Purling
thought--no sensible man could hesitate to accept.
She only asked him to settle in life. He must marry some day--why not
soon? Not to anybody, of course,--he must be on his guard against
foreign intriguing sirens, who would entangle him if they could,--but
to some lady of rank and fashion, fitted by birth and breeding to be
the mother of generations of Purlings yet to be. This was the
condition she annexed to forgiveness of the past; this the text upon
which she preached in her letters week after week. The doctrine of
judicious marriage appeared in all she wrote with the unfailing
regularity of the red thread that runs through all the strands of
Admiralty rope.
Harold smiled at the reiteration of these sentiments; smiled, but he
had misgivings. Herein might be another source of disagreement between
his mother and himself. Would their respective opinions agree as to
the style of girl most likely to suit him? Then he began to consider
what style of girl his mother would choose; and while he was thus
musing there came a missive which plainly showed Mrs. Purling's hand.
"I have been at Compton Revel for a week--"
"I wonder," thought Harold, when he had read thus far, "why they asked
her there? My dear old mother must have been in the seventh heaven of
delight. She always longed to be on more intimate terms with Lady
Calverly.
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