A week after Reginald arrived they were seated in Dr. Larcher's study talking over the question of the marriage, and the vicar was inclined to agree with their desire that it should be soon, although he was unwilling they should be blamed for undue haste.
"The world, my dear Una, is censorious," he said, wisely, "and as the Squire has only been dead two months it will be as well to wait a little longer."
"I suppose so," replied Una with a sigh, "although I do not see it would mean any disrespect to his memory if we got married at once."
"No doubt, no doubt--still, medio tutissimus ibis, and I think it will be wiser for you both to put off the marriage for at least three months."
"Three months," said Reginald, with a groan, "that's as bad as three years, but I suppose we must--I will stay at Garsworth in the meantime."
"Of course, my dear boy, of course," answered the vicar, crossing his legs and placing his thumbs and forefingers together, "you can take up your old life again."
"Ah, never! never again," said the young man, shaking his head sadly, "the old life is dead and done with. I have eaten of the tree of knowledge, and the fruit is bitter."
"My dear Reginald," said Una, crossing over to him and putting her kind arms round his neck, "you must not be so despondent--it is not your fault."
"The sins of the father are visited on the children," he replied gloomily, "if it had been anything else I would not have minded--but to be what I am--a nobody--entitled to bear no name--it is bitter, very bitter indeed. I've no doubt I should be above such petty pride, still I am but mortal, and disgrace is hard to bear."
"If it is disgrace I will bear it with you," whispered Una, smoothing his hair, "we will be married and go away for a time; you will soon forget the past when we go abroad."