“How goes everything at Oileymead?” said Mrs. Greenow, seeing that her guest wanted some little assistance in leading off the conversation.
“Pretty well, Mrs. Greenow; pretty well. Everything will go very well if I am successful in the object which I have on hand today.”
“I’m sure I hope you’ll be successful in all your undertakings.”
“In all my business undertakings I am, Mrs. Greenow. There isn’t a shilling due on my land to e’er a bank in Norwich; and I haven’t thrashed out a quarter of last year’s corn yet, which is more than many of them can say. But there ain’t many of them who don’t have to pay rent, and so perhaps I oughtn’t to boast.”
“I know that Providence has been very good to you, Mr. Cheesacre, as regards worldly matters.”
“And I haven’t left it all to Providence, either. Those who do, generally go to the wall, as far as I can see. I’m always at work late and early, and I know when I get a profit out of a man’s labour and when I don’t, as well as though it was my only chance of bread and cheese.”
“I always thought you understood farming business, Mr. Cheesacre.”
“Yes, I do. I like a bit of fun well enough, when the time for it comes, as you saw at Yarmouth. And I keep my three or four hunters, as I think a country gentleman should; and I shoot over my own ground. But I always stick to my work. There are men, like Bellfield, who won’t work. What do they come to? They’re always borrowing.”
“But he has fought his country’s battles, Mr. Cheesacre.”
“He fight! I suppose he’s been telling you some of his old stories. He was ten years in the West Indies, and all his fighting was with the mosquitoes.”
“But he was in the Crimea. At Inkerman, for instance—”
“He in the Crimea! Well, never mind. But do you inquire before you believe that story. But as I was saying, Mrs. Greenow, you have seen my little place at Oileymead.”
“A charming house. All you want is a mistress for it.”
“That’s it; that’s just it. All I want is a mistress for it. And there’s only one woman on earth that I would wish to see in that position. Arabella Greenow, will you be that woman?” As he made the offer he got up and stood before her, placing his right hand upon his heart.
“I, Mr. Cheesacre!” she said.
“Yes, you. Who else? Since I saw you what other woman has been anything to me; or, indeed, I may say before? Since the first day I saw you I felt that there my happiness depended.”
“Oh, Mr. Cheesacre, I thought you were looking elsewhere.”
“No, no, no. There never was such a mistake as that. I have the highest regard and esteem for Miss Vavasor, but really—”
“Mr. Cheesacre, what am I to say to you?”
“What are you to say to me? Say that you’ll be mine. Say that I shall be yours. Say that all I have at Oileymead shall be yours. Say that the open carriage for a pair of ponies to be driven by a lady which I have been looking at this morning shall be yours. Yes, indeed; the sweetest thing you ever saw in your life—just like one that the lady of the Lord Lieutenant drives about in always. That’s what you must say. Come, Mrs. Greenow!”
“Ah, Mr. Cheesacre, you don’t know what it is to have buried the pride of your youth hardly yet twelve months.”
“But you have buried him, and there let there be an end of it. Your sitting here all alone, morning, noon, and night, won’t bring him back. I’m sorry for him; I am indeed. Poor Greenow! But what more can I do?”
“I can do more, Mr. Cheesacre. I can mourn for him in solitude and in silence.”
“No, no, no. What’s the use of it—breaking your heart for nothing—and my heart too. You never think of that.” And Mr. Cheesacre spoke in a tone that was full of reproach.
“It cannot be, Mr. Cheesacre.”
“Ah, but it can be. Come, Mrs. Greenow. We understand each other well enough now, surely. Come, dearest.” And he approached her as though to put his arm round her waist. But at that moment there came a knock at the door, and Jeannette, entering the room, told her mistress that Captain Bellfield was below and wanted to know whether he could see her for a minute on particular business.
“Show Captain Bellfield up, certainly,” said Mrs. Greenow.
“D⸺ Captain Bellfield!” said Mr. Cheesacre.
XXI
Alice Is Taught to Grow Upwards, Towards the Light
Before the day came on which Alice was to go to Matching Priory, she had often regretted that she had been induced to make the promise, and yet she had as often resolved that there was no possible reason why she should not go to Matching Priory. But she feared this commencement of a closer connection with her great relations. She had told herself so often that she was quite separated from them, that the slight accident of blood in no way tied her to them or them to her—this lesson had been so thoroughly taught to her by the injudicious attempts of Lady Macleod to teach an opposite lesson, that she did not like the idea of putting aside the effect of that teaching. And perhaps she was a
