ELECTIONEERING.
And now, in these days,--the days immediately following the departure
of Luke Rowan from Baslehurst,--the Tappitt family were constrained
to work very hard at the task of defaming the young man who had
lately been living with them in their house. They were constrained
to do this by the necessities of their position; and in doing so by
no means showed themselves to be such monsters of iniquity as the
readers of the story will feel themselves inclined to call them.
As for Tappitt himself, he certainly believed that Rowan was so
base a scoundrel that no evil words against him could be considered
as malicious or even unnecessary. Is it not good to denounce a
scoundrel? And if the rascality of any rascal be specially directed
against oneself and one's own wife and children, is it not a duty to
denounce that rascal, so that his rascality may be known and thus
made of no effect? When Tappitt declared in the reading-room at
the Dragon, and afterwards in the little room inside the bar at
the King's Head, and again to a circle of respectable farmers and
tradesmen in the Corn Market, that young Rowan had come down to the
brewery and made his way into the brewery-house with a ready prepared
plan for ruining him--him, the head of the firm,--he thought that
he was telling the truth. And again, when he spoke with horror of
Rowan's intention of setting up an opposition brewery, his horror was
conscientious. He believed that it would be very wicked in a man to
oppose the Bungall establishment with money left by Bungall,--that
it would be a wickedness than which no commercial rascality could
be more iniquitous. His very soul was struck with awe at the idea.
That anything was due in the matter to the consumer of beer, never
occurred to him. And it may also be said in Tappitt's favour that
his opinion,--as a general opinion,--was backed by those around him.
His neighbours could not be made to hate Rowan as he hated him. They
would not declare the young man to be the very Mischief, as he did.
But that idea of a rival brewery was distasteful to them all. Most of
them knew that the beer was almost too bad to be swallowed; but they
thought that Tappitt had a vested interest in the manufacture of bad
beer;--that as a manufacturer of bad beer he was a fairly honest and
useful man;--and they looked upon any change as the work, or rather
the suggestion, of a charlatan.
"This isn't Staffordshire," they said. "If you want beer like that
you can buy it in bottles at Griggs'."
"He'll soon find where he'll be if he tries to undersell me," said
young Griggs. "All the same, I hope he'll come back, because he has
left a little bill at our place."
And then to other evil reports was added that special evil
report,--that Rowan had gone away without paying his debts. I am
inclined to think that Mr. Tappitt can be almost justified in his
evil thoughts and his evil words.
I cannot make out quite so good a case for Mrs. Tappitt and her two
elder daughters;--for even Martha, Martha the just, shook her head
in these days when Rowan's name was mentioned;--but something may
be said even for them. It must not be supposed that Mrs. Tappitt's
single grievance was her disappointment as regarded Augusta. Had
there been no Augusta on whose behalf a hope had been possible, the
predilection of the young moneyed stranger for such a girl as Rachel
Ray would have been a grievance to such a woman as Mrs. Tappitt. Had
she not been looking down on Rachel Ray and despising her for the
last ten years? Had she not been wondering among her friends, with
charitable volubility, as to what that poor woman at Bragg's End was
to do with her daughter? Had she not been regretting that the young
girl should be growing up so big, and promising to look so coarse?
Was it not natural that she should be miserable when she saw her
taken in hand by Mrs. Butler Cornbury, and made the heroine at her
own party, to the detriment of her own daughters, by the fashionable
lady in catching whom she had displayed so much unfortunate
ingenuity? Under such circumstances how could she do other than
hate Luke Rowan,--than believe him to be the very Mischief,--than
prophesying all manner of bad things for Rachel,--and assist her
husband tooth and nail in his animosity against the sinner?
Augusta was less strong in her feelings than her parents, but
of course she disliked the man who could admire Rachel Ray. As
regards Martha, her dislike to him,--or rather, her judicial
disapproval,--was founded on his social and commercial improprieties.
She understood that he had threatened her father about the
business,--and she had been scandalized in that matter of the
champagne. Cherry was very brave, and still stood up for him before
her mother and sisters;--but even Cherry did not dare to say a word
in his favour before her father. Mr. Tappitt had been driven to
forget himself, and to take a poker in his hand as a weapon of
violence! After that let no one speak a word on the offender's behalf
in Tappitt's house and within Tappitt's hearing!
