"Yes, yes. I have heard that said before. I have been a good deal advised on this head. My dear fellow, only consider. Would not I make her my wife this instant if you will only consent to marry us?"
He laughed and turned from me, and addressed Grace, and presently the four of us were busily talking. By this time my darling had regained some degree of confidence; her eyes were bright, her cheeks wore a little glow, there was nothing of embarrassment in her smile or general air as she addressed my cousin or met his gaze. In fact, the talk with Mrs. Howe had done her a deal of good. Her fears had foreboded a sort of Hannah More like view of things in Frank's wife—an easy capacity of recoiling and of being frosted from head to foot by such behaviour as that of an elopement; and she had no doubt that if Mrs. Howe took her to her home and showed her some kindness, her conduct would be a mere effusion of parochial sensibility; it would be her duty—her duty as a clergyman's wife, and she would not do less for a servant-maid that had run away with a grocer's assistant.
This, I say, had been my sweetheart's apprehension, but a few minutes' chat had corrected it, and she could now look with happiness and friendship at the amiable and pretty, if dowdy, woman who was seated at her side, and attend without any further appearance of constraint than what one would expect to find in so young and girlish a character to the kindly, graceful, warm-hearted conversation of my cousin Frank.
The pony and trap had been sent round to some adjacent stables, but by seven o'clock we had made all necessary arrangements, and the vehicle was again brought to the door. Grace was to be the guest of my cousin and his wife until we heard from Lady Amelia Roscoe. I should sleep at the hotel that night, and next day take possession of the best lodgings Frank could procure for me in his little parish. It was also settled that next day Sophie—for that was Mrs. Howe's Christian name—should come to Penzance with Grace and purchase all that was immediately needful in the shape of wearing apparel, and so on.
"I shall to-night," said I, "write to Mademoiselle Championet and request her to send your boxes, Grace."
"Wait until you hear from Lady Amelia," said Frank. "She may quarrel with mademoiselle and refuse to pay her, in which case mademoiselle will have a lien upon the luggage and stick to it."
I laughed and exclaimed, "There is no hurry," and then after taking Grace in my arms and straining her to my heart, as though we were about to part for ever and ever, and after much cordial handshaking with Frank and his wife, I accompanied the three of them downstairs, saw them into the pony-carriage, and when they had driven off, returned to write a letter to Lady Amelia Roscoe.
It is some years now since all this happened. I have no copy of that letter, and my memory is not strong in points of this sort. I recollect, however, after making several attempts, that I produced something which was brief almost to abruptness, and that it satisfied me as on the whole very well put, not wanting in a quality of what I might term mild brutality, for this was an element I could not very well manage without having regard to what I had to ask and to what I had to tell. And let this reference to that letter suffice, though I must add that I took care to enclose a copy of Captain Parsons' certificate of our marriage, with the names of those who had signed it, affirming that the marriage was good in point of law, as she might easily assure herself by consulting her solicitors, and also acquainting her in no doubtful terms that the wedding-ring was on Grace's finger and that we regarded ourselves as husband and wife.
I had scarcely despatched this letter when Caudel was announced. He stood in the doorway, cap in hand, knuckling his forehead and backing a bit with a rolling gait, after the custom of the British merchant sailor.
"Well, Mr. Barclay, sir, and how are ye again? And how's the young lady after all these here traverses?"