It was with no little gratification therefore that she this morning acceded to Sir Ralph’s request that she would spare him a little time to talk over some matters of importance connected with his private affairs.
“But no bad news, I trust?” she said, as a new idea struck her. “You do not look as if it were, but I do trust you are not going to tell me you are thinking of leaving me?”
“Not for long certainly,” he replied cordially. “A week or two at most will be the extent of my absence at present. No, my dear mother. What I have to say to you is more likely to lead to my settling near you permanently. A year or two ago I displeased you very much by not falling in with certain matrimonial schemes of yours on my behalf. I want to know if you have forgiven me?”
“Quite,” said Lady Severn. “I meant it for the best, Ralph, but I now think you were wiser than I. It would not have been a desirable arrangement. I am quite satisfied that Florence should not be more nearly connected with us.”
“But I want more than that, mother,” pursued Ralph, “I want you to do more than forgive me for not marrying to please you. I want your cordial, entire consent to my you to give you marrying to please myself.”
Lady Severn’s eyes filled with tears. A moment or two she hesitated; then said slowly and distinctly, “You shall have it, Ralph. Whomever you choose as your wife I shall cordially receive as my daughter. You have suffered, my poor boy, long and deeply. I thank God if things are looking brighter with you. Only—only one thing I must say, and if it pains you, forgive me. I don’t care about money. We have plenty, and whenever you marry, what John had shall be yours. His daughters are provided for. I have not forgotten how well you behaved at that time, Ralph, and as to herself personally, I feel no uneasiness about my future daughter. But, Ralph, you have queer notions about some things. Tell me, is she a lady? I would like the good old stock to be kept up. As I have promised so I will do: whoever she be I will receive her cordially. But it would be an immense relief to my mind to know that she really was one of our own class.”
Ralph smiled slightly, but there was no bitterness in his smile. He could afford now to be lenient towards what he considered his mother’s little foibles.
“Then that relief I can give you, mother,” he said. “She is a lady even in the very narrowest and most conventional sense of the word, as well in the wider and far more beautiful one. She comes of a stock as good ‘or better’ than your own. Better at least, in so far as I think I have heard there is no family of more ancient standing in the county they belong to. And well-conducted people too they have been on the whole, which, though, of course, a much less important consideration, is satisfactory to know.” (Lady Severn had no idea her son was “chaffing” her.) “She is not rich, but that I know you don’t care about. As to herself I would rather not tell you more just yet. Her name too I should prefer not mentioning, unless you particularly wish to hear it.”
“Oh, no, thank you,” said his mother, “I am quite content to wait till you feel ready to tell it me” (which by-the-way was a great story). “I am so thankful to know what you have told me, for you know, Ralph,” she went on apologetically, “you were rather peculiar in your ideas about social position and all that. There was that young girl at Altes, you remember, Miss Freer, whom Florence took such a dislike to. At one time—it was very absurd of me—but at one time I really had a fear of you in that quarter. She was a very sweet creature, I must say. I took quite an interest in her at first, till Florence told me how underhand and designing she was. Not that I altogether believed it. Florence was apt to be prejudiced—but there certainly was something strangely reserved about her for so young a person. But it may have been family troubles, poor thing! I often wish we had her back again, for certainly the children were better with her than they have been since.”
Ralph did not reply to this long speech, at which, however, his mother was not surprised; for she had rather a habit of maundering on in a thinking aloud fashion, once she got hold of a subject, without expecting any special notice to be taken of what she was saying. Nor had she the slightest suspicion that there was any connection between this long ago discarded dread of hers, and her son’s unexpected announcement of his matrimonial intentions.