"Unless he marries a fortune," said Mrs. Hamley, more by way of
concealing her palpitation than anything else; for she was unworldly
and romantic to a fault.
"No son of mine shall ever marry a wife who is richer than himself
with my good will," said the Squire again, with emphasis, but without
a thump.
"I don't say but what if Roger is gaining five hundred a year by
the time he's thirty, he shall not choose a wife with ten thousand
pounds down; but I do say, if a boy of mine, with only two hundred a
year--which is all Roger will have from us, and that not for a long
time--goes and marries a woman with fifty thousand to her portion,
I'll disown him--it would be just disgusting."
"Not if they loved each other, and their whole happiness depended
upon their marrying each other," put in Mrs. Hamley, mildly.
"Pooh! away with love! Nay, my dear, we loved each other so dearly
we should never have been happy with any one else; but that's a
different thing. People aren't like what they were when we were
young. All the love nowadays is just silly fancy, and sentimental
romance, as far as I can see."
Mr. Gibson thought that he had settled everything about Molly's going
to Hamley before he spoke to her about it, which he did not do, until
the morning of the day on which Mrs. Hamley expected her. Then he
said,--"By the way, Molly! you're to go to Hamley this afternoon;
Mrs. Hamley wants you to go to her for a week or two, and it suits me
capitally that you should accept her invitation just now."
"Go to Hamley! This afternoon! Papa, you've got some odd reason at
the back of your head--some mystery, or something. Please, tell me
what it is. Go to Hamley for a week or two! Why, I never was from
home before this without you in all my life."
"Perhaps not. I don't think you ever walked before you put your feet
to the ground. Everything must have a beginning."
"It has something to do with that letter that was directed to me, but
that you took out of my hands before I could even see the writing of
the direction." She fixed her grey eyes on her father's face, as if
she meant to pluck out his secret.
He only smiled and said,--"You're a witch, goosey!"
"Then it had! But if it was a note from Mrs. Hamley, why might I
not see it? I have been wondering if you had some plan in your head
ever since that day.--Thursday, wasn't it? You've gone about in a
kind of thoughtful, perplexed way, just like a conspirator. Tell me,
papa"--coming up to him, and putting on a beseeching manner--"why
mightn't I see that note? and why am I to go to Hamley all on a
sudden?"