"Richard--you hurt me!"--with a little scream,as she pushed his rough fingers from her arm,so soft,and round,and fair.
"Madam,you must be crazy.The young man is a tradesman--a tanner.
Not fit for MY society."
"Precisely;I invite him for my own."
But the whispers and responses were alike unheeded by their object.
For,at the doorway,entering with Mrs.Jessop,was a tall girl in deep mourning.We knew her--we both knew her--our dream at Enderley--our Nut-browne Mayde.
John was near to the door--their eyes met.She bowed--he returned it.He was very pale.For Miss March,her face and neck were all in a glow.Neither spoke,nor offered more than this passing acknowledgment,and she moved on.
She came and sat down beside me,accidentally,I believe;but when she saw me she held out her hand.We exchanged a word or two--her manner was unaltered;but she spoke hurriedly,and her fingers had their old nervous twitch.She said this meeting was to her "unexpected,"but "she was very glad to see me."So she sat,and I looked sideways at her dropped eyes--her forehead with its coronet of chestnut curls.How would he bear the sight--he of whose heart mine was the mere faint echo?Yet truly an echo,repeating with cruel faithfulness every throb.
He kept his position,a little aloof from the Brithwoods,who were holding a slight altercation--though more of looks than words.John heeded them not.I was sure,though he had never looked directly towards us,that he had heard every syllable Miss March said to me.
The 'squire called across the room,in a patronising tone:"My good fellow--that is,ahem!I say,young Halifax?""Were you addressing me,Mr.Brithwood?"
"I was.I want a quiet word or two--between ourselves.""Certainly."
They stood face to face.The one seemed uncomfortable,the other was his natural self--a little graver,perhaps,as if he felt what was coming,and prepared to meet it,knowing in whose presence he had to prove himself--what Richard Brithwood,with all his broad acres,could never be--a gentleman.
Few could doubt that fact,who looked at the two young men,as all were looking now.
"On my soul,it's awkward--I'll call at the tan-yard and explain.""I had rather you would explain here."
"Well then,though it's a confounded unpleasant thing to say--and Ireally wish I had not been brought into such a position--you'll not heed my wife's nonsense?""I do not understand you."
"Come,it's no use running to cover in that way.Let's be open and plain.I mean no offence.You may be a very respectable young man for aught I know,still rank is rank.Of course Doctor Jessop asks whom he likes to his house--and,by George!I'm always civil to everybody--but really,in spite of my lady's likings,I can't well invite you to my table!""Nor could I humiliate myself by accepting any such invitation."He said the words distinctly,so that the whole circle might have heard,and was turning away,when Mr.Brithwood fired up--as an angry man does in a losing game.
"Humiliate yourself!What do you mean,sir?Wouldn't you be only too thankful to crawl into the houses of your betters,any how,by hook or by crook?Ha!ha!I know you would.It's always the way with you common folk,you rioters,you revolutionists.By the Lord!
I wish you were all hanged."
The young blood rose fiercely in John's cheek,but he restrained himself."Sir,I am neither a rioter nor a revolutionist.""But you are a tradesman?You used to drive Fletcher's cart of skins.""I did."
"And are you not--I remember you now--the very lad,the tanner's lad,that once pulled us ashore from the eger--Cousin March and me?"I heard a quick exclamation beside me,and saw Ursula listening intently--I had not noticed how intently till now.Her eyes were fixed on John,waiting for his answer.It came.
"Your memory is correct;I was that lad."
"Thank'ee for it too.Lord!what a jolly life I should have missed!
You got no reward,though.You threw away the guinea I offered you;come,I'll make it twenty guineas to-morrow."The insult was too much."Sir,you forget that whatever we may have been,to-night we meet as equals.""Equals!"
"As guests in the same house--most certainly for the time being,equals."Richard Brithwood stared,literally dumb with fury.The standers-by were dumb too,though such fracas were then not uncommon even in drawing-rooms,and in women's presence,especially with men of Mr.
Brithwood's stamp.His wife seemed quite used to it.She merely shrugged her shoulders and hummed a note or two of "Ca ira."It irritated the husband beyond all bounds.