“Oh, it’s too bad—it’s too bad—it’s cruel!” cried Janet once more. Then she relapsed into a grateful sense of her escape. “But I am very glad I came. I never would have believed it from any one but you. Oh, dear, oh, dear!” cried Janet again, “what a downfall for him, poor young gentleman—and he that was always so proud! I won’t say nothing to him, Lady Markham, not to make him feel it more. I will give out that I only came with father, and to see you, and ask you if you will recommend our shop. Now that all this is settled, I may as well tell you that I’ve almost quite made up my mind to marry Mosheer Lisiere, the new partner at our shop. He is a French gentleman, but he’s very well off, and very clever in the business. I think I cannot do better than take him,” said Janet, adding with a sigh the emphatic monosyllable, “now.”
Notwithstanding, however, that this was so comfortably settled, Janet turned round upon Lady Markham, who was going down stairs with her to make sure that Paul had no hankering after this sensible young woman, and to keep the government of the crisis generally in her own hands. Janet turned round upon her as they were going out of the room.
“But he will have your money?” she said.
“His sisters,” said Lady Markham, with a little gasp, for she had not expected this assault, and was not prepared for it—“his sisters,” she said “will have my money.”
Janet looked at her searchingly, and then, convinced at last, went slowly down stairs. She had lost something. Never more was she likely to have the chance of being my lady—never would she strike awe into the bosoms of the servants who had looked so suspiciously on her by returning as young Lady Markham. On the other hand, there was a satisfaction in being able to see her own way clear before her. She was very thoughtful, but she was not dissatisfied with her morning’s work. Supposing she had gone so far as to marry Paul Markham, a gentleman (she used the word now in her thoughts as an expression of contempt) without a penny! Janet shivered at the thought. Instead of that, she would step at once into a good house with a cook and a housemaid, and everything handsome about her. She was very glad that she had come to Lady Markham and insisted on knowing the truth.
As for Lady Markham, she was still quivering with the conflict out of which she had come victorious. But triumph was in her heart. She could afford now to be magnanimous. “You went away without any refreshment the last time you were here,” she said graciously, as she followed her visitor down stairs; “but you must take some luncheon with us to-day, your father and you.”
“Oh, thank you, my lady,” Janet cried, forgetting her dignity. This of itself almost repaid her for giving up Paul.
Lady Markham did not forget Janet’s request to see the house, which had been so boldly made when the girl had thought herself Paul’s future wife. She took her into the great drawing-room with a little gleam of malicious pleasure, to show her what she had lost, and watched her bewildered admiration and awe. By this time the happiness of knowing that her son was not going to forsake her had begun to diffuse itself through Lady Markham’s being like a heavenly balsam, soothing all her troubles. When they met going into the dining-room as the luncheon-bell rang, she put her hand within his arm, holding it close to her side for one moment of indulgence.
“You are not going away,” she said in his ear. “Thank God! Oh, why did you not make me happy sooner—why did you not tell me, Paul?”
“Going away,” he said perplexed, “of course I am going away.” And then her real meaning crossed him. “What, with Spears?” he said. “There has not been any thought of that for many a day.”