I feel as sure as I sit here, Fred will turn out well—else why was he brought back from the brink of the grave?
And I call it a robbery: it was like giving him the land, to promise it; and what is promising, if making everybody believe is not promising?
And you see he did leave him ten thousand pounds, and then took it away again."
"Took it away again!" said Mr. Vincy, pettishly.
"I tell you the lad's an unlucky lad, Lucy.
And you've always spoiled him."
"Well, Vincy, he was my first, and you made a fine fuss with him when he came.
You were as proud as proud," said Mrs. Vincy, easily recovering her cheerful smile.
"Who knows what babies will turn to?
I was fool enough, I dare say," said the husband—more mildly, however.
"But who has handsomer, better children than ours?
Fred is far beyond other people's sons: you may hear it in his speech, that he has kept college company.
And Rosamond—where is there a girl like her?
She might stand beside any lady in the land, and only look the better for it.
You see—Mr. Lydgate has kept the highest company and been everywhere, and he fell in love with her at once.
Not but what I could have wished Rosamond had not engaged herself.
She might have met somebody on a visit who would have been a far better match; I mean at her schoolfellow Miss Willoughby's.
There are relations in that family quite as high as Mr. Lydgate's."
"Damn relations!" said Mr. Vincy;
"I've had enough of them.
I don't want a son-in-law who has got nothing but his relations to recommend him."
"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Vincy, "you seemed as pleased as could be about it.
It's true, I wasn't at home; but Rosamond told me you hadn't a word to say against the engagement.
And she has begun to buy in the best linen and cambric for her underclothing."
"Not by my will," said Mr. Vincy.
"I shall have enough to do this year, with an idle scamp of a son, without paying for wedding-clothes.
The times are as tight as can be; everybody is being ruined; and I don't believe Lydgate has got a farthing.
I shan't give my consent to their marrying.
Let 'em wait, as their elders have done before 'em."
"Rosamond will take it hard, Vincy, and you know you never could bear to cross her."
"Yes, I could.
The sooner the engagement's off, the better.
I don't believe he'll ever make an income, the way he goes on.
He makes enemies; that's all I hear of his making."
"But he stands very high with Mr. Bulstrode, my dear.
The marriage would please him, I should think."
"Please the deuce!" said Mr. Vincy.
"Bulstrode won't pay for their keep.
And if Lydgate thinks I'm going to give money for them to set up housekeeping, he's mistaken, that's all.
I expect I shall have to put down my horses soon.
You'd better tell Rosy what I say."
This was a not infrequent procedure with Mr. Vincy—to be rash in jovial assent, and on becoming subsequently conscious that he had been rash, to employ others in making the offensive retractation.
However, Mrs. Vincy, who never willingly opposed her husband, lost no time the next morning in letting Rosamond know what he had said.
Rosamond, examining some muslin-work, listened in silence, and at the end gave a certain turn of her graceful neck, of which only long experience could teach you that it meant perfect obstinacy.
"What do you say, my dear?" said her mother, with affectionate deference.
"Papa does not mean anything of the kind," said Rosamond, quite calmly.
"He has always said that he wished me to marry the man I loved.
And I shall marry Mr. Lydgate.
It is seven weeks now since papa gave his consent.
And I hope we shall have Mrs. Bretton's house."