Chapter 7

WOOING AND WEDDING.

"She was made for him,--a special providence in his behalf."

"Like to like,--and yet love may be dear bought."

"In time comes she whom Fate sends."

Until after Twelfth Night the Christmas festivities were continued; but
if the truth had been admitted, the cumbrous ceremonials, the excessive
eating and visiting, would have been pronounced by every one very
tiresome. Julius found it particularly so, for the festival had no roots
in his boyhood's heart; and he did not include it in his dreams of
pre-existence.

"It is such semblance of good fellowship, such a wearisome pretence of
good wishes that mean nothing," he said one day. "What value is there in
such talk?"

"Well," answered the squire, "it isn't a bad thing for some of us to
feel obliged once in a twelve months to be good-natured, and give our
neighbors a kind wish. There are them that never do it except at
Christmas. Eh? What?"

"Such wishes mean nothing."

"Nay, now, there is no need to think that kind words are false words.
There is a deal of good sometimes in a mouthful of words. Eh? What?"

"And yet, sir, as the queen of the crocodiles remarked, 'Words mend none
of the eggs that are broken.'"

"I know nothing about the queen of the crocodiles. But if you don't
believe in words, Julius, it is quite allowable at Christmas time to put
your good words into any substantial form you like. Nobody will doubt a
good wish that is father to a handsome gift; so, if you don't believe in
good words, you have a very reliable substitute in good deeds. I saw how
you looked when I said 'A merry Christmas' to old Simon Gills, and you
had to say the words after me. Very well; send old Simon a new plaid or
a pound of tobacco, and he'll believe in your wish, and you'll believe
in yourself. Eh? What?"

The days were full of such strained conversations on various topics.
Harry could say nothing which Julius did not politely challenge by some
doubtful inquiry. Julius felt in every word and action of Harry's the
authority of the heir, and the forbearance of a host tolerant to a
guest. He complained bitterly to Sophia of the position in which he was
constantly put. "Your father and brother have been examining timber, and
looking at the out-houses this morning, and I understand they were
discussing the building of a conservatory for Charlotte; but I was left
out of the conversation entirely. Is it fair, Sophia? You and I are the
next heirs, and just as likely to inherit as Harry. More so, I may say,
for a soldier's life is already sold, and Harry is reckless and
dissipated as well. I