The Solitary Farm Part 15

"And that is just what I like least about his sermons," retorted the girl. "As a Christian he should be more merciful."

"You don't know anything about it," said Mrs. Coppersley tartly.

"I know what Christ preached," replied Bella quietly; "and Mr. Pence has not the spirit of His preaching."

"In what way, pray?"

"Mr. Pence does not do as he would be done by. I wonder how he would like to suffer the condemnation which he measures out so freely to other people."

"Silas Pence is a good man, and no condemnation is possible where he is concerned," cried Mrs. Coppersley fervently, and bounced into the house.

"In that case he should make allowance for those who are not good."

"Not at all," said the elder woman, stating her views uncompromisingly.

"The good shall go to heaven, and the wicked to h.e.l.l: that's Scripture."

"As translated by man," finished Bella neatly; "but the Sermon on the Mount, Aunt Rosamund----"

"Bella, you are irreligious," interrupted the lady, removing her hat and placing it on the kitchen-table. "I won't have freethinkers in my house."

Bella raised her finely-marked eye-brows. "Your house?"

"Yes," almost shouted Mrs. Coppersley violently, for she felt somewhat nervous as to what she was about to say, "my house. I didn't tell you before, as I have a kind heart, but it is time we understood one another. To-night I shall explain myself, so that you may understand your position."

"You shall explain yourself now," said Bella, pale but determined.

"I have no time," said her aunt brusquely; "Henry is coming to dinner."

"I don't care if Mr. Vand is coming to dinner twenty times over," said Bella, her eyes growing hard with anger. "You have said so much that you must say all, Aunt Rosamund."

"Don't bully and bounce me, miss."

"I shall act exactly as I please, and it is my pleasure that you would explain what you mean."

"I have to lay the cloth and see to the dinner. You know that Jane never can cook to Henry's liking. I daresay the meat is burnt and the----"

Mrs. Coppersley was about to pa.s.s into the scullery where the one small servant, over whom she tyrannised, slaved at the mid-day meal, when Bella caught her by the wrist. "How dare you, Bella?" cried the stout woman.

"Come into the drawing-room, out of Jane's hearing," whispered Bella fiercely. "I shall not wait another minute for an explanation. This house is either mine or yours."

"Very well," cried Mrs. Coppersley, bouncing towards the kitchen door, "If you will have it, you shall have it. I have tried to spare you, but----"

"Go on to the drawing-room, please," interrupted Bella imperiously, as she saw the small servant peeping round the corner; "there is no need for us to discuss private matters in public."

"The whole parish shall soon know what I am about to say," snapped Mrs.

Coppersley, and rolled towards the drawing-room.

"Rolled" is precisely the word to use in connection with Mrs.

Coppersley's way of walking, for she was an extremely stout, well-fed woman, large-limbed and clumsy. Her round, chubby face was rosy and her eyes were as black as her hair. She did not look uncomely, but there was something coa.r.s.e and plebeian in her appearance. Although she was in mourning for her late brother she could not altogether restrain her flamboyant taste, and therefore wore a red feather in the hat she had left in the kitchen, and yellow gloves, which she was now impatiently removing.

Outside it was extremely warm and brilliant with sunshine, but in the vast drawing-room the air was pleasantly cool and agreeable. The blinds being blue, only a faint light came through them since they were down, and the cerulean atmosphere was almost religious in its feeling. Bella, ever sensitive to the unseen, in spite of her ignorance of psychic phenomenon felt the grave influence, but her aunt, being of a coa.r.s.er fibre, bounced red-faced and hot into the room, openly cross at having been summoned to what was likely to prove a disagreeable interview.

"Henry will be here shortly," she said pettishly, "and he doesn't like to be kept waiting for his meals."

"On this occasion he must wait," said Bella dryly, "it will do him good."

"Don't speak of Henry in that tone, miss; you know he is the most amiable man in the world."

"Your speech about his impatience for dinner sounds like it. However, we need converse only for a few minutes. I understood you to say that this house is yours, Aunt Rosamund."

Mrs. Coppersley flopped down into one of the emerald arm-chairs and placed her pudgy hands on her stout knees. "It is," she said, glancing round the vari-coloured room with great pride. "The house is mine and the farm is mine, and Jabez's income of five hundred a year, well invested, is mine."

Bella grew pale. Mrs. Coppersley spoke with such conviction that she believed her to be telling the truth. "And what is left to me?" she demanded in a low tone, for the shock took away her breath.

"Your aunt's love," said Mrs. Coppersley, in a matter-of-fact way.

"Jabez asked me to look after you; and so long as you behave yourself I shall do so."

Bella pa.s.sed over this petty speech. "Do you mean to say that my father has left everything to you?" she asked pointedly.

"Everything," a.s.sented Mrs. Coppersley, with an air of triumph. "Jabez wasn't so rich as folk thought him, and although he had enough invested to give him five hundred a year, he had little ready cash. When my late husband died he left me a good sum. Jabez borrowed this and added it to his own, so that he might buy Bleacres. I agreed, but only on condition that Jabez should leave me the whole property when he died. I saw that the will was made, and Mr. Timson, the Cade Lane lawyer, is now proving it. When probate is obtained, my dear," ended Mrs. Coppersley amiably, "I shall marry Henry and will be happy for evermore."

"What about me?" gasped Bella, utterly overwhelmed.

"You can stay here until you marry," said Mrs. Coppersley coldly, "as I am a Christian woman, and wish to obey Jabez's request. He left you to me as a legacy, so I will look after you; only behave yourself."

"Do I ever do anything else?" asked Bella bitterly.

"Oh, dear me, yes," returned her aunt complacently. "You run after men."

Bella rose with a flushed cheek. "That is a lie."

Mrs. Coppersley rose, also in a violent rage and quite glad to vent her petty spite on one who could not retaliate. "Oh, I'm a liar, am I?" she said shrilly. "You call me a liar when I am only keeping you out of charity----"

"Stop!" Bella flung up her hand and spoke firmly. "You are not doing that, Aunt Rosamund. In one way or another you have persuaded my father into leaving you what is rightfully mine. But I shall see Mr. Timson, and read the will; you shall not have it your own way altogether."

Mrs. Coppersley snapped her large finger and thumb. "Go and see the will, by all means," she scoffed in a coa.r.s.e voice; "you won't find any flaw in it, as I was careful that it should be properly drawn up. I have a perfect right to the farm, as my money helped to buy it."

"So be it. Keep the farm, but give me the income. That, at least, you have no right to retain."

"I have the right of possession, which is nine points of the law, miss,"

said Mrs. Coppersley violently, "and the will is plain enough. Jabez did right to leave the money to me, and not to a chit of a girl like you, who would waste your father's hard-earned money on that wastrel from London."

"Of whom are you talking?"

"Don't pretend ignorance, miss, for I won't have it. I mean Mr. Lister, as he calls himself, though I daresay he is no better than he should be."

"You have no right to say that."

"I'll say what I like and do what I like. Remember I am mistress; and as you depend entirely on me, miss, I order you to give up all idea of this Lister scamp and marry Silas Pence, who is----"