His indignation was not less than hers; and, before a quarter of an hour elapsed, George Seymour was closeted with Mr. Layton, his cheek flushed and his eye bright with excitement, as, without one word of circumlocution, he told the plain, unvarnished truth.
Mr. Layton was much shocked, and hastened to make his offer to Lewis Clavering in "plain black and white." Before night, the note was received, and Lewis and his inimitable Cora had the prospect of comfort and happiness with the surely-coming salary of two thousand a year. Their grateful reception of this intervention in their behalf, their unmurmuring hearts at past suffering, would form a bright example to hundreds possessing perfect independence and no cares.
Laura's disappointment knew no bounds. Margaret's joy was complete. How she and Cora talked over this good fortune, and how silvery and sweet their merry laughter seemed to Lewis and Seymour, who were listening to every word these two said. They were now discussing a marriage on the tapis.
Clara was fortunate enough to secure an offer from a widower with a son older than his future stepmother. But Mr. Penrose was very rich, and could be hid, like Tarpeia of old, under jewels and gold. Clara loathed, and would often turn from him with disgust, as her eye fell upon his great clumsy form "fitting tight" (as the mantua-makers say) to the Louis Quatorze, in which he regularly ensconced himself. His false teeth were unexceptionable; his cheeks round and shiny. He bore one resemblance to poor Uncle Ned:
"For he had no hair on the top of his head,
The place where the hair ought to be;"
and, in case of any danger, Clara could easily screen herself behind him and never be seen. He was in a melancholy state of extreme health, though there was a hope of apoplexy in his case; and all that Clara could rejoice at was his tendency to severe gout, which would prevent his accompanying her upon many occasions in public.
Margaret ventured a hint upon the disparity of age and disposition, a sad inequality to bring into married life. But Laura talked so loudly in favor of wealth and Mr. Penrose's consequence, that she was forced to be silent. Fanny, too, approved Clara's wisdom and prudence. It was an excellent match; Clara had shown herself a woman of determination, superior to the foolish girls who prated of love and cottages. Let a man be esteemed before he was loved, and there would be no doubt of perfect harmony afterwards.
"So write your cards for the reception-day, Clara, and we will have a grand ball in the evening. You shall be married with éclat becoming your prospects."
"A ball, Laura!" cried Maggie. "Have you forgotten our mourning?"
"No, indeed; I wish I had. But, as we have worn it now nearly a year, I'm going to take the opportunity of leaving it off on Clara's wedding day. So will she and Fan."