I maynt know whether she prefers to choose me, said Robert.
The farmer smiled.
You never can exactly reckon about them; thats true.
He was led to think: Dahlias the lass; seeing that Robert had not had many opportunities of speaking with her.
When my girls are wives, theyll do their work in the house, he pursued. They may have a little bit o property in land, ye know, and they may have a share inin gold. Thats not to be reckoned on. Were an old family, Robert, and I suppose weve our pride somewhere down. Anyhow, you cant look on my girls and not own theyre superior girls. Ive no notion of forcing them to clean, and dish up, and do dairying, if its not to their turn. Theyre handy with th needle. They dress conformably, and do the millinery themselves. And I know they say their prayers of a night. That I know, if thats a comfort to ye, and it should be, Robert. For pray, and you cant go far wrong; and its particularly good for girls. Ill say no more.
At the dinner-table, Rhoda was not present. Mr. Fleming fidgeted, blamed her and excused her, but as Robert appeared indifferent about her absence, he was confirmed in his idea that Dahlia attracted his fancy.
They had finished dinner, and Master Gammon had risen, when a voice immediately recognized as the voice of Anthony Hackbut was heard in the front part of the house. Mr. Fleming went round to him with a dismayed face.
Lord! said Mrs. Sumfit, how I tremble!
Robert, too, looked grave, and got away from the house. The dread of evil news of Dahlia was common to them all; yet none had mentioned it, Robert conceiving that it would be impertinence on his part to do so; the farmer, that the policy of permitting Dahlias continued residence in London concealed the peril; while Mrs. Sumfit flatly defied the threatening of a mischance to one so sweet and fair, and her favourite. It is the insincerity of persons of their class; but one need not lay stress on the wilfulness of uneducated minds. Robert walked across the fields, walking like a man with an object in view. As he dropped into one of the close lanes which led up to Wrexby Hall, he saw Rhoda standing under an oak, her white morning-dress covered with sun-spots. His impulse was to turn back, the problem, how to speak to her, not being settled within him. But the next moment his blood chilled; for he had perceived, though he had not felt simultaneously, that two gentlemen were standing near her, addressing her. And it was likewise manifest that she listened to them. These presently raised their hats and disappeared. Rhoda came on toward Robert.
You have forgotten your dinner, he said, with a queer sense of shame at dragging in the mention of that meal.
I have been too happy to eat, Rhoda replied.
Robert glanced up the lane, but she gave no heed to this indication, and asked: Has uncle come?
Did you expect him?
I thought he would come.
What has made you happy?
You will hear from uncle.
Shall I go and hear what those
Robert checked himself, but it would have been better had he spoken out. Rhodas face, from a light of interrogation, lowered its look to contempt.
She did not affect the feminine simplicity which can so prettily misunderstand and put by an implied accusation of that nature. Doubtless her sharp instinct served her by telling her that her contempt would hurt him shrewdly now. The foolishness of a man having much to say to a woman, and not knowing how or where the beginning of it might be, was perceptible about him. A shout from her father at the open garden-gate, hurried on Rhoda to meet him. Old Anthony was at Mr. Flemings elbow.
You know it? You have her letter, father? said Rhoda, gaily, beneath the shadow of his forehead.
And a Queen of the Egyptians is what you might have been, said Anthony, with a speculating eye upon Rhodas dark bright face.
Rhoda put out her hand to him, but kept her gaze on her father.
William Fleeting relaxed the knot of his brows and lifted the letter.
Listen all! This is from a daughter to her father.
And he read, oddly accentuating the first syllables of the sentences:
Dear Father,
My husband will bring me to see you when I return to dear England.
I ought to have concealed nothing, I know. Try to forgive me. I
hope you will. I shall always think of you. God bless you!
I am,
Ever with respect,
Your dearly loving Daughter,
Dahlia.
Dahlia Blank! said the farmer, turning his look from face to face.
A deep fire of emotion was evidently agitating him, for the letter rustled in his hand, and his voice was uneven. Of this, no sign was given by his inexpressive features. The round brown eyes and the ruddy varnish on his cheeks were a mask upon grief, if not also upon joy.
Dahliawhat? Whats her name? he resumed. Heremy husband will bring me to see youwhos her husband? Has he got a name? And a blank envelope to her uncle here, whos kept her in comfort for so long! And this is all she writes to me! Will any one spell out the meaning of it?
