As Janet’s gaze, no longer shy, dwelt pointedly on her dress by way of justifying the question, Lady Markham shrank back a little. “It is not—quite settled,” she said faintly; “there are some—unexpected difficulties.”
“Oh!” Janet’s eyes grew round as her exclamation, an expression of surprise and profound disappointment went over her face. “Will he not be a baronet then, after all?” she said.
“These are family matters which I have not entered into with any one,” said Lady Markham, recovering herself. “I cannot discuss them now—unless——” here her voice faltered, “you have any right——”
“I should think a girl just had a right where all her prospects are concerned,” said Janet. “It was that brought me here. I wanted you to know, my lady, that I’ve advised Mr. Paul against it—against the emigration plan. If he goes it won’t be to please me. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want to go myself—and that’s what I’ve come here for. If so be,” said Janet, speaking deliberately, “as anything is to come of it between him and me, I should be a deal happier and a deal better pleased to stay on at home; and I thought if you knew that you’d give up opposing. I’ve said it to him as plain as words can say. And if he will go, it will be your blame and not mine. It will be because he thinks you’ve set your face so against it, that that’s the only way.”
Lady Markham trembled so much that she could not stand. She sank down upon a chair. “Pardon me,” she said involuntarily, “I have not been well.”
“Oh, don’t mention it, my lady,” said Janet, taking a chair too. “I was just a going to ask you if you wouldn’t sit down and make yourself comfortable.” She had got over her shyness; but that which liberated her threw Lady Markham into painful agitation. It seemed to her that she had the fate of her son thrown back into her hands. If she withdrew all opposition to this marriage, would he indeed give up his wild ideas and stay at home? If she opposed it, would he persevere? and how could she oppose anything he had set his heart upon after all he had to renounce on his side, poor boy? She did not know how to reply or how to face such a dilemma. To help to make this woman Paul’s wife—or to lose Paul altogether—what a choice it was to make! Her voice was choked by the fluttering of her heart.
“My son,” she said, faintly, “has never spoken to me on the subject.”
“It is not likely,” said Janet, “when he knows he would meet with nothing but opposition. For my part I’m willing, very willing, to stay at home. I never went in with the emigration plan. Father is a good man, and very steady, and has been a good father to us; but whenever it comes to planning, there’s no telling the nonsense he’s got in his head.”
“Does your father know that you have come to see me?” Lady Markham said. With Spears himself she had some standing-ground. She knew how to talk to the demagogue, understood him, and he her; but the young woman she did not understand. Paul’s mother, notwithstanding all her experience, was half afraid of this creature, so straightforward, so free of prejudice, so—sensible. Yes, it was sense, no doubt. Janet did not want to go away. She had no faith in her father, nor in the man who was going, she hoped, to be her husband. Lady Markham, herself capable of enthusiasm and devotion, and who could so well, in her maturity, have understood the folly of a girl ready to follow to the end of the world for love, was almost afraid of Janet. She was cowed by her steady look, the bargain she evidently wished to make. She took refuge as it were, in Spears, mentally appealing to him in her heart.
“No,” said Janet, “no one knows. He is away from home on one of his speechifyings. Don’t think I hold with that, my lady. England’s good enough for me, and things as they are; and if so be as you will make up your mind not to go against us, Mr. Paul shall never go to foreign parts through me. But he is Sir Paul, ain’t he?” the young woman said.