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Page 28
"No, he isn't. He went to Kendal three days ago about his fleeces.
Whitney's carpet-works have made him a very good offer. Did not the
squire speak of it?"
"No."
"Well he knew all about it. He met Steve, and Steve told him. The squire
has been a little queer with us lately, Charlotte. Do you know what the
trouble is? I thought I would have you up to tea, and ask you; so when
Sandal was up here this morning, I said, 'Let Charlotte come, and have a
cup of tea with me, squire, I'd be glad.' And he said, 'When?' And I
said, 'This afternoon. I am fair lonely without Steve.' And he said,
'I'm agreeable. She'll be glad enough to come.' And I said, 'Thank'ee,
squire, I'll be glad enough to see her.' But what _is_ the matter,
Charlotte? The squire has been in his airs with Steve ever so long."
Then Charlotte's face grew like a flame; and she answered, in a tone of
tender sadness, "Father thinks Steve loves me; and he says there is no
love-line between our houses, and that, if there were, it is crossed
with sorrow, and that neither the living nor the dead will have marriage
between Steve and me."
"I thought that was the trouble. I did so. As for the living, he speaks
for himself; as for the dead, it is your grandmother Sandal he thinks
of. She was a hard, proud woman, Charlotte. Her two daughters rejoiced
at their wedding-days, and two out of her three sons she drove away from
their home. Your father was on the point of going, when his brother
Launcie's death made him the heir. Then she gave him a bit more respect,
and for pretty Alice Morecombe's sake he stayed by the old squire. Ten
years your mother waited for William Sandal, Charlotte."
"Yes, I know."
"Do you love Steve, Charlotte? I am Steve's mother, dear, and you may
speak to me as if you were talking to your own heart. I would never tell
Steve either this way or that way for any thing. Steve would not thank
me if I did. He is one of them that wants to reach his happiness in his
own way, and by his own hand. And I have good reasons for asking you
such a question, or I would not ask it; you may be sure I have, that you
may."
Charlotte had put down her cup, and she sat with her hands clasped upon
her lap, looking down into it. Ducie's question took her by surprise,
and she was rather offended by it. For Charlotte Sandal had been taught
all the reticences of good society, and for a moment she resented a
catechism so direct and personal; but only for a moment. Before Ducie
had done speaking, she had remembered that nothing but true kindness
could have prompted the inquiry. Ducie was not a curious, tattling,
meddlesome woman; Charlotte had never known her to interfere in any
one's affairs. She had few visitors, and she made no calls. Year in and
year out, Ducie could always be found at home with herself.
"You need not tell me, dear, if you do not know; or if you do not want
to tell me."
"I do know, Ducie; and I do not mind telling you in the least. I love
Stephen very dearly. I have loved him ever since--I don't know when."
"And you have always had as good and as true as you have given. Steve is
fondly heart-grown to you, Charlotte. But we will say no more; and what
we have said is dropped into my heart like a stone dropped into deep
water."
Then they spoke of the rector, how he was failing a little; and of one
of the maids at Seat-Sandal who was to marry the head shepherd at
Up-Hill; and at last, when there had been enough of indifferent talk to
effectually put Steve out of mind, Ducie asked suddenly, "How is Harry,
and is he doing well?"
This was a subject Charlotte was glad to discuss with Ducie. Harry was a
great favorite with her, and had been accustomed to run to Up-Hill
whenever he was in any boyish scrape. And Harry was _not_ doing well.
"Father is vexed and troubled about him, Ducie," she answered. "Whenever
a letter comes from Harry, it puts every thing wrong in the house.
Mother goes away and cries; and Sophia sulks because, she says, 'it is a
shame any single one of the family should be allowed to make all the
rest uncomfortable.'"
"Harry should never have gone into the army. He hasn't any resisting
power, hasn't Harry. And there is nothing but temptation in the army.
Dear me, Charlotte! We may well pray not to be led into the way of
temptation; for if we once get into it, we are no better off than a fly
in a spider's web."
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