Catching Moths.
“For my soul’s sake, Maid Marjorie,
And yet for my soul’s sake, -
I know no wrong I’ve done to thee,
Nor why thy heart should break.”
Rather late on the same evening, Sir Thomas walked into the parsonage, and rapped with his silver-hilted staff at the parlour door. Clare had gone up-stairs, and Mrs Tremayne was at that moment alone. She offered to send for her young guests, but he declined; he wished first to speak with her apart. He told her that Don Juan had gone to London; and that before leaving him, that estimable young gentleman had frankly communicated the interesting fact that he was bound by an engagement to a lady of his own country.
“Now what think you? Were it better, or worser, that Blanche should know the same?”
“Better far—by all manner of means,” said the Rector’s wife decidedly.
“I thought even so,” replied Sir Thomas. “I had come sooner, but my wife was contrary thereto.”
Mrs Tremayne could not feel astonished to hear of any amount of unwisdom on the part of Lady Enville, but she merely repeated that she thought it much better that Blanche should know.
“It should help to open her eyes. Though in sooth I do think they be scantly so close shut as at the first.”
“Then you will tell the child, good Mistress?”
“If you so desire, assuredly: but wherefore not give her to wit yourself?”