“Yes, it must be.”
He forced a laugh. “Well, it will be news for your father,” he said. “A clever game you have played, Miss Jos! Never tell me that it is not in women’s nature to play the coquette after this. Why, if I had treated you as you have treated me—and made a fool of me! Made a fool of me!” he reiterated passionately, unable to control his chagrin—“I should deserve to be whipped!”
And afraid that he would break down before her and disgrace his manhood, he turned about, sprang down the steps and savagely spurning, savagely trampling under foot the shrivelled leaves, he strode across the garden to the house. “The little fool!” he muttered, and he clenched his hands as if he could have crushed her within them. “The little fool!”
He was angry, he was very angry, for hitherto fortune had spoiled him. He had been successful, as men with a single aim usually are successful. He had attained to most of the things which he had desired. Now to fail where he had deemed himself most sure, to be repulsed where he had fancied that he had only to stoop, to be scorned where he had thought that he had but to throw the handkerchief, to be rejected and rejected by Jos—it was enough to make any man angry, to make any man grind his teeth and swear! And how—how in the world was he to explain the matter to his uncle? How account to him for his confidence in the issue? His cheeks burned as he thought of it.
He was angry. But his wrath was no match for the disappointment that warred with it and presently, as passion waned, overcame it. He had to face and to weigh the consequences. The loss of Jos meant much more than the loss of a mild and biddable wife with a certain charm of her own. It meant the loss of Garth, of the influence that belonged to it, the importance that flowed from it, the position it conferred. It meant the loss of a thing which he had come to consider as his own. The caprice of this obstinate girl robbed him of that which he had bought by a long servitude, by much patience, by many a tiresome ride between town and country!
There, in that loss, was the true pinch! But he must think of it. He must take time to review the position and consider how he might deal with it. It might be that all was not yet lost—even at Garth.
In the meantime he avoided seeing his uncle, and muttering a word to Miss Peacock, he had his horse saddled. He mounted in the yard and descended the drive at his usual pace. But as soon as he had gained the road, he lashed his nag into a canter, and set his face for town. At worst the bank remained, and he must see that it did remain. He must not let himself be scared by Ovington’s alarms. If a crisis came he must tackle the business as he alone could tackle business, and all would be well. He was sure of it.
Withal he was spared one pang, the pang of disappointed love.
CHAPTER XXIV
Arthur was at the bank by noon, and up to that time nothing had occurred to justify the banker’s apprehensions or to alarm the most timid. Business seemed to be a little slack, the bank door had a rest, and there was less coming and going. But in the main things appeared to be moving as usual, and Arthur, standing at his desk in an atmosphere as far removed as possible from that of Garth, had time to review the check that he had received at Josina’s hands, and to consider whether, with the Squire’s help, it might not still be repaired.