Mrs. Grey only smiled again. She did not think the warning worth much. Mr. Wentworth might be in love with Pauline—she dared say he was—indeed, she had no doubt of it. But what then? She could not be responsible for all the young men who fell in love with Pauline. It was very natural; and, to tell the honest truth, it rather pleased Mrs. Grey to see it. Not that she had the most distant idea that Pauline could ever feel any interest in any of the young men she with such quiet complacency thought hopelessly in love with her; but poor human nature is never weaker than on such subjects, and mothers look on amused, and may be, indignant with other mothers for allowing such things, till it comes to their turn, and then maternal vanity speaks louder than worldly wisdom, or any thing else; and so Mrs. Grey saw Mr. Wentworth's devotions with a quiet smile, and never thought it worth while to ask any questions about him. "He would not do," she saw that at a glance. As to what would, or who would, she had not yet made up her mind; but as Mr. Wentworth's pretensions did not seem of any decided stamp at all, she never thought there was any possibility of his being dangerous.
"I wonder Mrs. Grey allows that young Wentworth to be so attentive to her daughter," Mrs. Remson said. "He's a dissipated young man, they say."
"I am sorry to see that wild fellow, Wentworth, so much with that young beauty, Miss Grey," said another.
"Yes, I am surprised at her parents encouraging it," said a third, "for they must see it."
"What kind of a young man is he?" asked Mrs. Graham.
"One that I should be sorry to see attentive to a daughter of mine," replied a gentleman; but none of this reached Mrs. Grey's ears. No one told her Mr. Wentworth was wild or dissipated. He was too attentive, and they might get themselves in trouble, and be obliged to give authority, &c., for what they said—and what authority had they? a rumor—a vague report—an impression. Who knew, or ever knows, any thing more positive about a young man, except, indeed, young men—and they don't choose to tell.
And so the thing went on, and people talked, and wondered, and found fault, and everybody but Mr. and Mrs. Grey, whom it most concerned, knew a great deal; and they, though they had eyes, saw not; and ears had they, but heard not; and understandings, and heeded not—deaf and blind, as parents always are, until too late.
The thunderbolt fell at last, however. Mr. Wentworth, in form, asked Mr. Grey's consent to address Pauline, which Mr. Grey very decidedly refused, looking upon the young man as very presumptuous even to ask it; whereupon Mr. Wentworth informed the father that he was authorized by his daughter to address him on the subject, and her happiness being involved as well as his own, he trusted Mr. Grey would re-consider his proposal, and incline more favorably to his suit.
Amazement was Mr. Grey's only feeling on first hearing this announcement. He could scarcely believe his ears, much less take in the subject-matter in all its bearings.
Again, however, he refused his consent, and forbade Mr. Wentworth to think of his daughter.