“As quick and quiet as I can. I shall take the mail-coach to York, or further; and then trot home on as good a nag as I can hire.”
In this way he reached Atheling the third day afterwards, but without any of the usual éclat and bustle of his arrival. Kate had gone to bed; Mrs. Atheling was about to lock the big front door, when he opened it. She let the candlestick in her hand fall when she saw him enter, crying,–
“John! Dear John! How you did frighten me! I am glad to see you.”
“I’ll believe it, Maude, without burning the house for an illumination. My word! I am tired. I have trotted a hack horse near forty miles to-day.”
Then she forgot everything but the Squire’s refreshment and comfort; and the house was roused, and Kitty came downstairs again, and for an hour there was at least the semblance of rejoicing. But Mrs. Atheling was not deceived. She saw her lord was depressed and anxious; and she was sure the Reform Bill had finally passed; and after a little while she ventured to say so.
“No, it has not passed,” answered the Squire; “it has got to its worst bit, that’s all. After Easter the Lords will muster in all their power, and either throw it out, or change and cripple it so much that it will be harmless.”
“Now, then, John, what do you think, really?”
“I think, really, that we land-owners are all of us between the devil and the deep sea. If the Bill passes, away go the Corn Laws; and then how are we to make our money out of the land? If it does not pass, we are in for a civil war and a Commonwealth, and no Cromwell to lead and guide it. It is a bad look-out.”
“But it might be worse. We haven’t had any cholera here. We must trust in God, John.”
“It is easy to trust in God when you don’t see the doings of the devil. You wouldn’t be so cheerful, Maude, if you had lived in the sight of his handiwork, as I have for months. I think surely God has given England into his power, as he did the good man of Uz.”