[Footnote 6: South Africa, Vol. 2, chapter VIII, 1878]
No matter that she told Mr. Whittlestaff, who took her into his house when her stepmother died, that she loved Mr. Gordon and would always think of him. A promise is a promise, not to be given or broken lightly. Though she would not allow the "old man" to kiss her, she would not break her promise. Bad timing. The diamonds don't seem to make much difference.
They certainly don't make much difference to Mrs. Baggett, the woman who rules Croker's Hall as Mr. Whittlestaff's housekeeper. She puts no trust in diamonds—"only in the funds, which is reg'lar." She has her own concerns; she is incensed that Mr. Gordon would even presume to come speak to the young woman in her master's house, and she sternly tells Mary that her duty is to see to it that the master has his way.
Mrs. Baggett has her principles. Though she urges Mary to accept Mr. Whittlestaff in the first place, and to keep her promise when the matter appears to be in doubt, yet she maintains that she will not stay to serve under another woman who is mistress of Croker's Hall. Not only will she not stay, she will go to Portsmouth to take care of her drunken one-legged husband. Mr. Whittlestaff cannot shake her from this resolve, and she tells him he must not abandon his engagement: "It's weak, and nobody wouldn't think a straw of you for doing it."
The author reaches into his bag of churchmen to produce Reverend Montagu Blake, who is addressed appropriately by his fiancée when she says, "Don't be a fool, Montagu." We see the young curate celebrate his good fortune at the death of Rev. Harbottle, freeing his pulpit for Mr. Blake, and also permitting him to marry Kattie Forrester. "But now that old Harbottle has gone, I'll get the day fixed; you see if I don't."
What of the "old man?" Mr. Whittlestaff listens to his housekeeper's stern counsel to be a man and keep what is his. Then he retreats to a secluded hillside to consult his well-worn copy of Horace (the Victorian gentlemen knew their classics) in an effort to identify the wisdom of the ages. And finally he asks himself whether Mrs. Baggett's lessons correspond to those of Jesus Christ. In these ruminations he is shown as a man who rises above the cardboard cutout of a selfish old country squire in love with his young ward. His deliberations with himself are lengthy; though he consults his volume of Horace, he finds that he remembers Horace's counsel well enough to weigh it without looking; and he finds it wanting.
His moment of critical decision involves a short serious interview with his young fiancée—an unusually tender Trollopian interview—as he prepares to go to London to see John Gordon and offer Mary to him. She puts her arm upon him and entreats him not to go, telling him that he his entitled to have "whatever it is that you may want, though it is but such a trifle."
Mr. Whittlestaff finally settles the issue when she announces that she will burn the letter he had written to Mr. Gordon arranging to meet him; he calls for a sandwich and a glass of wine, swearing that he will start in an hour.
The reader must remember that her original agreement to marry Mr. Whittlestaff was verbal, not physical; she did not allow him to kiss her; nor did she go beyond putting her arm on him and looking into his face on this occasion. Though this modest gesture is sufficient to mark it as a tender interview, one cannot help concluding that this young Victorian woman fought the battle with one arm behind her back.
Mr. Whittlestaff shows that he understands this by the completion of his mission. The subsequent interview with Mr. Gordon in Green Park is hardly a tender one; indeed, it becomes a bit testy on both sides; but the mission is accomplished.