“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I have already explained to you why it is that I come in such an unprepared way. I met her to-night. Upon my life I did not lay any trap for her. I was awfully cut up about not seeing her; but we met by accident. And the fact was, when we met we couldn’t help showing that we understood each other. After that it was my first duty,” said Jack, with a thrill of conscious grandeur, “to come to you.”
“But do you mean to say,” said Mrs. Preston, wringing her hands, “that my Pamela—? Sir, she is only a child. She could not have understood you. She may like you in a way—”
“She likes me as I like her,” said Jack, stoutly. “It’s no use struggling against it. It is no use arguing about it. You may think her a child, but she is not a child; and I can’t do without her, Mrs. Preston. I hope you haven’t any dislike to me. If you have,” said Jack, warming up, “I will do any thing a man can do to please you; but you couldn’t have the heart to make her unhappy, and come between her and me.”
“I make her unhappy?” said Mrs. Preston, with a gasp. She who had no hope or desire in the world but Pamela’s happiness! “But I don’t even see how it came about. I—I don’t understand you. I don’t even know what you want of me.”
“What I want?” said Jack, turning round upon her with wondering eyes—“What could I want but one thing? I want Pamela—that’s very clear. Good heavens, you are not going to be ill, are you? Shall I call somebody? I know it’s awfully sudden,” said the young fellow ruefully. Nobody could be more sensible of that than he was. He got up in his dismay and went to a side-table where there stood a carafe of water and brought her some. It was the first act of human fellowship, as it were, that had passed between the two, and somehow it brought them together. Mrs. Preston took the water with that strange half-sacramental feeling with which a soul in extremity receives the refreshment which brings it back to life. Was it her friend, her son, or her enemy that thus ministered to her? Oh, if she could only have seen into his heart! She had no interest in the world but Pamela, and now the matter in hand was the decision for good or for evil of Pamela’s fate.
“I am better, thank you,” she said faintly. “I am not very strong, and it startled me. Sit down, Mr. Brownlow, and let us talk it over. I knew this was what it would have come to if it had gone on; but I have been talking a great deal to my child, and keeping her under my eye—”
“Yes,” said Jack, with some indignation, “keeping her out of my way. I knew you were doing that.”
“It was the only thing I could do,” said Mrs. Preston. “I did try to find another means, but it did not succeed. When I asked you what you wanted of me, I was not doubting your honor. But things are not so easy as you young people think. Your father never will consent.”
“I don’t think things are easy,” said Jack. “I see they are as crooked and hard as possible. I don’t pretend to think it’s all plain sailing. I believe he won’t consent. It might have been all very well to consider that three months ago, but you see we never thought of it then. We must just do without his consent now.”
“And there is more than that,” said Mrs. Preston. “It would not be right for him to consent, nor for me either. If you only found it out so suddenly, how can you be sure of your own mind, Mr. John—and you so young? I don’t say any thing of my own child. I don’t mean to say in my heart that I think you too grand for her. I know if ever there was a lady born it’s—; but that’s not the question,” she continued, nervously wringing her hands again. “If she was a princess, she’s been brought up different from you. I did think once there might have been a way of getting over that; but I know better now; and you’re very young; and from what you say,” said Pamela’s mother, who, after all, was a woman, a little romantic and very proud, “I don’t think you’re one that would be content to give up every thing for love.”