But her amiable hostess threw herself into the breach. With a smile at the girl, who was coloring, "There can be but one view of Clare's future," she said, quickly. "She has already most of the good things of this world. She will find the best, and be clever enough to know when she has found it."
It was a clear, still afternoon, though very cold. The recent snow had left the roads ankle-deep in slush, which there had been neither frost nor wind, the previous day, to dry. Now it was freezing, but not hard enough to affect the mud to any depth. The road on which all the party set out to walk was certainly very bad; it would have been difficult to match it in any country district in England; but then, they did not walk on the road. The system, unknown in England, of laying down planks on the wayside for pedestrians, secured them a dry foot-path. But only two could walk abreast. Mr. Burton had timidly endeavored to place himself beside Grace; Ferrars's dominant perseverance, however, secured that privilege.
"You behaved very ill last night, Mr. Ferrars," began Miss Ballinger, with her characteristic fearlessness; "and again to-day at luncheon. You sulked, because you were not allowed to talk, and because I wanted to listen to the music; and to-day you attacked poor Mrs. Planter in a most unjustifiable way."
"I am not aware that I attacked her. I said her thoughts were concentrated on her daughter's future—"
"You know very well what you meant; and she knew. Cynics like you are always crying out against the follies and weaknesses of the world, and you have just as many yourselves. It is Hudibras over again—what you are 'inclined to' and what you 'have no mind to.'"
"I dare say you are right," he returned, with unusual gentleness; "but if you knew how the world has treated me, you would be more lenient in your judgment, you would understand how I have come to be misanthropic and bitter. Perhaps some day you may know."
She felt sorry for him; she liked the man, with all his faults; perhaps she was not superior to the womanly love of influence over one whom few attracted. But her clear sense prevented her being blinded by the sophism of his defence, and she said, impulsively,
"You expect leniency, but you show none. And, then, you are like a spoiled child, sulking, as you did last night, or running away, as you did more than once in New York, because somebody came into the room you did not like! I think suffering ought to make men stronger, not weaker, Mr. Ferrars."
"You are severe, but you don't understand—you can't." He beat the long, yellow grass, that sprang up beside the planks, with the blackthorn in his hand. "If I were under your influence always," he added, in a low voice, "I should become more tolerant, I believe. I should look at things from a different point of view."
"Oh! If I were your sister," laughed Miss Ballinger, "I should lecture you. I should keep you in better order. As it is, I can't think, judging by your conduct, that my presence has a very beneficial effect."