Johnny Ludlow Third Series Part 35

She just took his hand in hers and squeezed it. It was the first day she had seen him, but she liked his face.

Cattledon began upon Janet at once. If she felt well enough to start off on promiscuous drives, she must be well enough to see about a situation.

"I have been speaking to her of one, Miss Cattledon," said Dr. Knox, catching the words as he came in. "I think she will accept it."

"Where is it?" asked Cattledon.

"At Lefford."

"She shall never go back to Rose Villa with my consent, sir. And I think you ought to know better than to propose it to her."

"To Rose Villa! Certainly not: at least at present. Rose Villa will be hers, though; the only little settlement that can be made upon her."

The words struck Cattledon silent. But she could see through a brick wall.

"Perhaps _you_ want her, young man?"

"Yes, I do. I should have wanted her before this, but that I had no home to offer her. I have one now; and good prospects too. Janet has had it all explained to her. Perhaps you will allow me to explain it to you, Miss Cattledon."

"I'm sure it's more than Janet Carey could have expected," said Cattledon, growing pacified as she listened. "She's a poor thing. I hope she will make a good wife."

"I will risk it, Miss Cattledon."

"And she shall be married from my house," struck in Miss Deveen.

"Johnny, if you young Oxford blades can get here for it, I will have you all to the wedding."

And we did get there for it: I, and Tod, and William Whitney, and saw the end, so far, of Janet Carey.

HELEN WHITNEY'S WEDDING.

I.

"What a hot day it is going to be!" cried the Squire, flinging back his thin light coat, and catching the corner of the breakfast-cloth with it, so that he upset the salt-cellar. "Yesterday was about the hottest day _I_ ever felt, but to-day will be worse."

"And all the jam-making about!" added Mrs. Todhetley.

"You need not go near the jam-making."

"I must to-day. Last year Molly made a mistake in the quant.i.ty of sugar: and never could be brought to acknowledge it."

"Molly---- There's the letter-man," broke off the Squire. "Run, lad."

I went through the open gla.s.s-doors with all speed. Letters were not everyday events with us. In these fast and busy days a hundred letters are written where one used to be in those. It was one only that the man handed me now.

"That's all this morning, Mr. Johnny."

I put it beside the Squire's plate, telling him it was from Sir John Whitney. There was no mistaking Sir John's handwriting: the popular belief was that he used a skewer.

"From Whitney, is it," cried he. "Where are my spectacles? What's the postmark! Malvern? Oh, then, they are there still."

"_Belle Vue Hotel, Malvern._

"DEAR TODHETLEY,

"Do take compa.s.sion upon a weary man, and come over for a day or two. A whole blessed week this day have I been here with never a friend to speak to, or to make up a rubber in the evening.

Featherston's a bad player, as you know, but I wish I had him here.

I and my wife might take double dummy, for all the players we can get. Helen is engaged to be married to Captain Foliott, Lord Riverside's nephew; and n.o.body has any time to think of me and my whist-table. Bring the boys with you: Bill is as moped as I am. We are at the Belle Vue, you see. The girls wanted to stand out for the Foley Arms: it's bigger and grander: but I like a place that I have been used to.

"From your old friend, "JOHN WHITNEY."

The little Whitneys had caught scarlatina, all the fry of them.

Recovered now, they had been sent to a cottage on the estate for change; and Sir John, his wife, William, Helen, and Anna went for a week to Malvern while the Hall was cleaned. This news, though, of Helen's engagement, took us by surprise.

"How very sudden!" cried the mater.

Tod was leaning back in his chair, laughing. "I _told_ her I knew there was something up between her and that Captain Foliott!"

"Has she known him before?" asked the mater.

"Known him, yes," cried Tod. "She saw a good deal of him at Cheltenham.

As if she would engage herself to any one after only a week's acquaintanceship!"

"As if Sir John would let her!" put in the Squire. "I can't answer for what Miss Helen would do." And Tod laughed again.

When the children were taken ill, Helen and Anna, though they had had the malady, were packed off to Sir John's sister, Miss Whitney, who lived at Cheltenham, and they stayed there for some weeks. After that, they came to us at d.y.k.e Manor for three days, and then went with their father and mother to Malvern. Helen was then full of Captain Foliott, and talked of him to us in private from morning till night. She had met him at Cheltenham, and he had paid her no end of attention. Now, as it appeared, he had followed her to Malvern, and asked for her of Sir John.

"It seems to be a good match--a nephew of Lord Riverside's," observed the Squire. "Is he rich, I wonder?--and is the girl over head and ears in love with him?"

"Rich he may be: but in love with him she certainly is not," cried Tod.

"She was too ready to talk of him for that."

The remark was amusing, coming from Tod. How had he learnt to be so worldly-wise?

"Shall you go to Malvern, father?"

"_Shall I go!_" repeated the Squire, astonished at the superfluous question. "Yes. And start as soon as ever I have finished my breakfast and changed my coat. You two may go also, as you are invited."

We reached Malvern in the afternoon. Sir John and Lady Whitney were alone, in one of the pleasant sitting-rooms of the Belle Vue Hotel, and welcomed us with outstretched hands.

"The girls and William?" cried Sir John, in answer to inquiries. "Oh, they are out somewhere--with Foliott, I conclude; for I'm sure he sticks to Helen like her shadow. Congratulate me, you say? Well, I don't know, Todhetley. It's the fashion, of course, to do it; but I'm not sure but we should rather be condoled with. No sooner do our girls grow up and become companionable, and learn not to revoke at whist when they can be tempted into taking a hand, than they want to leave us! Henceforth they must belong to others, not to us; and we, perhaps, see them no oftener than we see any other stranger. It's one of the crosses of life."

Sir John blew his old red nose, so like the Squire's, and my lady rubbed her eyes. Both felt keenly the prospect of parting with Helen.

"But you like him, don't you?" asked the Squire.