“Then, dear uncle, why not let them marry at once?” pleaded Drusilla.
“‘Marry at once!’ Drusilla, you astound me, child!” exclaimed the old gentleman, in unaffected astonishment.
“Yes, marry at once, dear uncle, and then, if you live to be as old as Methusaleh, you will still have only the longer time to witness their happiness,” persisted Drusilla, who, now that she had “broken the ice,” was determined to go through.
“But, my dear, I put Richard Hammond upon a probation of twelve months, and the time has not expired yet.”
“It is very nearly half gone, though. Five months of the allotted term has passed away. There are seven months of penance remaining. Dear uncle, be kind to them and commute that to one month. Let them marry in May.”
“Have they commissioned you to plead their cause, my dear?” gravely inquired General Lyon.
“Oh no, sir, they have not. And perhaps also you may think me very presumptuous and impertinent to meddle in the matter. If you do, I will beg your pardon and be silent.”
“Nonsense, my dear child! I think nothing of the sort. Speak all your thoughts freely to me. They are good and true thoughts, I know, though they may not be very worldly wise. Come now, why should I shorten the probation of Dick?”
“Oh, because he has behaved so well. Indeed, dear uncle, if you really mean that Dick should marry Anna, I think that you had just as well let him marry her now as half a year hence. I believe Dick is as good now as he will ever be, or as any young man can be. Why do you insist on a probation? If Dick were playing a part in this good behavior, he could play it six months longer as well as he has played it six months past, for so great a stake as Anna’s hand. But he is not playing a part. You know as well as I do that Dick is as frank, sincere and open-hearted as his best friend or worst enemy could desire him to be. He is not playing a part. His present steadiness is but an earnest of what his whole future life will be, with Anna by his side. Dear uncle, I really do think that all Dick’s irregularities grew out of his banishment from Anna’s society. He sought gay companions—or rather no; we are sure that he never sought them; but he allowed himself to fall into their company to find oblivion for his regrets. With the mere promise of Anna’s hand, you see he has dropped his disreputable friends altogether. With Anna for his wife, he will never be in danger of taking them up again.”
“There is much reason in what you say, my dear,” admitted General Lyon.