Sir Richard's grandson

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"Won't you tell me about it?" Dick said coaxingly, his face expressive of mingled anxiety and curiosity.

"Perhaps I had better try to make you understand," Miss Warren replied with a sigh. "It was ten years ago, and Sir Richard was abroad in Egypt—he often wintered abroad in those days. Your father had leave, and came down to the Manor House for a few weeks' shooting and hunting. He met your mother, they grew to love each other, and one day he came and told your Uncle Theophilus she had promised to be his wife. Your Uncle Theophilus gave his consent to the match, providing Sir Richard did the same. Well, Dick, your father wanted to be married at once, because his regiment had been ordered on foreign service, and, of course, he wished to take your mother with him. He wrote to Sir Richard, but no answer came—afterwards we learnt the letter had been delayed in the post through the negligence of an official. Your father said he should take silence for consent, and pointed out to us that if the marriage did not take place then, our niece would have to go out to him to India to be married. We did not like that idea at all, and so, Dick, your dear parents were married; and later—a few days after they had sailed—your Uncle Theophilus received a letter from Sir Richard saying he would never give his consent to his son marrying our niece."

Miss Warren paused. She had no intention of telling Dick all his grandfather had said in that letter; although the words had been written so long ago, the remembrance of them made her angry still. She proceeded:—

"Your Uncle Theophilus wrote and told Sir Richard the marriage had taken place; and when your grandfather came home in the spring, he gave us to understand that he never meant to have anything to do with your mother."

"Why not?" Dick questioned in amazement.

"My dear, your grandfather considered she was beneath his son in position!"

"Oh, Aunt Mary Ann, I wish you could have heard how he spoke of mother this afternoon! He didn't say much; but he was very nice about her—he was indeed! He said he didn't hate her now God has shown him how wrong it was!"

"It gives me great pleasure to hear it," Miss Warren said, a trifle dubiously. "No one would be more glad than your dear mother if your father and grandfather were on good terms again, and I am sure, judging from the conversation I had with Mrs. Compton the other day, that she would be pleased. Dear me! I wonder what Theophilus will think!"

She rose as she spoke, and they proceeded homewards, Dick asking dozens of questions which Miss Warren found some difficulty in answering, for she did not like to tell him that Sir Richard's pride had been at the root of his dislike to his son's marriage. He had felt that his heir should have looked above a country surgeon's adopted niece in choosing a wife. Dick, who realised how good and loving his mother was, and had been taught by her to respect all who were honourable and true-hearted, whatever their station in life might be, would have faint sympathy with his grandfather's pride, Miss Warren knew; and she felt, with a thrill of deep joy and satisfaction, that the boy was happier at No. 8 Fore Street than he would ever have been at the Manor House; and in her heart she prayed that God would keep his soul so unspotted from the world that he would be always able to judge people apart from their surroundings and belongings.

The village street was empty as Miss Warren and her nephew turned into it; and the shops were shut with the exception of the post-office, which had to be kept open till half-past eight. Miss Tidy was peering disconsolately over the wire blind; her queer little face brightened perceptibly as Miss Warren and Dick came in sight, but clouded again as they passed by—she had hoped they might have had an errand at the post-office, so that the monotony of the evening would have been broken.