They strolled together in the field behind the smithy,
within sight of the cottage, for an hour or so; then
hearing from the smithy the impatient stamping of
Miss Brown, and fearing she might give the old man
trouble, hastened back. Richard brought out the
mare. Barbara sprang on a big stone by the door,
and mounted without his help. She went straight
for Wylder Hall.
As they were walking up and down the field, Arthur
Lestrange passed on foot, saw them, and went home
indignant.
LADY ANN MEDITATES.
It would have been difficult for Arthur himself to
say whether in his heart rage or contempt was the
stronger, when he saw the lady he loved walking in
a field, turning and returning, in close talk with
the bookbinder-fellow. Never had she so walked
and talked with him! She preferred the
bookbinder’s society to his—and made
it no secret that she did, for, although evidently
desirous of having their interview uninterrupted,
they walked in full view of the high road!
What did Barbara mean by it? He could not treat
her as a child and lay the matter before Richard!
If a lady showed favour to a man, the less worthy
he was, the less could he be expected to see the unfitness
of the thing. Besides, to acknowledge thus any
human relation between Richard and either of them,
would be degrading. It was scorn alone that kept
Arthur from hating Richard. For Barbara, he attributed
her disregard of propriety, and the very possibility
of her being interested in such a person, to the modes
of life in the half savage country where she had been
born and reared—educated, he remarked
to himself, he could not say. But what did she
mean by it? The worst of his torment was that
the thought, unreasonable as it was, would yet come—that
Richard was a good-looking fellow, and admiration,
which in any English girl would have been rendered
impossible by his vulgarity, might have a share in
her enjoyment of his shop-talk about books. The
idea was simply disgusting!
What was he to do? What could any one do?
The girl was absolutely uncontrolled: was it
likely she would prove controllable? Would she
mind him, when she cared no more for his stately mother
than for the dairy-woman! How could such a bewitching
creature so lack refinement! The more he thought,
the more inexplicable and self-contradictory her conduct
appeared. Such a jewelled-humming-bird to make
friends with a grubbing rook! The smell of the
leather, not to mention the paste and glue, would
be enough for any properly sensitive girl! Universally
fascinating, why did she not correspond all through?
Brought out in London, she would be the belle of the
season! If he did not secure her, some poor duke
would pounce on her!