In that affair of the champagne Rowan was most bitterly injured. He
had ordered it, if not at the request, at least at the instigation
of Mrs. Tappitt;--and he had paid for it. When he left Baslehurst he
owed no shilling to any man in it; and, indeed, he was a man by no
means given to owing money to any one. He was of a spirit masterful,
self-confident, and perhaps self-glorious;--but he was at the same
time honest and independent. That wine had been ordered in some
unusual way,--not at the regular counter, and in the same way the
bill for it had been paid. Griggs, when he made his assertion in the
bar-room at the King's Head, had stated what he believed to be the
truth. The next morning he chanced to hear that the account had been
settled, but not, at the moment, duly marked off the books. As far as
Griggs went that was the end of it. He did not again say that Rowan
owed money to him; but he never contradicted his former assertion,
and allowed the general report to go on,--that report which had been
founded on his own first statement. Thus before Rowan had been a week
out of the place it was believed all over the town that he had left
unpaid bills behind him.
"I am told that young man is dreadfully in debt," said Mr. Prong to
Mrs. Prime. At this time Mr. Prong and Mrs. Prime saw each other
daily, and were affectionate in their intercourse,--with a serious,
solemn affection; but affairs were by no means settled between them.
That affection was, however, strong enough to induce Mr. Prong to
take a decided part in opposing the Rowan alliance. "They say he owes
money all over the town."
"So Miss Pucker tells me," said Mrs. Prime.
"Does your mother know it?"
"Mother never knows anything that other people know. But he has gone
now, and I don't suppose we shall hear of him or see him again."
"He has not written to her, Dorothea?"
"Not that I know of."
"You should find out. You should not leave them in this danger. Your
mother is weak, and you should give her the aid of your strength.
The girl is your sister, and you should not leave her to grope in
darkness. You should remember, Dorothea, that you have a duty in this
matter."
Dorothea did not like being told of her duty in so pastoral a manner,
and resolved to be more than ever particular in the protection of
her own pecuniary rights before she submitted herself to Mr. Prong's
marital authority once and for ever. By Miss Pucker she was at any
rate treated with great respect, and was allowed perhaps some display
of pastoral manner on her own part. It began to be with her a matter
of doubt whether she might not be of more use in that free vineyard
which she was about to leave, than in that vineyard with closed doors
and a pastoral overseer, which she was preparing herself to enter. At
any rate she would be careful about the money. But, in the mean time,
she did agree with Mr. Prong that Rowan's proper character should
be made known to her mother, and with this view she went out to the
cottage and whispered into Mrs. Ray's astonished ears the fact that
Luke was terribly in debt.
"You don't say so!"
"But I do say so, mother. Everybody in Baslehurst is talking about
it. And they all say that he has treated Mr. Tappitt shamefully. Has
anything come from him since he went?"
Then Mrs. Ray told her elder daughter of the letter, and told her
also that she intended to consult Mr. Comfort. "Oh, Mr. Comfort!"
said Mrs. Prime, signifying her opinion that her mother was going to
a very poor counsellor. "And what sort of a letter was it?" said Mrs.
Prime, with a not unnatural desire to see it.
"It was an honest letter enough,--very honest to my thinking; and
speaking as though everything between them was quite settled."
"That's nonsense, mother."
"Perhaps it may be nonsense, Dorothea; but I am only telling you what
the letter said. He called his mother a goose; that was the worst
thing in it."
"You cannot expect that such a one as he should honour his parents."
"But his mother thinks him the finest young man in the world. And I
must say this for him, that he has always spoken of her as though he
loved her very dearly; and I believe he has been a most excellent
son. He shouldn't have said goose;--at any rate in a letter;--not to
my way of thinking. But perhaps they don't mind those things up in
London."
"I never knew a young man so badly spoken of at a place he'd left as
he is in Baslehurst. I think it right to tell you; but if you have
made up your mind to ask Mr. Comfort--"
"Yes; I have made up my mind to ask Mr. Comfort. He has sent to say
he will call the day after to-morrow." Then Mrs. Prime went back
home, having seen neither the letter nor her sister.
