held out a yard before him to keep the black off his clothes. He never could have been meant to be your brother and my son!”
Lucy laughed at the recollection. She had had the pleasure of beholding the spectacle. Lionel laughed now at the description. Their mirth did not please Lady Verner. She was serious in her complaint.
“Lionel, you would not have liked it yourself. Fancy his turning out of Verner’s Pride in that guise, and encountering visitors! I don’t know how it is, but there’s some deficiency in Jan; something wanting. You know he generally chooses to come here by the back door: this day, because he had got the black kettle in his hand like a travelling tinker, he must go out by the front. He did! It saved him a few steps, and he went out without a blush. Out of my house, Lionel! Nobody ever lived, I am certain, who possessed so little innate notion of the decencies of life as Jan. Had he met a carriage full of visitors in the courtyard, he would have swung the kettle back on his arm, and gone up to shake hands with them. I had the nightmare that night, Lionel. I dreamt a tall giant was pursuing me, seeking to throw some great machine at me, made of tea-kettles.”
“Jan is an odd fellow,” assented Lionel.
“The worst is, you can’t bring him to see, himself, what is proper or improper,” resumed Lady Verner. “He has no sense of the fitness of things. He would go as unblushingly through the village with that black kettle held out before him, as he would if it were her Majesty’s crown, borne on a velvet cushion.”
“I am not sure but the crown would embarrass Jan more than the kettle,” said Lionel, laughing still.
“Oh, I dare say: it would be just like him. Have you heard of the disgraceful flitting away of some of the inhabitants here to go after the Mormons?” added my lady.
“Jan has been telling me of it. What with one thing and another, Deerham will rise into notoriety. Nancy has gone from Verner’s Pride.”
“Poor deluded woman!” ejaculated Lady Verner. “There’s a story told in the village about that Peckaby’s wife—Decima can tell it best, though. I wonder where she is?”
Lucy rose. “I will go and find her, Lady Verner.”
No sooner had she quitted the room, than Lady Verner turned to Lionel, her manner changing. She began to speak rapidly, with some emotion.
“You observed that I looked well, Lionel. I told you I was flushed. The flush was caused by vexation, by anger. Not a week passes but something or other occurs to annoy me. I shall be worried into my grave.”
“What has happened?” inquired Lionel.
“It is about Lucy Tempest. Here she is, upon my hands, and of course I am responsible. She has no mother, and I am responsible to Colonel Tempest and to my own conscience for her welfare. She will soon be twenty years of age—though I am sure nobody would believe it, to look at her—and it is time that her settlement in life should, at all events, be thought of. But now, look how things turn out! Lord Garle—than whom a better parti could not be wished—has fallen in love with her. He made her an offer yesterday, and she won’t have him.”
“Indeed?” replied Lionel, constrained to say something, but wishing Lady Verner would entertain him with any other topic.
“We had quite a scene here yesterday. Indeed, it has been renewed this morning, and your coming in interrupted it. I tell her that she must have him: at any rate, must take time to consider the advantages of the offer. She obstinately protests that she will not. I cannot think what can be her motive for rejection: almost any girl in the county would jump at Lord Garle.”
“I suppose so,” returned Lionel, pulling at a hole in his glove.
“I must get you to speak to her, Lionel. Ask her why she declines. Show her”
“I speak to her!” interrupted Lionel, in a startled tone. “I cannot speak to her about it, mother. It is no business of mine.”
“Good heavens, Lionel! are you going to turn disobedient?—And in so trifling a matter as this!—trifling so far as you are concerned. Were it of vital importance to you, you might run counter to me: it is only what I should expect.”
This was a stab at his marriage. Lionel replied by disclaiming any influence over Miss Tempest. “Where your arguments have failed, mine would not be likely to succeed.”
“Then you are mistaken, Lionel. I am certain that you hold a very great influence over Lucy. I observed it first when you were ill, when she and Decima were so much with you. She has betrayed it in a hundred little ways: her opinions are formed upon yours; your tastes unconsciously bias hers. It is only natural. She has no brother, and no doubt has learnt to regard you as one.”
Lionel hoped in his inmost heart that she did regard him only as a brother. Lady Verner continued:
“A word from you may have great effect upon her: and I desire, Lionel, that you will, in your duty to me, undertake that word. Point out to her the advantages of the match: tell her that you speak to her as her father: urge her to accept Lord Garle: or, as I say, not to summarily reject him without consideration, upon the childish plea that she ‘does not like him.’ She was terribly agitated last night: nearly went into hysterics, Decima tells me, after I left her: all her burthen being that she wished she could go away to India.”
“Mother—you know how pleased I should be to obey any wish of yours: but this is really not a proper business for me to interfere with,” urged Lionel, a red spot upon his cheek.
“Why is it not?” pointedly asked Lady Verner, looking hard at him and waiting for an answer.
“I do not deem it to be so. Neither would Lucy consider my interference justifiable.”
“But, Lionel, you take up wrong notions! I wish you to speak in my place, just as if you were her father; in short, acting for her father.