Has he? How do you know?
Again they looked at each other, and Nancy laughed.
I have happened to meet him twice, the last few days. She spoke in an off-hand way. The first time, it was just at the top of the lane; he was coming away. The second time, I was walking along Champion Hill, and he came up behind me, going to the house.
Did he talk?
Nancy gave a nod.
Yes, both times. But he didnt tell me that the dowager was worse.
High and mighty? asked Jessica.
Not quite so majestic as usual, I thought. I didnt feel quite so much of a shrimp before him. And decidedly he was in better spirits. Perhaps the dowagers death would be important to him?
Very likely. Will you come to-morrow?
Miss. Lord hesitatedthen, with a sudden frankness:
To tell you the truth, Im afraid he might be there.
Oh, I dont think so, not on Jubilee Day.
But thats the very reason. He may come to be out of the uproar.
I meant he was more likely to be out of town altogether.
Nancy, still leaning over the table, propped her chin on her hands, and reflected.
Where does he go, I wonder?
Oh, all sorts of places, no doubt. Men of that kind are always travelling. I suppose he goes shooting and fishing
Nancys laugh made an interruption.
No, no, he doesnt! He told me once that he didnt care for that sort of thing.
Oh, well, you know much more about him than I do, said Miss Morgan, with a smile.
Ive often meant to ask youhave they anything to do with Tarrants black-lead?
Jessica declared that she had never heard of it.
Never heard of it? nonsense! A few years ago it used to be posted up everywhere, and I see it sometimes even now, but other kinds seem to have driven it out of the market. Now thats just like you! Pray, did you ever hear of Pears Soap?
Of course.
Really? Oh, theres hope of you. Youll be a woman of the world some day.
Dont tease, Nancy. And what would it matter if he was there to-morrow?
Oh! I dont know. But I shouldnt particularly like his lordship to imagine that I went in the hope of paying my respects to him, and having the reward of a gracious smile.
One cant always be thinking about what other people think, said Jessica impatiently. Youre too sensitive. Any one else in your position would have lots of such friends.
In my position! What is my position?
Culture is everything now-a-days, observed Miss. Morgan, with the air of one who feels herself abundantly possessed of that qualification.
But Nancy laughed.
You may depend upon it, Mr. Tarrant doesnt think so.
He calls himself a democrat.
And talks like one: doesnt he?
Oh! thats only his way, I think. He doesnt really mean to be haughty, andand so on.
I wish I knew if he had any connection with Tarrants blacklead, said Miss. Lord mischievously.
Why not ask him?
They laughed merrily, Jessicas thin note contrasting with the mellow timbre of her friends voice.
I will some day.
You would never dare to!
I darent? Then I will!
It would be dreadfully rude.
I dont mind being thought rude, replied Nancy, with a movement of the head, if it teaches people that I consider myself as good as they are.
Well, will you come to-morrow?
Ye-es; if youll go somewhere else with me in the evening.
Where to?
To walk about the streets after dark, and see the crowds and the illuminations.
Nancy uttered this with a sly mirthfulness. Her friend was astonished.
Nonsense! you dont mean it.
I do. I want to go for the fun of the thing. I should feel ashamed of myself if I ran to stare at Royalties, but its a different thing at night. Itll be wonderful, all the traffic stopped, and the streets crammed with people, and blazing with lights. Wont you go?
But the time, the time! I cant afford it. Im getting on so wretchedly with my Greek and my chemistry.
Youve time enough, said Nancy. And, you know, after all its a historical event. In the year 3000 it will be set in an examination paper, and poor wretches will get plucked because they dont know the date.
This was quite a new aspect of the matter to Jessica Morgan. She pondered it, and smiled.
Yes, I suppose it will. But we should have to be out so late.
Why not, for once? It neednt be later than half-past eleven. Nancy broke off and gesticulated. Thats just why I want to go! I should like to walk about all night, as lots of people will. The public-houses are going to be kept open till two oclock.
Do you want to go into public-houses? asked Jessica, laughing.
Why not? I should like to. Its horrible to be tied up as we are; were not children. Why cant we go about as men do?
Wont your father make any objection? asked Jessica.
We shall take Horace with us. Your people wouldnt interfere, would they?
