At this point all turned their attention to Philip with sudden intelligence in their faces, and some with alarm. The nearest relative! Lucy, however, did nothing to confirm the position which Philip felt it expedient thus strongly, and at once, to assert. She looked at him with a faint smile, and shook her head.
“He has nobody really belonging to him but me. Mr. Rushton, please, I will do every thing else, but I can not give up Jock.”
“We’ll see about it; we’ll see about it, Lucy,” Mr. Rushton said. And then Lady Randolph, a little impatient, resumed her lead. “I can not let you exert yourself so much,” she said, with peremptory tenderness. “I must take you away; all this will be settled quite comfortably; but my first thought is for you. I must not let you overexert yourself. Lean upon me, my poor child?”
And thus, at last, the black-robed procession filed away.
CHAPTER XVII.
GUARDIANS.
The ladies went away, the men remained behind; most of them took their seats again with evident relief. However agreeable the two halves of humanity may be to each other in certain circumstances, it is a relief to both to get rid of each other when there is business on hand. The mutual contempt they have for each other’s modes of acting impedes hearty co-operation, and the presence of one interferes with the other’s freedom. The men took their seats and drew a long breath of relief, all but Philip, the unauthorized member of the party, who felt that with Lucy his only legal right to be here at all was gone.
“Well,” said the rector, intensifying that sigh of relief into a kind of snort of satisfaction, “now that we may speak freely, Rushton, you don’t expect that rubbish would bear the brunt of an English court of law? It is all romancing; the old fellow must have been laughing at you in his sleeve. Seven trustees to decide whom the girl is to marry! His mind must have been gone; and you can’t imagine for a moment that this is a thing which can be carried out.”
“I don’t see why,” said Mr. Rushton calmly; “more absurd things have been carried out. He wants his girl to be looked after. She will have half the fortune-hunters in England after her, like flies after a honey-pot.”
All the men assembled looked at the town clerk, he was the only one among them who could possibly have any interest in the question. The rector appreciated this fact with unusual force; he had daughters only, whereas Raymond Rushton was a likely young fellow enough. They were all somewhat suspicious of each other, all except the personage who had read the documents, and took no part in the matter, and Mr. Chervil, a London attorney, with little time to spare, and not much interest in anything but the money, which was his trade.
“Of course there will be fortune-hunters after her. He ought,” said the rector, who was given to laying down the law, “to have appointed a couple of trustworthy guardians, as other people do, and left it in their hands. Such an arrangement as this, no one can help seeing, is positively absurd.”