"That woman's unamiability," said Mr Stocks, "is a most pitiable spectacle. She was always irritable; but latterly her bad temper has become chronic. It is a madness, a monomania, which she takes a morbid pleasure in nursing. Almost every person is looked upon as an enemy, and almost every act as an insult. I myself am afraid to move or to speak lest I offend her. But I will stand it no longer. She shall go at once. I have done with her."
"Don't, Mr Stocks, I entreat you, cast her off," said Miss Laverock. "You are her only friend, I understand. The poor thing is more to be pitied than blamed. Her infirmity is more physical than moral. It is the result of biliousness, and can only be cured by medical treatment. But I believe that I am partly to blame. My presence and my incessant chatter have aggravated her. I know that I talk too much. Ever since I was a child, my father has made me his companion, and has encouraged me to give my opinion on every subject; and when in company, I am apt to forget that other people are not so partial as he is, and I allow my tongue to go like a bell. And poor Miss Jaap, along with others, has suffered. My everlasting gabble must be a great nuisance."
"Well!" replied Mr Stocks, "if that's gabble, then all I have to say is that I don't wish to hear anything better than gabble during the rest of my life."
"There's no accounting for taste," said Winnie laughing. "But, Mr Stocks, to speak seriously, you'll not cast that poor thing off? Remember that you are her best friend. If you do, I shall be very miserable, for I shall feel that I have been the cause of it. You'll not do it, will you?"
"Well, Miss Laverock, if it's to give you pain, I will not do it."
"Now! that's like you. And you'll find that everything will now go right. I'm going home to-morrow, and Miss Jaap will then become quiet. This (pointing to her jacket) is the red rag that has made the cow mad. When this is removed the cow will settle down to chew the cud—yes, the cud of sweet and bitter memories."
Mr Stocks was now aghast. "Miss Laverock," he stammered, "you can't mean it. No, no—it will never do—why, you have only been here two days, and you came to stay a month at least. I was looking forward—that is, we were all looking forward—to a happy time, and now"—and here the good man's feelings overpowered him, and fairly carried him away. What he said he never could exactly remember; but he gave her to understand that he could not do without her, and that, deprived of her presence, life would not be worth living.
Then she, blushing very much, yet unable to repress a merry twinkle in her eye, said that this was dreadful. It was just another proof that she had been too long there. She was the wicked fairy that, without meaning it, had introduced confusion into the family. She must, however, persist in going home to-morrow. She wished to be present at the meeting between her father and brother, and to try to reconcile them. But (and here she looked down and faltered in her speech) if her father approved, and she had no doubt he would, she would come back; and after all the proper forms had been gone through she would stay. She could not bear the idea of having his death upon her conscience, or even his unhappiness—all the more so as she had always admired and liked him, especially during her late trouble, when he had shown her so much sympathy and good feeling. Would he agree to this arrangement?