“I think I shall,” gravely responded Throckmorton. “I can not explain things to you that you can only learn by experience. I have not forgotten—I never can forget—your mother, who made my happiness during our short married life. I have been twenty years recovering from the pain of losing her enough to think of replacing her.”
Jack had recovered himself a little while Throckmorton was speaking. The wound was only skin-deep with him.
“And is it to be immediately?” he asked.
“As soon as I can bring it about,” replied Throckmorton; “but I have got to bring my dear, obstinate old friend Mrs. Temple round first”—here both of them laughed—“so you will see the necessity of keeping the affair absolutely quiet.”
“You had better join the church, sir,” said Jack, who was himself again. “That will be your best card to play.”
“Very likely,” responded Throckmorton, good-humoredly, “but I think I can win the game even without that.”
In the bright morning sunshine out-of-doors Throckmorton began to take heart of grace about Jacqueline. Jack did not seem to think it such an unequal match. With love and patience what might not be done with any woman? Throckmorton began to whistle jovially. He went out to the stable lot to take a look at the horses, as he did every morning. Old Tartar, that had carried him during four years’ warfare, and was now honorably retired and turned out to grass, came toward him whinnying and ready for his morning pat—all horses, dogs, and children loved Throckmorton. Tartar, who had lost an eye in the service of his country, turned his one remaining orb around so as to see Throckmorton, and rubbed his noble old head against his master’s knee. Throckmorton noticed him more than usual—his heart was more tender and pitiful to all creatures that morning.
Toward noon he went over to Barn Elms. The morning was intensely cold, though clear, and the fields and fences and hedges were still white with snow. For the first time Throckmorton noticed the extreme shabbiness of Barn Elms.
“Dear little girl,” he said, “she shall have a different home from this.”
When he reached the house he was ushered straight into the plain, old-fashioned drawing-room, and in a moment Mrs. Temple appeared, perfectly unsuspicious of what had happened or what was going to happen.