"No, my dear; but I think you must trust her to Mr. Pryme; that young man
deserves to be rewarded."

"But, my dear Tom, there are things against his character. I assure you,
Andrew himself saw----"

"Pooh! pooh!" interrupted Mr. Esterworth. "Young men who sow their wild
oats early are all the better husbands for it afterwards. I will give him
a talking to if you like, but you and your husband must let Pussy have
her own way; it is the least you can do after his conduct; and don't
worry about his being poor, Caroline; I have nothing better to do with my
money, and I shall take care that Pussy is none the worse off for my
death. She is worth all the rest of your children put together--an
Esterworth, every inch of her!"

That, it is to be imagined, was the clenching argument in Mrs. Miller's
mind. Uncle Tom's money was not to be despised, and, by reason of his
money, uncle Tom's wishes were bound to carry some weight with them.

Mr. Pryme, who had been staying for a few days at Kynaston, where,
however, the cordial welcome given to him by its master was, in a great
measure, neutralised by the coldness and incivility of its mistress,
removed himself and his portmanteau, by uncle Tom's invitation, to
Lutterton, and his engagement to Miss Miller became a recognised fact.

"All the same, it is a very bad match for her," said Mrs. Miller, in
confidence, to her husband.

"And I should very much like to know who that sunshade belonged to,"
added the M.P. for Meadowshire, severely.

"I think, my dear, we shall have to overlook that part of the business,
for, as Tom will leave them his money, why----"

"Yes, yes, I quite understand; we must hope the young man has had a good
lesson. Let bygones be bygones, certainly," and Mr. Miller took a pinch
of snuff reflectively, and wondered what Tom Esterworth would "cut up
for."

"But I am _determined_," said Mrs. Miller, ere she closed the discussion,
"I am determined that I will do better for Geraldine."

After all, the mother had a second string to her bow, so the edict went
forth that Beatrice was to be allowed to be happy in her own way, and the
shadow of that fatal sunshade was no longer to be suffered to blacken the
moral horizon of her father's soul.

CHAPTER XXXII.

BY THE VICARAGE GATE.

Before our lives divide for ever,
While time is with us and hands are free,
(Time swift to fasten, and swift to sever
Hand from hand....)
I will say no word tha