“To you I am afraid he will seem a very poor scholar,” said Mrs Atheling, with a little awe of Miss Anastasia’s learning; “but we did what we could for him; and he has always been a very industrious boy, and has studied a good deal himself.”
To this aside conversation Charlie paid not the smallest attention, but ruminated over the lawyer’s memorandum, making faces at it, and bending all the powers of his mind to the consideration—where to find this deed! “If it’s not here, nor in her lawyer’s, nor with this old lady, he’s got it,” pronounced Charlie; but this was entirely a private process, and he did not say a word aloud.
“I’ve read her book,” said Miss Rivers, with a glance aside at Agnes; “it’s a very clever book: I approve of it, though I never read novels: in my day, girls did no such things—all the better for them now. Yes, my child, don’t be afraid. I’ll not call you unfeminine—in my opinion, it’s about the prettiest kind of fancy-work a young woman can do.”
Under this applause Agnes smiled and brightened; it was a great deal more agreeable than all the pretty sayings of all the people who were dying to know the author of Hope Hazlewood, in the brief day of her reputation at the Willows.
“And as for the pretty one,” said Miss Anastasia, “she, I suppose, contents herself with lovers—eh? What is the meaning of this? I suppose the child’s heart is in it. The worse for her—the worse for her!”
For Marian had blushed deeply, and then become very pale; her heart was touched indeed, and she was very despondent. All the other events of the time were swallowed up to Marian by one great shadow—Louis was going away!
Whereupon Mrs Atheling, unconsciously eager to attract the interest of Miss Anastasia, who very likely would be kind to the young people, sent Marian up-stairs upon a hastily-invented errand, and took the old lady aside to tell her what had happened. Miss Rivers was a good deal surprised—a little affected. “So—so—so,” she said slowly, “these reckless young creatures—how ready they are to plunge into all the griefs of life! And what does Will Atheling say to this nameless boy?”
“I cannot say my husband is entirely pleased,” said Mrs Atheling, with a little hesitation; “but he is a very fine young man; and to see our children happy is the great thing we care for, both William and me.”
“How do you know it will make her happy?” asked Miss Anastasia somewhat sharply. “The child flushes and pales again, pretty creature as she is, like a woman come into her troubles. A great deal safer to write novels! But what is done can’t be undone; and I am glad to hear of it on account of the boy.”
Then Miss Anastasia made a pause, thinking over the matter. “I have found some traces of my father’s wanderings,” she said again, with a little emotion: “if the old man was tempted to sin in his old days, though it would be a shame to hear of, I should still be glad to make sure; and if by any chance,” continued the old lady, reddening with the maidenly and delicate feeling of which her fifty years could not deprive her—“if by any chance these unfortunate children should turn out to be nearly related to me, I will of course think it my duty to provide for them as if they were lawful children of my father’s house.”