Part 13 (1/2)

”And not a word either about our tiff, or your unkind threat to resign.”

”No--er, no. I shan't say another word about that.”

But unfortunately Mr. Mears had already said a word or two about it to Mr. Prentice the solicitor; and very soon Mr. Prentice came, tactlessly blundering, to see Mrs. Thompson.

No one could admire her more than Mr. Prentice--truly his admiration was so obviously genuine that people sometimes wondered what Mrs.

Prentice thought about it. Staunch friends.h.i.+p, skilled service, as well as the admiration, had won him many privileges; but he overstepped their limits now.

”I say. Is it all serene between you and Mears? Let me advise you--don't allow the breach to widen. I should consider it a great pity if you were to part with your right-hand man because of any trifling difference of--”

Mrs. Thompson cut him short.

”Mr. Prentice, there is one thing I cannot permit--even from you.” She was dignified, but terrible. ”I cannot, and I will not permit interference in what is my business, and my business only.”

”Sorry--very sorry.... No idea I should put you out like this.”

Mr. Prentice, with muttered apologies, hurried away, looking scared and abashed, carrying his square bowler all through the shop into the street, as if in his confusion he had forgotten that it belonged to his head.

IX

Shortly after this unlucky visit Mr. Prentice wanted to tell Mrs.

Thompson some startling news, but he did not dare. He consulted Mr.

Mears, and asked him to tell her; but Mears did not dare either. Mears advised the solicitor to take Yates into his confidence, and let Yates tell her.

So then at last Mrs. Thompson heard what so many people knew already--that Enid was carrying on with a young man in a very unbecoming fas.h.i.+on. Scandalized townsfolk had seen Enid at the school with him, in the museum with him, in the train with him;--they had met her at considerable distances from Mallingbridge, dressed for riding, with this groomlike attendant, but without a horse.

The news shocked and distressed Mrs. Thompson--during her first surprise and pain, it seemed to her as cruel as if Enid had driven a sharp knife into her heart. But was the thing true? Yates thought it was all true--none of it exaggerated.

Mrs. Thompson made a few discreet inquiries, ascertained the correctness of the facts, and then tackled Enid.

”Mother dear,” said Enid, with self-possession but slightly ruffled, ”no one could help liking Charles. I'm sure you'll like him when you see him.”

”Why haven't I seen him? Why have you left me to learn his name from the lips of servants and busybodies? Oh, Enid,” said Mrs. Thompson indignantly, yet very sadly, ”didn't you ever think how deeply this would wound me?”

”But, mother dear, you must have known that it would happen some day--that sooner or later I should fall in love.”

”Yes, but I never guessed that, when the time came, or you fancied it had come, you would keep me in the dark--treat me as if I was a stranger, and not your best friend.”

”Charlie didn't wish me to tell you about it just yet.”

”And why not?”

”He said we were both old enough to know our own minds, and we ought to be quite sure that we really and truly suited each other before we talked about it. But we are both sure now.”

”I think he has behaved very badly--almost wickedly.”