“Well, just the truth, my lady,” said Janet, “if it is true what folks are saying. I can’t believe it’s true. You are Lady Markham, I never heard anything against that, and he is your eldest. But they say he is not Sir Paul and hasn’t the property. I can’t tell how that can be.”
“It is true, though,” said Lady Markham, speaking low; even when there was an excellent use for it, it was not easy to repeat all the wrongs that her son had borne. “My son is not Sir Paul,” she said, “nor has he the Markham estates. He has an elder brother who has inherited everything. This has only been quite certain for two or three days. My boy—who had every prospect of being rich—is now poor. That is very grievous for him; but to those who love him,” said the indiscreet woman, her heart triumphing over her reason, “he is not changed; he is all he ever was, and more.”
“Neither the property nor the title?” said Janet, with a blank countenance. “Poor instead of being rich? Oh, it is not a thing to put up with—it is not to be borne! But I can’t see how it can be,” she cried; “poor instead of rich! If it wasn’t for one or two things, I should think it was a plot to disgust me—to separate him and me.”
“But,” said Lady Markham—she had never perhaps in her life before spoken with the cold energy of a taunt, with that desperate calm of severity, yet trembling of suspense—“that is in your own hands, Miss Spears. If you love him, no one can separate him from you.”
It was all she could do to get out the words; her breath went in the tumult of her heart.
“Oh—love him!” The trouble and disappointment on Janet’s face were quite genuine; every line in her countenance fell. “You know as well as I do that’s not everything, Lady Markham. You may like a man well enough; but when you were just thinking that all was settled, and everything as you could wish—and to find as he has nothing—not even the Sir to his name! Oh, it’s too bad—it’s too bad—it’s cruel! I would not believe father, and I can hardly believe you.”
“It is true, however,” Lady Markham said.
She watched the girl with a keenness of contempt, yet a breathless gasp of hope—emotions more intense than she had almost ever known before. She was fighting for her son’s deliverance—she who had delivered him into the toils. As for Alice, she stood with her face pressed against the window, and her hands upon her ears. She did not want either to hear or to see.
“Well!” said Janet, with a long breath, too deep for a sigh. “I am glad I came,” she added after a moment; “I would never have believed it, never! And I’m sure I am sorry for him—very, very sorry. After giving up the colony for my sake, and all! But I could not be expected to ruin all my prospects, could I, my lady? And me that had set my heart on being Lady Markham like you!” she cried, clasping her hands. This was a bitter reflection to Janet; her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know how I can face him to say ‘No’ to him,” she went on; “he will take it so unkind. But if you consider that I have another offer—a very good offer—plenty of money, and no need for me to trouble my head about anything. That would be different—very different from anybody that married Mr. Paul now.”
“Very different, Miss Spears. My son’s wife would be a poor woman; she would have to struggle with poverty and care. And it would be all the worse because he is not used to poverty; indeed, he could not marry—he has no money at all. She would have to wait for years and years.”