Dahlia was in great haste, father, said Rhoda.
Oh, ay, you!youre the one, I know, returned the farmer. Its sister and sister, with you.
But she was very, very hurried, father. I have a letter from her, and I have only Dahlia written at the endno other name.
And you suspect no harm of your sister.
Father, how can I imagine any kind of harm?
That letter, my girl, sticks to my skull, as though it meant to say, Youve not understood me yet. Ive read it a matter of twenty times, and Im no nearer to the truth of it. But, if shes lying, here in this letter, whats she walking on? How long are we to wait for to hear? I give you my word, Robert, Im feeling for you as I am for myself. Or, wasnt it that one? Is it this one? He levelled his finger at Rhoda. In any case, Robert, youll feel for me as a father. Im shut in a dark room with the candle blown out. Ive heard of a sort of fear you have in that dilemmer, lest you should lay your fingers on edges of sharp knives, and if I think a stepif I go thinking a step, and feel my way, I do cut myself, and I bleed, I do. Robert, just take and say, it wasnt that one.
Such a statement would carry with it the confession that it was this one for whom he cared this scornful one, this jilt, this brazen girl who could make appointments with gentlemen, or suffer them to speak to her, and subsequently look at him with innocence and with anger.
Believe me, Mr. Fleming, I feel for you as much as a man can, he said, uneasily, swaying half round as he spoke.
Do you suspect anything bad? The farmer repeated the question, like one who only wanted a confirmation of his own suspicions to see the fact built up. Robert, does this look like the letter of a married woman? Is it daughter-likeeh, man? Help another: I cant think for myselfshe ties my hands. Speak out.
Robert set his eyes on Rhoda. He would have given much to have been able to utter, I do. Her face was like an eager flower straining for light; the very beauty of it swelled his jealous passion, and he flattered himself with his incapacity to speak an abject lie to propitiate her.
She says she is married. Were bound to accept what she says.
That was his answer.
Is she married? thundered the farmer. Has she been and disgraced her mother in her grave? What am I to think? Shes my flesh and blood. Is she
Oh, hush, father! Rhoda laid her hand on his arm. What doubt can there be of Dahlia? You have forgotten that she is always truthful. Come away. It is shameful to stand here and listen to unmanly things.
She turned a face of ashes upon Robert.
Come away, father. She is our own. She is my sister. A doubt of her is an insult to us.
But Robert dont doubt hereh? The farmer was already half distracted from his suspicions. Have you any real doubt about the girl, Robert?
I dont trust myself to doubt anybody, said Robert.
You dont cast us off, my boy?
Im a labourer on the farm, said Robert, and walked away.
Hes got reason to feel this more n the rest of us, poor lad! Its a blow to him. With which the farmer struck his hand on Rhodas shoulder.
I wish hed set his heart on a safer young woman.
Rhodas shudder of revulsion was visible as she put her mouth up to kiss her fathers cheek.
CHAPTER VIII
That is Wrexby Hall, upon the hill between Fenhurst and Wrexby: the white square mansion, with the lower drawing-room windows one full bow of glass against the sunlight, and great single trees spotting the distant green slopes. From Queen Annes Farm you could read the hour by the stretching of their shadows. Squire Blancove, who lived there, was an irascible, gouty man, out of humour with his time, and beginning, alas for him! to lose all true faith in his Port, though, to do him justice, he wrestled hard with this great heresy. His friends perceived the decay in his belief sooner than he did himself. He was sour in the evening as in the morning. There was no chirp in him when the bottle went round. He had never one hour of a humane mood to be reckoned on now. The day, indeed, is sad when we see the skeleton of the mistress by whom we suffer, but cannot abandon her. The squire drank, knowing that the issue would be the terrific, curse-begetting twinge in his foot; but, as he said, he was a man who stuck to his habits. It was over his Port that he had quarrelled with his rector on the subject of hopeful Algernon, and the system he adopted with that young man. This incident has something to do with Rhodas story, for it was the reason why Mrs. Lovell went to Wrexby Church, the spirit of that lady leading her to follow her own impulses, which were mostly in opposition. So, when perchance she visited the Hall, she chose not to accompany the squire and his subservient guests to Fenhurst, but made a point of going down to the unoccupied Wrexby pew. She was a beauty, and therefore powerful; otherwise her act of nonconformity would have produced bad blood between her and the squire.