It may be remembered that an election was impending over the town of
Baslehurst, the coming necessities of which had induced Mrs. Butler
Cornbury to grace Mrs. Tappitt's ball. It was now nearly the end
of July, and the election was to be made early in September. Both
candidates were already in the field, and the politicians of the
neighbourhood already knew to a nicety how the affair would go. Mr.
Hart the great clothier from Houndsditch and Regent Street,--Messrs.
Hart and Jacobs of from 110 to 136 Houndsditch, and about as many
more numbers in Regent Street,--would come in at the top of the poll
with 173 votes, and Butler Cornbury, whose forefathers had lived in
the neighbourhood for the last four hundred years and been returned
for various places in Devonshire to dozens of parliaments, would be
left in the lurch with 171 votes. A petition might probably unseat
the Jew clothier; but then, as was well known, the Cornbury estate
could not bear the expenditure of the necessary five thousand pounds
for the petition, in addition to the twelve hundred which the
election itself was computed to cost. It was all known and thoroughly
understood; and men in Baslehurst talked about the result as though
the matter were past a doubt. Nevertheless there were those who were
ready to bet on the Cornbury side of the question.
But though the thing was thus accurately settled, and though its
termination was foreseen by so many and with so perfect a certainty,
still the canvassing went on. In fact there were votes that had
not even yet been asked, much less promised,--and again, much less
purchased. The Hart people were striving to frighten the Cornbury
people out of the field by the fear of the probable expenditure; and
had it not been for the good courage of Mrs. Butler Cornbury would
probably have succeeded in doing so. The old squire was very fidgety
about the money, and the young squire declared himself unwilling
to lean too heavily upon his father. But the lady of the household
declared her conviction that there was more smoke than fire, and more
threats of bribery than intention of bribing. She would go on, she
declared; and as her word passed for much at Cornbury Grange, the
battle was still to be fought.
Among the votes which certainly had not as yet been promised was that
of Mr. Tappitt. Mr. Hart in person had called upon him, but had not
been quite satisfied with his reception. Mr. Tappitt was a man who
thought much of his local influence and local privileges, and was by
no means disposed to make a promise of his vote on easy terms, at a
moment when his vote was becoming of so much importance. He was no
doubt a liberal as was also Mr. Hart; but in small towns politics
become split, and a man is not always bound to vote for a liberal
candidate because he is a liberal himself. Mr. Hart had been
confident in his tone, and had not sufficiently freed himself from
all outer taint of his ancient race to please Mr. Tappitt's taste.
"He's an impudent low Jew," he had said to his wife. "As for Butler
Cornbury he gives himself airs, and is too grand even to come and
ask. I don't think I shall vote at all." His wife had reminded him
how civil to them Mrs. Cornbury had been;--this was before the
morning of the poker;--but Tappitt had only sneered, and declared he
was not going to send a man to Parliament because his wife had come
to a dance.
But we, who know Tappitt best, may declare now that his vote was to
have been had by any one who would have joined him energetically in
abuse of Luke Rowan. His mind was full of his grievance. His heart
was laden with hatred of his enemy. His very soul was heavy with
that sorrow. Honyman, whom he had not yet dared to desert, had again
recommended submission to him, submission to one of the three terms
proposed. Let him take the thousand a year and go out from the
brewery. That was Honyman's first advice. If not that, then let him
admit his enemy to a full partnership. If that were too distasteful
to be possible, then let him raise ten thousand pounds on a mortgage
on the whole property, and buy Rowan out. Honyman thought that the
money might be raised if Tappitt were willing to throw into the
lump the moderate savings of his past life. But in answer to either
proposal Tappitt only raved. Had Mr. Hart known all about this, he
might doubtless have secured Tappitt's vote.
Butler Cornbury refused to call at the brewery. "The man's a
liberal," he said to his wife, "and what's the use? Besides he's just
the man I can't stand. We've always hated each other."
Whereupon Mrs. B. Cornbury determined to call on Mrs. Tappitt, and
to see Tappitt himself if it were possible. She had heard something
of the Rowan troubles, but not all. She had heard, too, of Rowan's
liking for Rachel Ray, having also seen something of it, as we know.
