"It has been unjust, has it not?" said he, piteously, thinking of his injuries. "So much of it has gone in that oilcloth business, and all for nothing!"
"I"m glad at any rate that Walter"s share did not go."
He knew that this was not the kind of conversation which he had desired to commence, and that it must be changed before anything could be settled. So he shook himself and began again.
"And now, Margaret, as the lawyers have finished their part of the business, ours must begin."
She had been standing hitherto and had felt herself to be strong enough to stand, but at the sound of these words her knees had become weak under her, and she found a retreat upon the sofa. Of course she said nothing as he came and stood over her.
"I hope you have understood," he continued, "that while all this was going on I could propose no arrangement of any kind."
"I know you have been very much troubled."
"Indeed I have. It seems that any blackguard has a right to publish any lies that he likes about any one in any of the newspapers, and that n.o.body can do anything to protect himself! Sometimes I have thought that it would drive me mad!"
But he again perceived that he was getting out of the right course in thus dwelling upon his own injuries. He had come there to alleviate her misfortunes, not to talk about his own.
"It is no good, however, talking about all that; is it, Margaret?"
"It will cease now, will it not?"
"I cannot say. I fear not. Whichever way I turn, they abuse me for what I do. What business is it of theirs?"
"You mean their absurd story--calling you a lion."
"Don"t talk of it, Margaret."
Then Margaret was again silent. She by no means wished to talk of the story, if he would only leave it alone.
"And now about you."
Then he came and sat beside her, and she put her hand back behind the cushion on the sofa so as to save herself from trembling in his presence. She need not have cared much, for, let her tremble ever so much, he had then no capacity for perceiving it.
"Come, Margaret; I want to do what is best for us both. How shall it be?"
"John, you have children, and you should do what is best for them."
Then there was a pause again, and when he spoke after a while, he was looking down at the floor and poking among the pattern on the carpet with his stick.
"Margaret, when I first asked you to marry me, you refused me."
"I did," said she; "and then all the property was mine."
"But afterwards you said you would have me."
"Yes; and when you asked me the second time I had nothing. I know all that."
"I thought nothing about the money then. I mean that I never thought you refused me because you were rich and took me because you were poor. I was not at all unhappy about that when we were walking round the shrubbery. But when I thought you had cared for that man--"
"I had never cared for him," said Margaret, withdrawing her hand from behind the pillow in her energy, and fearing no longer that she might tremble. "I had never cared for him. He is a false man, and told untruths to my aunt."
"Yes, he is, a liar,--a d.a.m.nable liar. That is true at any rate."
"He is beneath your notice, John, and beneath mine. I will not speak of him."
Sir John, however, had an idea that when he felt the wasp"s venom through all his blood, the wasp could not be altogether beneath his notice.
"The question is," said he, speaking between his teeth, and hardly p.r.o.nouncing his words, "the question is whether you care for me."
"I do," said she turning round upon him; and as she did so our Griselda took both his hands in hers. "I do, John. I do care for you.
I love you better than all the world besides. Whom else have I to love at all? If you choose to think it mean of me, now that I am so poor, I cannot help it. But who was it told me to be firm? Who was it told me? Who was it told me?"
Lady Ball had lost her game, and Mrs Mackenzie had been a true prophet. Mrs Mackenzie had been one of those prophets who knew how to a.s.sist the accomplishment of their own prophecies, and Lady Ball had played her game with very indifferent skill. Sir John endeavoured to say a word as to that other alternative that he had to offer, but the lamb was not lamb-like enough to listen to it. I doubt even whether Margaret knew, when at night she thought over the affairs of the day, that any such offer had been made to her. During the rest of the interview she was by far the greatest talker, and she would not rest till she had made him swear that he believed her when she said, that both in rejecting him and accepting him, she had been guided simply by her affection. "You know, John," she said, "a woman can"t love a man all at once."
They had been together for the best part of two hours, when Mrs Mackenzie knocked at the door. "May I come in?"
"Oh, yes," said Margaret.
"And may I ask a question?" She knew by the tone of her cousin"s voice that no question could come amiss.
"You must ask him," said Margaret, coming to her and kissing her.
"But, first of all," said Mrs Mackenzie, shutting the door and a.s.suming a very serious countenance, "I have news of my own to tell.
There is a gentleman downstairs in the dining-room who has sent up word that he wants to see me. He says he is a clergyman."
Then Sir John Ball ceased to smile, and look foolish, but doubled his fist, and went towards the door.
"Who is it?" said Margaret, whispering.
"I have not heard his name, but from the servant"s account of him I have not much doubt myself; I suppose he comes from Littlebath. You can go down to him, if you like, Sir John; but I would not advise it."
"No," said Margaret, clinging to his arm, "you shall not go down.
What good can you do? He is beneath you. If you beat him he will have the law of you--and he is a clergyman. If you do not, he will only revile you, and make you wretched." Thus between the two ladies the baronet was restrained.
It was Mr Maguire. Having learned from his ally, Miss Colza, that Margaret was staying with her cousins in Cavendish Square, he had resolved upon calling on Mrs Mackenzie, and forcing his way, if possible, into Margaret"s presence. Things were not going well with him at Littlebath, and in his despair he had thought that the best chance to him of carrying on the fight lay in this direction.
Then there was a course of emba.s.sies between the dining-room and drawing-room in the Mackenzie mansion. The servant was sent to ask the gentleman his name, and the gentleman sent up to say that he was a clergyman,--that his name was not known to Mrs Mackenzie, but that he wanted to see her most particularly for a few minutes on very special business. Then the servant was despatched to ask him whether or no he was the Rev. Jeremiah Maguire, of Littlebath, and under this compulsion he sent back word that such was his designation. He was then told to go. Upon that he wrote a note to Mrs Mackenzie, setting forth that he had a private communication to make, much to the advantage of her cousin, Miss Margaret Mackenzie. He was again told to go; and then told again, that if he did not leave the house at once, the a.s.sistance of the police would be obtained. Then he went.
"And it was frightful to behold him," said the servant, coming up for the tenth time. But the servant no doubt enjoyed the play, and on one occasion presumed to remark that he did not think any reference to the police was necessary. "Such a game as we"ve had up!" he said to the coachman that afternoon in the kitchen.
And the game that they had in the drawing-room was not a bad game either. When Mr Maguire would not go, the two women joined in laughing, till at last the tears ran down Mrs Mackenzie"s face.
"Only think of our being kept prisoners here by a one-eyed clergyman."
"He has got two eyes," said Margaret. "If he had ten he shan"t see us."
And at last Sir John laughed; and as he laughed he came and stood near Margaret; and once he got his arm round her waist, and Griselda was very happy. At the present moment she was quite indifferent to Mr Maguire and any mode of fighting that he might adopt.