“And was it there, my dear—” I began.
“Yes, it was there,” said Caddy, “and I am engaged to Mr. Turveydrop. There are two Mr. Turveydrops, father and son. My Mr. Turveydrop is the son, of course. I only wish I had been better brought up and was likely to make him a better wife, for I am very fond of him.”
“I am sorry to hear this,” said I, “I must confess.”
“I don’t know why you should be sorry,” she retorted a little anxiously, “but I am engaged to Mr. Turveydrop, whether or no, and he is very fond of me. It’s a secret as yet, even on his side, because old Mr. Turveydrop has a share in the connection and it might break his heart or give him some other shock if he was told of it abruptly. Old Mr. Turveydrop is a very gentlemanly man indeed—very gentlemanly.”
“Does his wife know of it?” asked Ada.
“Old Mr. Turveydrop’s wife, Miss Clare?” returned Miss Jellyby, opening her eyes. “There’s no such person. He is a widower.”
We were here interrupted by Peepy, whose leg had undergone so much on account of his sister’s unconsciously jerking it like a bell-rope whenever she was emphatic that the afflicted child now bemoaned his sufferings with a very low-spirited noise. As he appealed to me for compassion, and as I was only a listener, I undertook to hold him. Miss Jellyby proceeded, after begging Peepy’s pardon with a kiss and assuring him that she hadn’t meant to do it.
“That’s the state of the case,” said Caddy. “If I ever blame myself, I still think it’s Ma’s fault. We are to be married whenever we can, and then I shall go to Pa at the office and write to Ma. It won’t much agitate Ma; I am only pen and ink to her . One great comfort is,” said Caddy with a sob, “that I shall never hear of Africa after I am married. Young Mr.