a very long one, as long as to disarrange all Lady Arabella's plans. She had determined to take her son most stringently to task that very evening; and with this object had ensconced herself in the small drawing-room which had formerly been used for a similar purpose by the august countess herself. Here she now sat, having desired Augusta and Beatrice, as well as the twins, to beg Frank to go to her as soon as he should come out of the dining-room. Poor lady! there she waited till ten o'clock,—tealess. There was not much of the Bluebeard about the squire, but he had succeeded in making it understood through the household that he was not to be interrupted by messages from his wife during the post-prandial hour, which, though no toper, he loved so well.
As a period of twelve months will now be passed over, the upshot of this long conversation must be told in as few words as possible. The father found it impracticable to talk his son out of his intended marriage; indeed, he hardly attempted to do so by any direct persuasion. He explained to him that it was impossible that he should marry at once, and suggested that he, Frank, was very young.
'You married, sir, before you were one-and-twenty,' said Frank. Yes, and repented before I was two-and-twenty. So did not say the squire.
He suggested that Mary should have time to ascertain what would be her uncle's wishes, and ended by inducing Frank to promise, that after taking his degree in October he would go abroad for some months, and that he would not indeed return to Greshamsbury till he was three-and-twenty.
'He may perhaps forget her,' said the father to himself, as this agreement was made between them.
'He thinks that I shall forget her,' said Frank to himself at the same time; 'but he does not know me.'
When Lady Arabella at last got hold of her son she found that the time for her preaching was utterly gone by. He told her, almost with sang froid, what his plans were; and when she came to understand them, and to understand also what had taken place at Boxall Hill, she could not blame the squire for what he had done. She also said to herself, more confidently than the squire had done, that Frank would quite forget Mary before the year was out. 'Lord Buckish,' said she to herself, rejoicingly, 'is now with the ambassador at Paris'—Lord Buckish was her nephew—'and with him Frank will meet women that are really beautiful—women of fashion. When with Lord Buckish he will soon forget Mary Thorne.'
But not on this account did she change her resolve to follow up
