“For a what?” said Ansell, his thoughts far away.
“This man I am telling you about, who gave me a lift towards Andover, who said I was a blot on God’s earth.”
One o’clock struck. It was strange that neither of them had had any summons from the house.
“He said I ought to be ashamed of myself. He said, ‘I’ll not be the means of bringing shame to an honest gentleman and lady.’ I told him not to be a fool. I said I knew what I was about. Rickie and Agnes are properly educated, which leads people to look at things straight, and not go screaming about blots. A man like me, with just a little reading at odd hours—I’ve got so far, and Rickie has been through Cambridge.”
“And Mrs. Elliot?”
“Oh, she won’t mind, and I told the man so; but he kept on saying, ‘I’ll not be the means of bringing shame to an honest gentleman and lady,’ until I got out of his rotten cart.” His eye watched the man a Nonconformist, driving away over God’s earth. “I caught the train by running. I got to Waterloo at—”
Here the parlour-maid fluttered towards them, Would Mr. Wonham come in? Mrs. Elliot would be glad to see him now.
“Mrs. Elliot?” cried Ansell. “Not Mr. Elliot?”
“It’s all the same,” said Stephen, and moved towards the house.
“You see, I only left my name. They don’t know why I’ve come.”