At all
events, I may say, Milly, whoso findeth a husband such as he, findeth a
tolerably good thing. He is an exemplary little creature, second son of Sir
Harry Biddlepen, with a little independent income of his own, beside his
church revenues of ninety pounds a year; and I don't think a more harmless
and docile little husband could be found anywhere; and I think, Miss Maud,
_you_ seemed a good deal interested, too.'
I laughed and blushed, I suppose; and Cousin Monica, skipping after her
wont to quite another matter, said in her odd frank way--
'And how has Silas been?--not cross, I hope, or very odd. There was a
rumour that your brother, Dudley, had gone a soldiering to India, Milly, or
somewhere; but that was all a story, for he has turned up, just as usual.
And what does he mean to do with himself? He has got some money now--your
poor father's will, Maud. Surely he doesn't mean to go on lounging and
smoking away his life among poachers, and prize-fighters, and worse people.
He ought to go to Australia, like Thomas Swain, who, they say, is making a
fortune--a great fortune--and coming home again.
Pages:
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482