“Mother,” said Mrs. Prime, very solemnly, “is this young man such a one as you would have chosen for Rachel’s husband six months ago?”
“I never wished to choose any man for her husband,” said Mrs. Ray. “I don’t think you ought to talk to me in that way, Dorothea.”
“I don’t know in what other way to talk to you. I cannot be indifferent on such a subject as this. When you tell me, and that before Rachel herself, that you have given this young man leave to come and see her whenever he pleases.”
“I never said anything of the kind, Dorothea.”
“Did you not, mother? I am sure I understood you so.”
“I said he had come to ask leave, and that I should be glad to see him when he did come, but I didn’t say anything of having told him so. I didn’t tell him anything of the kind; did I, Rachel? But I know he will come, and I don’t see why he shouldn’t. And if he does, I can’t turn him out. He took his tea here quite like a steady young man. He drank three large cups; and if, as Rachel says, he always goes to church regularly, I don’t know why we are to judge him and say that he’s anything out of the way.”
“I have not judged him, mother.”
Then Rachel spoke out, and we may say that it was needful that she should do so. This offering of her heart had been discussed in her presence in a manner that had been very painful to her, though the persons discussing it had been her own mother and her own sister. But in truth she had been so much affected by what had been said, there had been so much in it that was first joyful and then painful to her, that she had not hitherto been able to repress her emotions so as to acquire the power of much speech. But she had struggled, and now so far succeeded as to be able to come to her mother’s support.
“I don’t know, mamma, why anybody should judge him yet; and as to what he has said to me, I’m sure no one has a right to judge him unkindly. Dolly has been very angry with me because she saw me speaking to him in the churchyard, and has said that I was—hiding.”
“I meant that he was hiding.”
“Neither of us were hiding, and it was an unkind word, not like a sister. I have never had to hide from anybody. And as for—for—for liking Mr. Rowan after such words as that, I will not say anything about it to anybody, except to mamma. If he were to ask me to be—his wife, I don’t know what answer I should make—not yet. But I shall never listen to anyone while mamma lives, if she wishes me not.” Then she turned to her mother, and Mrs. Ray, who had before been driven to doubt by Mrs. Prime’s words, now again became strong in her resolution to cherish Rachel’s lover.
“I don’t believe she’ll ever do anything to make me think that I oughtn’t to have trusted her,” said Mrs. Ray, embracing Rachel and speaking with her own eyes full of tears.
It now seemed to Mrs. Prime that there was nothing left for her but to go. In her eagerness about her sister’s affairs, she had for a while forgotten her own; and now, as she again remembered the cause that had brought her on the present occasion to Bragg’s End, she felt that she must return without accomplishing her object. After having said so much in reprobation of her sister’s love-affair, it was hardly possible that she should tell the tale of her own. And yet her need was urgent. She had pledged herself to give Mr. Prong an answer on Friday, and she could hardly bring herself to accept that gentleman’s offer without first communicating with her mother on the subject. Any such communication at the present moment was quite out of the question.
“Perhaps it would be better that I should go and leave you,” she said. “If I can do no good, I certainly don’t want to do any harm. I wish that Rachel would have taken to what I think a better course of life.”
“Why, what have I done?” said Rachel, turning round sharply.
“I mean about the Dorcas meetings.”
“I don’t like the women there;—that’s why I haven’t gone.”
“I believe them to be good, praiseworthy, godly women. But it is useless to talk about that now. Good night, Rachel,” and she gave her hand coldly to her sister. “Good night, mother; I wish I could see you alone tomorrow.”
“Come here for your dinner,” said Mrs. Ray.
“No;—but if you would come to me in the morning I should take it kindly.” This Mrs. Ray promised to do, and then Mrs. Prime walked back to Baslehurst.
Rachel, when her sister was gone, felt that there was much to be said between her and her mother. Mrs. Ray herself was so inconsequent in her mental workings, so shandy-pated if I may say so, that it did not occur to her that an entirely new view of Luke Rowan’s purposes had been exposed to Rachel during this visit of Mrs. Prime’s, or that anything had been said, which made a further explanation necessary. She had, as it were, authorized Rachel to regard Rowan as her lover, and yet was not aware
