"The worst of it is about you, Mary. It is throwing you over just as
you were coming to make me a home."
"Never mind, Davie. It is only deferred, and at any rate we can keep
together till Midsummer. Then I can go out again for a year or two,
and perhaps you will settle somewhere where the curate's sister could
get a daily engagement."
The next day they found the following letter at the post office:—-
"The Folly, Jan. 3rd.
"My Dear Mary,-—I suppose you may have attained the blessed realms
that lie beyond the borders of Gossip, and may not have heard the
nine days' wonder that Belforest had descended on the Folly, and that
poor old Mr. Barnes has left his whole property to me. My dear, it
would be something awful even if he had done his duty and halved it
between Elvira and me, and he has ingeniously tied it up with
trustees so as to make restitution impossible. As it is, my income
will be not less than forty thousand pounds a year, and when divided
among the children they will all be richer than perhaps is good for
them.
"And now, my dear old dragon, will you come and keep me in order
under the title of governess to Barbara and Elvira? For, of course,
the child will go on living with us, and will have it made up to her
as far as possible.
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