It was enough to have done so in any case; for now, instead of sitting at home comfortably, and reading off the weeks chronicle of sport while he nursed his leg, the unfortunate gentleman had to be up and away to Fenhurst every Sunday morning, or who would have known that the old cause of his general abstention from Sabbath services lay in the detestable doctrine of Wrexbys rector?
Mrs. Lovell was now at the Hall, and it was Sunday morning after breakfast. The lady stood like a rival head among the other guests, listening, gloved and bonneted, to the bells of Wrexby, West of the hills, and of Fenhurst, Northeast. The squire came in to them, groaning over his boots, cross with his fragile wife, and in every mood for satire, except to receive it.
How difficult it is to be gouty and good! murmured Mrs. Lovell to the person next her.
Well, said the squire, singling out his enemy, youre going to that fellow, I suppose, as usualeh?
Not as usual, replied Mrs. Lovell, sweetly; I wish it were!
Wish it were, do you?you find him so entertaining? Has he got to talking of the fashions?
He talks properly; I dont ask for more. Mrs. Lovell assumed an air of meekness under persecution.
I thought you were Low Church.
Lowly of the Church, I trust you thought, she corrected him. But, for that matter, any discourse, plainly delivered, will suit me.
His elocutions perfect, said the squire; that is, before dinner.
I have only to do with him before dinner, you know.
Well, Ive ordered a carriage out for you.
That is very honourable and kind.
It would be kinder if I contrived to keep you away from the fellow.
Would it not be kinder to yourself, Mrs. Lovell swam forward to him in all tenderness, taking his hands, and fixing the swimming blue of her soft eyes upon him pathetically, if you took your paper and your slippers, and awaited our return?
The squire felt the circulating smile about the room. He rebuked the womans audacity with a frown; Tis my duty to set an example, he said, his gouty foot and irritable temper now meeting in a common fire.
Since you are setting an example, rejoined the exquisite widow, I have nothing more to say.
The squire looked what he dared not speak. A woman has half, a beauty has all, the world with her when she is self-contained, and holds her place; and it was evident that Mrs. Lovell was not one to abandon her advantages.
He snapped round for a victim, trying his wife first. Then his eyes rested upon Algernon.
Well, here we are; which of us will you take? he asked Mrs. Lovell in blank irony.
I have engaged my cavalier, who is waiting, and will be as devout as possible. Mrs. Lovell gave Algernon a smile.
I thought I hit upon the man, growled the squire. Youre going in to Wrexby, sir! Oh, go, by all means, and I shant be astonished at what comes of it. Like teacher, like pupil!
There! Mrs. Lovell gave Algernon another smile. You have to bear the sins of your rector, as well as your own. Can you support it?
The flimsy fine dialogue was a little above Algernons level in the society of ladies; but he muttered, bowing, that he would endeavour to support it, with Mrs. Lovells help, and this did well enough; after which, the slight strain on the intellects of the assemblage relaxed, and ordinary topics were discussed. The carriages came round to the door; gloves, parasols, and scent-bottles were securely grasped; whereupon the squire, standing bare-headed on the steps, insisted upon seeing the party of the opposition off first, and waited to hand Mrs. Lovell into her carriage, an ironic gallantry accepted by the lady with serenity befitting the sacred hour.
Ah! my pencil, to mark the text for you, squire, she said, taking her seat; and Algernon turned back at her bidding, to get a pencil; and she, presenting a most harmonious aspect in the lovely landscape, reclined in the carriage as if, like the sweet summer air, she too were quieted by those holy bells, while the squire stood, fuming, bareheaded, and with boiling blood, just within the bounds of decorum on the steps. She was more than his match.
She was more than a match for most; and it was not a secret. Algernon knew it as well as Edward, or any one. She was a terror to the soul of the youth, and an attraction. Her smile was the richest flattery he could feel; the richer, perhaps, from his feeling it to be a thing impossible to fix. He had heard tales of her; he remembered Edwards warning; but he was very humbly sitting with her now, and very happy.
Im in for it, he said to his fair companion; no cheque for me next quarter, and no chance of an increase. Hell tell me Ive got a salary. A salary! Good Lord! what a man comes to! Ive done for myself with the squire for a year.
You must think whether you have compensation, said the lady, and he received it in a cousinly squeeze of his hand.