”
“My dear Mrs. Carraways”—that lady stared at the sudden courtesy—“let us understand one another. Mr. Jericho has, I can answer for it, every wish to serve the family. You are about to make a voyage; about to begin the world anew. Just grant us one favour, and there is nothing we will not do for you.” It was thus, without effort, Mrs. Jericho subsided from the imperious to the polite, when she found it best to sink to an advantage.
“You are very kind; very suddenly kind,” said Mrs. Carraways; “but I think even now we are so rich—yes, so very rich, that it is impossible Mr. Jericho can assist us.”
“Come, come”—said Mrs. Jericho, laying her hand upon Mrs. Carraways’ hand, and the good lady smiled a little sourly at the action—“we are both mothers; and must consider our children’s happiness. As for Basil, he is quite a boy; absurdly young to take a wife. No fixed affections. A very boy.”
“He is young; very young,” confessed Mrs. Carraways.