'I really do not know what concern one has with the other,' said Jack. 'Stand aside that I may remove the poles; then go through yourself or let me pass.'
But she would not do this, or did not hear his demand. There was something brooding in her mind that must out before they separated.
'Yes,' she said, with suppressed emotion, 'we have a good deal to do with each other. You know what folk say of mother and of me; not that I care—no, not this.' She bit off a piece of the bark from the thorn twig and spat it forth. 'If there had been the smallest foundation in what they say, why did they not set the constables to work and have mother and me arrested and sent to prison?'
'No one has accused you of any crime.'
'But they do charge mother, and that is the same thing. You do. I remember what you said when we met last, on the undercliff. If the money we have now to spend were indeed yours, I would dash it in your face, shower it over your head, strew the ground with it, not keep one farthing. I would strip off my smart clothes and go forth in my old patched gown once more to peddle tapes and thimbles. You believe my mother is wicked? You believe it? Answer me.'
'Nothing, as you say, has been proved.'
'Then you have no right to accuse her. You have no right to believe us capable of having done it—of having one penny which is not justly our own.'
'I do not know what to think. Of one thing I am quite certain—you are blameless.'
'That is as much as saying that my mother is guilty. She could not do it. She could not do it. She would not do it. When did she ever cheat in a matter of a finger's breadth of ribbon. Did not she always sell thirteen for twelve, never eleven, never, never? I know my mother, I have known her since I was a little babe, and I never, never knew her do what was not just and true. She could not be a thief. As for these people around, all but Mrs. Jose, let them chatter and slander and backbite if they will. Let them think evil in their hearts, for their hearts are muddy wells that give forth naught but slime. But you—you should be nobler—better—and yet it is you—O! my mother, my dear innocent mother! my mother who——'