I think not. Father is away in Yorkshire, and will be till the end of the week. Poor mother has her rheumatism. The house is so dreadfully damp. We ought never to have taken it. The difference of rent will all go in doctors bills.I dont think mother would mind; but I must be back before twelve, of course.
I dont see the of course, Nancy returned impatiently, but we could manage that. Ill speak to the Pasha to-night, and either come, or let you have a note, to-morrow morning. If theres any objection, Im not sure that I shant make it the opportunity for setting up my standard of revolt. But I dont like to do that whilst the Pasha is out of sortsit might make him worse.
You could reason with him quietly.
Reason with the PashaHow innocent you are, Jess! How unworldly! It always refreshes me to hear you talk.
CHAPTER 4
Only twelve months ago Stephen Lord had renewed the lease of his house for a period of seven years. Nancy, had she been aware of this transaction, would assuredly have found courage to enter a protest, but Mr. Lord consulted neither son nor daughter on any point of business; but for this habit of acting silently, he would have seemed to his children a still more arbitrary ruler than they actually thought him.
The dwelling consisted of but eight rooms, one of which, situated at the rear of the entrance passage, served Mr. Lord as sitting-room and bed-chamber; it overlooked a small garden, and afforded a side glimpse of the kitchen with its outer appurtenances. In the front room the family took meals. Of the chambers in the storey above, one was Nancys, one her brothers; the third had, until six years ago, been known as Grandmothers room, and here its occupant, Stephen Lords mother, died at the age of seventy-eight. Wife of a Norfolk farmer, and mother of nine children, she was one of the old-world women whose thoughts found abundant occupation in the cares and pleasures of home. Hardship she had never known, nor yet luxury; the old religion, the old views of sex and of society, endured with her to the end.
After her death the room was converted into a parlour, used almost exclusively by the young people. At the top of the house slept two servants, each in her own well-furnished retreat; one of them was a girl, the other a woman of about forty, named Mary Woodruff. Mary had been in the house for twenty years; she enjoyed her masters confidence, and, since old Mrs. Lords death, exercised practical control in the humbler domestic affairs.
With one exception, all parts of the abode presented much the same appearance as when Stephen Lord first established himself antiquated, and in primitive taste. Nancys bedroom alone here. The furniture was old, solid, homely; the ornaments were displayed the influence of modern ideas. On her twentieth birthday, the girl received permission to dress henceforth as she chose (a strict sumptuary law having previously been in force), and at the same time was allowed to refurnish her chamber. Nancy pleaded for modern reforms throughout the house, but in vain; even the drawing-room kept its uninviting aspect, not very different, save for the removal of the bed, from that it had presented when the ancient lady slept here. In her own little domain, Miss. Lord made a clean sweep of rude appointments, and at small expense surrounded herself with pretty things. The woodwork and the furniture were in white enamel; the paper had a pattern of wild-rose. A choice chintz, rose-leaf and flower on a white ground, served for curtains and for bed-hangings. Her carpet was of green felt, matching in shade the foliage of the chintz. On suspended shelves stood the books which she desired to have near her, and round about the walls hung prints, photographs, chromolithographs, selected in an honest spirit of admiration, which on the whole did no discredit to Nancys sensibilities.
To the best of Nancys belief, her father had never seen this room. On its completion she invited him to inspect it, but Mr. Lord coldly declined, saying that he knew nothing, and cared nothing, about upholstery.
His return to-day was earlier than usual. Shortly after five oclock Nancy heard the familiar heavy step in the passage, and went downstairs.
Will you have a cup of tea, father? she asked, standing by the door of the back room, which was ajar.
If its ready, replied a deep voice.
She entered the dining-room, and rang the bell. In a few minutes Mary Woodruff appeared, bringing tea and biscuits. She was a neat, quiet, plain-featured woman, of strong physique, and with set lips, which rarely parted save for necessary speech. Her eyes had a singular expression of inquietude, of sadness. A smile seldom appeared on her face, but, when it did, the effect was unlooked for: it touched the somewhat harsh lineaments with a gentleness so pleasing that she became almost comely.
Having set down the tray, she went to Mr. Lords door, gave a soft tap, and withdrew into the kitchen.
