“It cannot be arranged,” said Mrs. Masters. “Nothing of the kind can be arranged.”
“I am sorry for that.”
“It is only disturbing the girl, and upsetting her, and filling her head full of nonsense. What is she to do at Cheltenham? This is her home and here she had better be.” Though things had hitherto gone very badly, though Larry Twentyman had not shown himself since the receipt of the letter, still Mrs. Masters had not abandoned all hope. She was fixed in opinion that if her husband were joined with her they could still, between them, so break the girl’s spirit as to force her into a marriage. “As for letters,” she continued, “I don’t know anything about them. There may have been letters but if so they have been kept from me.” She was so angry that she could not even attempt to conceal her wrath.
“Lady Ushant thinks—” began the messenger.
“Oh yes, Lady Ushant is very well of course. Lady Ushant is your aunt, Mr. Morton, and I haven’t anything to say against her. But Lady Ushant can’t do any good to that girl. She has got her bread to earn, and if she won’t do it one way then she must do it another. She’s obstinate and pigheaded, that’s the truth of it. And her father’s just as bad. He has taken her out now merely because she likes to be idle, and to go about thinking herself a fine lady. Lady Ushant doesn’t do her any good at all by cockering her up.”
“My aunt, you know, saw very much of her when she was young.”
“I know she did, Mr. Morton; and all that has to be undone—and I have got the undoing of it. Lady Ushant is one thing and her papa’s business is quite another. At any rate if I have my say she’ll not go to Cheltenham any more. I don’t mean to be uncivil to you, Mr. Morton, or to say anything as oughtn’t to be said of your aunt. But when you can’t make people anything but what they are, it’s my opinion that it’s best to leave them alone. Good day to you, sir, and I hope you understand what it is that I mean.”
Then Morton retreated and went down the stairs, leaving the lady in possession of her own grandeur. He had not quite understood what she had meant, and was still wondering at the energy of her opposition when he met Mary herself at the front door. Her father was not with her, but his retreating form was to be seen entering the portal of the Bush. “Oh, Mr. Morton!” exclaimed Mary surprised to have the house-door opened for her by him.
“I have come with a message from my aunt.”
“She told me that you would do so.”
“Lady Ushant would of course be delighted to have you if it could be arranged.”
“Then Lady Ushant will be disappointed,” said Mrs. Masters who had descended the stairs. “There has been something going on behind my back.”
“I wrote to Lady Ushant,” said Mary.
“I call that sly and deceitful;—very sly and very deceitful. If I know it you won’t stir out of this house to go to Cheltenham. I wonder Lady Ushant would go to put you up in that way against those you’re bound to obey.”
“I thought Mrs. Masters had been told,” said Reginald.
“Papa did know that I wrote,” said Mary.
“Yes;—and in this way a conspiracy is to be made up in the house! If she goes to Cheltenham I won’t stay here. You may tell Lady Ushant that I say that. I’m not going to be one thing one day and another another, and to be made a tool of all round.” By this time Dolly and Kate had come down from the upper regions and were standing behind their mother. “What do you two do there, standing gaping like fools?” said the angry mother. “I suppose your father has gone over to the public-house again. That, miss, is what comes from your pigheadedness. Didn’t I tell you that you were ruining everybody belonging to you?” Before all this was over Reginald Morton had escaped, feeling that he could do no good to either side by remaining a witness to such a scene. He must take some other opportunity of finding the attorney and of learning from him whether he intended that his daughter should be allowed to accept Lady Ushant’s invitation.
Poor Mary as she shrunk into the house was nearly heartbroken. That such things should be at all was very dreadful, but that the scene should have taken place in the presence of Reginald Morton was an aggravation of the misery which nearly overwhelmed her. How could she make him understand whence had arisen her stepmother’s anger and that she herself had been neither sly nor deceitful nor pigheaded?
XLVII
“But There Is Some One”
When Mr. Masters had gone across to the Bush his purpose had certainly been ignoble, but it had had no reference to brandy and water. And the allusion made by Mrs. Masters to the probable ruin which was to come from his tendencies in that direction had been calumnious, for she knew that the man was not given to excess in liquor. But as he approached his own house he bethought himself that it would not lead to domestic comfort if he were seen returning from his walk with Mary, and he
