“You have not been seeing with your own eyes, and the encouragement has not been from me. It cannot be helped now. You will know what to say. And, Arthur, pray let this be quite between you and me.”
“Then, there is nothing more to be said?”
“Nothing. Good-night.”
Arthur was not surprised. He knew quite well that Mr Green was not good enough for Graeme. But, then, who was? Mr Green was very rich, and it would have been a splendid settlement for her, and she was not very young now. If she was ever to marry, it was surely time. And why should she not?
He had intended to say something like this to her, but somehow he had not found it easy to do. Well, she was old enough and wise enough to know her own mind, and to decide for herself; and, taken without the help of his position and his great wealth, Mr Green was certainly not a very interesting person; and probably Graeme had done well to refuse him. He pondered a long time on this question, and on others; but when he went up-stairs, Fanny was waiting for him, wide awake and eager.
“Well, what did Graeme say? Has she gone to bed?”
Arthur was rather taken aback. He was by no means sure that it would be a wise thing to discuss his sister’s affairs with his wife. Fanny would never be able to keep his news to herself.
“You ought to be in bed,” said he.
“Yes, I know I ought. But is she not a wretch?”
“Graeme, a wretch!”