“Tell me what you advise, brother,” said Mrs. Unett.
The parson laughed.
“You could not appeal to a worse man,” he said. “I am an indifferent good judge of old oak, and know something of fossils, but of love matters I am as ignorant as a child of seven. It seems that worthy Mr. Geers wants a wife, he is not blessed as I am with the love of antiquities, and he finds his country mansion wondrous dull. If Hilary pines for a husband, why, then, I should advise you to let the gentleman woo her.”
“I am very sure she is in no haste to wed,” said Mrs. Unett, “she is not yet eighteen, and would be loth to leave her home.”
“My dear, ’tis a good offer, and should not lightly be disregarded,” said the Bishop. “In many ways it would be well that Hilary should be established, and her future happiness secured.”
“Is that so easily done?” said Dr. Coke, with a quizzical smile. “Future happiness comes not with broad lands and a full purse. Perchance pretty Hilary would find the great mansion dull; or, again, she might, like a dame I once met, confess that the estate was all that could be wished, and that for the man—why, he was but a passing evil, and came of a short-lived family.”
Mrs. Unett smiled at his droll voice as he quoted the philosophical wife.
“Hilary is not made after that pattern,” she said. “Truth to tell, the maid has a will of her own, and is a trifle fastidious.”
“My dear,” said the Bishop, “she is a good, obedient maid, and if we show her that this arrangement is for her good, I make no doubt she will accept Mr. Geers’ suit.”
Dr. Coke smiled at his sister’s dubious expression.