There was a long pause. Isaac looked once more from Rosalie’s graceful, shrinking figure to the other culprit, who stood with bent head, awaiting the storm of reproach and vituperation.
‘From the very first,’ pursued Isaac, still in that solemn and somewhat stern tone, ‘I did tell ’ee my mind plain, Mrs. Fiander. I did tell ’ee straight out, did n’t I? as I had n’t never fixed my thoughts on materimony. ’T was you as was set on it—’
‘Oh, I know,’ interrupted Rosalie. ‘I know it too well. Do not throw it in my face now!’
‘Throw it in your face, Mrs. F.! Who’s a-throwing o’ what in your face? All I do say is I did al’ays do my best for ’ee—don’t you go for to blame me, for blame I do not deserve.’
Both raised their heads and looked at him, astonished at the change of tone, for now the old man seemed to speak more in sorrow than in anger.
‘I did al’ays do my best for ’ee. I did al’ays think and act as kind as I could, and you did never once think of I. ’Ees, I did never interfere,’ he went on, more emphatically; ‘I left ye both to yourselves—did n’t I? I never comed in your way. But ye mid ha’ given me a thought.’
The penitent heads drooped again. What need had they to be reminded how guileless he had been, how unsuspicious, how chivalrous in thought and deed!
‘’Ees,’ went on Isaac, ‘I did leave ye to yourselves—I did ax ye to make friends. Do you mind how often I axed ye to be friends?’
True indeed; only too true! They had taken a base advantage of his confidence; they had profited of the opportunities he had given them only to be more and more unfaithful to him in their hearts.
‘I thought you ’d be different to what you do be,’ he continued, with increasing severity. ‘When Sam’el Cross did tell I as you ’d snap up Mrs. F., Richard, what did I say? Says I, “My nevvy bain’t a snapper!” D’ ye mind? I said the same thing to you. Well, I thought maybe you ’d say summat then—but not a word!’