Barbara was surprised at her consideration, and thought she must somehow be pleased with Richard.
“It would astonish you to hear him talk sometimes,” she said. “There is something remarkable about the young man. He must have a history somewhere!”
She had been thinking whether it was fair to sir Wilton and his family to conceal the momentous fact she alone of their friends knew: were they not those, next to Richard himself, most concerned in it? Should lady Ann be allowed to go on regarding the property as the inheritance of her son, when at any instant it might be swept from his hold? Had they not a right to some preparation for the change? If there was another son, and he the heir, ought she not at least to know that there was such a person? She had resolved, that very morning, to give lady Ann a hint of the danger to which she was exposed.
But there was another reflection, more potent yet, that urged Barbara to speak. Since learning Alice's secret, she had found herself more swiftly drawn toward Richard, nor could she escape the thought that he might one day ask her to be his wife: it would be painful then to know that she had made progress in his regard by being imagined his superior, when she knew she was not! Incapable of laying a snare, was she not submitting to the advantage of an ignorance? The misconception she was thus risking in the future, had already often prevented her from going to Mortgrange. Richard, she was certain, knew her better than ever to misjudge her, but she shrank from the suspicion of any one that she had hidden what she knew for the sake of securing Richard's preference before their relations were altered—when, on a level with the choice of society, he might well think differently of her.
Barbara was one of those to whom concealment is a positive pain. She had a natural hatred, most healthy and Christian, to all secrets as such; and to take any advantage of one would have seemed to her a loathsome thing. She constantly wanted to say all that was in her, and when she must not, she suffered.
“He may have good blood in him on one side,” suggested lady Ann. “He was rude to me, but I dare say it was the child's fault. He seems intelligent!”
“He is more than intelligent. I suspect him of being a genius.”
“I should have thought him a tradesman all over!”
“But wouldn't genius by and by make a gentleman of him?”
“Not in the least. It might make him grow to look like one.”