Maria laughed. “She was in an unusually tractable humour, Bessy. The fact is, a sovereign had arrived as well as the bank-note: and that she had changed.”
Bessy nodded her head. She knew Mrs. Bond of old. “I understand,” said she. “Was she very bad, Maria?”
“No; not then. But I can’t say what she may be before the day is over. She brought a handful of silver out of her pocket.”
“Now, mind, Maria—don’t give her up that note, let her ask for it ever so,” advised Bessy. “Keep it until winter.”
“If she will allow me,” replied Maria. “But she only resigned it on condition that I would return it to her if she asked for it. I promised that I would do so.”
“I should not: promise or no promise,” returned Bessy. “Keeping it would be for her good, you know, Maria.”
Maria shook her head. She could not be strong-minded, as Bessy was, acting for people’s good against their will; and she could not go from her promise. She returned the note to her purse, knowing that Mrs. Bond would have it, if she chose to demand it.
Maria was easily persuaded to remain for the day at Ashlydyat. She sat at the window in the height of enjoyment. It was enjoyment to Maria Godolphin: sitting there in perfect stillness on a calm summer’s day. The lovely flowers of Ashlydyat’s garden, its velvet lawns, were stretched out before her: the white walls of Lady Godolphin’s Folly rose in the distance; and Maria sat in an easy-chair in luxurious idleness, her fair white hands lying in her lap. Meta was away somewhere, fascinating the household, and all was rest. Rest from exertion, rest from care. The time came when Maria looked back on that day and believed it must have been paradise.
Janet sent a note to the Bank, to desire George to come up to dinner with Thomas. When Thomas arrived, however, he was alone. George was out, therefore the note had not been given to him. They supposed he would be up in the evening, and dined without him.
But the evening passed on, and he did not come. Thomas’s private opinion was that George must have remained to search for the missing deeds. Thomas could not be easy under such a misfortune—as it might in truth be called. The sum was by far too weighty to be lost with equanimity. And that was not all: there was the unpleasant uncertainty with regard to the disappearance. Thomas mentioned the matter in confidence amongst them. At least, to Maria and Janet; the other two had gone out with Meta. Janet observed that he appeared absorbed in thought, as if uneasy at something; and he readily acknowledged that he had been rendered uneasy by a circumstance which had occurred during the day: the missing of some deeds that they had believed to be in safe custody.