“With all my heart—if you will specify the kind,” Sir Thomas said.
But here the good minister was very much at a loss, for he did not in the least know what kind of guarantees could be given, or taken. He was not accustomed to have his word taken so literally. He cleared his throat, and a flush came over his countenance, and he murmured, “Ah!” and “Oh!” and all the other monosyllables in which English difficulty takes refuge. “You must be aware,” he said, “Sir Thomas—not that I mean to be disagreeable—that there are many things in your past life calculated to alarm the guardians.”
“But, my dear sir, when I confess it,” said Sir Thomas, “when I admit it! when I ask only—tell me what guarantees I can give—what I can do or say—”
“Guarantees are necessary—certainly guarantees are necessary,” said the minister, shaking his head; and then he gave to his attentive hearer a little sermon upon marriage, which was one of the good man’s favorite subjects. Sir Thomas listened with great gravity and sympathy. He subdued the twinkling in his eyes—he wanted to take advantage of the honorable estate. He said very little, and allowed his mentor to discourse freely. And nothing was said further about guarantees. Mr. Williamson gave his consent with effusion before the interview was over. “You have seen the folly of a careless life,” he said, “I can not but hope that your heart is touched, Sir Thomas, and that all the virtues of maturity will develop in you; and if my poor approval and blessing can do you any good, you have it. I am not of those who think much of, neither do I belong to a denomination which gives special efficacy to, any man’s benediction; but as Jacob blessed Joseph, I give you my blessing.” Then as his visitor rose content, and offered him his hand, an impulse of hospitality came over the good man. “My wife would say I was letting you go coldly, without offering you anything; but I believe it is quite out of fashion to drink wine in the morning—which is a very good thing, an excellent thing. But if you will come to tea—any afternoon, Sir Thomas. If you will bring Lucy to tea!”
Afterward, after the door was shut, the minister darted out again and called after his visitor, “My wife says if you would name an afternoon, or if Lucy would write to her what day we may expect you—not to make preparations,” said the minister, waving his hand, “but in case we should be out, or engaged.”
Sir Thomas promised fervently. “You shall certainly hear a day or two before we come,” he said, and walked away with a smile on his face. To be sure he never meant to go back to tea, but his conscience did not smite him. He had got off safe and sound without any guarantees.
“Now there is only my aunt’s consent to get,” he said, when he had gone back to the Terrace. “We have stuck to the very letter of the will, and you see all has gone well. I am going off to Fairhaven to-morrow. I know she is there.”
“But must you ask her consent? you know she will give it,” Lucy said.
“How do I know she will give it? Perhaps she would prefer to keep you to herself.” Lucy smiled at the thought; but Sir Thomas did not feel so sure. His aunt meant him to marry Lucy eventually; but that was a very different thing from carrying her off now.
When Sir Thomas went away, Lucy had a great many visitors. Even Mrs. Rushton came, embarrassed, but doing her best to look at her ease. “Why did you not tell me that this was going on, you silly child? I should have understood everything, I should have made allowances for everything. But, perhaps, he had never come to the point till the other day? Mr. Rushton and Raymond send you their very best wishes. And Emmie has hopes that after seeing so much of each other all the autumn, you will choose her for one of your brides-maids, Lucy. And I wish you every happiness, my dear,” Mrs. Rushton cried, kissing her with a little enthusiasm, having talked all her embarrassment away. Lucy was surprised by this change, but she was no casuist, and she did not inquire into it. It was a relief which she accepted thankfully. Mrs. Stone came also with her congratulations. “Lady Randolph was very wise to forestall everybody,” she said. “And, Lucy, I shall be very glad to have you near me, to watch how you go on in your new life. Never hesitate to come to me in a difficulty.” This was the way in which she took her pupil’s elevation. Had Lucy been raised to a throne, she would have made a similar speech to her. She would have felt that she could instruct her how to reign. As for Mr. St. Clair, Lucy still had much trouble to go through on his account. She was very reluctant to give up her scheme for his help, but at last, after a great many interviews with Miss Southwood, was got to perceive that the thing to be done was to make Sir Thomas “find an appointment” for her unfortunate suitor. “He can easily do it,” said Miss Southwood, with that innocent faith in influence which so many good people still retain.