“It is very well made,” observed Isabel, critically. “I am so glad, Mattie, that you have given up that hideous plaid: it never suited you.”
“If I had been you, I would have travelled in it,” persisted Mrs. Drummond, who never could remember that Mattie was over thirty and might possibly have opinions of her own.
Archie listened to all this with great amusement.
“Don’t you think it is about time I started a pleasanter subject, Mattie?” he asked, laughing. “Have you finished your tea, my dear? for I do not want to spoil your appetite; but time is getting on, and––” here he glanced at the clock.
Every one stared at this, for Archie had never spoken in exactly that way to Mattie before; and, as he did so, Mattie’s cheeks were burning. But what was their surprise when Archie suddenly rose from his seat and laid his hand kindly on Mattie’s shoulder! 359
“She is too shy to tell you herself; I have come all these miles to do it for her. Isabel, you need not look so consequential. Ellis is a good fellow, I dare say, but our little Mattie has done better for herself than even you. Mother, you have achieved a success in one of your seven daughters: let me introduce to you the future Lady Challoner!” And then, still keeping his hand upon her shoulder, he looked blandly round on them all.
“Well, I am sure!” from Isabel, half pouting; but no one else spoke except Mr. Drummond:
“What does this mean, Archie? Can’t you speak for yourself, my girl? Is this a joke? Does he mean something amusing?” asked the father; but his lip quivered a little: if it should be true,—if it were no joke!
“It is just as Archie says!” replied Mattie, timidly, not daring to raise her eyes. “Sir Harry asked me to marry him, and I said yes, because—because he was always so good to me.” And here Mattie laughed a little hysterically. “And I did not think you would object, father.”
“Me object!” replied Mr. Drummond, oblivious of grammar just then. “Why, my little Mattie, what news is this? Come here and kiss me, my girl. I am proud of you; I am delighted to think a daughter of mine is going to make such a splendid match. Why don’t you speak to her, my dear?” addressing his wife, with some excitement. “Bless my soul,—Lady Challoner, my plain little Mattie Lady Challoner! Is it possible? Why, you were telling us, Archie, what a Crœsus this Sir Henry was, and how he had just bought quite a fine place for himself.”