But, unfortunately for her husband's parliamentary interests, she had
not learned that the two things were connected together. And, very
unfortunately also for the same interests, she had taken it into her
head that Rachel should be married to young Rowan. She had conceived
a liking for Rachel; and being by nature busy, fond of employment,
and apt at managing other people's affairs, she had put her finger
on that match as one which she would task herself to further. This,
I say, was unfortunate as regards her husband's present views. Her
work, now in hand, was to secure Tappitt's vote; and to have carried
her point in that quarter, her surest method would have been to have
entered the brewery open-mouthed against Luke Rowan and Rachel Ray.
But the conversation, almost at once, led to a word in praise of
Rachel, and to following words in praise of Luke. Martha only was in
the room with her mother. Mrs. Cornbury did not at once begin about
the vote, but made, as was natural, certain complimentary speeches
about the ball. Really she didn't remember when she had seen anything
better done; and the young ladies looked so nice. She had indeed gone
away early; but she had done so by no means on her own account, but
because Rachel Ray had been tired. Then she said a nice good-natured
genial word or two about Rachel Ray and her performance on that
occasion. "It seemed to me," she added, "that a certain young
gentleman was quite smitten."
Then Mrs. Tappitt's brow became black as thunder, and Mrs. Cornbury
knew at once that she had trodden on unsafe ground,--on ground which
she should specially have avoided.
"We are all aware," Mrs. Tappitt said, "that the certain young
gentleman behaved very badly,--disgracefully, I may say;--but it
wasn't our fault, Mrs. Cornbury."
"Upon my word, Mrs. Tappitt, I didn't see anything amiss."
"I'm afraid everybody saw it. Indeed, everybody has been talking of
it ever since. As regards him, what he did then was only of a piece
with his general conduct, which it doesn't become me to name in
the language which it deserves. His behaviour to Mr. T. has been
shameful;--quite shameful."
"I had heard something, but I did not know there was anything like
that. I'm so sorry I mentioned his name."
"He has disagreed with papa about the brewery business," said Martha.
"It's more than that, Martha, as you know very well," continued Mrs.
Tappitt, still speaking in her great heat. "He has shown himself bad
in every way,--giving himself airs all over the town, and then going
away without paying his debts."
"I don't think we know that, mamma."
"Everybody says so. Your own father heard Sam Griggs say with his own
ears that there was a shop bill left there of I don't know how long.
But that's nothing to us. He came here under false pretences, and now
he's been turned out, and we don't want to have any more to do with
him. But, Mrs. Cornbury, I am sorry about that poor foolish girl."
"I didn't think her poor or foolish at all," said Mrs. Cornbury, who
had quite heart enough to forget the vote her husband wanted in her
warmth for her young friend.
"I must say, then, I did;--I thought her very foolish, and I didn't
at all like the way she went on in my house and before my girls. And
as for him, he doesn't think of her any more than he thinks of me. In
the first place, he's engaged to another girl."
"We are not quite sure that he's engaged, mamma," said Martha.
"I don't know what you call being sure, my dear. I can't say I've
ever heard it sworn to, on oath. But his sister Mary told your sister
Augusta that he was. I think that's pretty good evidence. But, Mrs.
Cornbury, he's one of those that will be engaged to twenty, if he can
find twenty foolish enough to listen to him. And for her, who never
was at a dance before, to go on with him like that;--I must say that
I thought it disgraceful!"
"Well, Mrs. Tappitt," said Mrs. Cornbury, speaking with much
authority in her voice, "I can only say that I didn't see it. She
was under my charge, and if it was as you say I must be very much to
blame,--very much indeed."
"I'm sure I didn't mean that," said Mrs. Tappitt, frightened.
"I don't suppose you did,--but I mean it. As for the young gentleman,
I know very little about him. He may be everything that is bad."
"You'll find that he is, Mrs. Cornbury."
"But as to Miss Ray, whom I've known all my life, and whose mother
my father has known for all her life, I cannot allow anything of
the kind to be said. She was under my charge; and when young ladies
are under my charge I keep a close eye upon them,--for their own
comfort's sake. I know how to manage for them, and I always look
after them. On the night of your party I saw nothing in Miss Ray's
conduct that was not nice, ladylike, and well-behaved. I must say so;
and if I hear a whisper to the contrary in any quarter, you may be
sure that I shall say so open-mouthed. How d'you do, Mr. Tappitt? I'm
so glad you've come in, as I specially wanted to see you." Then she
shook hands with Mr. Tappitt, who entered the room at the moment, and
the look and manner of her face was altered.
