“Letitia,” said Mary, in her passion springing up from her seat, “so long as you talk of the children my heart’s ready to break, and I don’t know what to do—but you shall not put this scandal upon me. Oh! no, no. I won’t bear it. It is an insult! Mother, don’t let her come after me. I won’t have it. I won’t hear another word.”
For Letitia, too, had risen to her feet. She stood staring for a moment while Mary pushed past her flying. But the fugitive had no more than reached the door when she was caught by the shriek of Mrs. Parke’s valediction. “Mary Hill! If you go and do it after all I’ve said—oh! I hope you’ll be miserable! I hope you’ll be cursed for it—you and all belonging to you. I’ll never forgive you—never, never, never! I hope if you have a child it’ll be an idiot and kill you. I wish you were dead. I wish you would go mad. I wish the lightning might strike you. I wish——”
Letitia fell back in her chair, choking with rage and hatred; and Mary, like a hunted creature, with a cry of pain flew sobbing upstairs. The others looked on aghast, not knowing what to think or say.
CHAPTER XVIII.
When Lord Frogmore arrived at Grocombe Vicarage the day but one before his marriage, Mary was still so pale, so depressed and nervous, that the brisk old bridegroom was much disturbed. It had been agreed in the family that it would be better to say nothing about that visit, which after all, though disagreeable, had done nobody any harm. This arrangement had been consented to by everybody, but Mrs. Hill and Agnes were always doubtful whether the vicar and Mary could keep their own counsel. And it turned out that these discreeter members of the family were right. For, indeed, Lord Frogmore had not spent an hour with his bride before he ascertained the cause of her low spirits and troubled looks. He was angry yet relieved.
“I had begun to think you had found out since I left you that you would not be happy with an old man,” he said.
“Oh, Lord Frogmore!”
“It was a reasonable fear. You are a great deal younger than I am, though you think yourself so old, Mary. However, if it is only Mrs. John and the dowager who have frightened you, it is to be hoped we may get over that.”
Mary shivered but did not speak. It was her cold hanging about her still her mother thought, but Lord Frogmore was not quite of that opinion.
“They must have said something very nasty to take such a hold upon you. What was it? Come now, Mary. You will not make me think worse of them (which is what you are afraid of) by anything you can tell me, and it will be a relief to you to get it out.”