Joe Banks made his way straight through the place to the big house,
where, on knocking at the front door, it was evident that he was
expected, the girl saying quietly--
"Missus will see you in her room, Mr Banks."
"All raight, my lass," said Joe; and he followed the girl into a little
room off the hall, where the walls were ornamented with maps and
patterns, and shelves bearing rough account books, while here and there
stood a dingy-looking wooden model of some piece of machinery.
"Evening, mum," said Joe, quietly. "I've come, as you sent for me; but
it ain't no use. Things are just where they weer, and unless Master
Dick comes down, the works will keep shut."
"I didn't send for you about that," said Mrs Glaire, hastily.
"No!" said Joe, quietly.
"No," said Mrs Glaire, clearing her throat and speaking rather
excitedly. "You know I spoke to you once before, Joe Banks, about--
about--"
"There, don't beat about, Missus," said Joe, with a happy smile
spreading over his countenance. "I know, about Master Dick and my
Daisy."
"Yes," said Mrs Glaire, "and I spoke to my son about it."
"Did you?" chuckled Joe. "Well, I never spoke a word to my gal."
"I spoke to my son," continued Mrs Glaire, "and pointed out the
impossibility and impropriety of his proceedings."
"Did you, though?" chuckled Joe. "Why, lor' a mercy, Missus, what's the
good o' being so proud? Flesh and blood's flesh and blood all the world
over."
"I talked to him earnestly upon the point," said Mrs Glaire, not
heeding the interruption.
"Theer, theer," said Joe, smiling. "What good was it? why did you do
it?"
"And my son saw the force of my remarks, and gave me his promise that he
would see Daisy no more."
"Ah, he did, did he?" chuckled Joe. "He promised you that?"
"Yes," said Mrs Glaire, angrily; "and he has broken his promise."
"Of course he has," said Joe, chuckling. "You might ha' known it. When
a young couple like them comes together, it's no use for the old uns to
try and stop it. They'll manage it somehow. They're sure to be too
many for you."
"Joe Banks, you put me out of patience," cried Mrs Glaire, angrily.
"Can you not see how important this matter is?"
"Important? Of course I do," said Joe, quietly, "a very important step
for both of 'em."
"Listen!" cried Mrs Glaire; "things are coming to a crisis, and for
your sake they must be stopped."
"Strikes me," said Joe, bluntly, "that you're thinking a vast more of
yourself, Missus Glaire, than of me."
"I'm thinking of the future of my son and of your daughter, Mr Banks,"
said Mrs Glaire.
"So am I," said Joe, quietly; "but you're so proud."
"I tell you, man, that I met them this evening together in the wood,"
cried Mrs Glaire. "My son, with Daisy, your child, in his arms."
"Ah, you did, did you, Missus?" said Joe, chuckling. "He was kissing of
her, I suppose."
"Yes," exclaimed Mrs Glaire, indignantly.
"Well, I thought as much," said Joe, quietly. "The lass had got a rare
red face when I met her as she come in."
"Do you hear what I say?" cried Mrs Glaire angrily. "I say I saw them
to-night in the wood, after he had promised me to give her up."
"Oh, yes," said Joe, in a calm, unruffled way, "I heard you say so, and
if you'd been in the wood every day for the past month, I'd bet you'd
ha' sin 'em. They're often theer."
"Joe Banks!" cried Mrs Glaire, half rising from her chair.
"Theer, theer, Missus, what's the good o' making a fuss, and being so
proud? I've give my Daisy a good eddication, and she's quite a
scholard. She can write as pretty a letter as any one need wish to see,
and keeps accounts beautiful."
"Joe Banks, you are blind," cried Mrs Glaire, passionately. "I want to
save your child from shame, and you--"
"Howd hard theer--howd hard theer, Missus," cried Joe, rising; and his
rugged face flushed up. "I respect you, Missus Glaire, like a man, and
I don't wonder as it touches your pride a bit, but I won't sit here and
hear you talk like that theer. My Daisy's as good and honest a girl as
ever stepped, and I'd troost her anywheers; while, as to your son, he's
arbitrary, but you've browt him up as a gentleman, and do you think I'm
going to believe he means harm by my darling? No, no, I know better."
"But, you foolish man--"
"Missus Glaire, I won't call you a foolish woman; I've too much respect
for you; but I think so, and I think as it isn't me as is blind, but
some one else. Theer, theer, what's the good of kicking again it.
They've made up their minds to come together, and you may just as well
let 'em by the gainest coot, as send 'em a long ways round. But, theer,
Missus, don't think like that of your own flesh and blood. Why, Missus,
am I to respect your son more than you do yoursen?"
"Dick has deceived me," cried Mrs Glaire, with the tears running down
her cheeks.
"Well, but it won't anser," said Joe, calming down. "He's fond o' the
lass, and he was standing 'tween her and you," he continued, smiling at
his own imagery. "You was pulling one way and she was pulling the
other, and young love pulled the strongest. Of course it did, as was
very natural."
"Will you send Daisy away, and try and stop it?" cried Mrs Glaire,
angrily.
"No, I won't do neither," said Joe, stoutly. "Why should I? What call
is there for me to go again my master and make my lass miserable,
because you think she ain't good enough for your boy?"
"Then I must act, Joe Banks," said Mrs Glaire, "for see her he shall
not."