Mrs. Tappitt was cowed. If her husband had not come in at that moment
she might have said a word or two in her own defence, being driven to
do so by the absence of any other mode of retreating. But as he came
in so opportunely, she allowed his coming to cover her defeat. Strong
as was her feeling on the subject, she did not dare to continue her
attack upon Rachel in opposition to the defiant bravery which came
full upon her from Mrs. Cornbury's eyes. The words had been bad, but
the determined fire of those eyes had been worse. Mrs. Tappitt was
cowed, and allowed Rachel's name to pass away without further remark.
Mrs. Cornbury saw it all at a glance;--saw it all and understood it.
The vote was probably lost; but it would certainly be lost if Tappitt
and his wife discussed the matter before he had pledged himself.
The vote would probably be lost, even though Tappitt should, in his
ignorance of what had just passed, pledge himself to give it. All
that Mrs. Cornbury perceived, and knew that she could lose nothing by
an immediate request.
"Mr. Tappitt," said she, "I have come canvassing. The fact is this:
Mr. Cornbury says you are a liberal, and that therefore he has not
the face to ask you. I tell him that I think you would rather support
a neighbour from the county, even though there may be a shade of
difference in politics between you, than a stranger, whose trade and
religion cannot possibly recommend him, and whose politics, if you
really knew them, would probably be quite as much unlike your own as
are my husband's."
The little speech had been prepared beforehand, but was brought out
quite as naturally as though Mrs. Cornbury had been accustomed to
speak on her legs for a quarter of a century.
Mr. Tappitt grunted. The attack came upon him so much by surprise
that he knew not what else to do but to grunt. If Mr. Cornbury had
come with the same speech in his mouth, and could then have sided off
into some general abuse of Luke Rowan, the vote would have been won.
"I'm sure Mrs. Tappitt will agree with me," said Mrs. Cornbury,
smiling very sweetly upon the foe she had so lately vanquished.
"Women don't know anything about it," said Tappitt, meaning to snub
no one but his own wife, and forgetting that Mrs. Cornbury was a
woman. He blushed fiery red when the thought flashed upon him, and
wished that his own drawing-room floor would open and receive him;
nevertheless he was often afterwards heard to boast how he had put
down the politician in petticoats when she came electioneering to the
brewery.
"Well, that is severe," said Mrs. Cornbury, laughing.
"Oh, T.! you shouldn't have said that before Mrs. Cornbury!"
"I only meant my own wife, ma'am; I didn't indeed."
"I'll forgive your satire if you'll give me your vote," said Mrs.
Cornbury, with her sweetest smile. "He owes it me now; doesn't he,
Mrs. Tappitt?"
"Well,--I really think he do." Mrs. Tappitt, in her double
trouble,--in her own defeat and her shame on behalf of her
husband's rudeness,--was driven back, out of all her latter-day
conventionalities, into the thoughts and even into the language of
old days. She was becoming afraid of Mrs. Cornbury, and submissive,
as of old, to the rank and station of Cornbury Grange. In her terror
she was becoming a little forgetful of niceties learned somewhat late
in life. "I really think he do," said Mrs. Tappitt.
Tappitt grunted again.
"It's a very serious thing," he said.
"So it is," said Mrs. Cornbury, interrupting him. She knew that her
chance was gone if the man were allowed to get himself mentally upon
his legs. "It is very serious; but the fact that you are still in
doubt shows that you have been thinking of it. We all know how good
a churchman you are, and that you would not willingly send a Jew to
Parliament."
"I don't know," said Tappitt. "I'm not for persecuting even the
Jews;--not when they pay their way and push themselves honourably in
commerce."
"Oh, yes; commerce! There is nobody who has shown himself more
devoted to the commercial interests than Mr. Cornbury. We buy
everything in Baslehurst. Unfortunately our people won't drink beer
because of the cider."
"Tappitt doesn't think a bit about that, Mrs. Cornbury."
"I'm afraid I shall be called upon in honour to support my party,"
said Tappitt.
