Mrs. Ray instantly put down the tea-caddy which she had in her hand, and started, with a slight gasp in her throat, as though cold water had been thrown over her. At the instant she said nothing. What was she to say in answer to so violent a proposition?
“Upon my word I do,” said Luke, who was too closely engaged with his own thoughts and his own feelings to pay much immediate attention to Mrs. Ray. “It isn’t only that she’s good-looking, but there’s something—I don’t know what it is—but she’s just the sort of person I like. I told her I should come today, and I have come on purpose to say this to you. I hope you won’t be angry with me.”
“Pray, sir, don’t say anything to her to turn her head.”
“If I understand her, Mrs. Ray, it wouldn’t be very easy to turn her head. But suppose she has turned mine?”
“Ah, no. Young gentlemen like you are in no danger of that sort of thing. But for a poor girl—”
“I don’t think you quite understand me, Mrs. Ray. I didn’t mean anything about danger. My danger would be that she shouldn’t care twopence for me; and I don’t suppose she ever will. But what I want to know is whether you would object to my coming over here and seeing her. I don’t doubt but she might do much better.”
“Oh dear no,” said Mrs. Ray.
“But I should like to have my chance.”
“You’ve not said anything to her yet, Mr. Rowan?”
“Well, no; I can’t say I have. I meant to do so last night at the party, but she wouldn’t stay and hear me. I don’t think she cares very much about me, but I’ll take my chance if you’ll let me.”
“Here she is,” said Mrs. Ray. Then she again went to work with the tea-caddy, so that Rachel might be led to believe that nothing special had occurred in her absence. Nevertheless, had Rowan been away, every word would have been told to her.
“I hope you like clotted cream,” said Rachel, taking off her hat. Luke declared that it was the one thing in all the world that he liked best, and that he had come into Devonshire with the express object of feasting upon it all his life. “Other Devonshire dainties were not,” he said, “so much to his taste. He had another object in life. He intended to put down cider.”
“I beg you won’t do anything of the kind,” said Mrs. Ray, “for I always drink it at dinner.” Then Rowan explained how that he was a brewer, and that he looked upon it as his duty to put down so poor a beverage as cider. The people of Devonshire, he averred, knew nothing of beer, and it was his ambition to teach them. Mrs. Ray grew eager in the defence of cider, and then they again became comfortable and happy. “I never heard of such a thing in my life,” said Mrs. Ray. “What are the farmers to do with all their apple trees? It would be the ruin of the whole country.”
“I don’t suppose it can be done all at once,” said Luke.
“Not even by Mr. Rowan,” said Rachel.
He sat there for an hour after their tea, and Mrs. Ray had in truth become fond of him. When he spoke to Rachel he did so with the utmost respect, and he seemed to be much more intimate with the mother than with the daughter. Mrs. Ray’s mind was laden with the burden of what he had said in Rachel’s absence, and with the knowledge that she would have to discuss it when Rowan was gone; but she felt herself to be happy while he remained, and had begun to hope that he would not go quite yet. Rachel also was perfectly happy. She said very little, but thought much of her different meetings with him—of the arm in the clouds, of the promise of his friendship, of her first dance, of the little fraud by which he had secured her company at supper, and then of those words he had spoken when he detained her after supper in the hall. She knew that she liked him well, but had feared that such liking might not be encouraged. But what could be nicer than this—to sit and listen to him in her mother’s presence? Now she was not afraid of him. Now she feared no one’s eyes. Now she was disturbed by no dread lest she might be sinning against rules of propriety. There was no Mrs. Tappitt by, to rebuke her with an angry look.
“Oh, Mr. Rowan, I’m sure you need not go yet,” she said, when he got up and sought his hat.
“Mr. Rowan, my dear, has got other things to do besides talking to us.”
“Oh no, he has not. He can’t go and brew after eight o’clock.”
“When my brewery is really going, I mean to brew all night; but just at present I’m the idlest man in Baslehurst. When I go away I shall
