LITMIR.BIZ

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of the Peace, but I don’t think anything of it.”

      “It has been the greatest blessing in the world for him that he has ever known you,” said Mrs Greenow, still talking about her future husband.

      “I’ve tried to be goodnatured; that’s all. D–––– me, Mrs Greenow, what’s the use of living if one doesn’t try to be goodnatured? There isn’t a better fellow than Bellfield living. He and I ran for the same plate, and he has won it. He’s a lucky fellow, and I don’t begrudge him his luck.”

      “That’s so manly of you, Mr Cheesacre! But, indeed, the plate you speak of was not worth your running for.”

      “I may have my own opinion about that, you know.”

      “It was not. Nobody knows that as well as I do, or could have thought over the whole matter so often. I know very well what my mission is in life. The mistress of your house, Mr Cheesacre, should not be any man’s widow.”

      “She wouldn’t be a widow then, you know.”

      “A virgin heart should be yours; and a virgin heart may be yours, if you choose to accept it.”

      “Oh, bother!”

      “If you choose to take my solicitude on your behalf in that way, of course I have done. You were good enough to say just now that you wished to see me and my husband in your hospitable halls. After all that has passed, do you think that I could be a visitor at your house unless there is a mistress there?”

      “Upon my word, I think you might.”

      “No, Mr Cheesacre; certainly not. For all our sakes, I should decline. But if you were married—”

      “You are always wanting to marry me, Mrs Greenow.”

      “I do, I do. It is the only way in which there can be any friendship between us, and not for worlds would I lose that advantage for my husband,—let alone what I may feel for myself.”

      “Why didn’t you take me yourself, Mrs Greenow?”

      “If you can’t understand, it is not for me to say anything more, Mr Cheesacre. If you value the warm affection of a virgin heart—”

      “Why, Mrs Greenow, all yesterday she wouldn’t say a word to me.”

      “Not say a word to you? Is that all you know about it? Are you so ignorant that you cannot see when a girl’s heart is breaking beneath her stays?” This almost improper allusion had quite an effect on Mr Cheesacre’s sensitive bosom. “Did you say a word to her yesterday? And if not, why have you said so many words before?”

      “Oh, Mrs Greenow; come!”

      “It is, oh, Mrs Greenow. But it is time that we should go back to them.” They had been sitting all this time on a bank, under a hedge. “We will have our tea, and you shall have your pipe and brandy-and-water, and Charlie shall bring it to you. Shall she, Mr Cheesacre?”

      “If she likes she shall, of course.”

      “Do you ask her, and she’ll like it it quick enough. But remember, Mr Cheesacre, I’m quite serious in what I say about your having a mistress for your house. Only think what an age you’ll be when your children grow up, if you don’t marry soon now.”

      They returned to the field in which they had dined, and found Charlie under the trees, with her muslin looking very fresh. “What, all a-mort?” said Mrs Greenow. Charlie did not quite understand this, but replied that she preferred being alone. “I have told him that you should fill his pipe for him,” said Mrs Greenow. “He doesn’t care for ladies to fill his pipe for him,” said Charlie. “Do you try,” said the widow, “while I go indoors and order the tea.”

      It had been necessary to put the bait very close before Cheesacre’s eyes, or there would have been no hope that he might take it. The bait had been put so very close that we must feel sure that he saw the hook. But there are fish so silly that they will take the bait although they know the hook is there. Cheesacre understood it all. Many things he could not see, but he could see that Mrs Greenow was trying to catch him as a husband for Charlie Fairstairs; and he knew also that he had always despised Charlie, and that no worldly advantage whatever would accrue to him by a marriage with such a girl. But there she was, and he didn’t quite know how to avoid it. She did look rather nice in her clear-starched muslin frock, and he felt that he should like to kiss her. He needn’t marry her because he kissed her. The champagne which had created the desire also gave him the audacity. He gave one glance around him to see that he was not observed, and then he did kiss Charlie Fairstairs under the trees. “Oh, Mr Cheesacre,” said Charlie. “Oh, Mr Cheesacre,” echoed a laughing voice; and poor Cheesacre, looking round, saw that Mrs Greenow, who ought to have been inside the house looking after the boiling water, was moving about for some unknown reason within sight of the spot which he had chosen for his dalliance.

      “Mr Cheesacre,” said Charlie sobbing, “how dare you do that?—and where all the world could see you?”

      “It was only Mrs Greenow,” said Cheesacre.

      “And what will she think of me?”

      “Lord bless you—she won’t think anything about it.”

      “But I do;—I think a great deal about it. I don’t know what to do, I don’t;—I don’t.” Whereupon Charlie got up from her seat under the trees and began to move away slowly. Cheesacre thought about it for a moment or two. Should he follow her or should he not? He knew that he had better not follow her. He knew that she was bait with a very visible hook. He knew that he was a big fish for whom these two women were angling. But after all, perhaps it wouldn’t do him much harm to be caught. So he got up and followed her. I don’t suppose she meant to take the way towards the woods,—towards the little path leading to the old summerhouse up in the trees. She was too much beside herself to know where she was going, no doubt. But that was the path she did take, and before long she and Cheesacre were in the summerhouse together. “Don’t, Sam, don’t! Somebody really will be coming. Well, then, there. Now I won’t do it again.” ‘Twas thus she spoke when the last kiss was given on this occasion;—unless there may have been one or two later in the evening, to which it is not necessary more especially to allude here. But on the occasion of that last kiss in the summerhouse Miss Fairstairs was perfectly justified by circumstances, for she was then the promised bride of Mr Cheesacre.

      But how was he to get down again among his friends? That consideration troubled Mr Cheesacre as he rose from his happy seat after that last embrace. He had promised Charlie, and perhaps he would keep his promise, but it might be as well not to make it all too public at once. But Charlie wasn’t going to be thrown over;—not if she knew it, as she said to herself. She returned therefore triumphantly among them all,—blushing indeed, and with her eyes turned away, and her hand now remained upon her lover’s arm;—but still so close to him that there could be no mistake. “Goodness, gracious, Charlie! where have you and Mr Cheesacre been?” said Mrs Greenow. “We got up into the woods and lost ourselves,” said Charlie. “Oh, indeed,” said Mrs Greenow.

      It would be too long to tell now, in these last pages of our story, how Cheesacre strove to escape, and with what skill Mrs Greenow kept him to his bargain. I hope that Charlie Fairstairs was duly grateful. Before that evening was over, under the comfortable influence of a glass of hot brandy-and-water,—the widow had, I think, herself mixed the second glass for Mr Cheesacre, before the influence became sufficiently comfortable,—he was forced to own that he had made himself the happy possessor of Charlie Fairstairs’ heart and hand. “And you are a lucky man,” said the widow with enthusiasm; “and I congratulate you with all my heart. Don’t let there be any delay now, because a good thing can’t be done too soon.” And indeed, before that night was over, Mrs Greenow had the pair together in her own presence, and then fixed the day. “A fellow ought to be allowed to turn himself,” Cheesacre said to her, pleading for himself in a whisper. But no; Mrs Greenow would give him no such mercy. She knew to what a man turning himself might probably lead. She was a woman

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