“I will do nothing—to make my son unhappy,” said Lady Markham. How could she help but sigh to think that this was the woman that could make him happy? “He is not at home,” she added with a tone of relief.
“But he is Sir Paul? What is the good of deceiving me, when I can hear from any one—the gentleman down stairs, or any one.”
“Is there a gentleman down stairs?” Lady Markham thought some one must have come bringing news, perhaps, while she was shut up here.
Janet blushed crimson. Now she had indeed made a mistake. She avoided all reply which might have led to the discovery that Brown was the gentleman she meant; but this glaring error made her humbler.
“You are very kind, my lady, to speak so reasonable,” she said. “And if you like to tell Mr. Paul that I’m as set against emigration as you are—I am not one that will be put upon,” said Janet; “but if we’re both to be the same, you and me, both Lady Markhams,” here she paused a moment to draw a long breath, half overcome by the thought which in this scene became so dazzlingly real and possible, “I think it would be a real good thing if we could be friends.”
This thought, which fluttered Janet, made Lady Markham faint. The blood seemed to ebb away from her heart as she heard these words. She could not make any reply. It was true enough what the girl said, and if she should ever be Paul’s wife, no doubt his mother would be bound to be her friend. But she could not speak in reply. There was a pause. And Janet looked round the richly-furnished, luxurious room which was not indeed by any means so fine as she would have thought natural, with much curiosity and interest. The sight of all its comforts revealed to her the very necessities they were intended to supply, and which had no existence in her primitive state. Janet was not unreasonable. She was content with the acquiescence she had elicited. Lady Markham had not resisted her nor denounced her, as it was quite on the cards that she might have done. “You have a very grand house, and a beautiful place here, my lady,” she said. Lady Markham, more than ever subdued, made a faint sound of assent in reply. “I should like to see over it,” Janet said.
“Miss—Spears!”
“Oh, I don’t mind, if you would rather not! Some people don’t like them that is to come after them. I have said all I came to say, my lady. So perhaps I had better just say good-bye.”
And Janet rose and put forth a moist hand in a black glove. She had got these black gloves and the hat out of compliment to the family. Never had a friendly and hospitable woman been in a greater difficulty. “I am not seeing any one,” Lady Markham faltered; “but—should you not like some refreshment before you go?”
Janet paused. She would have liked to have eaten in such a house. What they eat there must be different from the common fare with which she was acquainted, and a man in livery to wait behind her chair was an idea which thrilled her soul; but when Lady Markham rang the bell, and ordered Mrs. Martin to have a tray brought up stairs, she started in high offence.