'This is a pleasant prospect,' he said, but did not explain whether he alluded to the landscape or to his marriage. He said no more to force further confidence from her.
'Come,' said he, roughly, and he turned suddenly round, 'you shall see the house. You shall be shown what I have in it, all the rooms and the furniture, also the cowsheds, and the dairy—everything. You shall see what will be yours. You would get no other man with so much as I have.'
'Not to-day, Mr Langford. Let me go home. I should see nothing to-day. My eyes are full, and my heart fuller.'
'Then go,' he said, and reseated himself at the table.
She moved towards the door. He had his chin on his hand, and was looking at the grate. She hesitated, holding the handle.
'Hah!' exclaimed Langford, starting up. 'Did you hear that? a-fluttering down the passage? That was Mrs. Veale, trying to listen, but could hear nothing; trying to peep, but could see nothing, because I have covered every chink. Come here! come here, Mrs. Veale!'
As she did not respond, he rang the bell violently, and the pale woman came.
'Come here, Mrs. Veale! show the future mistress out of the house! Not by the kitchen, woman! Unbar the great door. Show her out, and curtsey to her, and at the same time take your own discharge.'
'"When one comes in the other goes out," as the man said of the woman in the weather-house,' remarked Mrs. Veale with a sneer. She curtsied profoundly. 'There's been calm heretofore. Now comes storm.'
CHAPTER XXXII.