“Well, I’m sure I can’t understand it,” said Mrs. Ray. But she became silent on the subject, and the reading of the newspaper was passed over to Rachel.
This had not been completed when a step was heard on the gravel walk outside, and Mrs. Ray, jumping up, declared it to be the step of her eldest daughter. It was so, and Mrs. Prime was very soon in the room. It was at this time about four o’clock in the afternoon, and therefore, as the hour for tea at the cottage was half-past five, it was naturally understood that Mrs. Prime had come there to join them at their evening meal. After their first greeting she had seated herself on the sofa, and there was that in her manner which showed both to her mother and sister that she was somewhat confused—that she had something to say as to which there was some hesitation. “Do take off your bonnet, Dorothea,” said her mother.
“Will you come upstairs, Dolly,” said her sister, “and put your hair straight after your walk?”
But Dolly did not care whether her hair was straight or tossed, as the Irish girls say when the smoothness of their locks has been disarranged. She took off her bonnet, however, and laid it on the sofa beside her. “Mother,” she said, “I’ve got something particular that I want to say to you.”
“I hope it’s not anything serious the matter,” said Mrs. Ray.
“Well, mother, it is serious. Things are serious mostly, I think—or should be.”
“Shall I go into the garden while you are speaking to mamma?” said Rachel.
“No, Rachel; not on my account. What I’ve got to say should be said to you as well as to mother. It’s all over between me and Mr. Prong.”
“No!” said Mrs. Ray.
“I thought it would be,” said Rachel.
“And why did you think so?” said Mrs. Prime, turning round upon her sister, almost angrily.
“I felt that he wouldn’t suit you, Dolly; that’s why I thought so. If it’s all over now, I suppose there’s no harm in saying that I didn’t like him well enough to hope he’d be my brother-in-law.”
“But that couldn’t make you think it. However, it’s all over between us. We agreed that it should be so this morning; and I thought it right to come out and let you know at once.”
“I’m glad you’ve told us,” said Mrs. Ray.
“Was there any quarrel?” asked Rachel.
“No, Rachel, there was no quarrel; not what you call a quarrel, I suppose. We found there were subjects of disagreement between us—matters on which we had adverse opinions; and therefore it was better that we should part.”
“It was about the money, perhaps?” said Mrs. Ray.
“Well, yes; it was in part about the money. Had I known then as much as I do now about the law in such matters, I should have told Mr. Prong from the first that it could not be. He is a good man, and I hope I have not disturbed his happiness.”
“I used to be afraid that he would disturb yours,” said Rachel, “and therefore I cannot pretend to regret it.”
“That’s not charitable, Rachel. But if you please we won’t say anything more about it. It’s over, and that is enough. And now, mother, I want to know if you will object to my returning here and living at the cottage again.”
Mrs. Ray could not bethink herself at the moment what answer she might best make, and therefore for some moments she made none. For herself she would have been delighted that her eldest daughter should return to the cottage. Under no circumstances could she refuse her own child a home under her own roof. But at the present moment she could not forget the circumstances under which Mrs. Prime had gone, and it militated sorely against Mrs. Ray’s sense of justice that the return should be made to depend on other circumstances. Mrs. Prime had gone away in loud disapproval of Rachel’s conduct; and now she proposed to return, on this breaking up of her own matrimonial arrangements, as though she had left the cottage because of her proposed marriage. Mrs. Prime should be welcomed back, but her return should be accompanied by a withdrawal of her accusation against Rachel. Mrs. Ray did not know how to put her demand into words, but her mind was clear on the subject.
“Well, mother,” said Mrs. Prime; “is there any objection?”
“No, my dear; no objection at all: of course not. I shall be delighted to have you back, and so, I’m sure, will Rachel; but—”
“But what? Is it about money?”
“Oh, dear, no! Nothing about money at all. If you do come back—and I’m sure I hope you will; and indeed it seems quite unnatural that you should be staying in Baslehurst, while we are living here. But I think you ought to say, my dear, that Rachel behaved just as she ought to behave in all that matter about—about Mr. Rowan, you know.”
“Don’t mind me, mamma,” said Rachel—who could, however, have smothered her mother with kisses, on hearing these words.
“But I think we all ought to understand each other, Rachel. You and your sister can’t go on comfortably together, if there’s to be more black looks about that.”
“I don’t know that there have been any black looks,” said Mrs. Prime, looking very black as she spoke.
“At any rate we should understand each other,” continued Mrs. Ray, with admirable courage. “I’ve thought a great deal about it since you’ve been away. Indeed I haven’t thought about much else. And I don’t think I shall ever forgive myself for having let a hard word be said to Rachel about it.”
“Oh, mamma, don’t—don’t,” said Rachel. But those meditated embraces were continued in her imagination.
“I don’t want to say any hard words,” said Mrs. Prime.
“No; I’m sure you don’t;—only they were said—weren’t they, now? Didn’t we blame her about being out there in the churchyard that evening?”
“Mamma!” exclaimed Rachel.
“Well, my dear, I won’t say any more;—only this.
