Who could refuse George anything?
Besides, if he had married her, she couldn’t see that was such a very great crime. She looked in the glass and saw every excuse for a young man doing such a thing.
Her father was not a menial; he was an old and valued retainer, and had been the old squire’s companion in many a long walk and in many an evening chat under the great wide-spreading trees of the park. She had been born on the estate, and the squire had always been kind to her and treated her like a lady. She had had quite as good an education as many of the gentry’s children round about, for it had been a whim of the squire’s lady to send her to school, and some day she had thought of going out for a governess. But her mother died, and, instead of going out into the great world, she stayed at home with her father and fell in love with Master George.
And now they were married. Well, perhaps the squire would have chosen some one higher in rank for his son, but his son might have done much worse. Bess had a spirit of her own and a fair amount of pride. She was quite sure the squire need not be very angry with George for marrying her.
George sat and listened to Bess’s busy tongue, but he hardly heard a word she said. He was absorbed in his own thoughts, and they were not nearly so pleasant as Bess’s.
Towards nine he drew Marks on one side.
‘He’s alone in the library about this time, isn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ answered the old lodge-keeper; ‘he sits there all the evening after dinner now, writing and reading and talking to himself.’
‘How can I get in without the servants seeing me?’
‘The outer hall-door is not closed; the inner door opens if you turn the handle. But, lor’, Master George, as if you didn’t know the ways of the house as well as me!’