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Updated: May 14, 2025
"If my aunt will only say that she will keep the house for a couple of years, she shall have it," said Fred to the young lady, perhaps wishing to postpone for so long a time the embarrassment of the large domain; but to this Lady Scroope would not consent. If allowed she would remain till the end of July. By that time she would find herself a home.
He would have this year, he said, to himself; and after that he would come and settle himself at Scroope. Yes; no doubt he would marry as soon as he could find a fitting wife. Of course it would be right that he should marry. He fully understood the responsibilities of his position; so he said, in answer to his aunt's eager, scrutinising, beseeching questions.
She herself knew of noble families which had been scattered, confounded, and almost ruined by such imprudence. Hitherto the family of Scroope had been continued from generation to generation without stain, almost without stain. It had felt it to be a fortunate thing that the late heir had died because of the pollution of his wretched marriage.
He endeavoured to take comfort by assuring himself that his heart was true to her. Not for worlds would he injure her; that is, not for worlds, had any worlds been exclusively his own. On account of the Scroope world, which was a world general rather than particular, no doubt he must injure her most horribly. But still she was his dear Kate, his own Kate, his Kate whom he would never desert.
King James refused at first, for he said that Lord Scroope had been the first to break the truce by carrying off Kinmont Willie in time of peace; but at length he was obliged to yield, for Queen Elizabeth was very powerful, and always would have her own way. So the 'bauld Buccleugh' was sent to London and brought before the great, haughty English queen.
Meanwhile, I added, I thought she would like to know that he did nothing but rave of her; also that he was a hero, with a big H twice underlined. My word! I did lay it on about the hero business with a spoon, a real hotel gravy spoon. If Charlie Scroope knows himself again when he sees my description of him, well, I'm a Dutchman, that's all.
He was pacing up and down the room with a candle in his hand, trying to realize to himself what life at Scroope might be with a wife of his aunt's choosing, and his aunt to keep the house for them, when a door was opened at the end of the room, away from that by which he had entered, and with a soft noiseless step Miss Mellerby entered.
Lord Scroope could not condescend to repeat his request, or even again to allude to it. His whole manner altered as he took his hand away from his nephew's shoulder. But still he was determined that there should be no quarrel. As yet there was no ground for quarrelling, and by any quarrel the injury to him would be much greater than any that could befall the heir.
Again they bowed, once, twice, thrice; then stood silent before me with folded arms. "What on earth are they saying?" asked Scroope. "I could catch a few words" he knew a little kitchen Zulu "but not much." I told him briefly while the others listened. "What does Mameena mean?" asked Miss Holmes, with a horrible acuteness. "Is it a woman's name?"
She did not for a moment doubt that the present Earl should be encouraged to break any promises of marriage to the making of which he might have been allured. But it was not so with Lady Scroope. She, indeed, came to the same conclusion as her friend, but she did so with much difficulty and after many inward struggles. She understood and valued the customs of the magic line.
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