No time had been lost. Mr. Wyvern received notice of the proposed
marriage less than two hours after Adela had spoken her
world-changing monosyllable. She put in no plea for delay, and her
mother, though affecting a little consternation at Mutimer's haste,
could not seriously object. Wanley, discussing the matter at its
Sunday tea-tables, declared with unanimity that such expedition was
indecent. By this time the disapproval of the village had attached
itself exclusively to Mrs. Waltham; Adela was spoken of as a martyr
to her mother's miserable calculations. Mrs. Mewling went about with
a story, that only by physical restraint had the unhappy girl been
kept from taking flight. The name of Hubert Eldon once more came up
in conversation. There was an unauthenticated rumour that he had
been seen of late, lurking about Wanley. The more boldly speculative
gossips looked with delicious foreboding to the results of a
marriage such as this. Given a young man of Eldon's reputation--ah
me!

The Walthams all lunched (or dined) at the Manor. Mutimer was in
high spirits, or seemed so; there were moments when the cheerful
look died on his face, and his thoughts wandered from the
conversation; but if his eye fell on Adela he never failed to smile
the smile of inner satisfaction. She had not yet responded to his
look, and only answered his questions in the briefest words; but her
countenance was resolutely bright, and her beauty all that man could
ask. Richard did not flatter himself that she held him dear; indeed,
he was a good deal in doubt whether affection, as vulgarly
understood, was consistent with breeding and education. But that did
not concern him; he had gained his end, and was jubilant.