"How little girls understand," said she with sarcasm. "Tell me now, honestly, what did you think of him?"
Virginia remained a moment, searching her memory. Every minute of that afternoon was etched clearly in her mind's eye. "Mims did not like him at all," said she. "She thought he meant to be rude. But I thought that he looked—very unhappy."
"A case of mutual love at first sight, evidently," was the scornful comment. "Well, shall you have him, Virgie? I am to make you the formal offer of his hand."
"Mother, I think—I think I had better leave you to drink some tea and rest," said the meek Virginia. "I really can't understand what you mean, you are talking wildly, and I am afraid the long, hot journey has unnerved you."
"Stop, Virgie, don't go out. I forbid it. You must stay and listen to what I have to say. Before saying it, I wanted to find out just how much had passed between you, and I understand things a little better after what you tell me. Well! In short, I have what Mr. Gaunt calls a business offer to put before you, and you have until to-morrow afternoon's post in which to make up your mind."
Virginia obediently seated herself upon a chair opposite her mother, who, between sips of tea, told her of the offer made by Gaunt.
The elder woman's mind was in a strange tumult—she hardly knew which was the keener feeling in her—her furious jealousy or her devouring desire that her daughter should accept the offer which would lift them out of poverty. On her journey down in the train, she had been growing used to the idea. The sense of outrage, which had stung her so smartly at first, subsided a little, in the light of other considerations. What chances of matrimony had Virginia? Since she had let young Rosenberg slip through her fingers, her mother was beginning to see that she was not the kind of girl to seize chances, even should they present themselves. If Gaunt were serious in his wild plan, if it could be shown that he was financially solvent and able to do as he promised, then she had better swallow her feelings and take what she could get.
She told herself that it was one of those cases of sudden electric sympathy—of love at first sight. Yet she knew that she said this only to salve her conscience. She was, as her old lover had told her, no fool. She saw his conduct, all of a piece. Why had he taken up the mortgage on Lissendean? To have her in his power. Why did he wish to become her son-in-law? For the same reason. Try to deceive herself as she might, she knew that love had no place in the man's thoughts. When he had spoken of "getting a bit of his own back," he had spoken with a certain momentary glimpse of self revelation. He had uncovered a corner of a mind perverted, a mind which had brooded long upon a solitary idea of grievance until obsessed by it.
Mrs. Mynors, in her sub-conscious self, knew all this. Had she told her daughter, the girl must have recoiled shuddering from the prospect of such an alliance. As her old lover had foreseen, she was very careful not to tell her daughter anything of the kind. Her better nature had at first fought within her a little. She resolved that she would describe Gaunt's malevolence, his cold-blooded assurance. Then she would come forward, offer to share a part of Virginia's burden, decide that they must stand together and face what her own selfish, mean folly had brought upon them all. But, as she strove to envisage some of what such a step must cost her, she had cowered away from the picture.
She could not face beggary.