Mr. Bassett heard her, and then gave her an answer that made her blood run cold. “Why do you come to me?” said he. “Why don't you go to the right man—young Drake?”
He then told her he had had her watched, and she must not think to make a fool of him. She was as intimate with the young farmer as with him, and was in his company every day.
Mary Wells admitted that Drake was courting her, but said he was a civil, respectful young man, who desired to make her his wife. “You have lost me that,” said she, bursting into tears; “and so, for God's sake, show yourself a man for once, and see me through my trouble.”
The egotist disbelieved, or affected not to believe her, and said, “When there are two it is always the gentleman you girls deceive. But you can't make a fool of me, Mrs. Drake. Marry the farmer, and I'll give you a wedding present; that is all I can do for any other man's sweetheart. I have got my own family to provide for, and it is all I can contrive to make both ends meet.”
He was cold and inflexible to her prayers. Then she tried threats. He laughed at them. Said he, “The time is gone by for that: if you wanted to sue me for breach of promise, you should have done it at once; not waited eighteen months and taken another sweetheart first. Come, come; you played your little game. You made me come here week after week and bleed a sovereign. A woman that loved a man would never have been so hard on him as you were on me. I grinned and bore it; but when you ask me to own another man's child, a man of your own sort that you are in love with—you hate me—that is a little too much: no, Mrs. Drake; if that is your game we will fight it out—before the public if you like.” And, having delivered this with a tone of harsh and loud defiance, he left her—left her forever. She sat down upon the cold ground and rocked herself. Despair was cold at her heart.
She sat in that forlorn state for more than an hour. Then she got up and went to her mistress's room and sat by the fire, for her limbs were cold as well as her heart.
She sat there, gazing at the fire and sighing heavily, till Lady Bassett came up to bed. She then went through her work like an automaton, and every now and then a deep sigh came from her breast.
Lady Bassett heard her sigh, and looked at her. Her face was altered; a sort of sullen misery was written on it. Lady Bassett was quick at reading faces, and this look alarmed her. “Mary,” said she, kindly, “is there anything the matter?”
No reply.
“Are you unwell?”