“I do not say that,” replied the Rector, with the patience of a man who has had dealings with women all his life; “but I should like it to be understood that Dora is quite free to choose for herself. I am willing to tell her that the match would be satisfactory to me. Arthur is a gentleman, which is saying a good deal in these days. He is affectionate, and, so far as I know, a dutiful son. I have little doubt he would make a good husband.”
Mrs. Agar wiped away an obvious tear, which ran off Mr. Glynde's mental epidermis like water off the back of the proverbial fowl. This also he had learnt in the course of his dealings with the world.
“He has been a good son to me,” sniffed the fond and foolish mother.
Neither of these persons was capable of understanding that “goodness” is not all we want in husband or wife. These good husbands—heaven help their wives!—break as many hearts as those who are labelled by the world with the black ticket.
“Then I may tell Arthur that you will help him?” said Mrs. Agar, with a sudden access of practical energy.
“You may tell him that he has my good wishes, and that I will point out to Dora the advantages of—acceding to his desire. There are, of course, advantages on both sides, we know that.”
As usual, Mrs. Agar overdid things. The airiness of her indifference might have deceived a child of eight, provided that its intellect was not de première force.
“Ye-es,” she murmured, “I suppose Dora would bring her little—eh—subscription towards the household expenses. Sister Cecilia gave me to understand that there was a little something coming to her under her mother's marriage settlement.”
Mrs. Agar was not clever enough to see that she had made a mistake. The mention of Sister Cecilia's name acted on the Rector like a mental douche. He was just beginning to give way to expansiveness—probably under the suave influence of the brown sherry—and the name of Sister Cecilia pulled him together with a jerk. The jerk extended to his features; but Mrs. Agar was one of those cunning women whom no man need fear. She was so cunning that she deceived herself into seeing that which she wished to see, and nothing else.
“All that,” said the Rector gravely, “can be discussed when Arthur has persuaded Dora to say Yes.”