"Theer, theer, what can you do?" chuckled Joe. "Better let things go
their own way."
"I tell you, man, that for your daughter's sake, you ought to put a stop
to this."
"I can't stop it," said Joe, smiling; "nor no one else. You tried, and
found you couldn't, so what could I do? Let 'em alone, and my Daisy
shan't disgrace you; and look here, if it's money, I've got a thousand
pounds saved up, and it's all hers. Theer!"
"Man, man, what can I say to you?" said Mrs Glaire, checkmated by the
obstinate faith of Banks in her son.
"Nowt," said Joe, sturdily; "what's the good o' talking? Take my
advice, Missus Glaire--let things bide."
Mrs Glaire wrung her hands in despair as she gazed enviously in the
frank, bluff workman's face, and wished that she could feel the same
calm trust in the boy who had been her sole thought for so many years,
and as she gazed Joe Banks said sturdily:
"Look here, Missus, no offence meant; but they do say as marriages is
made in heaven."
"Yes, Joe, marriages," exclaimed Mrs Glaire, passionately.
"Well, I weer a-talking about marriages," said Joe, quietly; "so you
take my advice and let things bide."
"You will not take my advice, Banks," exclaimed Mrs Glaire. "But, look
here, I have warned you, I have begged of you to help me, and you
refuse."
"O' course I do," said Joe Banks, sturdily. "I'm not going to fight
again my own flesh and blood on a question o' position. Look here," he
continued, now speaking angrily, "I never was jealous of my old master's
rise in life, and I stuck to him and helped him, and he made me promise
to stick by and help his son; and that I'm going to do, for I don't
believe if he'd been alive he'd ha' been owt but pleased to see his boy
make up to my gal. It ain't my seeking: it's Master Dick's. He loves
she, and she loves he, and before I'll step 'twixt 'em, and say as one
workman's son's too big for the other workman's daughter, I'll be--.
No, I won't, not before you, Missus; and now good night, and I wish the
strike well ended."
Joe Banks swung out of the room with all the sturdy independence of a
man with a thousand pounds of his own, and then made his way home, while
Mrs Glaire sat as it were stunned.
"What can I do? What can I do?" she muttered; and then sat thinking
till Eve, looking very pale and ill, walked softly into the room, and
knelt by her side, turning up her sad face and red eyes to those of the
troubled mother.
"Aunt, dear," she whispered, "Dick has just come in, and gone up to his
room. Shall we ask him to come down to us?"
"What for?" said Mrs Glaire sharply.
"Don't you think, Aunt, we ought to try and forgive him, and win him
back?"
Mrs Glaire rose slowly, and went to a side table, from which she took a
Prayer-book, and read from it the sentence beginning, "I will arise," to
the end; and then, laying down the book, she took Eve's head between her
hands, and kissed her white forehead gently.
"Eve, my child, yes, we ought to try and forgive him; I, for his cruel
deceit of the woman who gave him birth; you, for his outrage against the
woman who was to be his wife. I will forgive him, but he must come--he
must arise and come, and seek for pardon first. While you--"
"Oh, Aunt, Aunt," moaned Eve, hiding her face in the elder's breast, "I
never knew before how much I loved him."
"And you forgive him, child?"
"Yes, Aunt, I forgive," said Eve, raising her head, and looking sadly in
the elder woman's face, "I forgive him, but--"
"But what, my child?"
"All that is past now--for ever."
Mrs Glaire did not speak for a few moments, but stood holding her
niece's hand, looking straight away from her into vacancy, while from
above there floated slowly down and entered the room the penetrating
fumes of the cigar Dick was smoking in his bedroom, as with his heels
upon the table, and a glass of spirits and water by his side, he amused
himself by reading a French novel, growling every now and then as he
came across some idiom or local phrase which he could not make out, and
apparently quite oblivious of the fact that three women were making
themselves wretched on his behalf.
Suddenly a low whistle was heard, and Mrs Glaire started.
"What was that?" she exclaimed.
Eve made no reply, but the two women remained listening, while it seemed
to them that the sound had also been heard by Dick, who apparently
crossed the room, and opened his window.
"He has gone to see what it means," said Mrs Glaire in a whisper. "I
hope the strike people are not out."
Her head was running upon certain proceedings that had taken place many
years before, during her husband's lifetime, when they had literally
been besieged; but her alarm was unnecessary, for had she been in her
son's bedroom, she would have seen that worthy open his window and utter
a low cough, with the result that Sim Slee threw up a note attached to a
stone, which the young man glanced at, and then said, "All right; no
answer," and Slee went quickly off.
Richard opened the note, glanced through it, and read passages half
aloud.
"H'm, h'm. So sorry to leave you as I did.--Heart very sore.--Oughtn't
to meet like that any more.--Pray let her tell father.--They would soon
agree if all known.--Will not come any more to be deceitful."
"Won't you, my dear?" said Dick, aloud. "We'll see about that. I think
I can turn you round my finger now, Miss Daisy. If not I'm very much
mistaken. But we'll see."
He finished the note by twisting it up and using it to re-light his
cigar, which he sat smoking, and listening as at last he heard his
mother and Eve pass his room on their way to bed--the former for the
first time in his life, without saying "Good night" to her son.
Volume 2, Chapter IV.