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"But there's nothing wrong in the idea, granny," protested May, who was considerably puzzled by her grandmother's unusual demeanour.
"No, no, nothing wrong; only Mr. Bragg might not like it--he might be looking after a young wife, who knows? Anyway, we will keep our ideas to ourselves."
As she spoke, the latch of the garden-gate clicked, and, following May's glance, Mrs. Dobbs saw from the open window Owen Rivers advancing up the path towards the house.
The "gentleman of princely fortune," whose image had interposed between her shrewd apprehension and the facts before her, having melted away like a phantom, she perceived that here was a new influence to be reckoned with--a new force which, whether for good or ill, might help to shape her grandchild's future.
"May I come in?" asked Owen.
"Come in, Mr. Rivers."
Mrs. Dobbs felt as though she had invited embodied Destiny to cross her threshold--Destiny, in the prosaic guise of a blue-eyed, square-built young man, in a shooting-jacket and a wide-awake hat. But that Power does not often appear to mortals with much outward pomp and circ.u.mstance. We are like children who think a king must needs go about in royal robes, crowned and sceptred. But the decree which changes our lives is mostly signed by some plain figure in everyday clothes, whom we should not turn our heads to look upon.
Owen entered the little parlour, and came and stood opposite to Mrs.
Dobbs's chair, without any of the customary salutations. "Well," said he eagerly; "I have some news for you."
"Lord, ha' mercy! This is a day of news," muttered Mrs. Dobbs under her breath. Then she said aloud, "I hope it's good news?"
"I have found some work to do. Is that good?"
Mrs. Dobbs clapped her hands softly. "Very good," she said. Half an hour ago her approbation would have been more heartily expressed; but she was looking at him now with different eyes, and considering his prospects with a new and serious interest.
"You haven't asked me what the work is," said Owen, just a little disappointed by her quietude.
"I suppose it is _not_ stone-breaking? But if it is, I stick to my colours. Better that than nothing."
"You will say, Mrs. Dobbs, that I am luckier than I deserve to be. I am engaged as secretary to a man who is about to travel in Spain. I happen to know Spanish. Luck again; for I learnt it merely to amuse myself."
"Yes; I do think that isn't bad for a beginning, and I hope it will lead to something more. Who is the gentleman, if I may ask?"
Before Owen could answer, May, who had perched herself on the elbow of Jo Weatherhead's vacant chair, said, "I think I can guess. It's Mr.
Bragg."
"Mr. Bragg!" echoed her grandmother, as if doubtful of having heard aright.
"I remember hearing him talk of a journey into Spain, and of wanting to find a gentleman to go with him. Am I not right?"
"Quite right," answered Owen.
"Mr. Bragg! Well, that _is_ strange!" whispered Mrs. Dobbs to herself.
Owen had taken a chair, and sat bending forward, with his elbows on his knees, pleating and puckering in his fingers the brim of his soft felt hat. He had not hitherto so much as looked towards May; now he straightened himself in his chair, and, fixing his eyes on her earnestly, asked--
"And what do _you_ say to my news, Miss Cheffington?"
"I say, as granny says, that I am very glad," she answered, smiling, but speaking in a subdued tone.
"It's more to the purpose to ask what Canon and Mrs. Hadlow say to it,"
put in Mrs. Dobbs. "I hope they are pleased?"
"I dare say--I have no doubt--I--I have not seen Aunt Jane yet. The fact is, I am on my way to College Quad; but I thought I would look in here as I pa.s.sed, and tell you that I have followed your advice, Mrs. Dobbs."
The direct road from Owen's lodgings to College Quad was a short, and nearly straight, line. To visit Jessamine Cottage "on the way" from one to the other was a.n.a.logous to going round by Edinburgh on a journey from London to Leeds.
"I wanted a little patting on the back and cheering up, you see,"
continued Owen.
"Cheering up!" cried May. "Oh! but I remember that Mrs. Hadlow said you always liked to be pitied for having your own way. You must require a great deal of consolation, truly, for the prospect of travelling in that delightful country!"
Owen nodded, and carefully fitted one pleat of his hat-brim into another, as he answered, "I dare say my appet.i.te for consolation is bigger than you imagine."
