“Let her fall in love with him—let her marry him—let her be happy with him if she can.”
There was a recklessness in this counsel which shocked Mildred, coming from such a person as Miss Fausset.
“My dear aunt, it is a very serious matter. George gave Pamela to me for my companion. I feel myself responsible for her happiness.”
“Then don’t interfere with her happiness. Let her marry the man she loves.”
“With all my heart, if he were a good man, and if her uncle had no objection. But I know so little about Mr. Castellani and his surroundings.”
“He has no surroundings—his mother and father are dead. He has no near relatives.”
“And his character, aunt; his conduct? What do you know of those?”
“Only so much as you can see that I know of them. He comes to my house, and makes himself agreeable to me and my friends. He has given valuable help in the formation and management of the choir. If I am interested in a concert for a charity he sings for me, and works for me like a slave. All his talents are at my service always. I suppose I like him as well as I should like a favourite nephew, if I had nephews from whom to choose a favourite. Of his character—outside my house—I know nothing. I do not believe he has a wife hidden away anywhere; and if Pamela marries him, she can make her intention public in good time to prevent any fiasco of that kind.”
“You speak very scornfully, aunt, as if you had a poor opinion of Mr. Castellani.”
“Perhaps I have a poor opinion of mankind in general, Mildred. Your father was a good man, and your husband is another. We ought to think ourselves lucky to have known two such men in our lives. As to César Castellani, I tell you again I know no more of him than you—or very little more—though I have known him so much longer.”