Then Ursula added, ‘Of course, that is the first thing we must say to each other. I think there never was such a summer—so bright, so steady, one fine day after another. Here is a fortnight, or nearly so, that we have not had one drop of rain.’
‘Quite wonderful,’ said I. ‘The hay, I hear, is a sight to see. A day or two more, and we shall all begin to pray for rain. We are never content whatever we have.’
‘A little variety is always pleasant,’ Mrs. St. Clair said. Meanwhile, while we talked about the weather, the General hung about over our little group like a storm-cloud. He did not say anything, but he looked tempestuous; he, who was always so calm. Presently he turned away, and went off to say something to Simms, who appeared just then with a note or a message.
‘I suppose,’ said Mrs. St. Clair, turning to me, ‘you know all about it. George told us that he had met you, and told you——’
‘Yes, he told me;’ but I did not know what to say; they all wore a look of agitation, except Ursula, who was as calm as usual—more calm than usual, I should have said; but, no doubt, that was only in comparison with the agitation of the rest.
‘And I suppose you think like the rest, that I will jump at a husband the moment one is offered to me,’ said Miss Stamford with a smile.
‘We don’t think so, Ursula. We know it is not the first time. It is only George that is so frightened, poor fellow.’
‘Why should he be so frightened?’ Miss Stamford cried. ‘No; it is not the first time. I may take that little credit to myself. I might have my head turned, perhaps, if it had been the first time. But, after all, it is not so much to brag of. I suppose he wants somebody to take care of him when he gets old and feeble; but he ought to have somebody younger than me.’
Sixty-five is not what you would call young; but it was odd how we all were of opinion that Mr. Oakley’s time for being old and feeble was still a good way off, a thing to come. I acknowledged that I shared this weakness. We were all about the same age, and it did not occur to us that we were already old.
‘He shows his sense,’ said I, taking the part of the absent to whom nobody did any justice, ‘as well as his good taste. Poor man, though he is so rich, I am very sorry for him. I wish Ursula had met him twenty years ago when there would have been no harm——’