Stephen moved forward as if he would follow the vicar,then as if he would not,and in absolute perplexity whither to turn himself,went awkwardly to the door.Elfride followed lingeringly behind him.Before he had receded two yards from the doorstep,Unity and Ann the housemaid came home from their visit to the village.
Have you heard anything about John Smith?The accident is not so bad as was reported,is it?said Elfride intuitively.
Oh no;the doctor says it is only a bad bruise.
I thought so!cried Elfride gladly.
He says that,although Nat believes he did not check the beetle as it came down,he must have done so without knowing it--checked it very considerably too;for the full blow would have knocked his hand abroad,and in reality it is only made black-and-blue like.
How thankful I am!said Stephen.
The perplexed Unity looked at him with her mouth rather than with her eyes.
That will do,Unity,said Elfride magisterially;and the two maids passed on.
Elfride,do you forgive me?said Stephen with a faint smile.
No man is fair in love;and he took her fingers lightly in his own.
With her head thrown sideways in the Greuze attitude,she looked a tender reproach at his doubt and pressed his hand.Stephen returned the pressure threefold,then hastily went off to his fathers cottage by the wall of Endelstow Park.
Elfride,what have you to say to this?inquired her father,coming up immediately Stephen had retired.
With feminine quickness she grasped at any straw that would enable her to plead his cause.He had told me of it,she faltered;so that it is not a discovery in spite of him.He was just coming in to tell you.
COMING to tell!Why hadnt he already told?I object as much,if not more,to his underhand concealment of this,than I do to the fact itself.It looks very much like his ****** a fool of me,and of you too.You and he have been about together,and corresponding together,in a way I dont at all approve of--in a most unseemly way.You should have known how improper such conduct is.A woman cant be too careful not to be seen alone with I-dont-know-whom.
You saw us,papa,and have never said a word.
My fault,of course;my fault.What the deuce could I be thinking of!He,a villagers son;and we,Swancourts,connections of the Luxellians.We have been coming to nothing for centuries,and now I believe we have got there.What shall I next invite here,I wonder!
Elfride began to cry at this very unpropitious aspect of affairs.
O papa,papa,forgive me and him!We care so much for one another,papa--O,so much!And what he was going to ask you is,if you will allow of an engagement between us till he is a gentleman as good as you.We are not in a hurry,dear papa;we dont want in the least to marry now;not until he is richer.Only will you let us be engaged,because I love him so,and he loves me?
Mr.Swancourts feelings were a little touched by this appeal,and he was annoyed that such should be the case.Certainly not!he replied.He pronounced the inhibition lengthily and sonorously,so that the notsounded like n-o-o-o-t!
No,no,no;dont say it!
Foh!A fine story.It is not enough that I have been deluded and disgraced by having him here,--the son of one of my village peasants,--but now I am to make him my son-in-law!Heavens above us,are you mad,Elfride?
You have seen his letters come to me ever since his first visit,papa,and you knew they were a sort of--love-letters;and since he has been here you have let him be alone with me almost entirely;
and you guessed,you must have guessed,what we were thinking of,and doing,and you didnt stop him.Next to love-****** comes love-winning,and you knew it would come to that,papa.
The vicar parried this common-sense thrust.I know--since you press me so--I know I did guess some childish attachment might arise between you;I own I did not take much trouble to prevent it;but I have not particularly countenanced it;and,Elfride,how can you expect that I should now?It is impossible;no father in England would hear of such a thing.
But he is the same man,papa;the same in every particular;and how can he be less fit for me than he was before?
He appeared a young man with well-to-do friends,and a little property;but having neither,he is another man.
You inquired nothing about him?
I went by Hewbys introduction.He should have told me.So should the young man himself;of course he should.I consider it a most dishonourable thing to come into a mans house like a treacherous I-dont-know-what.
But he was afraid to tell you,and so should I have been.He loved me too well to like to run the risk.And as to speaking of his friends on his first visit,I dont see why he should have done so at all.He came here on business:it was no affair of ours who his parents were.And then he knew that if he told you he would never be asked here,and would perhaps never see me again.And he wanted to see me.Who can blame him for trying,by any means,to stay near me--the girl he loves?All is fair in love.I have heard you say so yourself,papa;and you yourself would have done just as he has--so would any man.
And any man,on discovering what I have discovered,would also do as I do,and mend my mistake;that is,get shot of him again,as soon as the laws of hospitality will allow.But Mr.Swancourt then remembered that he was a Christian.I would not,for the world,seem to turn him out of doors,he added;but I think he will have the tact to see that he cannot stay long after this,with good taste.
He will,because hes a gentleman.See how graceful his manners are,Elfride went on;though perhaps Stephens manners,like the feats of Euryalus,owed their attractiveness in her eyes rather to the attractiveness of his person than to their own excellence.