This was an unexpected turn. Elizabeth had hoped to avoid the recurrence of this issue. Knowing that she was keeping her mother in cruel suspense, Elizabeth hesitated and by every sign showed her disinclination to discuss the subject. What should she do? What could she do? The tortured eyes of her mother studied her with an intensity which she could not avoid. To consent was to fail with her father, to refuse was to make matters much worse with the mother she had just hurt. Luther had warned her to avoid collisions with her family which were liable to cause gossip; Aunt Susan had implored her to keep the folks in a good humour; her own instincts were against the movement, but her feelings were pleading for the mother who begged her to try once again to obtain reconciliation before she was married. Ah! if this time would end it!
“Say you will,” the mother begged with pathetic brevity.
“I’d do it in a minute if there were the least opportunity to succeed, ma,” Elizabeth said reluctantly, and not looking toward her. “If I do it and fail, You’ll be wanting me to go right on with it after I’m married, and that I won’t do for anybody.” The sentence ended savagely.
Mrs. Farnshaw studied her daughter eagerly. She began to have hopes. Now, if only she could get the right touch on her appeal.
“If You’ll do it, an’ be careful-like, Lizzie,” she said compellingly, “if You’ll be careful-like this time, I’ll never ask you again. I can’t live this way any longer. I won’t never ask you again. Please,” she insisted. “Speak real soft an’ nice-like. Please.”
“But, ma, are you crazy? You told me—you told me that—oh dear, what’s the use to tell you what you said?” the girl cried, her judgment giving its last caution a hearing.
What was the use indeed!
In the end Elizabeth consented—consented with kindliness of manner. Since she was going to do it at all she would do it lovingly. She argued herself into that mood before she agreed to the move. Her mother had a hard life; on one who knew her doubted that fact. Neither would any one have doubted that Mr. Farnshaw led a hard life also. Some devil of unrest demanded excitement and disagreement.
“Keep the folks in a good humour,” Luther had said.
Elizabeth had no support from any quarter. She could only consent.