Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Love stories
When the time came there was some little heart-burning as to who should
perform the ceremony. Harry had set his heart on being married by his
dear Mr. Innes. This man still filled a unique place in his life.
Indeed the many friendships that he had struck up in the last year or
two only emphasised the value of that friend of friends: there was no
one like Mr. Innes. They had not seen a great deal of each other during
these last years; but they had never quite lost touch; and of the many
influences to which the younger man's nature responded only too
readily, as strings to every wind, there was none so constant or so
helpful as that of the old master to whom he was now content to be as a
boy all his days. It was not that he had paid very many visits to the
school at Guildford: it was that each had left its own indelible
impress on his mind, its own high resolves and noble yearnings in his
heart. So it was natural enough that Harry Ringrose should want that
man to marry him to whom he vowed that he owed such shreds of virtue as
he possessed. And Fanny wished it too, for she had been with Harry to
Guildford, and caught his enthusiasm, and knelt by his side one summer
evening in the chapel where he had knelt as a boy. But it was not to
be; there was a clergy-man in the family; it would be impossible to
pass him over.
Harry thought it would be not only possible but highly desirable, since
his Uncle Spencer disapproved so cordially of Gordon Lowndes; but Mrs.
Ringrose (with whom her son had warm words on the subject) very justly
observed that such disapproval had not once been expressed since the
engagement was announced; nor had her brother uttered one syllable to
mar her own great happiness in her husband's return, but had shown a
more tender sympathy in her joy than in her trouble; after which he
must marry them, or they could be married without their mother. The
matter was settled by a private appeal to Innes himself, who sided
against Harry, and by a note from Mr. Walthew, in which that gentleman
accepted the responsibility with fewer reservations than Harry had ever
known him make before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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