“It was a present from Lucius,” said the other, “and as such must be used. But I shall never feel myself at home in my own carriage.”
“It is quite proper, my dear Lady Mason, quite proper. With his income and with yours I do not wonder that he insists upon it. It is quite proper, and just at the present moment peculiarly so.”
Lady Mason did not understand this; but she would probably have passed it by without understanding it, had she not thought that there was some expression more than ordinary in Mrs. Arkwright’s face. “Why peculiarly so at the present moment?” she said.
“Because it shows that this foolish report which is going about has no foundation. People won’t believe it for a moment when they see you out and about, and happy-like.”
“What rumour, Mrs. Arkwright?” And Lady Mason’s heart sunk within her as she asked the question. She felt at once to what it must allude, though she had conceived no idea as yet that there was any rumour on the subject. Indeed, during the last forty-eight hours, since she had left the chambers of Mr. Furnival, she had been more at ease within herself than during the previous days which had elapsed subsequent to the ill-omened visit made to her by Miriam Dockwrath. It had seemed to her that Mr. Furnival anticipated no danger, and his manner and words had almost given her confidence. But now—now that a public rumour was spoken of, her heart was as low again as ever.
“Sure, haven’t you heard?” said Mrs. Arkwright. “Well, I wouldn’t be the first to tell you, only that I know that there is no truth in it.”
“You might as well tell me now, as I shall be apt to believe worse than the truth after what you have said.”
And then Mrs. Arkwright told her. “People have been saying that Mr. Mason is again going to begin those law proceedings about the farm; but I for one don’t believe it.”
“People have said so!” Lady Mason repeated. She meant nothing; it was nothing to her who the people were. If one said it now, all would soon be saying it. But she uttered the words because she felt herself forced to say something, and the power of thinking what she might best say was almost taken away from her.
“I am sure I don’t know where it came from,” said Mrs. Arkwright; “but I would not have alluded to it if I had not thought that of course you had heard it. I am very sorry if my saying it has vexed you.”
“Oh, no,” said Lady Mason, trying to smile.
“As I said before, we all know that there is nothing in it; and your having the pony chaise just at this time will make everybody see that you are quite comfortable yourself.”
“Thank you, yes; goodbye, Mrs. Arkwright.” And then she made a great effort, feeling aware that she was betraying herself, and that it behoved her to say something which might remove the suspicion which her emotion must have created. “The very name of that lawsuit is so dreadful to me that I can hardly bear it. The memory of it is so terrible to me, that even my enemies would hardly wish that it should commence again.”
“Of course it is merely a report,” said Mrs. Arkwright, almost trembling at what she had done.
“That is all—at least I believe so. I had heard myself that some such threat had been made, but I did not think that any tidings of it had got abroad.”
“It was Mrs. Whiting told me. She is a great busybody, you know.” Mrs. Whiting was the wife of the present doctor.
“Dear Mrs. Arkwright, it does not matter in the least. Of course I do not expect that people should hold their tongue on my account. Goodbye, Mrs. Arkwright.” And then she got into the little carriage, and did contrive to drive herself home to Orley Farm.
“Dear, dear, dear, dear!” said Mrs. Arkwright to herself when she was left alone. “Only to think of that; that she should be knocked in a heap by a few words—in a moment, as we may say.” And then she began to consider of the matter. “I wonder what there is in it! There must be something, or she would never have looked so like a ghost. What will they do if Orley Farm is taken away from them after all!” And then Mrs. Arkwright hurried out on her daily little toddle through the town, that she might talk about and be talked to on the same subject. She was by no means an ill-natured woman, nor was she at all inclined to direct against Lady Mason any slight amount of venom which might alloy her disposition. But then the matter was of such importance! The people of Hamworth had hardly yet ceased to talk of the last Orley Farm trial; and would it not be necessary that they should talk much more if a new trial were really pending? Looking at the matter in that light, would not such a trial be a godsend to the people of Hamworth? Therefore I beg that it may not be imputed to Mrs. Arkwright as a fault that she toddled out and sought eagerly for her gossips.
Lady Mason did manage to drive herself home; but her success in the matter was more owing to the good faith and propriety of her pony, than to any skilful workmanship on her own part. Her first desire had been to get away from Mrs. Arkwright, and having made that effort she was now for a time hardly able to make any other.
