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Fred Neville could not fly hawks at Scroope, and found that there was nothing for him to do. Miss Mellerby suggested books. "I like books better than anything," said Fred. "I always have a lot of novels down at our quarters. But a fellow can't be reading all day, and there isn't a novel in the house except Walter Scott's and a lot of old rubbish.
"I don't know that I am as yet disposed to marry for the sake of a house to shelter me." "Of course you would say that; but still I think that I have been right to tell you. I am sure you will believe my assurance that Jack knows nothing of all this." That same evening he said nearly the same thing to his brother, though in doing so he made no special allusion to Sophie Mellerby.
Let his brother Jack come and live at Scroope and marry Sophie Mellerby. As long as he lived Jack could not be the Earl, but in regard to money he would willingly make such arrangements as would enable his brother to maintain the dignity and state of the house. They would divide the income.
He went on with his life at Scroope for a week after the funeral without resolving upon anything, or taking any steps towards solving the O'Hara difficulty. He did ride about among the tenants, and gave some trifling orders as to the house and stables. His brother was still with him, and Miss Mellerby remained at the Manor.
How could she hold up her head before such women as Sophie Mellerby and others like her? It would be known by all his friends that he had been taken in and swindled by low people in the County Clare, and he would be regarded by all around him as one who had absolutely ruined himself. He had positively resolved that she should not be Countess of Scroope, and to that resolution he would adhere.
But as for hunting, Sophie, I'm sure your mamma would be very much distressed if you were to think of such a thing." "But, dear Lady Scroope, I haven't thought of it, and I am not going to think of it; and if I thought of it ever so much, I shouldn't do it. Poor mamma would be frightened into fits, only that nobody at Mellerby could possibly be made to believe it, unless they saw me doing it."
"I don't think that much good is ever done by saying that kind of thing," said Miss Mellerby gravely. "It cannot at any rate do any harm in this case. I wish with all my heart that he was fond of you and you of him." "That is all nonsense. Indeed it is." "I am not saying it without an object. I don't see why you and I should not understand one another. If I tell you a secret will you keep it?"
The letter was all very well, and, as regarded the expressions towards himself, just what it should be. But he felt that it was not such a letter as Miss Mellerby would have written herself, and he was a little ashamed of all that was said about the priest. Neither was he proud of the pretty, finished, French hand-writing, over every letter of which his love had taken so much pains.
"I think Master Jack is making it all square with Sophie Mellerby." If there was anything that Lady Scroope hated almost as much as improper marriages it was slang. She professed that she did not understand it; and in carrying out her profession always stopped the conversation to have any word explained to her which she thought had been used in an improper sense.
"Is she going to live here?" he asked, almost irreverently, when he was first told that she was in the house. "I wish she were," said Lady Scroope. "I am childless, and she is as dear to me as a daughter." Then Fred apologized, and expressed himself as quite willing that Sophie Mellerby should live and die at Scroope. The evening was dreadfully dull.
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