She was thankful and glad to see a brown paper parcel lying on the hall-table, with a note in Ruth’s handwriting, addressed to her father.  She knew what it was, the grey silk dress.  That she was sure Ruth would never accept.  No one henceforward could induce Jemima to enter into conversation with Mr. Farquhar.  She suspected manoeuvring in the simplest actions, and was miserable in this constant state of suspicion.  She would not allow herself to like Mr. Farquhar, even when he said things the most after her own heart.  She heard him, one evening, talking with her father about the principles of trade.  Her father stood out for the keenest, sharpest work, consistent with honesty; if he had not been her father, she would, perhaps, have thought some of his sayings inconsistent with true Christian honesty.  He was for driving hard bargains, exacting interest and payment of just bills to a day.  That was (he said) the only way in which trade could be conducted; once allow a margin of uncertainty, or where feelings, instead of maxims, were to be the guide, and all hope of there ever being any good men of business was ended.

“Suppose a delay of a month in requiring payment might save a man’s credit—­prevent his becoming a bankrupt?” put in Mr. Farquhar.

“I would not give it him.  I would let him have money to set up again as soon as he had passed the Bankruptcy Court; if he never passed, I might, in some cases, make him an allowance; but I would always keep my justice and my charity separate.”

“And yet charity (in your sense of the word) degrades; justice, tempered with mercy and consideration, elevates.”

“That is not justice—­justice is certain and inflexible.  No!  Mr. Farquhar, you must not allow any Quixotic notions to mingle with your conduct as a tradesman.”

And so they went on; Jemima’s face glowing with sympathy in all Mr. Farquhar said; till once, on looking up suddenly with sparkling eyes, she saw a glance of her father’s, which told her, as plain as words can say, that he was watching the effect of Mr. Farquhar’s speeches upon his daughter.  She was chilled thenceforward; she thought her father prolonged the argument, in order to call out those sentiments which he knew would most recommend his partner to his daughter.  She would so fain have let herself love Mr. Farquhar; but this constant manoeuvring, in which she did not feel clear that he did not take a passive part, made her sick at heart.  She even wished that they might not go through the form of pretending to try to gain her consent to the marriage, if it involved all this premeditated action and speech-making—­such moving about of every one into their right places, like pieces at chess.  She felt as if she would rather be bought openly, like an Oriental daughter, where no one is degraded in their own eyes by being parties to such a contract.  The consequences of all this “admirable management” of Mr. Bradshaw’s would have been very unfortunate to Mr. Farquhar (who was innocent of all connivance in any of the plots—­indeed would have been as much annoyed at them as Jemima, had he been aware of them), but that the impression made upon him by Ruth on the evening I have so lately described was deepened by the contrast which her behaviour made to Miss Bradshaw’s on one or two more recent occasions.