They sat down, but during the meal the gardener was so
abstracted and silent that his daughter put her head winningly to one
side and said, 'What is it, father dear?'
'Ah--what is it!' cried the gardener. 'Something that makes very
little difference to me, but may be of great account to you, if you
play your cards well. THERE'S BEEN A WEDDING AT THE LODGE TO-NIGHT!'
He related to her, with a caution to secrecy, all that he had heard
and seen.
'We are folk that have got to get their living,' he said, 'and such
ones mustn't tell tales about their betters,--Lord forgive the
mockery of the word!--but there's something to be made of it. She's
a nice maid; so, Harriet, do you take the first chance you get for
honouring her, before others know what has happened. Since this is
done so privately it will be kept private for some time--till after
his death, no question;--when I expect she'll take this house for
herself; and blaze out as a widow-lady ten thousand pound strong.
You being a widow, she may make you her company-keeper; and so you'll
have a home by a little contriving.'
While this conversation progressed at the gardener's Margery was on
her way out of the Baron's house. She was, indeed, married. But, as
we know, she was not married to the Baron. The ceremony over she
seemed but little discomposed, and expressed a wish to return alone
as she had come.
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