Part 54 (1/2)

”I don't know,” said George, wiping the damp from his brow. ”Not hearing from town, I think. Verrall!”

”What?”

”Suppose, when I do hear, it should not be favourable? I feel in a fever when I think of it.”

”You took too much of that heating port this evening,” said Mr. Verrall.

”I dare say I did,” returned George. ”A man at ease may let the wine pa.s.s him: but one worried to death is glad of it to drown care.”

”Worried to death!” repeated Mr. Verrall in a reproving tone.

”Next door to it. Look there! They have tracked us and are coming in search.”

Two or three dark forms were discerned in the distance, nearer the Folly. Mr. Verrall pa.s.sed his arm within George G.o.dolphin's and led him towards the house.

”I think I'll go home,” said George. ”I am not company for a dog to-night.”

”Nonsense,” said Mr. Verrall. ”The tables are ready. I want to give you your revenge.”

For once in his life--and it was a notable exception--George G.o.dolphin actually resisted the temptation of the ”tables;” the chance of ”revenge.” He had a heavy trouble upon him; a great fear; perhaps more than Mr. Verrall knew of. Ay, he had! But who would have suspected it of gay, careless George, who had been so brilliant at the dinner-table? He forswore for that one night the attractions of the Folly, including syren Charlotte, and went straight home.

It was not much past ten when he reached the Bank. Maria was astonished: the Verrall dinner-parties were generally late affairs. She was sitting alone, reading. In her glad surprise she ran to him with an exclamation of welcome.

George pressed her tenderly to him, and his manner was gay and careless again. Whatever scandal Prior's Ash might choose to talk of George, he had not yet begun to neglect his wife.

”It was rather humdrum, darling, and I got tired,” he said in answer to her questions. ”What have you been doing with yourself? Have you been alone all the evening?”

”Since mamma left. She went home after tea. George, I want to tell you something mamma has been talking of; has been suggesting.”

George stretched himself on the sofa, as if he were weary. Maria edged herself on to it, and sat facing him, holding his hand while she talked.

”It was the new carriage that brought the subject up, George. Mamma introduced it this morning. She says we are living at too great an expense; that we ought not to spend more than half as much as we do----”

”What?” shouted George, starting up from the sofa as if he had been electrified.

Maria felt electrified; electrified by the sudden movement, the word, the tone of anger. Nay, it was not anger alone that it bore, but dismay; fear--she could hardly tell what sound. ”George,” she gasped, ”what is the matter?”

”Tell me what it is that Mrs. Hastings has been saying?”

”George, I think you must have mistaken my words,” was all that Maria could reply in the first moment, feeling truly uncomfortable. ”Mamma said this morning that it was a pity we did not live at less expense, and save money; that it would be desirable for the sake of Meta and any other children we may have. I said I thought it would be desirable, and that I would suggest it to you. That was all.”

George gazed at Maria searchingly for the s.p.a.ce of a minute or two. ”Has Prior's Ash been saying this?”

”Oh no.”

”Good. Tell Mrs. Hastings, Maria, that we are capable of managing our own affairs without interference. I do not desire it, nor will I admit it.”

Maria sat down to the table with her book; the one she had been reading when George came in. She put up her hands, as if absorbed in reading, but her tears were falling. She had never had an ill word with her husband; had never had any symptom of estrangement with him; and she could not bear this. George lay on the sofa, his lips compressed. Maria rose, in her loving, affectionate nature, and stood before him.