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He refused to acknowledge to himself that he was sacrificing his niece. It was not a sacrifice; it was an honour! For one thing the old man stipulated, or rather bargained. He had managed his niece's affairs so far with great success; some of her money was in land, in Oakdean and Rickfort, for example; the rest he had invested securely, as he hoped and believed.
And beyond them on the hillside, far, far away, she can see mushrooms gleaming in the fields, for all the world like little sheep dotted here and there. She laughs to herself as she notes the resemblance. And all is hers all. And she is in her own home, and happy. What a blessing she hadn't said "No" when Maurice asked her. If she had, she would have been living at Rickfort now with Uncle George.
Sir Maurice has gone to Rickfort to interview "Uncle George" of unpleasant fame. He had found him a rather strange-looking man, but not so impossible as Tita had led him to imagine. He made no objection of any sort to the marriage, and, indeed, through his cold exterior Maurice could see that the merchant blood in him was flattered at his niece's alliance with some of the oldest blood in England.
It's Uncle George that there is something the matter with. Rickfort is my house, too, but I hate it; it is so gloomy. I'm sure," with a shrug of her shoulders, "Uncle George might have it, and welcome, if only he wouldn't ask me to live there with him." "Uncle George seems to make a poor show," says Rylton. "He's horrid!" says Miss Bolton, without reservation. "He's a beast!
He has, indeed, but one idea, and that is to encourage her to talk, so that he himself may enjoy the bliss of silence. "There is nothing," says she quickly. "It has been a stupid life. I was very happy at Oakdean, when," hesitating, "papa was alive; but now I have to live at Rickfort, with Uncle George, and," simply, "I'm not happy." "What's the matter with Rickfort?" "Nothing.
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