"Mr. Cockey has gone off much earlier than it was proposed," said Grace upon the evening of the tailor's departure.
"He has done his work."
"And wasted much good cloth."
"I pray to Heaven that you will listen to reason when the time comes to do so, Grace."
"I shall never hear reason under this roof, mother. To think—a grown woman so treated! How can father heap such insult upon his own flesh and blood? How he would have scorned any other man in the land who had treated a daughter so!"
"It has pleased God to perplex his noble nature; and he knows his own weaknesses. He has come near relenting more than once. But, like Pharaoh, he hardens his heart again. He suffers worse than you do. He has quite lost his appetite—a very alarming symptom, I think. At table he helps himself, as he helps everybody, with his usual generosity; then I see you come into his mind, and he fumes and frets and thrusts his meat from him. There is trouble, too, that I know not of. We are much straitened. I shall hear all about it some night, when he is in a soft mood."
"Nobody can help him—that's the cruel thing with dear father."
"He'll not listen to his kind. It is as though God had cursed him and said, 'Thou shall trust no judgment but thine own.' So warm-hearted and so beyond reach of other men's wisdom as he is!"
"I trust in Heaven to bring him to his better self. There are yet many weeks before this dreary farce is ended," said Grace.
Mrs. Malherb looked exceeding guilty as her daughter uttered these words. She answered nothing and prepared to depart; but she hesitated at the door as though about to speak. Then she changed her mind and withdrew quickly.