In the Year of Jubilee Part 36

'My dear girl, we have outgrown those ancestral prejudices.' Tarrant's humour never quite deserted him, least of all when he echoed the talk of his world; but his listener kept a grave face. 'We have nothing to do with Mrs. Grundy's morals.'

'But you believe in a morality of some kind?' she pursued with diffidence. 'You used the word "immoral" just now.'

Nancy felt no consciousness of the gulf that yawned between herself as she spoke now and the old self which had claimed 'superiority.' Her mind was so completely unsettled that she never tried to connect its present state with its earlier phases. For the most part, her sensations and her reflections were concerned with the crude elements of life; the exceptional moments she spent in a world of vague joys and fears, wherein thought, properly speaking, had no share. Before she could outlive the shock of pa.s.sion which seemed at once to destroy and to re-create her, she was confronted with the second supreme crisis of woman's existence,--its natural effects complicated with the trials of her peculiar position. Tarrant's reception of her disclosure came as a new disturbance--she felt bewildered and helpless.

He, preoccupied with the anxiety he affected to dismiss, had no inclination to debate ethical problems. For a while he talked jestingly, and at length fell into a mood of silence. Nancy did not stay much longer; they parted without mention of the subject uppermost in their thoughts.

They had no stated times of meeting. Tarrant sent an invitation whenever it pleased him. When the next arrived, in about a week, Nancy made reply that she did not feel well enough to leave home. It was the briefest letter Tarrant had yet received from her, and the least affectionate. He kept silence for a few days, and wrote again. This time Nancy responded as usual, and came.

To the involuntary question in his eyes, hers answered unmistakably. For the first few minutes they said very little to each other. Tarrant was struggling with repulsions and solicitudes of which he felt more than half ashamed; Nancy, reticent for many reasons, not the least of them a resentful pride, which for the moment overcame her fondness, endeavoured to speak of trivial things. They kept apart, and at length the embarra.s.sment of the situation held them both mute.

With a nervous movement, the young man pushed forward the chair on which Nancy usually sat.

'I see that you don't look well.'

Nancy turned to the window. She had unb.u.t.toned her jacket, and taken off her gloves, but went no further in the process of preparing herself for the ordinary stay of some hours.

'Did something in my letter displease you?' inquired her husband.

'You mean--because I didn't come? No; I really didn't feel well enough.'

Tarrant hesitated, but the softer feeling prevailed with him. He helped to remove her jacket, seated her by the fire, and led her to talk.

'So there's no doubt of it?'

Her silence made answer.

'Then of course there's just as little doubt as to what we must do.'

His voice had not a convincing sincerity; he waited for the reply.

'You mean that we can't keep the secret?'

'How is it possible?'

'But you are vexed about it. You don't speak to me as you used to. I don't think you ever will again.'

'It will make no change in _me_,' said Tarrant, with resolute good humour. 'All I want to be sure of is that you are quite prepared for the change in your prospects.'

'Are _you_, dear?'

Her tone and look deprived the inquiry of unpleasant implication. He answered her with a laugh.

'You know exactly how I regard it. In one way I should feel relief. Of course I don't like the thought that I shall have caused you to suffer such a loss.'

'I should never have that thought. But are you quite sure about the result to yourself? You remember saying that you couldn't be certain how--'

'How it will be taken at Champion Hill? I was going to tell you the latest report from there. It is very doubtful whether I should ever have to break the news.'

They did not look at each other.

'Everything, in that quarter, must be long since settled. Pray remember that I have no vast expectations. Quite certainly, it won't be a large fortune; very likely not more than your own. But enough to live on, no doubt. I know the value of money--no man better. It would be pleasant enough to play with thousands a year. But I don't grumble so long as I have a competency.'

Nancy meditated, and sighed.

'Oh, it's a pity. Father never meant me to be penniless if I married wisely.'

'I suppose not.'

'Of course not!'

They both meditated.

'It wouldn't be possible--would it?'

'Why,' he answered with a laugh, 'last time you were here you spoke in quite the other way. You were utterly miserable at the thought of living through it alone.'

'Yes--I don't know whether I could--even if--'

'What are you thinking of?'

'I've been talking with Mary,' she replied, after an uneasy pause.

'She has lived with us so long; and since father's death it seems quite natural to make a friend of her. No one could be more devoted to me than she is. I believe there's nothing she wouldn't do. I believe I might trust her with any secret.'

The obvious suggestion demanded thought.

'By-the-bye,' said Tarrant, looking up, 'have you seen your aunt again?'

Nancy's face changed to a cold expression.

'No. And I don't think I shall.'

'Probably you were as little sympathetic to her as she to you.'

'I don't like her,' was the brief reply.

'I've had curious thoughts about that lady,' said Tarrant, smiling. 'The mystery, it seems to me, is by no means solved. You think she really _is_ your aunt?'

'Impossible to doubt it. Any one could see her likeness to Horace at once.'

'Ah, you didn't mention that. I had a fear that she might be simply an adventuress, with an eye to your brother's money.'

'She is what she says, I'm sure. But I shall never ask her to come and see me again, and I don't think she'll want to. That would be fortunate if--if we wished--'

Tarrant nodded. At the same moment they heard a sound that startled them.

'That's a knock at the door,' said Nancy, rising as if to escape.