"Rum little woman," said Thickens to himself as he hurried out of the
bank. "Wonder whether she'd like another couple of fish."
Some men would have gone home to smarten up before visiting a lady to
take tea, but James Thickens was not of that sort. His idea of
smartness was always to look like a clean, dry, drab leaf, and he was
invariably, whenever seen, at that point of perfection.
Punctually at six o'clock he rapped boldly at Miss Heathery's door,
turning round to stare hard at Gemp, who came out eagerly to look and
learn, before going in to have a fit--of temper, and then moving round
to stare at Mrs Pinet's putty nose, rather a large one when flattened
against the pane, as she strained to get a glimpse of such an unusual
proceeding.
Several other neighbours had a look, and then the green door was opened.
The visitor passed in and was ushered into the neat little parlour
where the tea was spread, and Miss Heathery welcomed him, trembling with
gentle emotion, and admiring the firmness, under such circumstances, of
the animal man.
It was a delicious tea. There were Sally Lunns and toast biliously
brimming in butter. Six spoonfuls of the best Bohea and Young Hyson
were in the china pot. There was a new cottage loaf and a large pat of
butter, with a raised cow grazing on a forest of parsley. There were
thin slices of ham, and there were two glass dishes of preserve equal to
that of which Mrs Luttrell was so proud; and then there was a cake from
Frampton's at the corner, where they sold the Sally Lunns.
"I don't often get a tea like this, Miss Heathery," said Thickens, who
was busy with his red and yellow bandanna handkerchief spread over his
drab lap.
"I hope you are enjoying it," she said sweetly.
"Never enjoyed one more. Another cup, if you please, and I'll take a
little more of that ham."
It was not a little that he took, and that qualifying adjective is of no
value in describing the toast and Sally Lunns that he ate solidly and
seriously, as if it were his duty to do justice to the meal.
And all the while poor Miss Heathery was only playing with her tea-cup
and saucer. The only food of which she could partake was mental, and as
she sat there dispensing her dainties and blushing with pleasure, she
kept on thinking in a flutter of delight that all the neighbours would
know Mr Thickens was taking tea with her, and be talking about this
wicked, daring escapade on the part of a single lady.
He had not smiled, but he had seemed to be _so_ contented, _so_ happy,
and he had asked her whether she worked that framed sampler on the wall,
and the black cat with gold-thread eyes, and the embroidered cushion.
He had asked her if she liked poetry, and how long one of those
rice-paper flowers took her to paint. He had admired, too, her poonah
painting, and had at last sat back in his chair with one drab leg
crossed over the other, and looking delightfully at home.
Still he didn't seem disposed to come to the point, and in the depth and
subtlety of her cunning, Miss Heathery thought she would help him by
leading the conversation towards matrimony.
"Dr and Mrs Luttrell seem to age very much," she said softly.
"Ah! they do," said Thickens tightening his lips and making a furrow
across the lower part of his face. "Yes: trouble, ma'am, trouble."
"But they are a sweet couple, Mr Thickens."
"Models, madam, models," said the visitor, who became very thoughtful,
and made a noise that sounded like "Soop!" as there was a pause, during
which Mr Thickens took some tea.
"Have you seen Sir Gordon lately?" said Miss Heathery at last.
"No, madam. Back soon, though, I hope."
"Ah!" sighed Miss Heathery, "do you think he will ever--ahem! marry
now?"
"Never, ma'am," said Thickens emphatically. "Too old."
"Oh, no, Mr Thickens."
"Oh, yes, Miss Heathery."
There was another pause.
"How beautiful Mrs Hallam grows! So pale, and sweet, and grave. She
looks to me always, Mr Thickens, like some lovely lily. Dear
Millicent, it seems only yesterday that she was married."
Thickens started and moved uneasily, sending a pang that must have had a
jealous birth through Miss Heathery's breast.
"Seven years ago, Mr Thickens."
"Six years, eleven months, two weeks, ma'am."
"Ah, how exact you are, Mr Thickens!"
"Obliged to be, ma'am. Interest to calculate."
"But she looks thin, and not so happy as I could wish."
"Yes, ma'am. No, ma'am," said Thickens, paradoxically.
Again there was an uneasy change, for Mr Thickens's brow was puckered,
and a couple of ridgy wrinkles ran across the top of his head.
