At first John Todhunter thought it would be very much like his marrying a baby.  However, he listened to it, and that was enough for Mrs. Doria.

She went down to John’s mother, and consulted with her on the propriety of the scheme of wedding her daughter to John in accordance with his proposition.  Mrs. Todhunter’s jealousy of any disturbing force in the influence she held over her son Mrs. Doria knew to be one of the causes of John’s remaining constant to the impression she had afore-time produced on him.  She spoke so kindly of John, and laid so much stress on the ingrained obedience and passive disposition of her daughter, that Mrs. Todhunter was led to admit she did think it almost time John should be seeking a mate, and that he—­all things considered—­would hardly find a fitter one.  And this, John Todhunter—­old John no more—­heard to his amazement when, a day or two subsequently, he instanced the probable disapproval of his mother.

The match was arranged.  Mrs. Doria did the wooing.  It consisted in telling Clare that she had come to years when marriage was desirable, and that she had fallen into habits of moping which might have the worse effect on her future life, as it had on her present health and appearance, and which a husband would cure.  Richard was told by Mrs. Doria that Clare had instantaneously consented to accept Mr. John Todhunter as lord of her days, and with more than obedience—­with alacrity.  At all events, when Richard spoke to Clare, the strange passive creature did not admit constraint on her inclinations.  Mrs. Doria allowed Richard to speak to her.  She laughed at his futile endeavours to undo her work, and the boyish sentiments he uttered on the subject.  “Let us see, child,” she said, “let us see which turns out the best; a marriage of passion, or a marriage of common sense.”

Heroic efforts were not wanting to arrest the union.  Richard made repeated journeys to Hounslow, where Ralph was quartered, and if Ralph could have been persuaded to carry off a young lady who did not love him, from the bridegroom her mother averred she did love, Mrs. Doria might have been defeated.  But Ralph in his cavalry quarters was cooler than Ralph in the Bursley meadows.  “Women are oddities, Dick,” he remarked, running a finger right and left along his upper lip.  “Best leave them to their own freaks.  She’s a dear girl, though she doesn’t talk:  I like her for that.  If she cared for me I’d go the race.  She never did.  It’s no use asking a girl twice.  She knows whether she cares a fig for a fellow.”

The hero quitted him with some contempt, As Ralph Morton was a young man, and he had determined that John Todhunter was an old man, he sought another private interview with Clare, and getting her alone, said:  “Clare, I’ve come to you for the last time.  Will you marry Ralph Morton?”

To which Clare replied, “I cannot marry two husbands, Richard.”

“Will you refuse to marry this old man?”