Poor Mary as she shrunk into the house was nearly
heartbroken. That such things should be at all
was very dreadful, but that the scene should have
taken place in the presence of Reginald Morton was
an aggravation of the misery which nearly overwhelmed
her. How could she make him understand whence
had arisen her stepmother’s anger and that she
herself had been neither sly nor deceitful nor pigheaded?
“But there is some one”
When Mr. Masters had gone across to the Bush his purpose
had certainly been ignoble, but it had had no reference
to brandy and water. And the allusion made by
Mrs. Masters to the probable ruin which was to come
from his tendencies in that direction had been calumnious,
for she knew that the man was not given to excess in
liquor. But as he approached his own house he
bethought himself that it would not lead to domestic
comfort if he were seen returning from his walk with
Mary, and he had therefore made some excuse as to
the expediency of saying a word to Runciman whom he
espied at his own door. He said his word to Runciman,
and so loitered away perhaps a quarter of an hour,
and then went back to his office. But his wife
had kept her anger at burning heat and pounced upon
him before he had taken his seat. Sundown was
there copying, sitting with his eyes intent on the
board before him as though he were quite unaware of
the sudden entrance of his master’s wife.
She in her fury did not regard Sundown in the least,
but at once commenced her attack. “What
is all this, Mr. Masters,” she said, “about
Lady Ushant and going to Cheltenham? I won’t
have any going to Cheltenham and that’s flat”
Now the attorney had altogether made up his mind that
his daughter should go to Cheltenham if her friend
would receive her. Whatever might be the consequences,
they must be borne. But he thought it best to
say nothing at the first moment of the attack, and
simply turned his sorrowful round face in silence
up to the partner of all his cares and the source
of so many of them. “There have been letters,”
continued the lady;—“letters which
nobody has told me nothing about. That proud
peacock from Hoppet Hall has been here, as though
he had nothing to do but carry Mary away about the
country just as he pleased. Mary won’t
go to Cheltenham with him nor yet without him;—not
if I am to remain here.”
“Where else should you remain, my dear?”
asked the attorney.
“I’d sooner go into the workhouse than
have all this turmoil. That’s where we
are all likely to go if you pass your time between
walking about with that minx and the public-house opposite.”
Then the attorney was aware that he had been watched,
and his spirit began to rise within him. He looked
at Sundown, but the man went on copying quicker than
ever.
“My dear,” said Mr. Masters, “you
shouldn’t talk in that way before the clerk.
I wanted to speak to Mr. Runciman, and, as to the
workhouse, I don’t know that there is any more
danger now than there has been for the last twenty
years.”