Nancy, seated at the table, turned to greet her father. In early life, Stephen Lord must have been handsome; his face was now rugged, of unhealthy tone, and creased with lines betokening a moody habit. He looked much older than his years, which were fifty-seven. Dressed with excessive carelessness, he had the appearance rather of one at odds with fortune than of a substantial man of business. His short beard was raggedly trimmed; his grizzled hair began to show the scalp. Judging from the contour of his visage, one might have credited him with a forcible and commanding character; his voice favoured that impression; but the countenance had a despondent cast, the eyes seemed to shun observation, the lips suggested a sullen pride, indicative of some defect or vice of will.
Yet in the look which he cast upon her, Nancy detected a sign of more amiability than she had found in him of late. She addressed him with confidence.
Early to-day, father.
Yes.
The monosyllable sounded gruff, but again Nancy felt satisfaction. Mr. Lord, who disliked to seat himself unless he were going to keep his position for some time, took the offered beverage from his daughters hand, and stood with it before the fireplace, casting glances about the room.
How have you felt, father?
Nothing to complain of.
His pronunciation fell short of refinement, but was not vulgar. Something of country accent could still be detected in it. He talked like a man who could strike a softer note if he cared to, but despises the effort.
I suppose you will have a rest to-morrow?
I suppose so. If your grandmother had lived, he added thoughtfully, she would have been eighty-four this week on Thursday.
The 23rd of June. Yes, I remember.
Mr. Lord swallowed his tea at two draughts, and put down the cup. Seemingly refreshed, he looked about him with a half smile, and said quietly:
Ive had the pleasure of punishing a scoundrel to-day. Thats worth more than the Jubilee.
Nancy waited for an explanation, but it was not vouchsafed.
A scoundrel? she asked.
Her father noddedthe nod which signified his pleasure that the subject should not be pursued. Nancy could only infer that he spoke of some incident in the course of business, as indeed was the case.
He had no particular aptitude for trade, and that by which he lived (he had entered upon it thirty years ago rather by accident than choice) was thoroughly distasteful to him. As a dealer in pianofortes, he came into contact with a class of people who inspired him with a savage contempt, and of late years his business had suffered considerably from the competition of tradesmen who knew nothing of such conflicts between sentiment and interest. A majority of his customers obtained their pianos on the hire-purchase system, and oftener than not, they were persons of very small or very precarious income, who, rabid in the pursuit of gentility, signed agreements they had little chance of fulfilling; when in pecuniary straits, they either raised money upon the instruments, or allowed them to fall into the hands of distraining creditors. Inquiry into the circumstances of a would-be customer sometimes had ludicrous results; a newly-married couple, for instance, would be found tenanting two top-floor rooms, the furnishing whereof seemed to them incomplete without the piano of which their friends and relatives boasted. Not a few professional swindlers came to the office; confederate rogues, vouching for each others respectability, got possession of pianos merely to pawn or sell them, having paid no more than the first months charge. It was Mr Lords experience that year by year the recklessness of the vulgar became more glaring, and deliberate fraud more artful. To-day he had successfully prosecuted a man who seemed to have lived for some time on the hire-purchase system, and it made him unusually cheerful.
You dont think of going to see the Queen to-morrow? said his daughter, smiling.
What have I to do with the Queen? Do you wish to go?
Not to see Her Majesty. I care as little about her as you do. But I thought of having a walk in the evening.
Nancy phrased it thus with intention. She wished to intimate that, at her age, it could hardly be necessary to ask permission. But her father looked surprised.
In the evening? Where?
Oh, about the main streetsto see the people and the illuminations.
Her voice was not quite firm.
But, said her father, therell be such a swarm of blackguards as never was known. How can you go into such a crowd? Its astonishing that you should think of it.
The blackguards will be outnumbered by the decent people, father.
You suppose thats possible? he returned gloomily.
Oh, I think so, Nancy laughed. At all events, therell be a great majority of people who pretend to be decent. I have asked Jessica Morgan to go with me.
What right had you to ask her, without first finding out whether you could go or not?
It was spoken rather gravely than severely. Mr. Lord never looked fixedly at his daughter, and even a glance at her face was unusual; but at this juncture he met her eyes for an instant. The nervous motion with which he immediately turned aside had been marked by Nancy on previous occasions, and she had understood it as a sign of his lack of affection for her.