But the conversation, almost at once, led to a word in praise of Rachel, and to following words in praise of Luke. Martha only was in the room with her mother. Mrs. Cornbury did not at once begin about the vote, but made, as was natural, certain complimentary speeches about the ball. Really she didn’t remember when she had seen anything better done; and the young ladies looked so nice. She had indeed gone away early; but she had done so by no means on her own account, but because Rachel Ray had been tired. Then she said a nice good-natured genial word or two about Rachel Ray and her performance on that occasion. “It seemed to me,” she added, “that a certain young gentleman was quite smitten.”
Then Mrs. Tappitt’s brow became black as thunder, and Mrs. Cornbury knew at once that she had trodden on unsafe ground—on ground which she should specially have avoided.
“We are all aware,” Mrs. Tappitt said, “that the certain young gentleman behaved very badly—disgracefully, I may say;—but it wasn’t our fault, Mrs. Cornbury.”
“Upon my word, Mrs. Tappitt, I didn’t see anything amiss.”
“I’m afraid everybody saw it. Indeed, everybody has been talking of it ever since. As regards him, what he did then was only of a piece with his general conduct, which it doesn’t become me to name in the language which it deserves. His behaviour to Mr. T. has been shameful;—quite shameful.”
“I had heard something, but I did not know there was anything like that. I’m so sorry I mentioned his name.”
“He has disagreed with papa about the brewery business,” said Martha.
“It’s more than that, Martha, as you know very well,” continued Mrs. Tappitt, still speaking in her great heat. “He has shown himself bad in every way—giving himself airs all over the town, and then going away without paying his debts.”
“I don’t think we know that, mamma.”
“Everybody says so. Your own father heard Sam Griggs say with his own ears that there was a shop bill left there of I don’t know how long. But that’s nothing to us. He came here under false pretences, and now he’s been turned out, and we don’t want to have any more to do with him. But, Mrs. Cornbury, I am sorry about that poor foolish girl.”
“I didn’t think her poor or foolish at all,” said Mrs. Cornbury, who had quite heart enough to forget the vote her husband wanted in her warmth for her young friend.
“I must say, then, I did;—I thought her very foolish, and I didn’t at all like the way she went on in my house and before my girls. And as for him, he doesn’t think of her any more than he thinks of me. In the first place, he’s engaged to another girl.”
“We are not quite sure that he’s engaged, mamma,” said Martha.
“I don’t know what you call being sure, my dear. I can’t say I’ve ever heard it sworn to, on oath. But his sister Mary told your sister Augusta that he was. I think that’s pretty good evidence. But, Mrs. Cornbury, he’s one of those that will be engaged to twenty, if he can find twenty foolish enough to listen to him. And for her, who never was at a dance before, to go on with him like that;—I must say that I thought it disgraceful!”
“Well, Mrs. Tappitt,” said Mrs. Cornbury, speaking with much authority in her voice, “I can only say that I didn’t see it. She was under my charge, and if it was as you say I must be very much to blame—very much indeed.”
“I’m sure I didn’t mean that,” said Mrs. Tappitt, frightened.
“I don’t suppose you did—but I mean it. As for the young gentleman, I know very little about him. He may be everything that is bad.”
“You’ll find that he is, Mrs. Cornbury.”
“But as to Miss Ray, whom I’ve known all my life, and whose mother my father has known for all her life, I cannot allow anything of the kind to be said. She was under my charge; and when young ladies are under my charge I keep a close eye upon them—for their own comfort’s sake. I know how to manage for them, and I always look after them. On the night of your party I saw nothing in Miss Ray’s conduct that was not nice, ladylike, and well-behaved. I must say so; and if I hear a whisper to the contrary in any quarter, you may be sure that I shall say so open-mouthed. How d’you do, Mr. Tappitt? I’m so glad you’ve come in, as I specially wanted to see you.” Then she shook hands with Mr. Tappitt, who entered the room at the moment, and the look and manner of her face was altered.
Mrs. Tappitt was cowed. If her husband had not come in at that moment she might have said a word or two in her own defence, being driven to do so by the absence of any other mode of retreating. But as he came in so opportunely, she allowed his coming to cover her defeat. Strong as was her feeling on the subject, she did not dare to continue her attack upon Rachel in opposition to the defiant bravery which came full upon her from Mrs. Cornbury’s eyes. The words had been bad, but the determined fire of those eyes had been worse. Mrs. Tappitt was cowed, and allowed Rachel’s name to pass
