“I declare I never thought once of that; it never occurred to me in that light,” I answered with perfect truth; for my Kitty’s fair fame seemed to me so entirely above all question, that it could not need any assertion; “but since it is capable of being looked at so, there is no doubt what my duty is.”
“No husband of proper spirit could doubt for a moment what his duty is.” Miss Parslow spoke very severely; but my wife looked at her reproachfully, and ran up to me.
“No, Kit, no. You shall not go near him. There is nothing too bad for him to do. I have lost you quite long enough already. What do I care what anybody says? Miss Parslow, you have been wonderfully kind, and it is impossible to thank you. Don’t spoil it all, by putting this into his head.”
“My dear, we shall send the two policemen with him,” my aunt replied rather sarcastically; “we know how precious he is, and we won’t have him hurt. Or perhaps your Uncle Cornelius might go. He has no wife, to make a to-do about him. Look, here he comes with somebody, to tell us something! He walks like a man of thirty-five, and how polite he always is!”
Uncle Corny had brought Mrs. Wilcox from his house, and that good lady was in great excitement. She fell upon Kitty, and kissed and hugged her, until I thought really there had been enough of that; and then she turned round, and addressed us at large, casting forth her words with vehemence, and throwing out her hands, as if to catch them.
“Ladies, and gents, oh ladies and gents, such a thing have just come to my knowledge through Ted, which is the most intellectuous boy, though my own child, and was never such myself. I set off straightway, when I heard it, and beg to excoose of my present disapparel, to catch the three ten ’bus, or else wait another hour. And if there is a good horse on the place, which by the look of it there must be many, I do beg of Master Kit to put him in at once, if not too late to prevent bloody murder. Them police is so slow, so slow; though I never join in a single word against them, for all morshal men is fallible.”
“I can’t make out what it is,” said Uncle Corny, when we all looked at him, for an explanation; “this good lady must be allowed her own time; I am afraid that I have hurried her.”
“Not at all, Mr. Orchardson, not at all. Nothing could be more gentlemanly, and I will say the same of all Sunbury. But the wedding was to be to-morrow, gents, regardless of expense, at eleven o’clock, at the church of Saint Nicholas, the Virgin. It was not for me to forbid the banns, though knowing of holy impediments. Very handsome it was to be with six bridesmaids, Miss Frizzy and Miss Jerry for two of them. Cook, who is a very self-respected young woman, though Ted says she have turned forty-two, and no concern of his if she is even two and forty, she dropped in promiscuous and told me all about it, and all was as merry as a marriage-bell. But just as I was having my bit of dinner, in she comes with her cap-ribbons flying off, and her apron-strings burst, being rather stout with running.
“‘For God’s sake, come up, Mrs. Wilcox,’ she says ‘or there’ll be murder done, murder done, and nobody to see it.’