Chapter 47

The warm weather had now commenced; and Sir Edward, unwilling to be shut
up in London at a time the appearance of vegetation gave the country a new
interest, and accustomed for many years of his life to devote an hour in
his garden each morn, had taken a little ready furnished cottage a short
ride from his residence, with the intention of frequenting it until after
the birthday. Thither then Pendennyss took his bride from the altar, and a
few days were passed by the newly married pair in this little asylum.

Doctor Ives, with Francis, Clara, and their mother, had obeyed the summons
with an alacrity in proportion to the joy they felt on receiving it, and
the former had the happiness of officiating on the occasion. It would have
been easy for the wealth of the earl to procure a license to enable them
to marry in the drawing-room; the permission was obtained, but neither
Emily nor himself felt a wish to utter their vows in any other spot than
at the altar, and in the house of their Maker.

If there was a single heart that felt the least emotion of regret or
uneasiness, it was Lady Moseley, who little relished the retirement of the
cottage on so joyful an occasion; but Pendennyss silenced her objections
by good-humoredly replying--

"The fates have been so kind to me, in giving me castles and seats, you
ought to allow me, my dear Lady Moseley, the only opportunity I shall
probably ever have of enjoying love in a cottage."

A few days, however, removed the uneasiness of the good matron, who had
the felicity within the week of seeing her daughter initiated mistress of
Annerdale House.

The morning of their return to this noble mansion the earl presented
himself in St. James's Square, with the intelligence of their arrival, and
smiling as he bowed to Mrs. Wilson, he continued--

"And to escort you, dear madam, to your new abode."

Mrs. Wilson started with surprise, and with a heart beating quick with
emotion, she required an explanation of his words.

"Surely, dearest Mrs. Wilson--more than aunt--my mother--you cannot mean,
after having trained my Emily through infancy to maturity in the paths of
duty, to desert her in the moment of her greatest trial. I am the pupil of
your husband," he continued, taking her hands in his own with reverence
and affection; "we are the children of your joint care, and one home, as
there is but one heart, must in future contain us."

Mrs. Wilson had wished for, but hardly dared to expect this invitation. It
was now urged from the right quarter, and in a manner that was as sincere
as it was gratifying. Unable to conceal her tears, the good widow pressed
the hand of Pendennyss to her lips as she murmured out her thanks.