“I thought that probably you were deceiving yourselves,” said Durant, with some complacency, wondering at this depth of ignorance indeed, but extremely pleased with himself for having divined it, and thus finding a means of working. “Miss Nancy, if she marries Mr. Curtis, will be plain Missis, as you say, for all the world as if she had married the grocer at the corner.”
“Oh, the grocer! that is what she is never likely to do,” cried Miss Sarah Jane, with a conscious look towards the corner. The grocer was standing at the door in his apron—a good-looking young man, whose eyes were fixed, as Durant saw with some amusement, on himself, and with a decidedly hostile look. Miss Sarah Jane gave him a nod of airy fascination across the street. Perhaps but for this conversation she would not have been so gracious. Durant perceived that he himself was being presented in the light of a possible rival to the young tradesman, of whom he had spoken so lightly, and it was all he could do to keep his gravity in this very novel and unexpected conjuncture. He made an effort, however, and went on.
“You must know,” he said, “that an independent poor man like that very good-looking grocer—”
“Oh, poor! none so poor! he is better off than many folks that make a deal more show,” said Sarah Jane.
“That is precisely what I was going to say. An independent man in his position, may be really in much better circumstances than the son of a more important person. Sir John Curtis is not a man to be trifled with,” Durant went on, with a momentary half-amused compunction for this cruel slander upon poor Sir John. “He is stern in his own views; he is capable of withdrawing his son’s allowance altogether if he is dissatisfied with his marriage. I am very sorry to alarm you, but I feared you might be under some delusion, and this was what I wanted to say.”
Sarah Jane’s eyes had been growing wider and wider with alarm and wonder. She turned round upon her heel as upon a pivot.
“Now I think of it,” she said, “Matilda had better come and match her ribbon herself. It is only for the strings, and the bonnet is not more than half done—and, please, come and tell all this to mother yourself. Nancy’s a dear,” said the girl, with a look which entirely changed her aspect to her sympathetic companion. “She may have her faults, but she’s always been kind, and I can’t bear that she should be deceived. Come and tell it to them at home. Mother knows a deal—she’s cleverer than any of us; she’ll know if you’re right or wrong; but I won’t have Nancy put upon, not—” cried the girl, with a vehemence of regard which only the strongest asseveration could justify—“not if I was never to have another new dress for years and years!”
CHAPTER V.
THE unlikely pair retraced their steps rapidly, turning towards the house of the Bates’; but the effect of Durant’s revelation soon died off from the mind of Sarah Jane. She had done what duty required in taking him at once to her mother. Once told to that supreme authority, Sarah Jane felt that her mind was clear of all responsibility, and, indeed, as a matter of fact, she dismissed the burden of this new revelation long before her companion ceased his efforts to impress it upon her. She tried what she could to beguile him into lighter talk; she broke in upon him with lively observations, and little essays of friendly familiarity. The momentary agitation of sympathy which had almost interested Durant in her died away. She began to pout as he went on.
“Oh, please don’t talk for ever about Arthur; I ain’t in love with Arthur, though Nancy is. I think you might find another subject,” she said. “They make a deal too much of him at home; I think, and so does Matilda, that there are nicer-looking and as gentlemanlike-looking in Underhayes as he is. What do you think of Underhayes, Mr. Durant? Is not it a pretty little place? If I had my choice I would live in London, and every night of my life I’d go to a dance or to the play. I don’t pretend to be good, as some girls are. I shouldn’t go about among the poor, or sing in church. What I’d like, would be to go to a party every night, or else to the play.”