“And Philip’s papa is a rich man,” says Mrs. Staveley, putting my own thought into words for me. “Where do you get these ideas, Eunice? Surely, you are not allowed to read novels?”
“Oh no!”
“And you have certainly never seen a play?”
“Never.”
“Clear your head, child, of the nonsense that has got into it—I can’t think how. Rich Mr. Dunboyne has taught his heir to despise the base act of marrying for money. He knows that Philip will meet young ladies at my house; and he has written to me on the subject of his son’s choice of a wife. ‘Let Philip find good principles, good temper, and good looks; and I promise beforehand to find the money.’ There is what he says. Are you satisfied with Philip’s father, now?”
I jumped up in a state of ecstasy. Just as I had thrown my arms round Mrs. Staveley’s neck, the servant came in with a letter, and handed it to me.
Helena had written again, on this last day of my visit. Her letter was full of instructions for buying things that she wants, before I leave London. I read on quietly enough until I came to the postscript. The effect of it on me may be told in two words: I screamed. Mrs. Staveley was naturally alarmed. “Bad news?” she asked. Being quite unable to offer an opinion, I read the postscript out loud, and left her to judge for herself.
This was Helena’s news from home:
“I must prepare you for a surprise, before your return. You will find a strange lady established at home. Don’t suppose there is any prospect of her bidding us good-by, if we only wait long enough. She is already (with father’s full approval) as much a member of the family as we are. You shall form your own unbiased opinion of her, Eunice. For the present, I say no more.”
I asked Mrs. Staveley what she thought of my news from home. She said: “Your father approves of the lady, my dear. I suppose it’s good news.”