Stately and solemn was the recognition which she accorded to Luke’s salutation, and then she walked on into the house.
“Oh, Dorothea!” said her mother, and there was a tone almost of shame in Mrs. Ray’s voice.
“We’re so glad to see you, Dolly,” said Rachel, and in Rachel’s voice there was no tone of shame. It was all just as it should not be!
“I did not mean to disturb you, mother, while you were entertaining company.”
Mrs. Ray said nothing—nothing at the moment; but Rachel took upon herself to answer her sister. “You wouldn’t have disturbed us at all, even if you had come a little sooner. But you are not too late for tea, if you’ll have some.”
“I’ve taken tea, thank you, two hours ago;” and she spoke as though there were much virtue in the distance of time at which she had eaten and drunk, as compared with the existing rakish and dissipated appearance of her mother’s tea-table. Tea-things about at eight o’clock! It was all of a piece together.
“We are very glad to see you, at any rate,” said Mrs. Ray; “I was afraid you would not have come out to us at all.”
“Perhaps it would have been better if I had not come.”
“I don’t see that,” said Rachel. “I think it’s much better. I hate quarrelling, and I hope you’re going to stay now you are here.”
“No, Rachel, I’m not going to stay. Mother, it is impossible I should see that young man walking out of your house in that way without speaking of it; although I’m well aware that my voice here goes for nothing now.”
“That was Mr. Luke Rowan,” said Mrs. Ray.
“I know very well who it was,” said Mrs. Prime, shaking her head. “Rachel will remember that I’ve seen him before.”
“And you’ll be likely to see him again if you stay here, Dolly,” said Rachel. This she said out of pure mischief—that sort of mischief which her sister’s rebuke was sure to engender.
“I dare say,” said Mrs. Prime; “whenever he pleases, no doubt. But I shall not see him. If you approve of it, mother, of course I can say nothing further—nothing further than this, that I don’t approve of such things.”
“But what ails him that he shouldn’t be a very good young man?” says Mrs. Ray. “And if it was so that he was growing fond of Rachel, why shouldn’t he? And if Rachel was to like him, I don’t see why she shouldn’t like somebody some day as well as other girls.” Mrs. Ray had been a little put beside herself or she would hardly have said so much in Rachel’s presence. She had forgotten, probably, that Rachel had not as yet been made acquainted with the nature of Rowan’s proposal.
“Mamma, don’t talk in that way. There’s nothing of that kind,” said Rachel.
“I don’t believe there is,” said Mrs. Prime.
“I say there is then,” said Mrs. Ray; “and it’s very ill-natured in you, Dorothea, to speak and think in that way of your sister.”
“Oh, very well. I see that I had better go back to Baslehurst at once.”
“So it is very ill-natured. I can’t bear to have these sort of quarrels; but I must speak out for her. I believe he’s a very good young man, with nothing bad about him at all, and he is welcome to come here whenever he pleases. And as for Rachel, I believe she knows how to mind herself as well as you did when you were her age; only poor Mr. Prime was come and gone at that time. And as for his not intending, he came out here just because he did intend, and only to ask my permission. I didn’t at first tell him he might because Rachel was over at the farm getting the cream, and I thought she ought to be consulted first; and if that’s not straightforward and proper, I’m sure I don’t know what is; and he having a business of his own, too, and able to maintain a wife tomorrow! And if a young man isn’t to be allowed to ask leave to see a young woman when he thinks he likes her, I for one don’t know how young people are to get married at all.” Then Mrs. Ray sat down, put her apron up to her eyes, and had a great cry.
It was a most eloquent speech, and I cannot say which of her daughters was the most surprised by it. As to Rachel, it must be remembered that very much was communicated to her of which she had hitherto known nothing. Very much indeed, we may say, so much that it was of a nature to alter the whole tone and tenor of her life. This young man of whom she had thought so much, and of whom she had been so much in dread—fearing that her many thoughts of him were becoming dangerous—this young man who had interested her so warmly, had come out to Bragg’s End simply to get her mother’s leave to pay his court to her. And he had done this without saying a word to herself! There was something in this infinitely sweeter to her than would have been any number of pretty speeches from himself. She had hitherto been angry with him, though liking him well; she had been angry with though almost loving him. She had not known why it was so, but the cause had been this—that he had seemed in their intercourse together, to have been deficient
