"I trust that you are in good health, and with best wishes for your
prosperity and happiness, "I remain, dear Sophia, yours very truly, "WOLFER.
"P. S.--I omitted to say that I should be pleased to pay Miss Lorton an
honorarium of fifty guineas per annum."
At another time Nell would have found it difficult to refrain from
laughing at the stilted phraseology of the letter, at the pomposity
with which the proposal was made, and the meanness which strove to hide
itself in a postscript; but a Punch and Judy show would have seemed a
funereal performance at that moment, and she stared as blankly at the
letter when she had finished it as if she had been reading some language
which had no meaning for her.
Mrs. Lorton emitted a cough of self-satisfaction.
"It is extremely kind and thoughtful of my Cousin Wolfer," she said;
"and I must say that I think you are an extremely fortunate girl,
Eleanor, to have had such an offer made you. Of course, if you had been
still engaged to Mr. Vernon, you would have been obliged to have sent a
refusal to Lord Wolfer; but, as it is, I presume you will not hesitate
for a moment, but will jump at such an opportunity."
Nell looked before her blankly, and remained silent.
"It will be a chance such as few girls of your position ever meet with;
for, of course, when my cousin speaks of a housekeeper, he does not wish
us to infer that you would be expected to take the position of a menial.
No; he will not forget that though you are not my daughter, I married
your father, and that you are, therefore, connected with the family. Of
course, you will go into society, you will meet the elite and the crème
de la crème, and will, therefore, enjoy advantages similar to those
which I enjoyed, but which I, alas! threw away. Really, when one comes
to consider it, this breach of your engagement with this Mr. Vernon is
quite providential, as it removes the only obstacle to your accepting my
cousin's noble offer."
Nell woke with a start when the stream of self-complacent comment had
ceased, and realized that she was being asked to decide. What should she
do? To leave Shorne Mills, to go into the world among strangers, to
enter a big house as a poor relation--she shrank from the prospect for a
moment, then she nerved herself to face it. After all, she could never
be happy at Shorne Mills again. Every tree, every rock, every human
being would remind her of Drake, of the lover she had lost. With Dick
gone, there would be nothing for her to do, nothing to distract her mind
from the perpetual brooding over the few past weeks of happiness, and
the long, gray life before her. With these people there would be sure to
be some work for her, something that would save her from spending every
hour in futile regret and hopeless longing.