"Do that, then. Set up your steam-engine."
"And have all the country down upon me for destroying hand-labour? Have a new set of Luddites coming to burn my mill, and break my machinery? That is what Lord Luxmore wants. Did he not say he would ruin me?—Worse than this—he is ruining my good name. If you had heard those poor people whom I sent away tonight! What must they, who will have short work these two months, and after that machinery-work, which they fancy is taking the very bread out of their mouths—what must they think of the master?"
He spoke—as we rarely heard John speak: as worldly cares and worldly injustice cause even the best of men to speak sometimes.
"Poor people!" he added, "how can I blame them? I was actually dumb before them to-night, when they said I must take the cost of what I do—they must have bread for their children. But so must I for mine. Lord Luxmore is the cause of all."
Here I heard—or fancied I heard—out of the black shadow behind the loom, a heavy sigh. John and Ursula were too anxious to notice it.
"Could anything be done?" she asked. "Just to keep things going till your steam-engine is ready? Will it cost much?"
"More than I like to think of. But it must be;—nothing venture—nothing have. You and the children are secure anyhow, that's one comfort. But oh, my poor people at Enderley!"
Again Ursula asked if nothing could be done.
"Yes—I did think of one plan—but—"
"John, I know what you thought of."