Rufus hesitated.
“I’m above family prejudices,” Mrs. Farnaby proceeded. “You needn’t be afraid of offending me. Speak out.”
Rufus would have spoken out to any other woman in the universe. This woman had preserved him from ridicule—this woman had rubbed his head dry. He prevaricated.
“I don’t suppose I understand the ladies in this country,” he said.
But Mrs. Farnaby was not to be trifled with. “If Amelius was your son, and if he asked you to consent to his marriage with my niece,” she rejoined, “would you say Yes?”
This was too much for Rufus. “Not if he went down on both his knees to ask me,” he answered.
Mrs. Farnaby was satisfied at last, and owned it without reserve. “My own opinion,” she said, “exactly expressed! don’t be surprised. Didn’t I tell you I had no family prejudices? Do you know if he has spoken to my husband, yet?”
Rufus looked at his watch. “I reckon he’s just about done it by this time.”
Mrs. Farnaby paused, and reflected for a moment. She had already attempted to prejudice her husband against Amelius, and had received an answer which Mr. Farnaby considered to be final. “Mr. Goldenheart honours us if he seeks our alliance; he is the representative of an old English family.” Under these circumstances, it was quite possible that the proposals of Amelius had been accepted. Mrs. Farnaby was not the less determined that the marriage should never take place, and not the less eager to secure the assistance of her new ally. “When will Amelius tell you about it?” she asked.
“When I go back to his lodgings, ma’am.”