Mrs. Dorriman Volume I Part 18

She had been walking up and down one day to obtain the amount of exercise she conceived necessary to her well-being, the day had been damp and she kept to the gravel in front of the house.

Jean, who was at the open window, to use her own expression, trying to get strong, was talking in her rich guttural voice to Mrs. Dorriman, who was in the room, though out of sight, and was watching her.

Conscious of observation--though only the observation of an old woman--Grace, who was proud of her way of moving, stepped forwards and backwards with still more daintiness than usual. She heard Jean say--

"What gars Miss Rivers walk yon way, hippity hop from ane side till another?"

And then in a moment she answered her own question--

"Ou, aye, the gravel's hard; and she'll have corns."

Grace retreated, with a feeling of hatred against her. This little affront was the cause of her impertinence to Mrs. Dorriman, and all that had followed.

Nothing could be done that night, and when the long chilly evening came to an end the sisters crept into bed. They had come to no resolution, they only intended to go away; but it may be noted that in this emergency Grace's superiority failed to a.s.sert itself--it was Margaret to whom she turned; Margaret, who, barely beyond childhood, was to think for both.

The last thing Mr. Sandford wanted was to have the difficulty solved in any way derogatory to the position he had taken up, of befriending two girls who had no real claim upon him. If they left his house, all Renton would hear of it, and put their own conclusion upon it.

Like all men who act and speak in a pa.s.sion he was very angry if he was taken at his word. He found it so easy to forget his harsh sayings, that he never could understand that other people should have any difficulty in doing so.

He had wished to wound Grace and bring her down, and then was annoyed by her retreat. Mrs. Dorriman had so often smarted from his tyranny in old days that she could fully understand and sympathise with the girls; and the incessant rudeness of Grace to herself did not prevent her feeling for her.

Mr. Sandford had implied, and almost said, that he had offered Grace, so to speak, to Mr. Drayton, who would have none of her. She was womanly enough to resent the insult for Grace, as representing girlhood, and she was so indignant with her brother about this that she, for the time, lost all sense of dread. He would not come upstairs, but he sent to request her to go to him to his own room, where he was sitting sending long puffs of smoke across the room. He saw her glance at his pipe, and laid it down--the act in itself spoke of a changed feeling towards her.

She keenly remembered in old days how persistently he had made her write for him and talk to him, while the fumes of his pipe had made her feel so ill she could hardly do either.

"Well! what is to be done?" he began, looking at her keenly underneath his s.h.a.ggy brows.

"I am sure I do not know," she answered, helplessly.

"Well, you had better think. What is the use of being a woman if you cannot arrange things?"

And Mrs. Dorriman thought; and then spoke out her thoughts--a thing new to her when her brother was in question.

CHAPTER IX.

Mrs. Dorriman, like most shy people, spoke quickly when she had anything to say that cost her an effort, and she said rather abruptly, though with a little deprecating air, "You see, you were wrong--you must feel that now."

"I feel nothing of the kind, and I do not see it, either. This is a new tone for you to take with me."

"It is a right tone just now, you asked me to help to see what could be done. Grace can never forgive what you said--never."

"Why not?"

"Was there any truth in it? Did you really speak to Mr. Drayton about her?"

Mr. Sandford sat looking straight before him. He could not quite remember at first how it had been. Had Mr. Drayton spoken first, or had he mentioned Grace to him in the first instance? Then he remembered, "Drayton spoke of Margaret. He said something about her admiringly. I did not want him to have any notion of Margaret--I did not know how far it might go. I wished him to like Grace, and I did say something. Yes, that is true. He would not see it, and I am not surprised; but, at any rate, he led up to it, he spoke first."

"Then it is not quite so bad for her. I may tell them this?"

"You may tell them anything you like."

"I only wish to tell them the truth."

"Just as you please."

"Brother!" and Mrs. Dorriman leaned forward a little, and her gentle face flushed a little, "these children are living here with you by your wish; you must not make it hard for them."

"Saul among the prophets! Why, you are coming out in quite a new light."

Mrs. Dorriman shrank back again. She might have answered him and said that for these girls she had more courage than for herself, but she knew the wisdom of silence and she held her peace.

"What do you think they will do?" He asked the question with a.s.sumed indifference.

"I think they will go away. They are both high-spirited girls. Margaret feels it so much--she feels any slight offered to Grace more even than Grace does herself; she is perfectly devoted to her sister."

"You must prevent their going--at any rate in this way," he said, not looking at her, but looking straight into the fire.

"How can I prevent it?" said the poor woman, helplessly; she felt as though life was very hard to her.

He did not answer her, but went on looking straight before him.

Then an inspiration came to her. "If I went with them somewhere, after a time perhaps they would come back."

"That would do," he said, slowly.

"It would cost something," she said, always nervous when money matters were in question, and looking at him anxiously.

"You can have any money you want," he said, carelessly. "When would you go?"

"We should have to go at once--to-morrow. I am quite sure the girls will want to be off at daylight." She thought to herself that had she been so insulted she would not have waited till daylight. "I think it will be better to go as soon as possible, and Jean will take care of you."

"I am not afraid of myself, thank you; it is only going back to the days before you came."

She said no more, but wis.h.i.+ng him good-night she went upstairs.

To-morrow gave but little time for any preparation, and then she had to arrange where she could go with the girls. In this matter she could be guided perhaps by their wishes. She called Jean, who generally sat up for her, and told her in concise words what was to happen.

Jean was fairly taken aback, not unnaturally her first thought was about herself. "Is it me, ma'am, that is going to be left to look after Mr.

Sandford? I shall never be able to get on with him."

"Yes you will, dear Jean, you please him already, he is always saying how well everything is done."

"Oh, I'm not afeard for him when he's in a good way," said Jean, stoutly, "but what will I do when he gets _rampagious_? I'll be feared of my life of him then."

"Oh, Jean, do not make difficulties," said poor Mrs. Dorriman; "it is hard enough, and in the wide world I do not know where I am going with these girls!"

"That's bad," said Jean, sympathising fully with the position of affairs; "it's a hard case to go to an unkent place, with other people's children too!" She made no more difficulties, she put everything ready, but she strongly advised Mrs. Dorriman to prevent the girls going early.