“Certainly, my dear Mary, if she likes him,” said the Baronet; “but the discouraging thing is, that an inexperienced girl—a girl so very well brought up as Winnie has been—should allow herself, as I have said, to like the very first man who presents himself. One would have thought some sort of introduction was necessary before such a thought could have penetrated into her mind. After she had been obliged to receive it in that way—then, indeed—— But I am aware that there are people who have not my scruples,” said Sir Edward, with a sigh; for he was, as all the neighbourhood was aware, a man of the most delicate mind.
“If you think my dear, pure-minded child is not scrupulous, Sir Edward!” cried poor Aunt Agatha—but her emotion was so great that her voice failed her; and Mary, half amused and half angry, was the only champion left for Winnie’s character, thus unexpectedly assailed.
“Poor child, I think she is getting very hard measure,” said Mary. “I don’t mean to blame you, but I think both of you encouraged her up to the last moment. You let them be always together, and smiled on them; and they are young, and what else could you expect? It is more delicate to love than to flirt,” said Mrs. Ochterlony. She had not been nearly so well brought up as her sister, nor with such advanced views, and what she said brought a passing blush upon her matron cheek. Winnie could have discussed all about love without the shadow of a blush, but that was only the result of the chronological difference, and had nothing to do with purity of heart.
“If we have had undue confidence,” said Sir Edward, with a sigh, “we will have to pay for it. Mary speaks—as I have heard many women speak—without making any consideration of the shock it must be to a delicate young girl; and I think, after the share which I may say I have myself had in Winnie’s education, that I might be permitted to express my surprise; and Percival ought to have shown a greater regard for the sacredness of hospitality. I cannot but say that I was very much vexed and surprised.”
It may well be supposed that such an address, after poor Aunt Agatha’s delight and exultation in her child’s joy, and her willingness to see with Winnie’s eyes and accept Winnie’s lover on his own authority, was a most confounding utterance. She sat silent, poor lady, with her lips apart and her eyes wide open, and a kind of feeling that it was all over with Winnie in her heart. Aunt Agatha was ready to fight her darling’s battles to her last gasp, but she was not prepared to be put down and made an end of in this summary way. She had all sorts of pretty lady-like deprecations about their youth and Winnie’s inexperience ready in her mind, and had rather hoped to be assured that to have her favourite thus early settled in life was the very best that anybody would desire for her. Miss Seton had been so glad to think in former days that Sir Edward always understood her, and she had thought Winnie’s interests were as dear to him as if she had been a child of his own; and now to think that Sir Edward regarded an event so important for Winnie as an evidence of indelicacy on her part, and of a kind of treachery on her lover’s! All that Aunt Agatha could do was to throw an appealing look at Mary, who had hitherto been the only one dissatisfied or disapproving. She knew more about Captain Percival than any one. Would not she say a word for them now?
“He must have thought that was what you meant when you let them be so much together,” said Mary. “I think, if you will forgive me, Sir Edward, that it is not their fault.”
Sir Edward answered this reproach only by a sigh. He was in a despondent rather than a combative state of mind. “And you see I do not know so much as I should like to know about him,” he said, evading the personal question. “He is a very nice fellow; but I told you the other day I did not consider him a paladin; and whether he has enough to live upon, or anything to settle on her—— My dear Mary, at least you will agree with me, that considering how short a time they have known each other, things have gone a great deal too far.”
“I do not know how long they have known each other,” said Mary, who now felt herself called upon absolutely to take Aunt Agatha’s part.
“Ah, I know,” said Sir Edward, “and so does your aunt; and things did not go at railway speed like this in our days. It is only about six weeks, and they are engaged to be married! I suppose you know as much about him as anybody—or so he gave me to understand at least; and do you think him a good match for your young sister?” added Sir Edward, with a tone of superior virtue which went to Mary’s heart.
Mary was too true a woman not to be a partisan, and had the feminine gift of putting her own private sentiments out of the question in comparison with the cause which she had to advocate; but still it was an embarrassing question, especially as Aunt Agatha was looking at her with the most pathetic appeal in her eyes.