"Good Lord, no," replied Hendle hastily. "It is the last thing either I or Miss Mallien would desire. We can manage our own affairs."
"So you think, Mr. Hendle; but the mistakes you will make will be endless."
"Nonsense, I am not a fool, and Miss Mallien has plenty of good sense."
"Sense isn't experience," lamented Mrs. Beatson, shaking her head and smiling in a most dreary manner. "However, I am no prophetess of evil, and wish you and Miss Mallien well. But mistakes you will make, say what you will, and sorrow will come to you as it comes to all."
"There! There! Don't croak any more, Mrs. Beatson."
"Me croak," repeated the lady in surprise. "Why, I am trying to look on the bright side of things, for whatever you may say there is always a black side."
"Well, well," observed Rupert testily, for her words and manner irritated his usually steady nerves. "We'll wait and see what happens. Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you, is a very good proverb."
"I annoy you by speaking the truth," remarked the good lady with a superior smile. "Ah, that is always the way with the young, sir. However, you have only to say the word and I go."
"You may not, Mr. Hendle, but Miss Mallien will."
"Not at all. She is quite willing that you should stay."
"So she says, but I have my doubts;" and Mrs. Beatson groaned, being quite sure in her own mind that Dorinda wished to turn her out to die by the wayside. "However, this is a world of sorrow, and when I am starved to death, perhaps you may be sorry for your harsh treatment."
"Wait until the harsh treatment takes place," retorted Rupert, who would have liked to shake her into common sense. "Meanwhile, I have told you of my intention to get married next month."
"There's many a slip between the cup and the lip," said Mrs. Beatson, mysteriously; "but the less talked about is the soonest forgotten." After which cryptic speech she drifted toward the door, as if her legs were taking her in a direction contrary to that expressed by her will. "The Rev. Mr. Leigh is in the Muniment Room, Mr. Hendle," she said, pausing on the threshold, "and expressed a wish to see you."
"You might ask him to stay to dinner," said Rupert, glancing at his watch.
Mrs. Beatson departed firmly convinced that her master really intended to dismiss her and had only broken the ice with his information about the marriage, so that she might be prepared to be turned out to die. With this in her mind, she hovered uneasily about the dining-room and drawing-room both before and after dinner, in the hope of catching some stray word, which might reveal Rupert's expected treachery.