To do him justice, Tom behaved at this moment, in which affairs were left in his hands, as if he had been training for it all his life. Perhaps it was the first time in which he had done anything absolutely without a blunder. He had wasted no time, and no words, and left no room for consideration, or for that natural relenting towards his rival which was inevitable as soon as Mr. Ashburton was off the field. He had insisted, and he had perceived that there was but one alternative for Lucilla. Now that all was over, he took her back to her seat, and comforted her, and made no offensive demonstrations of triumph. “It is to be me after all!” he repeated; and it was utterly impossible to add anything to the eloquent brevity of this succinct statement of the case.
“Tom,” said Miss Marjoribanks, when she had a little recovered, “if it is to be you, that is no reason why you should be so unnatural. Go up directly and see your mother. What will Aunt Jemima think of me if she knows I have let you stay talking nonsense here?”
“Yes, Lucilla—this moment,” said Tom; but all the same he showed not the slightest inclination to go away. He did not quite believe in it as yet, and could not help feeling as if, should he venture to leave her, the whole fabric of his incredible good fortune must dissolve and melt away. As for Lucilla, her self-possession gradually came back to her when the crisis was over, and she felt that her involuntary abdication had lasted long enough, and that it was full time to take the management of affairs back into her own hands.
“You shall go now,” she said, drying her eyes, “or else you cannot stay here. I thought of letting you stay in the house, as Aunt Jemima is with me; but if you do not mean to go and tell your mother, I will tell Nancy to send your things up to the Blue Boar. Ring the bell, please; if you will not ring the bell, I will do it myself, Tom. You may say what you like, but I know you are famishing; and Aunt Jemima is in the blue room, next door to—Oh, here is Nancy. It is Mr. Tom, who has come home,” said Lucilla hastily, not without a rising colour; for it was hard to explain why, when his mother was in the blue room all this time, he should have stayed here.
“Yes, Miss Lucilla—so I heard,” said Nancy, dropping a doubtful curtsey. And then only Tom was persuaded, and bethought himself of his natural duty, and rushed upstairs. He seized Nancy’s hand, and shook it violently, as he passed her, to her great consternation. The moment of his supremacy was over. It was to be Tom after all; but Lucilla had recovered her self-possession, and taken the helm in her hand again, and Tom was master of the situation no more.
“Yes, it is Mr. Tom,” said Lucilla, shaking her head with something between a smile and a sigh. “It could be nobody but him that would ring that bell, and upset all the cards. I hope he has not broken dear papa’s punch-bowl that he used to be so fond of. He must have something to eat, Nancy, though he is such an awkward boy.”
“I don’t see nothing like a boy in him,” said Nancy; “he’s big and stout, and one o’ them awful beards. There’s been a deal of changes since he went away; but if he’s new comed off that terrible long journey, it is but natural, as you say, Miss Lucilla, that he should want something to eat.”
And then Miss Marjoribanks made various suggestions, which were received still doubtfully by her prime minister. Nancy, to tell the truth, did not like the turn things were taking. Lucilla’s maiden household had been on the whole getting along very comfortably, and there was no telling how long it might have lasted without any new revolution. To be sure, Mr. Ashburton had looked dangerous, but Nancy had seen a great many dangers of that kind blow over, and was not easily alarmed. Mr. Tom, however, was a very different person; and Nancy was sufficiently penetrating to see that something had happened. Therefore, she received very coldly Lucilla’s suggestions about lunch. “It ain’t like the old times,” she said at last, “when there was always something as one could put to the fire in a hurry;” and Nancy stood turning round the handle of the door in her hand, and contemplating the changed state of affairs with a sigh.
“That would be all very true if you were like anybody else,” said Lucilla; “but I hope you would not like to send Mr. Tom off to the Blue Boar. After all, perhaps it is better to have a—a gentleman in the house. I know you always used to think so. They are a great deal of trouble; but—for some things, you know—” said Lucilla; “and then Mr. Tom is not just like other people; and whatever happens, Nancy, you are an old dear, and it shall never make any difference between you and me.”
When she had said these words, Lucilla gave her faithful servant a hug, and sent her off to
