“Good!” cried the steward in astonishment; “they are as good as angels.”

The master’s ideas of human excellence had suffered a heavy blow in the view of his viscountess, but he answered mildly,

“As good as mankind can well be.”

Chapter XLVII.

The warm weather had now commenced; and Sir Edward, unwilling to be shut up in London at a time the appearance of vegetation gave the country a new interest, and accustomed for many years of his life to devote an hour in his garden each morn, had taken a little ready furnished cottage a short ride from his residence, with the intention of frequenting it until after the birthday.  Thither then Pendennyss took his bride from the altar, and a few days were passed by the newly married pair in this little asylum.

Doctor Ives, with Francis, Clara, and their mother, had obeyed the summons with an alacrity in proportion to the joy they felt on receiving it, and the former had the happiness of officiating on the occasion.  It would have been easy for the wealth of the earl to procure a license to enable them to marry in the drawing-room; the permission was obtained, but neither Emily nor himself felt a wish to utter their vows in any other spot than at the altar, and in the house of their Maker.

If there was a single heart that felt the least emotion of regret or uneasiness, it was Lady Moseley, who little relished the retirement of the cottage on so joyful an occasion; but Pendennyss silenced her objections by good-humoredly replying—­

“The fates have been so kind to me, in giving me castles and seats, you ought to allow me, my dear Lady Moseley, the only opportunity I shall probably ever have of enjoying love in a cottage.”

A few days, however, removed the uneasiness of the good matron, who had the felicity within the week of seeing her daughter initiated mistress of Annerdale House.

The morning of their return to this noble mansion the earl presented himself in St. James’s Square, with the intelligence of their arrival, and smiling as he bowed to Mrs. Wilson, he continued—­

“And to escort you, dear madam, to your new abode.”

Mrs. Wilson started with surprise, and with a heart beating quick with emotion, she required an explanation of his words.

“Surely, dearest Mrs. Wilson—­more than aunt—­my mother—­you cannot mean, after having trained my Emily through infancy to maturity in the paths of duty, to desert her in the moment of her greatest trial.  I am the pupil of your husband,” he continued, taking her hands in his own with reverence and affection; “we are the children of your joint care, and one home, as there is but one heart, must in future contain us.”

Mrs. Wilson had wished for, but hardly dared to expect this invitation.  It was now urged from the right quarter, and in a manner that was as sincere as it was gratifying.  Unable to conceal her tears, the good widow pressed the hand of Pendennyss to her lips as she murmured out her thanks.  Sir Edward was prepared also to lose his sister; but unwilling to relinquish the pleasure of her society, he urged her making a common residence between the two families.