Hadria had a curious sensation of being so exposed, when Lady Engleton retreated behind her “good and wise men,” and she had the usual feminine sense of discomfort in the feeling of presumption that it produced. Heredity asserted itself, as it will do, in the midst of the fray, just when its victim seems to have shaken himself free from the mysterious obsession. But Hadria did not visibly flinch. Lady Engleton received the impression that Mrs. Temperley was too sure of her own judgment to defer even to the wisest.
She experienced a pleasant little glow of humility, wrapping herself in it, as in a protecting garment, and unconsciously comparing her more moderate and modest attitude favourably with her companion’s self-confidence. Just at that moment, Hadria’s self-confidence was gasping for breath. But her sense of the comic in her companion’s tactics survived, and set her off in an apparently inconsequent laugh, which goaded Lady Engleton into retreating further, to an encampment of pure orthodoxy.
“I fear there is an element of the morbid, in all this fretful revolt against the old-established destiny of our sex,” she said.
The advance-guard of Professor Theobald’s party was coming up. The Professor himself still hung back, playing the Ancient Mariner to Joseph Fleming’s Wedding Guest. Most unwilling was that guest, most pertinacious that mariner.
Hadria had turned to speak to Dodge, who had approached, broom in hand. “Seems only yesterday as we was a diggin’ o’ that there grave, don’t it, mum?” he remarked pleasantly, including Hadria in the credit of the affair, with native generosity.
“It does indeed, Dodge. I see you have been tidying it up and clearing away the moss from the name. I can read it now. Ellen Jervis.—Requiescat in pace.”
“We was a wonderin’ wot that meant, me and my missus.”
Hadria explained.
“Oh indeed, mum. She didn’t die in peace, whatever she be a doin’ now, not she didn’t, pore thing. I was jest a tellin’ the gentleman” (Dodge indicated Professor Theobald with a backward movement of the thumb), “about the schoolmarm. He was talkin’ like a sermon—beautiful—about the times wen the church was built; and about them as come over from France and beat the English—shameful thing for our soldiers, ’pears to me, not as I believes all them tales. Mr. Walker says as learnin’ is a pitfall, wich I don’t swaller everything as Mr. Walker says neither. Seems to me as it don’t do to be always believin’ wot’s told yer, or there’s no sayin’ wot sort o’ things you wouldn’t come to find inside o’ yer, before you’d done.”
Hadria admitted the danger of indiscriminate absorption, but pointed out that if caution were carried too far, one might end by finding nothing inside of one at all, which also threatened to be attended with inconvenience.