Letty had a fortnight in bed, during which she reflected a little.
The very day on which she left her room, Alice sought an interview with her master, and declared she could not stay out her month; she must go home at once.
She had been very attentive to her mistress during the fortnight: there must be something to account for her strange behaviour.
“Come now, Alice,” said her master, “what’s at the back of all this? You have been a good, well-behaved, obliging girl till now, and I am certain you would never be like this if there weren’t something wrong somewhere.”
“Something wrong, sir! No, indeed, sir! Except you call it wrong to have an old uncle ’s dies and leaves ever so much money—thousands on thousands, the lawyers say.”
“And does it come to you then, Alice?”
“I get my share, sir. He left it to be parted even between his nephews and nieces.”
“Why, Alice, you are quite an heiress, then!” returned her master, scarcely however believing the thing so grand as Alice would have it. “But don’t you think now it would be rather hard that your fortune should be Mrs. Greatorex’s misfortune?”
“Well, I don’t see as how it shouldn’t,” replied Alice. “It’s mis’ess’s fortun’ as ’as been my misfortun’—ain’t it now, sir? An’ why shouldn’t it be the other way next?”
“I don’t quite see how your mistress’s fortune can be said to be your misfortune, Alice.”
“Anybody would see that, sir, as wasn’t blinded by class-prejudices.”
“Class-prejudices!” exclaimed Mr. Greatorex, in surprise at the word.
“It’s a term they use, I believe, sir! But it’s plain enough that if mis’ess hadn’t ’a’ been better off than me, she wouldn’t ha’ been able to secure my services—as you calls it.”
“That is certainly plain enough,” returned Mr. Greatorex. “But suppose nobody had been able to secure your services, what would have become of you?”
“By that time the people’d have rose to assert their rights.”
“To what?—To fortunes like yours?”
“To bread and cheese at least, sir,” returned Alice, pertly.
“Well, but you’ve had something better than bread and cheese.”
“I don’t make no complaints as to the style of livin’ in the house, sir, but that’s all one, so long as it’s on the vile condition of domestic slavery—which it’s nothing can justify.”
“Then of course, although you are now a woman of property, you will never dream of having anyone to wait on you,” said her master, amused with the volume of human nature thus opened to him.
“All I say, sir, is—it’s my turn now; and I ain’t goin’ to be sit upon by no one. I know my dooty to myself.”
“I didn’t know there was such a duty, Alice,” said her master.
Something in his tone displeased her.
“Then you know now, sir,” she said, and bounced out of the room.
The next moment, however, ashamed of her rudeness, she reentered, saying,
“I don’t want to be unkind, sir, but I must go home. I’ve got a brother that’s ill, too, and wants to see me. If you don’t object to me goin’ home for a month, I promise you to come back and see mis’ess through her trouble—as a friend, you know, sir.”
“But just listen to me first, Alice,” said Mr. Greatorex. “I’ve had something to do with wills in my time, and I can assure you it is not likely to be less than a year before you can touch the money. You had much better stay where you are till your uncle’s affairs are settled. You don’t know what may happen. There’s many a slip between cup and lip, you know.”
“Oh! it’s all right, sir. Everybody knows the money’s left to his nephews and nieces, and me and my brother’s as good as any.”
“I don’t doubt it: still, if you’ll take my advice, you’ll keep a sound roof over your head till another’s ready for you.”
Alice only threw her chin in the air, and said almost threateningly,
“Am I to go for the month, sir?”
“I’ll talk to your mistress about it,” answered Mr. Greatorex, not at all sure that such an arrangement would be for his wife’s comfort.
But the next day Mrs. Greatorex had a long talk with Alice, and the result was that on the following Monday she was to go home for a month, and then return for two months more at least. What Mr. Greatorex had said about the legacy, had had its effect, and, besides, her mistress had spoken to her with pleasure in her good fortune. About Sophy no one felt any anxiety: she was no trouble to anyone, and the housemaid would see to her.
III
On the Sunday evening, Alice’s lover, having heard, not from herself, but by a side wind, that she was going home the next day, made his appearance in Wimborne Square, somewhat perplexed—both at the move, and at her leaving him in ignorance of the same. He was a cabinetmaker in an honest shop in the neighbourhood, and in education, faculty, and general worth, considerably Alice’s superior—a fact which had hitherto rather pleased her, but now gave zest to the change which she imagined had subverted their former relation. Full of the sense of her new superiority, she met him draped in an indescribable strangeness. John Jephson felt, at the very first word, as if her voice came from the other side of the English Channel. He wondered what he had done, or rather what Alice could imagine he had done or said, to put her in such tantrums.
“Alice, my dear,” he said—for John was a man to go straight at the enemy, “what’s amiss? What’s come over you? You ain’t altogether like your own self tonight! And here I find you’re goin’ away, and ne’er a word to me about it! What have I done?”
Alice’s chin alone made reply. She waited the fitting moment, with splendour to astonish, and with grandeur to subdue her lover. To tell the sad truth, she was no longer sure that it would be well to encourage him on the
