“And now he shoves you on one side; makes dirt of you,” said Jagger bitterly. “Can’t I see it in his face? And he’ll take a pride in doing it, and more by half if he thinks it ’ud hurt me, and that you’d care. But that’s more’n I ought to have said.”
“More than I ought to let you say,” she replied, “but for this once you shall say what you like and that must end it. It was here we fell out, and it’s here I’ll tell you that I know it was my fault. I meant to make it up with you; I’d thought about nothing else for hours on end; but there’s something—I don’t know what it is, if it isn’t fate—that pulls one way when we pull another, and pulls harder than us. And then I was mad with you because you took me at my word; and he came along and I married him whilst I was sore—married him at a Registry; no service or anything.”
He had never taken his eyes from her face; never sought to interrupt her during this recital. One foot he had raised and placed on the rock where she was sitting; and pity softened the deep lines on his forehead as the evening light mellows the harsh brows of Gordel.
“Nay, Nancy,” he said sorrowfully; and at the sound of her name, or perhaps at the tender note in his voice, the blood surged to her face again; “you mustn’t blame yourself, or anyway you mustn’t take all the blame. Father warned me, but I was too big a fool to heed him. I came that afternoon on purpose to make friends wi’ you, and it wasn’t fate but just hot temper ’at ruined all. It’s changed my nature, Nancy. When father brought word ’at you were married something fell like a thunderbolt i’ my head and has rested on my heart ever since; but I’m a different man—whether I’m better or worse I don’t fairly know.”
“Yes, you’re changed,” she said, “and so am I; but the thunderbolt that fells one tree lets more air in for that next to it. It’s me that’s crushed, not you. You’ll make your way, I can see, for this mishap has put ginger into you, and I shall be glad to see you get on. But James’ll move heaven and earth to ruin you: there’s naught so sure as that; and he’s a cleverer headpiece than you, Jagger.”
“He can soon have that,” said Jagger with a new note of modesty that was entirely free from sulkiness; “but he’s welcome to do his worst as far as I’m concerned. What’s it matter to me what he does? When we opened t’ new shop I was all for making money; but I’ve learned a hard lesson since then, and I know now ’at money can’t buy t’ best things. I don’t care whether we get on or we don’t so long as we can pay our way, and there’s little fear o’ that; but work’s life, and good work’s luxury—all t’ luxury I care about now, and Inman can’t ruin a man ’at builds on them foundations.”
“He’ll try to,” she answered.
“Let him try!” he answered. “He can shove as he likes but he’ll never shift t’ Cove—there’s some things too strong even for him. I’m on t’ old man’s side, Nancy, though I’m only a watcher. It’s a game between God and t’ devil; and as long as my father lives I’ll back ’at Inman doesn’t come out on top. Anyway, I’m walking t’ straight road, and he’s welcome to do his worst.”
“You sound like Hannah!”
She looked up as she spoke, and the sorrow he saw in her eyes—a sorrow shot through with yearning and pain—stabbed him to the heart and caused him to lose control. Before she could guess his purpose he had stooped and kissed her on the lips, and for a moment or two she yielded without protest. The next she rose to her feet and pushed him gently away.