"I thought it was possible," she said.
He walked across the room, came back, and stood before her. He looked down at her. "My dear," he said soberly--but she winced under the altered tone of his voice--"you will learn to know me better in a little while. Let me tell you at once that the purpose you have mentioned never entered my head, and that I am, I hope, incapable of it. There are people who might entertain it, and might carry it out to please a mistress or gratify a whim. There are, I know. But I am not one of that kind. I am too old to misuse power to please a woman, even the woman I have chosen. Nor," he continued, stopping her as she tried to speak, "is that all. In the management of an estate we do not act so hurriedly as you appear to think, my dear. Old tenants, like old wine, are the best, and, where it is possible, we keep them. I have sent, it is true, for those who were guilty yesterday, and I shall see that they are made to smart for it. But not to the extent of loss of home and livelihood."
"I am sorry," she muttered.
"There is no need, child," he answered. "And while we are on this, I may as well deal with another matter. I found your note and the jewel case on my table, and as you wish, so it shall be. I might prefer--indeed, I should prefer," he continued prosaically, "to see my wife properly equipped when she goes into the world. But that's a small matter. Lady Coke will always be Lady Coke, and if you will feel more free and more happy without them----"
"I shall," she muttered hurriedly, "if you please."
"So be it. They shall be returned to my goldsmith's as soon as a safe conveyance can be found. I wish, my dear," he added good-naturedly, "I could rid you of all troubles as easily."
"I am much obliged to you," she muttered, and could have shrunk into the floor with shame. For on a sudden she saw herself a horrid creature, imposing all, taking nothing, casting all the burden and all the stress, and all the inconvenience of their strange relations on him. In town and on the road she had fancied that there was something fine, something of the nature of abnegation and dignity in the return of the jewels, and in her determination that she would not go decked in them. But the simplicity with which he had accepted her whim and waived his own wishes, tore away the veil of self-deception, and showed Sophia the childishness of her conduct. She would not wear his jewels; but his name and his title, his freedom and his home she had not scrupled to take from him with scarce a word of gratitude, with scarce one thought for him!
The very distress she was feeling gave her, she knew, a sullen air, and must set her in a worse light than ever. Yet she was tongue-tied. He yielded freely, handsomely, generously; and that bare, that cold "I am much obliged to you" was all she could force her tongue to utter. She was beginning to feel that she was growing afraid of him; and then he spoke.
"There is one other matter," he said, "I wish to name. It touches Mrs. Stokes. She has been here a number of years, and I dare say like this room, smacks a little of good Queen Anne. If you think it necessary to discharge her----"
Sophia started.