Rosalie drew a little away from him in a displeasure which he was quick to observe.
‘I will explain some day,’ he said, looking down at her with a smile which disarmed her; and then, having reached the bottom of the hill, he chirruped to the horse, and they sped along once more at an exhilarating pace.
By-and-by he began to talk about his uncle, speaking of him with such evident affection that the heart of the future Mrs. Sharpe warmed to him. Her grateful regard for Isaac had increased during their four months’ betrothal. Indeed, it could not have been otherwise: he was so placid, and good-natured, and obliging. Moreover, he took a lot of trouble off her hands, for he had assumed the management of the farm immediately after their engagement. No one could cavil at this arrangement: it was natural that the man who was so shortly to be master should at once take over the control of affairs. Even the gossips of the neighbourhood could make no ill-natured comments; one and all, indeed, agreeing that it was pretty behaviour on the part of the Widow Fiander to postpone the wedding till after the year was out.
So Rosalie listened, well pleased, while Richard spoke of Isaac’s past generosity to him and his mother, of the high esteem in which he held him, and of his desire to spend a few weeks in his company before going out into the world afresh.
‘Perhaps I ought to tell him that I am going to marry his uncle,’ thought Rosalie, and then she dismissed the notion. Let Isaac make the announcement himself; she felt rather shy about it—and possibly Richard Marshall might not like the idea.
She began to question him, instead, anent his past achievements and future prospects, and heard with astonishment and concern that the young man had not only failed to make his fortune in the distant lands he had visited, but had come back in some ways poorer than he had set out.
‘Only in some things, though,’ he said. ‘I reckon I am richer on the whole.’
‘How are you poorer and how are you richer?’ queried Rosalie.
‘I am poorer in pocket; my uncle sent me out with a nice little sum to start me in life. Ah, as I tell you, he’s a first-rate old chap. He could n’t have done more for me if I had been his son. Well, that’s gone long ago, but I have come back richer all the same—rich in experience, for one thing. I have seen a lot and learnt a lot. I educated myself out there in more ways than one. Dear old Dorset holds a very fine place on the map of England, yet ’t is but a tiny corner of the world after all.’
As she listened there came to Rosalie a sudden inexplicable envy. She had never been out of her native county—she had never wanted to travel beyond its borders, but for a moment the thought struck her that it might be a fine and desirable thing to see the world.