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‘What is it, Miss Millward? what does she mean?’ said I, appealing to her sister, who seemed to be absorbed in the hemming of a large, coarse sheet. ‘I don’t know,’ replied she. ‘Some idle slander somebody has been inventing, I suppose. I never heard it till Eliza told me the other day,—but if all the parish dinned it in my ears, I shouldn’t believe a word of it—I know Mrs. Graham too well!’
Here the tinker’s wife, who for some minutes past had been listening attentively to our discourse, interposed, saying, in a low soft tone: ‘I really don’t see, John, why you shouldn’t sell the young man the things, seeing that he wishes for them, and is so confident; you have told him plainly how matters stand, and if anything ill should befall him, people couldn’t lay the blame on you; but I don’t think any ill will befall him, and who knows but God has sent him to our assistance in time of need?’
That you, you, you, shouldn’t have a suspicion of the torture of it; the loathsomeness of it. But how could you how could any woman understand it? Oh forgive me, Thérèse I wouldn’t want you to. There’s no brute so brutal as a man,” he cried, seeing the pain in her face and knowing he had caused it. “But you know you promised to help me oh I’m talking like an idiot.”
O no, don’t you misunderstand me—Uma’s on the square.” He spoke eager, I thought, and that surprised and pleased me. “Indeed,” he went on, “I shouldn’t make so sure of getting her, only she cottoned to the cut of your jib. All you have to do is to keep dark and let me work the mother my own way; and I’ll bring the girl round to the captain’s for the marriage.”
She had taken root in that thick-pile Aubusson carpet; and she was so rigidly still all over that the brilliant stones in the shaft of the arrow of gold, with the six candles at the head of the sofa blazing full on them, emitted no sparkle. I was extremely anxious that she shouldn’t betray herself. I reasoned, save the mark, as a psychologist.
But he had not the courage to complain. He bit into it, and, with full cheeks, turned once more to Marian. “Well, that son of yours has disappeared again. A nice situation. Shouldn’t wonder if he ended in the penitentiary. The best thing would be to ship him off to America; but it isn’t clear to me how we’re to get hold of him at all. It was really premature to ask you to come.”
“Perfectly,” he interrupted, gaily; “I understand everything I should and nothing I shouldn’t. In fact, I have altered little, except in the trifling matter of a beard, a moustache or two, and, by the way, a name.” “A name?” “I am now Francis Bunker, but as much at your service as ever.” “But why—I mean, have you really changed your name?”
That lying nimshi was jest goin on the sweetest, as respectful an nice a thankin your wife fer comin, an excusin himself fer sendin fer her, and sayin he couldn’t bear to tell her what he’d come fer, an pretty soon when she was scared ’s death he up an told her a awful fib bout you an a woman called Kate, whoever she is, an he jest poured the words out fast so she couldn’t speak, an he said things about you he shouldn’t uv, an you could see he was makin it up as he went along, an he said he had proof.
“I am asking myself . . . I almost think I didn’t.” “Don’t shuffle with me. It was a scraping noise.” “Something fell.” “Something! What thing? What are the things that fall by themselves? Who is that man of whom you spoke? Is there a man?” “No doubt about it whatever. I brought him here myself.” “What for?” “Why shouldn’t I have a Jacobin of my own? Haven’t you one, too?
I guess he was lecturing him on those reports; I guess he told him he’d have to take off a couple of sheets.” “I shouldn’t wonder,” said Westby. “I don’t believe old Hoopo would have interfered much on my account,—but I guess he couldn’t stand for Lou Collingwood getting three sheets. And Kiddy, the fox, tried to make us think he was being magnanimous!”
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