CHAPTER XXVIII.
COUSIN SARAH.
Arthur Franklyn had not been in a mood to call upon Mr. Armstrong during that sad week, nor, indeed, to pay visits anywhere. But he wrote an appropriate letter, saying all that was necessary of grateful thanks for the kindness and sympathy he had experienced, especially from Mrs. John Armstrong.
Perhaps, on the whole, this was a more satisfactory proceeding in Mr. Armstrong's estimation, but Cousin Sarah was disappointed. She had been introduced to Mr. Henry Halford at the inquest, by his brother-in-law, and the half-hour during which she had conversed with him confirmed her good opinion of his manners and character.
Cousin Sarah was a few years older than Edward Armstrong; they had known each other from children, and in spite of the pride which had grown out of his increased wealth and aristocratic connexions, he had still a great deference for cousin Sarah's opinions. She possessed that very rare quality, plain common sense, and notwithstanding her homeliness she had intellectual tastes sufficient to enable her to appreciate knowledge and learning in its higher developments, as seen in her cousin Edward and Henry Halford. That a man of such intellectual power as Edward Armstrong could prefer for his daughter's husband the weak-minded captain whose history had been told to her to the intellectual young schoolmaster, because the former was rich and the latter poor, was to her a mystery.
Cousin Sarah, with all her good sense, had yet to learn the hardening, withering effects on the human heart which a love of gold produces.
She was brave, however, and she determined before she left Kilburn to bring the matter face to face with Edward Armstrong, and plead the cause of the young girl whom she was convinced by various signs was really attached to the intellectual young schoolmaster.
She had quickly discovered Mrs. Armstrong's opinion on the subject, and when she mentioned her wish to be alone with cousin Edward, she found in Mary's mother a strong ally. Soon after dinner, on this the last evening of her visit, cousin Sarah found herself alone in the drawing-room at Lime Grove, with a man who prided himself upon his indomitable will and unbending opinions.
But she was not daunted. There were two strong points in her favour, and upon these she rested her hopes of success. One was Edward Armstrong's love for his daughter, and the other his often acknowledged confidence in cousin Sarah's judgment. She sat at work near the open window. May was passing into June, and the open country which still held sway near Lime Grove seemed redolent of summer. The sun, still high above the horizon, was tinting the fleecy clouds that softened his brightness with crimson and gold, and from myriads of little throats came the warbling songs of joyous birds waking the echoes with their sweet melody.