The vicar looked around after this, much discomfited by finding himself ousted from his usual chair. He wavered for a moment not knowing where to go, but finally planted himself in front of the fire, leaning his shoulders against the mantel-piece. He had an old coat on, very much glazed and shabby, and a large limp white neckcloth, fully deserving of that name, loosely tied. He looked round him amiable and a little unctuous, not perceiving, for his faculties were not very alert, the storm in the air. “Well, ladies,” he said, “I suppose you’ve come to talk things over, and all the fal-lals and things for the wedding, eh? It’s astonishing what interest ladies always take in anything of this kind, though they can’t be called, can they, on this occasion, the young couple?” He chuckled in his limp good humor, as he stood and warmed himself. “Only six years, I’ll give you my word for it, younger than myself--and going to be my son-in-law--but Mary there doesn’t seem to mind.” His laugh had the most curious effect in that atmosphere charged with fiery elements. It was so easy, so devoid of any alarm or possibility of disturbance. Tisch, who knew very well that all that could be done was to frighten these simple people if possible, had too much sense not to see that her mission would be a failure furious as she was--but the dowager had not this saving salt. She held out her arm again with all the lace and jet. “We’ve come to put a stop to it,” she said. “Eh?” said the vicar. His chuckle was a little different now, and he repeated it at the end of his ejaculation, which was scarcely a question. “They’ve come,” said Mrs. Hill, raising her voice, “to put a stop to Mary’s marriage. Don’t you know? They won’t have it, they won’t allow it--they say a noble family--Mr. Hill, don’t you hear?” For he went on chuckling, which was exasperating, and made his wife and daughters long to seize him by the shoulders and shake him. “Oh,” he said, “they’re going to put a stop to Mary’s marriage. How are they going to do that, my dear? Has he got another wife living?” And the vicar chuckled more than ever at such a good joke. “Father!” and “my dear!” cried daughter and wife, simultaneously, in indignation. But the vicar went on laughing unmoved. “Well?” he said. “We don’t know much about his life. He might have had several other wives living, he’s old enough. And that’s the only way I know.” “It shall be put a stop to,” cried the dowager, “my son has taken steps. My son has been heir presumptive ever since he was born. It shall be put a stop to. If no one else will do it, I’ll do it. I’ll have him shut up. I’ll have him put in an asylum. He can’t be allowed to ruin the family. Letitia, can’t you speak?”