"I think it is Mr. Bragg who needs cheering up. Poor man, he little knows what a peremptory, protestant, and positive secretary he will have!" retorted May, with a half shy, half saucy, wholly mischievous, glance.
"Not at all! Now, that is just the kind of mistake which Aunt Jane so often makes. But if I serve, I mean to serve honestly, and to be thoroughly obedient; I have told Mr. Bragg so." And Owen proceeded to justify himself, and to develop his views as to the duties of a secretary, with superfluous energy and earnestness.
The old woman sat watching them, and, as she looked, she was amazed at her own previous blindness. How could she--how could any one--have seen them together without perceiving that they were falling over head and ears in love with each other? These two young creatures seemed, in her old eyes, like a couple of children playing in a pleasure-boat. But she knew that the river was running towards the sea--widening and deepening with an irrevocable current. There was room for anxiety about the future, no doubt. Yet a sense of relief in her mind--as if she had escaped out of some oppressive atmosphere--revealed more and more distinctly how repugnant the idea of May's marrying Mr. Bragg had really been to her.
"Sarah Dobbs," said she to herself severely, "you're a worldly, false old woman! You're a nice one to find fault with that poor creature Pauline! What were _you_ doing, pray, but sacrificing your conscience to the mammon of unrighteousness? The Lord be praised, the dear child is better, and purer, and honester than either of us old harridans!"
Then she broke into the conversation between May and Owen, which by this time had sunk into a low murmur, and asked abruptly whether the engagement with Mr. Bragg was to lead to any further employment.
Owen repeated what Mr. Bragg had said to him, as nearly as he could remember it; and Mrs. Dobbs thought it hopeful.
"Joshua Bragg is an honest man--a man to be relied on: one of the few who generally means what he says, all that he says, and nothing but what he says," said she, nodding thoughtfully.
May was glad to find granny doing justice to Mr. Bragg; and remarked to herself that, if it were possible to conceive granny's ever being capricious, she would have called her capricious to-day in her varying tone about that worthy man.
"I shouldn't wonder," pursued Mrs. Dobbs, "if he put you in the way of getting permanent employment--supposing you please him. He might get you a place out in South America with his son. Young Joshua is in a great way of business there, I'm told. Would you go if you had the chance?"
she asked suddenly, looking at Owen with a searching gaze.
"Undoubtedly," he replied at once.
"And you wouldn't mind being--being banished like from England?"
"Mind? Oh, well, of course I should prefer a thousand a year and a villa on the Thames; but a fellow who has been an idler up to four and twenty must take any chance of earning something, and be thankful for it."
"_That's_ right." Mrs. Dobbs drew a long breath of relief.
"It would only be for a year or two; I should come back," added Owen wistfully.
Then he shook hands and went away, and Mrs. Dobbs and her grand-daughter were left to discuss the news he had told them. May chatted away cheerfully, even gaily. When Mr. Weatherhead arrived the subject was talked over again. Jo's pleasure in the prospect opening before Mr.
Rivers was somewhat tempered by his sense of the incongruity involved in "a gentleman like that, brimful of learning, and belonging to the old landed gentry," being under the orders of Joshua Bragg!
"There's no contradiction at all, Jo, if you look at it fairly," said Mrs. Dobbs. "Mr. Bragg will command where he has a right to--that is, in matters that he knows better than Mr. Rivers, for all his book-learning.
It isn't as if Joshua wanted to teach the young man how to be a gentleman. I don't say it's not a good thing to be a gentleman, but it ain't exactly a paying business nowadays, if ever it was, which I doubt."
"Ah, more's the pity!" said Jo, shaking his head.
"Why, if I was a gentleman--or a lady--I shouldn't agree with you there, Jo. If gentlehood don't mean something above and beyond what can be paid for, 'tis a poor business. It seems to me just as pitiful for gentry to expect money's worth for their old family, high breeding, and fine manners, as it is for the grand workers of the world to grumble because they can't have power over the past, as well as the present and the future. Mr. Bragg ain't one of that sort. You'll never catch _him_ inventing a family crest, or painting wild beasts on his carriage."