"Now, do not roast us. You can; you have the art. I have the whole story. That is, I have a part. I mean, I have the outlines, I cannot be deceived, but you can fill thern in, I know you can. I saw it yesterday. Now, tell us, tell us. It must be quite true or utterly false. Which is it?"
"Be precise."
"His fatality! you called her. Yes, I was sceptical. But here we have it all come round again, and if the tale is true, I shall own you infallible. Has he?--and she?"
"Both."
"And the Middletons here? They have not gone; they keep the field.
And more astounding, she refuses him. And to add to it, Dr.
Middleton intercedes with Mr. Dale for Sir Willoughby."
"Dr. Middleton intercedes!" This was rather astonishing to Mrs.
Mountstuart.
"For Vernon," Miss Eleanor emphasized.
"For Vernon Whitford, his cousin." said Miss Isabel, still more emphatically.
"Who," said Mrs. Mountstuart, with a sovereign lift and turn of her head, "speaks of a refusal?"
"I have it from Mr. Dale," said Lady Busshe.
"I had it, I thought, distinctly from Dr. Middleton," said Mr. Dale.
"That Willoughby proposed to Laetitia for his cousin Vernon, Doctor Middleton meant," said Miss Eleanor.
Her sister followed: "Hence this really ridiculous misconception!
--sad, indeed," she added, for balm to Mr. Dale.
"Willoughby was Vernon's proxy. His cousin, if not his first, is ever the second thought with him."
"But can we continue ... ?
"Such a discussion!"
Mrs. Mountstuart gave them a judicial hearing. They were regarded in the county as the most indulgent of nonentities, and she as little as Lady Busshe was restrained from the burning topic in their presence. She pronounced:
"Each party is right, and each is wrong."
A dry: "I shall shriek!" came from Lady Busshe.
"Cruel!" groaned Lady Culmer.
"Mixed, you are all wrong. Disentangled, you are each of you right. Sir Willoughby does think of his cousin Vernon; he is anxious to establish him; he is the author of a proposal to that effect."
"We know it!" the Patterne ladies exclaimed. "And Laetitia rejected poor Vernon once more!"
"Who spoke of Miss Dale's rejection of Mr. Whitford?"
"Is he not rejected?" Lady Culmer inquired.
"It is in debate, and at this moment being decided."
"Oh! do he seated, Mr. Dale," Lady Busshe implored him, rising to thrust him back to his chair if necessary. "Any dislocation, and we are thrown out again! We must hold together if this riddle is ever to be read. Then, dear Mrs. Mountstuart, we are to say that there is-no truth in the other story?"
"You are to say nothing of the sort, dear Lady Busshe."
"Be merciful! And what of the fatality?"
"As positive as the Pole to the needle."
"She has not refused him?"
"Ask your own sagacity."
"Accepted?"
"Wait."
"And all the world's ahead of me! Now, Mrs. Mountstuart, you are oracle. Riddles, if you like, only speak. If we can't have corn, why, give us husks."
"Is any one of us able to anticipate events, Lady Busshe?"
"Yes, I believe that you are. I bow to you. I do sincerely. So it's another person for Mr. Whitford? You nod. And it is our Laetitia for Sir Willoughby? You smile. You would not deceive me?
A very little, and I run about crazed and howl at your doors. And Dr. Middleton is made to play blind man in the midst? And the other person is--now I see day! An amicable rupture, and a smooth new arrangement. She has money; she was never the match for our hero; never; I saw it yesterday, and before, often; and so he hands her over--tuthe-rum-tum-tum, tuthe-rum-tum-tum," Lady Busshe struck a quick march on her knee. "Now isn't that clever guessing? The shadow of a clue for me. And because I know human nature. One peep, and I see the combination in a minute. So he keeps the money in the family, becomes a benefactor to his cousin by getting rid of the girl, and succumbs to his fatality. Rather a pity he let it ebb and flow so long. Time counts the tides, you know. But it improves the story. I defy any other county in the kingdom to produce one fresh and living to equal it. Let me tell you I suspected Mr. Whitford, and I hinted it yesterday."
"Did you indeed!" said Mrs. Mountstuart, humouring her excessive acuteness.
"I really did. There is that dear good man on his feet again. And looks agitated again."
Mr. Dale had been compelled both by the lady's voice and his interest in the subject to listen. He had listened more than enough; he was exceedingly nervous. He held on by his chair, afraid to quit his moorings, and "Manners!" he said to himself unconsciously aloud, as he cogitated on the libertine way with which these chartered great ladies of the district discussed his daughter. He was heard and unnoticed. The supposition, if any, would have been that he was admonishing himself. At this juncture Sir Willoughby entered the drawing-room by the garden window, and simultaneously Dr. Middleton by the door.
