to it by filial duty as well as by other motives.
Moreover, he thought the change of life and occupation
would be the best thing for Rachel, and Mrs. Curtis
could not but acquiesce, little as she had even dreamt
that a daughter of hers would marry into a marching
regiment! Her surrender of judgment was curiously
complete. “Dear Alexinder,” as thenceforth
she called him had assumed the mastery over her from
the first turn they took under the cathedral, and
when at length he reminded her that the clock was
on the stroke of one, she accepted it on his infallible
judgment, for her own sensations would have made her
believe it not a quarter of an hour since the interview
had begun.
Not a word had been granted on either side to the
conventional vows of secrecy, always made to be broken,
and perhaps each tacitly felt that the less secrecy
the better for Rachel. Certain it is that Mrs.
Curtis went into the Deanery with her head considerably
higher, kissed Rachel vehemently, and, assuring her
she knew all about it, and was happier than she had
ever thought to be again, excused her from appearing
at luncheon, and hurried down thereto, without giving
any attention to a feeble entreaty that she would not
go so fast. And when at three o’clock Rachel
crept downstairs to get into the carriage for her
return home, the good old Dean lay in wait for her,
told her she must allow him an old friend’s privilege,
kissed her, congratulated her, and said he would beg
to perform the ceremony.
“Oh, Mr. Dean, it is nothing like that.”
He laughed, and handed her in.
“Mother, mother, how could you?” sighed
Rachel, as they drove on.
“My dear, they were so kind; they could not
help knowing!”
“But it can’t be.”
“Rachel, my child, you like him!”
“He does not know half about me yet. Mother,
don’t tell Fanny or any one till I have seen
him again.”
And the voice was so imperious with the wayward vehemence
of illness that Mrs. Curtis durst not gainsay it.
She did not know how Alick Keith was already silencing
those who asked if he had heard of the great event
at the Dean’s party. Still less did she
guess at the letter at that moment in writing:—
“My Dear Bessie,—Wish me joy.
I have gone in for the uncroquetable lawn, and won
it.—Your affectionate brother’,
“A.
C. Keith.”
DEAR ALEXANDER.
“I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad
parts didst thou first fall in love with me?”—Much
Ado about Nothing.
“Alick, is this all chivalry?” inquired
Colonel Keith, sitting by his fire, suffering considerably
from his late drive, and hearing reports that troubled
him.
“Very chivalrous, indeed! when there’s
an old county property to the fore.”
“For that matter, you have all been canny enough
to have means enough to balance all that barren moorland.
You are a richer man than I shall ever be.”
