"Ought not to be above such wisdom, you should say, Kate. He sees his folly, no doubt, and argues that it is never too late to mend."
"To mend, indeed! An old man like him to be marrying a girl of twenty! He ought to be ashamed of himself."
It was quite true that Mr. Richard Grigson had so far committed himself. Having lived a single life till his hair had turned grey, and all the while declaring against matrimony, he had suddenly and violently become enamoured of a young lady from London who, while visiting a friend in the country, not far from the Manor House, accidentally fell in with and was introduced to the Manor House's owner.
It was a storm of wind and rain that brought about the introduction. The young lady and the old gentleman, in whose house she was a guest were out walking one fine May day, when suddenly the sky became overcast, and a heavy dark cloud from the west began to discharge its contents. The old gentleman was two or three miles away from his own house; he was afraid of rheumatism; he had not an umbrella; and the nearest shelter was the Manor House, whose gates he and his young friend were passing as the shower came on. He was slightly acquainted with Richard Grigson, though on no familiar terms with him. But, driven by the exigencies of the case, the storm-attacked pedestrians rushed at once through the gateway, scudded across the lawn, and presented themselves at the hospitable doors of the Manor House, suppliants for shelter.
They received shelter and something more; and the next day Richard bethought himself that it would be only proper for him to ride over to the old gentleman's house to give expression to his hope that the young lady had not taken cold.
The young lady had not taken cold, thanks to Mr. Grigson; but the old gentleman had, and was confined to his chamber by its effects. And so, perforce, the elderly bachelor and the juvenile maiden had to entertain each other in the drawing-room. The entertainment lasted longer than was calculated on; for, strange to say, while they were thus engaged, another heavy shower came on; and Richard, who never till now had minded being wet to the skin, felt an unconquerable repugnance to facing the rain. Before the shower was over, he had secretly made up his mind to pay another visit—which he did, and this time it was to Miss Hardcastle.
There is no need to multiply words in describing the progress of a rapid thaw of frozen-up passions. It is enough to say that before three weeks had passed away, Mr. Richard's determination never to marry had melted away beneath the influence of Miss Hardcastle's charms. In another week, he was her accepted lover.
It was rather awkward—at least, kind-hearted Richard Grigson felt it to be so—to make known to his brother the change which had come over him, and the engagement on which he had entered.
"It will be a little hard upon brother Tom," he thought within himself, "and if not upon brother Tom, it will fall heavy upon nephew Tom (bless his young heart!) to know that the old family estate may have to keep in a straight line after all. But they are good fellows, both of them, and I am sure they won't make a quarrel of it, and I must make it as easy for young Tom as I can. And, after all, it may come to him all the same," he added, by way of salvo, or salve to his conscience.
"Besides," continued he, in his thoughts, "there's no law that I know of, in the Bible or out of it, to keep a man from marrying because he has a fair estate on the one hand, and a fair nephew on the other."