“So this is the mode Anglaise!” said the old man when they were gone; “it is not polite; it is to show, I suppose, that we are not welcome; but Madame Suzanne need not give herself the trouble. If she will do her duty to her relations, I do not mean to stay.”
“I do not know what it is about,” said Everard; “but she always does her duty by everybody, and you need not be afraid.”
On this hint M. Guillaume began, and told Everard the whole matter, filling him with perplexity. The story of Miss Susan’s visit sounded strangely enough, though the simple narrator knew nothing of its worst consequences; but he told his interested auditor how she had tempted him to throw up his bargain with Farrel-Austin, and raised hopes which now she seemed so little inclined to realize; and the story was not agreeable to Everard’s ear. Farrel-Austin, no doubt, had begun this curious oblique dealing; but Farrel-Austin was a man from whom little was expected, and Everard had been used to expect much from Miss Susan. But he did not know, all the time, that he was driving her almost mad, keeping back the old man, who had promised that evening to let her know the issue of his thoughts. She was sitting in a corner, speechless and rigid with agitation, when the two came in from the dining-room to “join the ladies;” and even then Everard, in his ignorance, would have seated himself beside her, to postpone the explanation still longer. “Go away! go away!” she said to him in a wild whisper. What could she mean? for certainly there could be nothing tragical connected with this old man, or so at least Everard thought.
“Madame will excuse me, I hope,” said Guillaume blandly; “as it is the mode Anglaise, I endeavored to follow it, though it seems little polite. But it is not for one country to condemn the ways of the other. If Madame wishes it, I will now say the result of my thoughts.”
Miss Susan, who was past speaking, nodded her head, and did her best to form her lips into a smile.
“Madame informs me,” said M. Guillaume, “that Monsieur Herbert is better, that the chances of le petit are small, and that there is no one to give to the child the rente, the allowance, that is his due?”
“That is true, quite true.”
“On the other hand,” said M. Guillaume, “Giovanna has told me her ideas—she will not come away with me. What she says is that her boy has a right to be here; and she will not leave Viteladies. What can I say? Madame perceives that it is not easy to change the ideas of Giovanna when she has made up her mind.”
“But what has her mind to do with it,” cried Miss Susan in despair, “when it is you who have the power?”
“Madame is right, of course,” said the old shopkeeper; “it is I who have the power. I am the father, the head of the house. Still, a good father is not a tyrant, Madame Suzanne; a good father hears reason. Giovanna says to me, ‘It is well; if le petit has no right, it is for M. le Proprietaire to say so.’ She is not without acuteness, Madame will perceive. What she says is, ‘If Madame Suzanne cannot provide for le petit—will not make him any allowance—and tells us that she has nothing to do with Viteladies—then it is best to wait until they come who have to do with it. M. Herbert returns in May. Eh, bien! she will remain till then, that M. Herbert, who must know best, may decide.”