“They will go with me,” said Mrs. Morland bitterly, “to the workhouse, I suppose!”
“They will go with you, of course,” said Jim, leaning forward, and speaking in a tone of the most persuasive softness his peasant tongue could command. “What would they do without you? But I’ve a home for you all at Rowdon—and—indeed, I’ll make it as trim as I can.”
He glanced at the beautiful and costly things about him, and sighed inwardly. His common-sense taught him that a woman who had been bred amid such surroundings could hardly be contented at Rowdon Smithy. When Jim Morland pressed his invitation on his stepmother, he guessed that he was passing sentence on all his future peace of mind. With his brother and sister alone, he might have hoped, some day, to be happy: they were very young, and youth readily accepts its circumstances. Austin, at least, would quickly have been at home. But Frances!—Jim wondered if he could bear the daily sight of his sister’s shrinking repugnance; and how might he ever hope to overcome it while Frances remained under the influence of this suspicious, ungracious nature?
“I’ll do my best,” continued the lad gravely; “and mayhap Rowdon will serve for a home till I can earn more and provide a better. Come, then, Madam, if it please you; and the children will make it home-like.”
The impulse to believe the best of Jim, to give him the credit of a magnanimous proposal, was stronger with Mrs. Morland at that moment than she could have imagined. Some words of acknowledgment were rising to her lips when her eyes lighted on her stepson’s rough hand, so near her own delicate fingers, and in a rapid glance she noted his rustic dress, while her pride rose passionately at the thought of recognizing him as a kinsman. Her better instincts were choked at once by a sensation of overwhelming dislike and scorn. Mrs. Morland knew that she was ungenerous; but she easily persuaded herself that, without loss of self-respect, she could deal to Jim a certain measure of fairness in compensation for lack of generosity. He would be satisfied, no doubt, if, in return for the refuge he offered, she gave him the name but not the place of a son.
“If I go to Rowdon,” she said deliberately, “you will, of course, expect me to acknowledge your identity as my husband’s child?”
Jim flushed deeply: his stepmother’s words contained a hint of motive on his part which he had a right to resent.
“I make no bargains, Madam!” said the young workman sternly. “Come to Rowdon, and call me what you please.”
“You have claimed your ‘rights’ as a brother,” said Mrs. Morland, smiling slightly; “and besides, my friends are, as you know, not so dull as to believe I should go by choice to live at Rowdon Smithy, or that you offered me a home there out of pure benevolence. Perhaps, James,” she continued more seriously, “we shall understand each other better if we do strike a bargain. We can put the matter on a business footing between ourselves, and leave the rest of the world to supply the sentiment. Well, then, I accept your offer of a temporary home: in return, I agree to place in the Rector’s hands a written acknowledgment of your right to bear your father’s name.”
“Madam,” said Jim coldly, his patience strained to the uttermost, “you know right well as I’ve the means of proving who I am, if so be as I wanted to do it, without a word from you. ’Twas to save you and Missy what you held to be shame that I’ve kept so long a name as was never really my own. There’ll be no bargaining on my side. Call me East or Morland as it pleases you; I’ll count your wish as it might be my father’s, and be your son or not as you choose. I’ll not presume on your choice either way,” added Jim, borrowing for once a little of his companion’s bitterness; “I’m not likely to forget as you’d never give me a mother’s love.... I’d not expect it, neither,” he went on, recovering his softer speech, “no more than I look for Missy to remember as it’s not my fault I’m just a rough fellow. The little lad ... the little lad”—Jim’s brave voice trembled—“he’s different: he sees through things somehow.... Madam,” finished Jim, looking straight at his stepmother, “I think the world of the little lad!”