“Miss Howell was a nice girl,” he said, “and he had more than once been on the point of confessing to his son how he had influenced her decision.”
The will had wrought a great change in Mr. Thornton’s opinion, and even the beggar who was some day to claim Mildred as her daughter, did not seem very formidable when viewed through a golden setting. Geraldine, on the contrary, was terribly disappointed, and when alone fairly gnashed her teeth with rage, while Lilian abandoned herself again to tears and hysterics. Not long, however, did Geraldine give way. She knew that Lawrence did not suspect her of having anything to do with Mildred’s refusal, further than to ask her for Lilian’s sake to give him up, and as it was for her interest to keep him wholly blinded, she affected to congratulate him a second time, saying, laughingly, “The Fates have decreed that you should marry Mildred, so I may as well give it up and act like a sensible woman.” But when alone with Mr. Thornton she assumed a new phase of character, fiercely demanding of him if he intended to sit quietly down and see Lawrence throw himself away. Mr. Thornton had never told her of the will, neither did he do so now, but he answered her that it was useless further to oppose Lawrence,—that he was sorry for Lilian, but hoped her disappointment would in time wear off. “Lawrence will marry Miss Howell, of course,” he said, in conclusion, “and won’t it be better for us to make the best of it, and treat her with a show of friendship at least.”
“Perhaps it will,” returned Geraldine, whose thoughts no one could fathom. “I was indignant at first that he should treat Lilian so shamefully, but I will try to feel kindly toward this girl who is to be my cousin, and by way of making a commencement, I will write her a letter of congratulation.”
Mr. Thornton was deceived, so was Lawrence, and so, indeed, was Mildred, when two days after Lawrence’s departure, she received a letter from Geraldine Veille, couched in the kindest of terms and written apparently in all sincerity:
“I was much vexed with you once, I’ll confess,” the wily woman wrote, “for I had so set my heart upon Lawrence’s marrying Lilian that it was hard to give it up. But I have considered the matter soberly, and concluded that whether I am willing or not, Lawrence will do as he pleases, so pray forgive me, dear cousin that is to be, for anything you may heretofore have disliked in my conduct toward you. We shall, I know, be the best of friends, and I anticipate much pleasure in having you with us. I shall coax Lawrence to let me superintend the fitting-up your rooms, and here let me offer you my services in selecting any part of your bridal trousseau. Don’t be afraid to trouble me, for do what I may, I shall consider it merely as atoning for the ill-natured feelings I have cherished toward you. If you like, I will come out to Beechwood a few weeks before the wedding. I have given quite a number of large parties, and may be of some use to you. In short, call upon me as much as you please, and whatever you may have thought of me before, please consider me now as
Your sincere friend,
Geraldine Veille.”
“She is a good woman after all,” thought Mildred, as she carried the letter to the Judge, who read it over twice and then handed it back, saying, “There’s bedevilment behind all that. Mark my words. I don’t like those Veilles. I knew their father,—as sneaky a dog as ever drew breath.”
But Mildred thought he was prejudiced, and after answering Lawrence’s letter of twelve pages, she wrote a note to Geraldine, thanking her for her kind offers, and saying that very likely she might wish for her services in the matter of selecting dresses, as Boston furnished so much greater variety than Mayfield.
Swimmingly now the matters progressed. Every week found Lawrence at Mayfield, while there seemed no end to the thick letters which passed between himself and Mildred, when he was not with her. Lilian, by some most unaccountable means, had been quieted, and wrote to Mildred as of old. Geraldine, too, was all amiability, and having been deputed to select the bridal dress, and having failed to find anything in Boston worth looking at, went all the way alone to New York, remaining there several days, and returning home at last perfectly elated with her success! Such a splendid piece of satin as she had found at Stewart’s,—such a love of a veil and wreath as she had purchased elsewhere, and such an exquisite point-lace collar as she had bought for herself at cost, having enlisted in her behalf one of the firm of Blank & Co., who had written for her notes of introduction to clerks of different houses, and had sometimes gone with her himself to see that she wasn’t cheated!