“You know what’s to do, sir, I reckon?” the mother asked presently, as Lancaster waited for his challenge to be accepted; and at his brief—“Wolf told me something”—she unburdened herself of the situation, while Michael stared straight before him with his wise eyes, rocking gently from time to time in his cushioned chair.
“Whinnerah he come across rampin’ fit to kill himself, saying as how our lass had been playing fast an’ loose with his lad, and there was talk o’ Canada and quitting the farm an’ such-like! He was set on our putting our foot down, Michael an’ me, and giving Francey a piece of our minds, but we told him that hadn’t never been our way with her, and it wasn’t likely we’d begin now; so he took off again in a rare tantrum, an’ that’s all there is to it. It’s true, as he says, as we’ve always made sure she and Lup was courtin’, but we didn’t ask questions, taking it that she’d speak when she’d a mind. I’d be glad to see her wed the lad, ay, an’ so would Michael here, though I’m not saying she mightn’t do better. But if she’s not set on having him, she shan’t be driven to it, as long as there’s folks at Ladyford to her back. I’m real sorry for Wolf and Lup—ay, an’ poor Martha!—and I’d give a deal to see the lad stop, but our own barn comes first, and she shall suit herself, Mr. Lancaster.”
And Michael said: “Ay. Yon’s the way of it. Yon’s right!” rocking gently from time to time in his cushioned chair.
“Well, it seems a pity,” Lanty said at last, reluctantly making ready to go, “but I’m still hoping things will right themselves. It’s natural a girl should like to be consulted, though I shouldn’t have thought it was just a touch of pride with your daughter. She looks too fine a character for anything as small-minded as that.”
“’Tisn’t only pride, Mr. Lancaster! It’s something a deal stronger,—it’s love upside down. We’ve nobody but ourselves to thank, as I tell Michael. It’s the schoolin’ as done it. We’d a bit of money saved, and we took a fancy to have her finished like a lady, but I’m not so sure, nowadays, as we did the right thing by her. It’s hard, Mr. Lancaster, when you think a deal o’ your own, not to want to give them something better than you’ve had yourself, but I’ll not say as I think it’s always wise or kind, leastways, for a woman. A man, happen, can go an’ fight his own way in the world, but if a woman’s got to bide at home, the schoolin’s likely learned her nowt but hankering for what’s out of her reach. Not but what Francey’s been biddable enough, but I’ve kept my eye on her. I’ve been biding my time for this, an’ now it’s come. We’ve made her different of our own will, and we’ve no right to expect her to do as we’d have done. It’s us that’s to blame—an’ the learning. It makes a woman look at a man like a new sort o’ lesson-book. It starts her wondering what she feels instead o’ just feeling. It sets her seeing with her eyes an’ not with her heart. It’s not just brains you want for dealing wi’ men-folk, sir. It’s something as feels in the dark with blind eyes, something as sharp to hark as yon collie-pup, as soft to touch as a mother’s hands! Francey’s looking an’ not letting herself feel, and till she’s learned that looking doesn’t count in love, there’s nobody can help her. Nobody but Lup—and, happen, life—can set her right.”
“You’ll likely be giving them a look-in at Ninekyrkes, sir, as you’re here?” she added, following him to the door. “They’re terrible down, an’ it would cheer them up a bit. Wolf’s that set on your family, you’d happen think it was Royalty, to hark to him! He saw a deal o’ your father, yon time as the Lugg was so long building—Mr. Lancaster used to stop many a night along with him—an’ he’ll crack for a week about it if happen he gets the chance. He’d swear with his eyes shut to everything your father ever did—says there’ll never be his like again. Not but what he thinks a sight o’ you an’ all, sir! You’ll look in?”
“Yes, I’ll step over, now I’m here, but of course I’ll say nothing of what you’ve told me. If they really mean leaving, we must get things fixed up. Wolf said his wife had taken to looking ahead for trouble. Is that so, do you know?”
He saw a half-embarrassed glance pass between the two.
“She was always a bit of a worrit,” Michael said at last, rather hurriedly, “an’ this’ll have likely got on her nerves. I’ll set you a piece of the way, sir.”
Wondering, Lancaster followed him out into the heavy evening.