Volume Ii Part 17 (2/2)

Mr. Sandford knew that had he not been a fool and a timid fool, just when he ought to have been bold, he would not have lost, but there was just that grain of truth in the accusation which made it sting.

The reputation of a man in business--who has not the root of honesty where honesty must be a _sine qua non_--if respect is to be given; is like graceful species of fir trees to be found on Scottish hills and in many a wood, where, instead of sending their roots well down into the earth, as do the other kinds, they spread close to the surface, and the first rough wind throws them over and exposes the shallow hold they have of mother earth. Mr. Sandford's name, once holding so high a place, began to be mentioned with a little reticence. A shake of the head or a shrug of the shoulders says a good deal, though it cannot be repeated.

It has weight; gestures are often remembered when words, especially vague words, are forgotten.

Once a little beginning is made how easy is it to go on! People began again to remember that there was a great deal about poor Mr. Dorriman's affairs that had never been properly understood.

This feeling made itself felt. The first time Mr. Sandford wanted to carry through some measure with his usual heavy hand, the members of the Company, of which he was chairman, demurred. No one accused him openly, but there were certain things insinuated.

His quick sense of any failing towards himself made him instantly grasp the position of matters; and, though he mastered himself sufficiently to show no outward sign, he went home with rage in his heart, all the more terrible that it had had no outlet. It was at this inopportune time that Grace provoked him.

Mrs. Dorriman, in vain, tried to counsel the wilful girl, in private.

She heard her unmoved. Day after day there were scenes, in which her provoking words stung him.

”Why should I not say what I think, my dear Mrs. Dorriman? I really cannot hold my tongue.”

”I do not believe you are saying what you think. You speak on purpose to provoke my brother.”

”And why should he not be provoked? Life gives me a great many trials. I should, myself, prefer another home; but if I am obliged to live here I am not going to speak or be silent according to Mr. Sandford's wishes, and I do not intend being a hypocrite.”

”No one wishes you to be a hypocrite, but you need not say what you have to say disagreeably. You always make him angry, not so much by your words but by the way you speak the words.”

”Mr. Sandford is a tyrant, and the more you give in to him the less you are likely to get. I hope I may never live to be as frightened and timid as you are!”

”I am not too timid to say what I think, if it is right to say it.”

”Yes, you are! you look frightened, and that is enough for a man like your brother. Now I cannot really look frightened, because a man in a rage is to me a ridiculous object. It amuses me.”

”I cannot help saying you have had one lesson! You once provoked my brother in such a way that you and Margaret went away, and poor Margaret has now to suffer; you might see that you do harm and not good;” and Mrs. Dorriman felt so angry she did not measure her words. ”You do not suffer, but she does, and but for you, but for your way of speaking to my brother, she would be safe with us, poor child!”

She had effectually stopped her for the moment, and, herself moved by this statement in words of thoughts often present to her, she rose and left the room.

She had said nothing that Grace had not remorsefully said to herself, but the very truth in her speech made her angry.

She heard Mr. Sandford's voice. He was calling his sister's name. He met her on the stairs in tears.

She pa.s.sed him quickly, and indignant, and in a mood full of irritability, he strode into the drawing-room to Grace.

”I will have you know,” he said in his angriest and loudest voice, ”that I will not allow you to bully my sister.”

”No,” said Grace, languidly, ”you like to monopolise that privilege!”

”How dare you speak to me in that way?”

”I dare speak in any way to you. Why are you to be always studied? and why is every one to treat you as though you were a being of another sphere? You do bully your sister, and you would bully me if I were to be in the very least afraid of you. But I am not. Your sister has been trying to make me see that you ought to be humoured--she drew an affecting picture and then wept over it.”

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