‘The relative positions of a woman and a man are vastly different, so far as matrimony is concerned,’ replied Penelope. ‘The woman must sit at home till she receives an offer; the man can seek a wife in every circle of society.’
This was a great admission on the part of Penelope, who would never have avowed to any man—except a brother—that her spinsterhood was aught but the result of her own free-will. It will be observed that both the sisters ignored all danger from such a quarter as the ambitious damsel of St James’s; at anyrate they would have considered it derogatory to their own self-respect to own (to Septimus) such a fear.
‘You are no longer a young man, Septimus. We are both your seniors. Our last days would be inexpressibly soothed if we could feel that your lot in life was fixed, and that the fortune you have inherited would not become the prey of intriguing adventuresses. There is a lady in this house who entertains strong feelings of regard for you. She is young, handsome, and accomplished. You do not require money in a wife; but the lady we allude to is not by any means a beggar. Let us both advise you to lose no time in making up your mind, or a certain good-looking lawyer may be before you. No more at present. The lady, who will, I devoutly trust, eventually become our sister, is even now approaching the house.’
Septimus turned his eyes in the direction of the garden. Two ladies and a gentleman were slowly walking along the path. Presently, the younger one suddenly left her companions and tripped into the drawing-room through the open French-window.
CHAPTER II.
Mrs Fraser was the widow of Major Fraser, and quite came under the description of being ‘fat, fair, and forty.’ Her late husband had been the lifelong associate of Colonel Redgrave; so, when the widow announced her intention of quitting India for England, there to take up her permanent abode, her sole companion being her only child, a girl of some nineteen years, the colonel decided to accompany her. The gossips in the cantonments had quite decided that after a decent interval Mrs Fraser would become the wife of Colonel Redgrave; but all such speculations were put an end to by his sudden death. The Frasers were now staying at Oswald Villa, the elder Miss Redgrave, as the reader has just seen, having formed a plan of uniting her brother in marriage to the handsome widow. Blanche Fraser was a miniature copy of her mother. The same dazzlingly fair complexion, the same laughing blue eyes, the same luxuriant light hair; and, if the truth must be told, the same love of admiration and flirting, distinguished alike both mother and daughter. There was only one alloy to the happiness of the widow—the dreadful conviction that youth was slowly but surely deserting her. The fact might perhaps have been concealed somewhat, but for the visible presence of a marriageable daughter. So, with many a sigh, the widow yielded to the inevitable, and determined to choose a partner in life while a certain portion of youth and good looks still remained to her. At the present moment, her choice had fallen on the handsome companion of her walk to Luccombe Chine. Mr Frank Lockwood had been the lawyer of the Redgrave family ever since his father had vacated that position by death. He was now about three-and-thirty, was agreeable and good-looking. As it was now the vacation, the lawyer was staying at Oswald Villa, in response to the pressing invitation of Miss Redgrave. The widow had acted on the principle of making hay while the sun shines, and had exerted all her fascinations on the man of law; but in vain. Mr Lockwood was very gallant, but the heart of Mrs Fraser whispered that hitherto her efforts had been void of success. Still, perseverance, as we all know, achieves wonders, and so the widow resolved to adopt as her motto—Perseverando vinces, and hope for the best. Blanche, as we have said, tripped into the room, exclaiming as she did so, ‘O Mr Redgrave, you have lost such a treat! I did so miss you; you were the one thing needful to complete our enjoyment during our delightful walk.’
Septimus gazed keenly at the fair speaker; she was certainly very pretty, and decidedly clever, and palpably partial to his society. He might do worse than pass the remainder of his days with such a delightful companion. To be sure, there was a certain disparity in years; but every one knows that women age faster than men, and there were innumerable instances in public life of similar disproportions as to age. He would certainly treasure up the advice of his sister as to the choice of a wife. So it was with more than his customary urbanity that Septimus replied: ‘An old man such as I am would have been but a poor acquisition, Miss Fraser.’
Blanche peered with an expression of mock gravity into the gray eyes of Septimus. ‘An old man! Have you never heard of the old saying?—A man is as old as he feels, a woman as old as she looks. How old do you feel, Mr Redgrave?’
‘I feel almost a boy, Miss Fraser, when in your society; I feel a centenarian when I am ill in my solitary rooms in London.’
‘Then the deduction from that observation,’ replied Blanche, ‘is, that to enjoy perpetual youth, you should be perpetually in my society.’