'I am glad you have had the civility to listen. You seemed to me to be in a dream. I don't think, after all, Honor, but for Sam, that I should mind being in your place. It must be an experience as charming as new to have money at command. After all, an old man in love is led by the nose, and you, Honor, he must love, so you can take him about, and make him do exactly what you want. I almost envy you. Where is father?'
'Gone to see Frize, the shoemaker. I had a pair of shoes ordered from him two months ago, and father has gone to see if they are done. I shall want them on Thursday.'
'Father is quite pleased at the idea of your marriage. I know he is. He makes sure of getting Coombe Park. He says that Mr. Langford will lend the money; and he expects grand days when we get our own again. Father don't believe any more in Charles being guilty, after I told him Sam's reasons.'
'What reasons?'
'Well, I mean assertions. Does father know the day on which you are to be married?'
'No, Kate. Mr. Langford wished him not to be told. Father is so obliging, so good-natured, that if anyone were to press him to tell, he could not keep the secret, so we thought it best not to let him know till just at the last.'
'Won't father be proud when you are at Langford! Why, the van will not contain all his self-importance. To have his eldest daughter married into one of the best and oldest families of the neighbourhood, to be planted in the best house—after Squire Impey's—in the parish! My dear Honor! an idea strikes me. Shall I throw myself at Squire Impey's head? Father would go stark mad with pride if that were so—that is, if I succeeded. And if he got Coombe back, we three would rule the parish. We might all three become feoffees of Coryndon's Charity, and pass the land round among us. That would be grand! Honor! what is to be done with Mrs. Veale? I cannot abide the woman. It was a queer idea, was it not, putting the rat-poison in the china dog?'
All at once Kate looked up. 'My dear Honor, talk of somebody that shall be nameless, and he is sure to appear.' She spoke in a whisper, as Mrs. Veale came from the steps in at the door. She had a dark cloak thrown over her pale cotton dress. She stood in the doorway blinking nervously.
Honor stood up, put her light work aside, and, with her usual courtesy to all, went towards her. 'Do you want me, Mrs. Veale? Will you take a chair??
'No, I will not sit down. So'—she looked about—'you will go from a hovel to a mansion! At least, so you expect. Take care! Take care, lest, in trying to jump into the saddle, you jump over the horse.'