“Father says if I go he goes, too. Oh, the Squire can’t turn us out! What are we to do? We shall starve, all of us. Father’s not so young as he was, and he won’t get another job so easy, and Jim and Harry have got to go, too.”
“Won’t you trust me? I’ll do whatever I can. I’m sure he’ll let you stay.”
“The Squire’s a hard man,” muttered Fanny. “When he sets his mind to anything he does it.”
And now at luncheon, looking at Paul and his mother, Bainbridge and Miss Johnston, she felt a bitter enmity against them all because of their narrow cruelty. What did they know of the horrible difficulties of life, when their self-complacency made the way so easy to their feet?
“Fanny Bridger is no worse than anyone else, and she’s very unhappy. I’m glad I went to see her, and I’ve promised to do all I can to help her.”
“Then I wash my hands of you,” cried the elder Mrs. Castillyon violently. “But I can tell you this, that I’m shocked and scandalized that you should be quite dead to all sense of decency, Grace. I think that you should have some regard for your husband’s name, and not degrade yourself by pampering an immoral woman.”
“I think it was unwise of you to go to Bridger’s cottage,” said Paul gently.
“You’re all of you so dreadfully hard. Have you none you pity or mercy? Have you never done anything in your lives that you regret?”
Mrs. Castillyon turned to Grace severely.
“Pray remember that Miss Johnston is a single woman, and unaccustomed to hearing matters of this sort discussed. Paul has been very lenient. If he were more so, it would seem as if he connived at impropriety. It’s the duty of people in our position to look after those whom Providence has placed in our care. It’s our duty to punish as well as to reward. If Paul has any sense remaining of is responsibilities, he will turn out neck and crop the whole Bridger family.”