‘That man!’ cried the Colonel, astounded. ‘What man? Bellendean?’
‘Oh, how can you talk! What objections could there be to—— Henry, wake yourself up, for goodness’ sake! It is the man—the man you would never tell me of—the schoolmaster—the Scotchman. Go, go! and put a stop to it. I have been hunting for you high and low. Who can tell what they are settling all by themselves? Henry, I tell you go and put a stop to it!’
The Colonel put down the pot upon the hall table. He was quite bewildered. ‘The Scotchman?’ he said; ‘the—the—schoolmaster?—with Joyce? I suppose, my dear, it must be one of her old friends?’
‘I suppose, my dear, it is the man you—never told me of,’ cried Mrs. Hayward fiercely. ‘The man she was to marry. Go, I tell you, and put a stop to it, Henry!’
‘I put a stop to it!’ he said. The Colonel grew red like a girl—he grew pale—he wrung his hands. ‘Elizabeth, my dear, you know all about that better than I ever could do; you understand—such things? How could I—put a stop to it?’ In his trouble he paced up and down the hall, and knocked against Baker, who was hanging about in the hope of hearing something, and ordered him off in a stentorian voice. ‘What are you doing here, sir? Be off, sir, this moment!’ cried the Colonel. Then he added, apologetic yet angry, ‘These servants take a great deal upon them. You should teach them their proper place.’
‘Henry,’ cried Mrs. Hayward, ‘it is not like you to save yourself behind the servants. You must come with me, at least. I insist upon it. What authority have I over her? If I must interfere, it can only be as representing you. They may have settled everything by this time,’ she cried, and seized her husband’s arm. It was not to support him, as he very well knew, but to drag him to the sacrifice.
Andrew had risen: he had gone towards his love, holding out his arms. His figure, not graceful in itself, with the long frock-coat coming down a little too low, and putting him out of drawing, showed against the light; while Joyce, trembling, pressed against the window, shrinking from his advance, seemed to stand on the defensive, with a pale and panic-stricken face. When the Colonel saw this scene, he no longer needed any stimulant. He dropped his wife’s arm, and, stepping forward quickly, put his hand upon the intruder’s shoulder. ‘Hey, sir! don’t you see the young lady is afraid of you?’ he cried.
Andrew turned round at once with a quick recovery, and instantly extended his hand. He required not a moment to recover himself, being primed and ready for whatever might happen. ‘How do you do, Cornel?’ he said; ‘I’m extremely glad to see you. I was telling Mrs. Hayward—as I presume that lady is, though Joyce, being so shy, did not introduce me—I was telling her that this happy meeting would be incomplete without a sight of you.’
‘What do you want here, sir?’ cried the Colonel. ‘What have you to do with my daughter?’ Then Colonel Hayward’s natural courtesy checked him in spite of himself. ‘I—I beg your pardon,’ he said, after a moment. ‘Perhaps I’m making a mistake—perhaps it’s me you want, and not my daughter. Joyce, no need to be frightened, my love, when your father’s here.’
Andrew had not given way an inch. He had no want of courage. He confronted the angry warrior without flinching. ‘What do I want here, Cornel?’ he said. ‘I see you have forgotten me. I have just come to see her. It is natural I should want to see the young lady I am engaged to. You took her away in such a hurry, I had no time to make any arrangement. But nobody will doubt my right to come and see her, I suppose. Joyce, my dear one——’