And her mistress was so firm that Yates felt reluctantly compelled to obey orders.
An hour passed; and Mrs. Marsden still sat before the fire, alone with her thoughts in the silent house. And then a totally unexpected sound startled her. The front door had been opened and shut; there were footsteps on the stairs: the master of the house had returned, to resume the conversation.
But to resume it in a very different tone.—He took off his hat and coat, came to the fire, warmed his hands; and then, resting an elbow on the mantelpiece, smilingly looked down at his wife.
"Jane, I'm penitent.... Really and truly, I'm ashamed of myself for letting fly at you just now. But you did rile me awfully by saying you hadn't got the money. Anyhow, I've come back to ask for pardon."
"Or have you come back to ask for the money again?"
"No, no. Wash that out. If you don't want to part, there's no more to be said. Forget all about it. Wash it all out. The word is, As you were—eh?... Old Girl?"
He was leaning down towards her, putting out his hand; and she was shrinking away from him, watching him with terror in her eyes. Before the hand could touch her face, she sprang from the chair and threw it over, to make a barrier against his movement.
"Janey! What's the matter with you? You naughty girl— I've apologised, haven't I? Let bygones be bygones—won't you?"
She had run round the table, and was standing where he had stood an hour ago. As he advanced she dodged away from him, keeping the length or the breadth of the table between them.
"Janey? What are you playing at? Hide and Seek—Catch who, Catch can? How silly you are!"