“I have heard a curious bit of news,” he said, “about Joan Haste. It seems that she is married.”
Henry drank half a glass of port wine, and answered, “Yes, I know. She has married your tenant Samuel Rock, the dissenter, a very strange person. I cannot understand it.”
“Can’t you? I think I can. It is a good match for her, though I don’t altogether approve of it, and know nothing of the details. However, I wasn’t consulted, and there it is. I hope that they may be happy.”
“So do I,” said Henry grimly. “And now, Mr. Levinger, I want to have a word with you about the estate affairs. What is to be done? It is time that you took some steps to protect yourself.”
“It seems to me, Graves,” he answered deliberately, “that my course of action must very much depend upon your own. You know what I mean.”
“Yes, Mr. Levinger; but are you still anxious that I should propose to your daughter? Forgive me if I speak plainly.”
“That has always been my wish, and I see no particular reason to change it.”
“But do you think that it is her wish, Mr. Levinger? I fancy that her manner has been a little cold to me of late, perhaps with justice; and,” he added, rather nervously, “naturally I do not wish to lay myself open to a rebuff. I find that I am very ignorant of the ways of women, as of various other things.”
“Many of us have made that discovery, Graves; and of course it is impossible for me to guarantee your success, though I think that you will be successful.”
“There is another matter, Mr. Levinger: Emma has considerable possessions; am I then justified, in my impoverished condition, in asking her to take me? Would it not be thought, would she not think, that I did so from obvious motives?”