pieces, Jeannette, and work ‘em in again ever so carefully,” said the widow, after some painful consideration. “It will always show,” said Jeannette, shaking her head. “But the other would show worse,” said the widow; “and if you finedraw it, not one person in ten will notice it. We’d always put them on with the name to the feet, you know.”
It was not quite true that Cheesacre had bespoke the dinner out in the field, although no doubt he thought he had done so. The little treat, if treat it was, had all been arranged by Mrs Greenow, who was ever ready to create festivities. There was not much scope for a picnic here. Besides their own party, which, of course, included the Captain and Mr Cheesacre, no guest could be caught except the clergyman;—that low-church clergyman, who was so anxious about his income, and with whom the old Squire had quarrelled. Mrs Greenow had quickly obtained the advantage of his alliance, and he, who was soon to perform on her behalf the marriage ceremony, had promised to grace this little festival. The affair simply amounted to this, that they were to eat their dinner uncomfortably in the field instead of comfortably in the dining-room. But Mrs Greenow knew that Charlie’s charms would be much strengthened by a dinner out-of-doors. “Nothing,” she said to Kate, “nothing makes a man come forward so well as putting him altogether out of his usual tack. A man who wouldn’t think of such a thing in the drawing-room would be sure to make an offer if he spent an evening with a young lady downstairs in the kitchen.”
At two o’clock the gig from Penrith arrived at the Hall, and for the next hour both Cheesacre and the Captain were engaged in preparing the tables and carrying out the viands. The Captain and Charlie Fairstairs were going to lay the cloth. “Let me do it,” said Cheesacre taking it out of the Captain’s hands. “Oh, certainly,” said the Captain, giving up his prize. “Captain Bellfield would do it much better,” said Charlie, with a little toss of her head; “he’s as good as a married man, and they always do these things best.”
The day was fine, and although the shade was not perfect, and the midges were troublesome, the dinner went off very nicely. It was beautiful to see how well Mrs Greenow remembered herself about the grace, seeing that the clergyman was there. She was just in time, and would have been very angry with herself, and have thought herself awkward, had she forgotten it. Mr Cheesacre sat on her right hand, and the clergyman on her left, and she hardly spoke a word to Bellfield. Her sweetest smiles were all given to Cheesacre. She was specially anxious to keep her neighbour, the parson, in good-humour, and therefore illuminated him once in every five minutes with a passing ray, but the full splendour of her light was poured out upon Cheesacre, as it never had before been poured. How she did flatter him, and with what a capacious gullet did he swallow her flatteries! Oileymead was the only paradise she had ever seen. “Ah, me; when I think of it sometimes,—but never mind.” A moment came to him when he thought that even yet he might win the race, and send Bellfield away howling into outer darkness. A moment came to him, and the widow saw the moment well. “I know I have done for the best,” said she, “and therefore I shall never regret it; at any rate, it’s done now.”
“Not done yet,” said he plaintively.
“Yes; done, and done, and done. Besides, a man in your position in the county should always marry a wife younger than yourself,—a good deal younger.” Cheesacre did not understand the argument, but he liked the allusion to his position in the county, and he perceived that it was too late for any changes in the present arrangements. But he was happy; and all that feeling of animosity to Alice had vanished from his breast. Poor Alice! she, at any rate, was innocent. With so much of her own to fill her mind, she had been but little able to take her share in the Greenow festivities; and we may safely say, that if Mr Cheesacre’s supremacy was on any occasion attacked, it was not attacked by her. His supremacy on this occasion was paramount, and during the dinner, and after the dinner, he was allowed to give his orders to Bellfield in a manner that must have gratified him much. “You must have another glass of champagne with me, my friend,” said Mrs Greenow; and Mr Cheesacre drank the other glass of champagne. It was not the second nor the third that he had taken.
After dinner they started off for a ramble through the fields, and Mrs Greenow and Mr Cheesacre were together. I think that Charlie Fairstairs did not go with them at all. I think she went into the house and washed her face, and brushed her hair, and settled her muslin. I should not wonder if she took off her frock and ironed it again. Captain Bellfield, I know, went with Alice, and created some astonishment by assuring her that he fully meant to correct the error of his ways. “I know what it is,” he said, “to be connected with such a family as yours, Miss Vavasor.” He too had heard about the future duchess, and wished to be on his best behaviour. Kate fell to the lot of the parson.
“This is the last time we shall ever be together in this way,” said the widow to her friend.
“Oh, no,” said Cheesacre; “I hope not.”
“The last time. On Wednesday I become Mrs Bellfield, and I need hardly say that I have many things to think of before that; but Mr Cheesacre, I hope we are not to be strangers hereafter?” Mr Cheesacre said that he hoped not. Oileymead would always be open to Captain and Mrs Bellfield.
“We all know your hospitality,” said she; “it is not to-day nor tomorrow that I or my husband,—that is to be,—will have to learn that. He always declares that you are the very beau ideal of an English country gentleman.”
“Merely a poor Norfolk farmer,” said Cheesacre. “I never want to put myself beyond my own place. There has been some talk about the Commission 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
