“Are you talking of young Molyneux?” said her husband, interrupting; “My dear, the less said about that the better. No man likes to remember that his wife was once to have been somebody else’s wife——”
“Oh, you always take the man’s view of everything,” said the parson’s wife, “but what I say is that it was Nelly who broke it off, and that she was quite justified, and I wish all girls had as much spirit and sense, to stand up for proper treatment.”
“Take my word for it, the Molyneuxes never meant it to come to anything,” said Mrs. Everard, “they wouldn’t oppose, of course, for the judge is wise, and knew that opposition is the very best way to fix a young man. But I saw through it, from the beginning. I said to them over and over again, ‘Why don’t you settle about the marriage?’”
“And why didn’t they? because he had not the heart to go and work at his profession,” cried Mrs. Brotherton; “he was not well enough off to marry, and he never will be, unless the judge dies and leaves him rich, or unless he marries a woman with heaps of money. I am glad Nelly would have nothing to do with him,” cried the parson’s wife, who stood up for her own side. “What a comfort it is when a girl shows some spirit—there is so little in the world.”
“I doubt if Nelly’s spirit had so much to do with it as you think,” said Mrs. Everard mysteriously. “It was very silly of her mother not to tie him up and settle the business. I always said so from the first. She played into the judge’s hand, and let him do as he liked. You may depend upon it, he never meant it to come to anything from the very first.”
“Then he is a shabby wretch, and worse than I thought even a man could be!” cried the other, with vehemence.
“Oh, trust me, he always knew what he was doing; and the poor dear Eastwoods are sad simpletons,” cried Mrs. Everard, shaking her head with a pity which was not, perhaps, quite respectful. And, indeed, I think that this view of the question was generally adopted by society, which likes to think that the woman has had the worst of it in all such cases. Some one advanced however at this moment to ask information about “poor Lady Longueville” in the most hushed and sympathetic tones, putting an end to the previous subject.
“One does not like on such a day as this to say anything which could bring a painful suggestion,” said this considerate personage; “but I should like to know what has become of that poor girl.”
“She is very well indeed,” interposed Mrs. Brotherton. “She is with her cousin, Miss Vane, at that quaint establishment of hers—You never heard of it? It is not a sisterhood, and it is not a school——”
“I disapprove of all such mummery and nonsense,” said another guest, rushing in. “Sisterhoods! what do we want with sisterhoods? Popish rubbish—I’d send them all off to Rome; a pack of silly women——”