"And they make such a handsome pair."
Thickens nodded and frowned, but became placid the next moment as his
hostess said softly:
"That sweet child!"
"Hah! Yes! Bless her!--Hah! Yes! Bless her!--Hah! Yes! Bless her!"
Miss Heathery stared, for her guest fired these ejaculations and
benedictions at intervals in a quick, eager way, smiling the while, and
with his eyes brightening.
She stared more the next minute, and trembled as she heard her visitor's
next utterance, and thought of a visit of his seven years ago when she
was out, and which he had explained by saying that he had come to ask
her if she would like a pair of gold-fish, that was all.
For all at once Mr Thickens exclaimed with his eyes glittering:
"If I had married I should have liked to have had a little girl like
that."
There was a terrible pause here, terrible to only one though: and then,
in a hesitating voice, Miss Heathery went on, with that word "marriage"
buzzing in her ears, and making her feel giddy.
"Do you--do you think it's true, Mr Thickens?"
"What, that I never married?" he said sharply.
"No, no; oh, dear me, no!" cried Miss Heathery; "I mean that poor Mrs
Hallam is terribly troubled about money matters, and that they are very
much in debt?"
"Don't know, ma'am; can't say, ma'am; not my business, ma'am."
"But they say the doctor is terribly pinched for money too."
"Very likely, ma'am. Every one is sometimes."
"How dreadful!" exclaimed Miss Heathery.
"Very, ma'am. No: nothing more, thank you. Get these things taken
away, I want to talk to you."
As the repast was cleared away, Miss Heathery felt that it was coming
now, and as she grew more flushed, her head with its curls and great
tortoise-shell comb trembled like a flower on its stalk. She got out
her work, growing more and more agitated, but noticing that Thickens
grew more cold and self-possessed.
"The way of a great man," she thought to herself as she felt that she
had led up to what was coming, and that she had never before been so
wicked and daring in the whole course of her life.
"It was the violets," she said to herself; and then she started,
trembled more than ever, and felt quite faint, for James Thickens drew
his chair a little nearer, spread his handkerchief carefully across his
drab legs, and said suddenly:
"Now then, let's to business."
Business? Well yes, it was the great business of life, thought Miss
Heathery, as she held her hands to her heart, ready to pour out the long
pent-up sweetness with which it was charged.
"Look here, Miss Heathery," he went on, "I always liked you."
"Oh! Mr Thickens," she sighed, but she could not "look here" at the
visitor, who was playing dumb tunes upon the red and lavender check
table-cover, as if it were a harpsichord.
"I've always thought you were an extremely good little woman."
"At last," said Miss Heathery to herself.
"You've got a nice little bit of money in our bank, and also the deeds
of this house."
"Don't--don't talk about money, Mr Thickens, please."
"Must," he said abruptly. "I'm a money man. Now look here, you live on
your little income we have in the bank."
"Yes, Mr Thickens," sighed the lady.
"Ah! yes, of course. Then look here. Dinham's two houses are for sale
next week."
"Yes; I saw the bill," she sighed.
"Let me buy them for you."
"Buy them? They would cost too much, Mr Thickens."
"Not they. You've got nearly enough, and the rest could stay on. They
always let; dare say you could keep on the present tenants."
"But--"
That "but" meant that she would not have those excuses for going to the
bank.
"You'll get good interest for your money then, ma'am, and you get little
now."
"But, Mr Thickens--"
"I wish you to do it, ma'am, and I hope that you will."
"Oh! if you wish it, Mr Thickens, of course I will," she said eagerly.
"That's right; I do wish it. May I buy them for you?"
"Oh, certainly, Mr Thickens."
"All right, ma'am, then I will. Now I must get home and feed my fishes.
Good evening."
He caught up his hat, shook hands, and was gone before his hostess had
recovered from her surprise and chagrin.
"But never mind," she said, rubbing her hands and making two rings
click.
The contact of those two rings made her gaze down and then take and
fondle one particular finger, while, in spite of the abruptness of her
visitor, she gazed down dreamily at that finger, and sighed as she sank
into a reverie full of golden dreams.
"So odd and peculiar," she sighed; "but so different to any one else I
ever knew; and, ah me! how shocking it all is: so many people must have
seen him come."