And the fact of Mr. Asquith’s extreme poverty had its share, too, in quickening the marriage. A very rich man and a very poor man have nothing to wait for; they are alike in that—the rich, because his means are assured; the poor because he has no means to assure. There is nothing to wait for in either case. The rector gave Mr. Asquith privately to understand that he would be on the outlook for something better for him; and recommended the curate to do the same thing for himself. “For this may do to begin with, but it is poor pickings for two—and still less for three or four,” Mr. Hugh Prescott said. And thus everything was arranged. John Prescott was the only one who took any unexpected part in the matter. He astonished them all one day by announcing suddenly that Mary must have a “thettlement.” “A settlement?” said his father. “Poor child, there is nothing to settle either on one side or the other.”
The conversation took place at luncheon one day, when Mary was at the rectory.
“That’s just why there must be a thettlement,” repeated John, with an obstinate air which he could put on when he chose, and of which they were all a little afraid.
“What nonsense!” said Mrs. Prescott; “her clothes are all there will be to settle, and they couldn’t be taken from her, whatever might happen.”
“I know what I’m thaying,” said John. “She wants thomething to fall back upon, it he dies; for he may die, as well as another.”
“That’s very true,” said Mr. Prescott, with some energy. He was relieved to feel that there was someone else to whom “something might happen,” as well as himself.
“She must have a thouthand poundth,” John said.
And then there arose a cry in the room, a sort of concerted yet unconcerted and unharmonious union of voices. The Squire made his exclamation in a deep growling bass. Mrs. Prescott came in with a sort of alto, and the girls gave a short shrill shriek. A thousand pounds! thousands of pounds were not plentiful in Horton. Anna and Sophie themselves knew that very few would fall to their share, and neither of them had so much as a curate to make a living for her. They had been very willing to be liberal about the trousseau, but a thousand pounds! that was a different matter altogether. They all gazed with horror at the revolutionary who proposed this. John was not clever, as everybody knew; he looked still less clever than he was. He had pale blue eyes of a wandering sort, which did not look as if they were very secure in their sockets, and a long fair moustache drooping over the corners of his mouth. And he had a habit of sticking a glass in one eye, which fell out every minute or two and made a break in his conversation. Many people about Horton were of opinion that he was “not all there,” but his family did not generally think so. At this moment, however, with one accord it occurred to them all that there was something not quite sane about John.
“Thir,” said John to his father, “you needn’t trouble if you’ve any objection. I mean to do it mythelf.”
“Do it yourself! you must be out of your senses,” cried his mother. “Where will you get a thousand pounds? I never heard such madness in all my life.”