The letter seemed to cut Mrs Bulstrode severely. The mention of Mrs Casaubon’s loan seemed a reflection of that public feeling which held it a matter of course that every one would avoid a connection with her husband. She was silent for some time; and the tears fell one after the other, her chin trembling as she wiped them away. Bulstrode, sitting opposite to her, ached at the sight of that grief-worn face, which two months before had been bright and blooming. It had aged to keep sad company with his own withered features. Urged into some effort at comforting her, he said—
“There is another means, Harriet, by which I might do a service to your brother’s family, if you like to act in it. And it would, I think, be beneficial to you: it would be an advantageous way of managing the land which I mean to be yours.”
She looked attentive.
“Garth once thought of undertaking the management of Stone Court in order to place your nephew Fred there. The stock was to remain as it is, and they were to pay a certain share of the profits instead of an ordinary rent. That would be a desirable beginning for the young man, in conjunction with his employment under Garth. Would it be a satisfaction to you?”
“Yes, it would,” said Mrs Bulstrode, with some return of energy. “Poor Walter is so cast down; I would try anything in my power to do him some good before I go away. We have always been brother and sister.”
“You must make the proposal to Garth yourself, Harriet,” said Mr Bulstrode, not liking what he had to say, but desiring the end he had in view, for other reasons besides the consolation of his wife. “You must state to him that the land is virtually yours, and that he need have no transactions with me. Communications can be made through Standish. I mention this, because Garth gave up being my agent. I can put into your hands a paper which he himself drew up, stating conditions; and you can propose his renewed acceptance of them. I think it is not unlikely that he will accept when you propose the thing for the sake of your nephew.”
CHAPTER LXXXVI.
“Le cœur se sature d’amour comme d’un sel divin qui le conserve; de là l'incorruptible adhérence de ceux qui se sont aimés dès l'aube de la vie, et la fraicheur des vielles amours prolongés. Il existe un embaumement d'amour. C’est de Daphnis et Chlöe que sont faits Philémon et Baucis. Cette vieillesse là, ressemblance du soir avec l'aurore.” —Victor Hugo: L’homme qui rit.
Mrs Garth, hearing Caleb enter the passage about tea-time, opened the parlour-door and said, “There you are, Caleb. Have you had
