The time was drawing nigh, and Sir John and his brother were sitting over their wine, when the former began upon matters connected with the wedding. Rolph had only left them that day, and was to return the next morning to meet them at the church, in company with a brother officer, ready to act as his best man. Then the wedding over, the happy pair were to start for the Continent; and Brackley would be left to the brothers, both of whom looked blank and dispirited as they asked themselves what they were to do when the light of the place had gone.
And that was how the conversation first began. Sir John sighing, and saying that he should miss Glynne very much indeed.
“Of course, I give lots of attention to my pigs and sheep, and the rest of them,” he said dolefully; “but Brackley won’t be the same, Jem, old fellow, when she’s gone. I shall miss her dreadfully.”
“Yes,” said the major, raising his claret to his lips, and setting the glass down again untouched, “we shall miss her dreadfully.”
Then, after a long conversation, Sir John had touched upon the subject of his brother’s treatment of the bridegroom, and his conduct at the wedding.
They sat sipping their claret for some time, Sir John being very silent; and at last the long pause was followed by the major saying,—
“Well, don’t let’s leave our darling. I suppose I may say ‘our darling,’ Jack?”
“My dear brother!” exclaimed Sir John, grasping his hand.
“I say then, don’t let’s leave our darling alone any longer. We shall have plenty of time to sip our wine of nights when we are alone, Jack. Let’s go and let her pour out tea for us for what will pretty well be the last time.”
“Hah! yes!” said Sir John, rising slowly, “for pretty well the last time, Jem, and—and—”