Throckmorton, who was modesty and respectfulness itself in the presence of the woman he loved, was far from being nervous or diffident with her family. Next morning, having devoted all his smoking hours, which comprised the meditative part of his life, to Jacqueline, it occurred to him that he would have to tackle Mrs. Temple. That quite exhilarated and amused him. He knew well enough the Temple tradition, by which the master of the house was the nominal ruler, while the mistress was the actual ruler, and he also knew it would not be repeated at Millenbeck. He was indulgent toward women to the last degree—indulgent of their whims, their foibles, their faults and follies; but it was an indulgence, not a right. Jacqueline would find she had as much liberty as ever her mother had, but it would not be by virtue of a strong will over a weak one, but the free gift of affection. The major was not a person subject to petticoat government. In fact, he did not exactly know what it meant, and the woman did not live who could make him understand it. He rather looked forward to a brush with Mrs. Temple. He knew that Millenbeck and all the worldly advantages of the match would not influence her one iota. The conviction of this, of her entire disinterestedness and integrity, gave him pleasure. He knew that it was he—George Throckmorton—who would be weighed by Mrs. Temple, if not by Jacqueline; this last an afterthought that came to him unpleasantly.
At breakfast, Throckmorton could not but feel a sense of triumph over Jack, who, unconscious of an impending step-mother, sat opposite his father, and talked in the free, frank way to him that Throckmorton had always encouraged. The young rascal would see, thought Throckmorton, with much satisfaction, that it was possible for a man of forty-four, with more gray hairs than black in his head, to hold his own even against a fellow as fascinating as Jack fancied himself to be. As luck would have it, Jack began to talk about the Temples.
“Major, don’t you think Mrs. Beverley a very captivating woman? By George! she looks so pretty in that little black bonnet she wears, if it wasn’t for interfering with you, sir, I would be tempted to go in and win myself.”
The boy’s impudence tickled Throckmorton. He could not but laugh in spite of himself at the idea—Jack, whom Judith treated very much as she did Beverley! But Jack evidently thought his father had designs in that quarter, which misapprehension still further amused the major.
“Mrs. Beverley is indeed a charming woman,” he answered.
Jack, however, became serious. In his heart he sincerely admired and revered Judith, and his blessing was ready whenever the major informed him that she would be the future mistress of Millenbeck.
“Mrs. Beverley has more sense and sprightliness than any other woman I know. If she could be persuaded to take off those black things she wraps herself up in, and be herself—which she isn’t—I should think she would be—great fun.”
Jack knew Throckmorton well enough to see that the shot had not hit the bull’s-eye. Throckmorton was too ready to praise, discuss, and admire Judith. “What does the old fellow want, anyway?” thought Jack to himself, “if Mrs. Beverley doesn’t suit him?” So then and there he entered into a disquisition on women in general and Judith Temple in particular, which caused Throckmorton to ask sarcastically:
“May I ask where you acquired your knowledge of the sex?”
“It would be impossible to associate with you, major, without learning much about them,” answered Jack, “you are such a favorite with the ladies. You are a very handsome man, you know, sir—”