came here. There are things that will not have themselves buried and put out of sight, as though they had never been. I am as you are, mamma,—widowed. But you have your daughter, and I have my mother. If you will be contented, so will I.' Then she got up and threw herself on her mother's neck.
Mrs Dale's argument was over now. To such an appeal as that last made by Lily no rejoinder on her part was possible. After that she was driven to acknowledge to herself that she must be silent. Years as they rolled on might make a change, but no reasoning could be of avail. She embraced her daughter, weeping over her,—whereas Lily's eyes were dry. 'It shall be as you will,' Mrs Dale murmured.
'Yes, as I will. I shall have my own way; shall I not? That is all I want; to be a tyrant over you, and make you do my bidding in everything, as a well-behaved mother should do. But I won't be stern in my orderings. If you will only be obedient, I will be so gracious to you! There's Hopkins again. I wonder whether he has come to knock us down and trample upon us with another speech.'
Hopkins knew very well to which window he must come, as only one of the rooms was at the present time habitable. He came up to the dining-room, and almost flattened his nose against the glass.
'Well, Hopkins,' said Lily, 'here we are.' Mrs Dale had turned her face away, for she knew that the tears were still on her cheek.
'Yes, miss, I see you. I want to speak to your mamma, miss.'
'Come round,' said Lily, anxious to spare her mother the necessity of showing herself at once. 'It's too cold to open the window; come round, and I'll open the door.'
'Too cold!' muttered Hopkins, as he went. 'They'll find it a deal colder in lodgings at Guestwick.' However, he went round through the kitchen, and Lily met him in the hall.
'Well, Hopkins, what is it? Mamma has got a headache.'
'Got a headache, has she? I won't make her headache no worse. It's my opinion that there's nothing for a headache so good as fresh air. Only some people can't abear to be blowed upon, not for a minute. If you don't let down the lights in a greenhouse more or less every day, you'll never get any plants,—never;—and it's just the same with the grapes. Is I to go back and say as how I couldn't see her?'
'You can come in if you like; only be quiet, you know.'
'Ain't I ollays quiet, miss? Did anybody ever hear me rampage? If you please, ma'am, the squire's come home.'
'What, home from Guestwick? Has he brought Miss Bell?'
'He ain't brought none but hisself, 'cause he come on horseback; and it's my belief he's going back almost immediate. But he wants you to come to him, Mrs Dale.'
'Oh, yes, I'll come at once.'
'He bade me say with his kind love. I don't know whether that makes any difference.'
'At any rate, I'll come, Hopkins.'
'And I ain't to say nothing about the headache?'
'About what?' said Mrs Dale.
'No, no, no,' said Lily. 'Mamma will be there at once. Go and tell my uncle, there's a good man,' and she put up her hand and backed him out of the room.
'I don't believe she's got no headache at all,' said Hopkins, grumbling, as he returned through the back premises. 'What lies gentlefolks do tell! If I said I'd a headache when I ought to be out among the things, what would they say to me? But a poor man mustn't never lie, nor yet drink, nor yet do nothing.' And so he went back with his message.
'What can have brought your uncle home?' said Mrs Dale.
'Just to look after the cattle, and to see that the pigs are not all dead. My wonder is that he should ever have gone away.'
'I must go up to him at once.'
'Oh, yes, of course.'
'And what shall I say about the house?'
'It's not about that,—at least I think not. I don't think he'll speak about that again till you speak to him.'
'But if he does?'
'You must put your trust in Providence. Declare you've got a bad headache, as I told Hopkins just now; only you would throw me over by not understanding. I'll walk with you down to the bridge.' So they went off together across the lawn.
