At first Nell absolutely refused to go. But she had to give way, being touched by the self-reproach of the prim little elderly lady, who blamed herself as much for Jem’s misfortune as Nell blamed herself for Clifford’s.
“It was all my fault. I feel that I have brought it upon the poor fellow myself,” was the burden of Miss Bostal’s lament, just as it had previously been of Nell’s.
She even shed tears at the thought of facing the young man upon whom she had brought more than one misfortune. For she persisted in regarding his assault upon Clifford as another grievance of Jem’s rather than of the hated rival’s.
Nell said little as they went along. She was on the one hand deeply anxious about her lover; while on the other she hardly knew whether to laugh at Miss Bostal’s extravagances or to cry sympathetically over her grief.
The little cottage where Jem lodged was soon reached. Miss Bostal’s knock was answered, unexpectedly enough, by Jem in person. There seemed to be little the matter with him, except for a cut on his lower lip, the result of the blow with which Clifford had felled him. If his bodily state was sound, however, this was all that could be said for him. A more forbidding expression of sullen ferocity than that which his face wore as he recognized his visitors it would be impossible to imagine.
“Oh, so it’s you, is it?” was his surly greeting, as with a scowl he made a movement to shut the door in the lady’s face.
But his patroness was ready with the soft answer that turned away wrath. Pressing forward quickly, and keeping Nell’s hand in hers with a tight grip, she edged her way into the cottage, and, regardless of the fact that the man and woman with whom Jem lodged were present, addressed the young boor in the gentlest of voices:
“Oh, dear! oh, dear! don’t send us away like that! We are so very sorry for what has happened to you. We want to know if we can do anything—”
Nell was frowning, and trying to get away, indignant at the lowly tone her companion was taking. And it was upon Nell that Jem’s eyes were fixed as he interrupted the other lady.
“No!” roared he. “You can’t do nothin’—as yet. But,” and he raised his voice, and lifted his fist against an imaginery foe, as he stared harder at Nell than ever, “I’m blest if you won’t find more’n enough to do to answer the questions as’ll be put to you folks—some of you—to-morrow morning!”