"Exactly; but which is your party? Isn't the Protestant religion of
your country your party? These people are creeping down into all
parts of the kingdom, and where shall we be if leading men like you
think more of shades of difference between liberal and conservative
than of the fundamental truths of the Church of England? Would you
depute a Jew to get up and speak your own opinions in your own
vestry-room?"
"That you wouldn't, T.," said Mrs. Tappitt, who was rather carried
away by Mrs. Cornbury's eloquence.
"Not in a vestry, because it's joined on to a church," said Tappitt.
"Or would you like a Jew to be mayor in Baslehurst;--a Jew in the
chair where you yourself were sitting only three years ago?"
"That wouldn't be seemly, because our mayor is expected to attend
in church on Roundabout Sunday." Roundabout Sunday, so called for
certain local reasons which it would be long to explain, followed
immediately on the day of the mayor's inauguration.
"Would you like to have a Jew partner in your own business?"
Mrs. Butler Cornbury should have said nothing to Mr. Tappitt as to
any partner in the brewery, Jew or Christian.
"I don't want any partner, and what's more, I don't mean to have
any."
"Mrs. Cornbury is in favour of Luke Rowan; she takes his side," said
Mrs. Tappitt, some portion of her courage returning to her as this
opportunity opened upon her. Mr. Tappitt turned his head full round
and looked upon Mrs. Cornbury with an evil eye. That lady knew that
the vote was lost, lost unless she would denounce the man whom Rachel
loved; and she determined at once that she would not denounce him.
There are many things which such a woman will do to gain such an
object. She could smile when Tappitt was offensive; she could smile
again when Mrs. Tappitt talked like a kitchenmaid. She could flatter
them both, and pretend to talk seriously with them about Jews and her
own Church feelings. She could have given up to them Luke Rowan,--if
he had stood alone. But she could not give up the girl she had
chaperoned, and upon whom, during that chaperoning, her good-will and
kindly feelings had fallen. Rachel had pleased her eye, and gratified
her sense of feminine nicety. She felt that a word said against Rowan
would be a word said also against Rachel; and therefore, throwing
her husband over for the nonce, she resolved to sacrifice the vote
and stand up for her friend. "Well, yes; I do," said she, meeting
Tappitt's eye steadily. She was not going to be looked out of
countenance by Mr. Tappitt.
"She thinks he'll come back to marry that young woman at Bragg's
End," said Mrs. Tappitt; "but I say that he'll never dare to show his
face in Baslehurst again."
"That young woman is making a great fool of herself," said Tappitt,
"if she trusts to a swindler like him."
"Perhaps, Mrs. Tappitt," said Mrs. Cornbury, "we needn't mind
discussing Miss Ray. It's not good to talk about a young lady in that
way, and I'm sure I never said that I thought she was engaged to
Mr. Rowan. Had I done so I should have been very wrong, for I know
nothing about it. What little I saw of the gentleman I liked;" and as
she used the word gentleman she looked Tappitt full in the face; "and
for Miss Ray, I've a great regard for her, and think very highly of
her. Independently of her acknowledged beauty and pleasant, ladylike
manners, she's a very charming girl. About the vote, Mr. Tappitt--;
at any rate you'll think of it."
But had he not been defied in his own house? And as for her, the
mother of those three finely educated girls, had not every word said
in Rachel's favour been a dagger planted in her own maternal bosom?
Whose courage would not have risen under such provocation?
Mrs. Cornbury had got up to go, but the indignant, injured Tappitts
resolved mutually, though without concert, that she should be
answered.
"I'm an honest man, Mrs. Cornbury," said the brewer, "and I like
to speak out my mind openly. Mr. Hart is a liberal, and I mean to
support my party. Will you tell Mr. Cornbury so with my compliments?
It's all nonsense about Jews not being in Parliament. It's not the
same as being mayors or churchwardens, or anything like that. I shall
vote for Mr. Hart; and, what's more, we shall put him in."
"And Mrs. Cornbury, if you have so much regard for Miss Rachel, you'd
better advise her to think no more of that young man. He's no good;
he's not indeed. If you ask, you'll find he's in debt everywhere."
"Swindler!" said Tappitt.
"I don't suppose it can be very bad with Miss Rachel yet, for she
only saw him about three times,--though she was so intimate with him
at our party."
Mrs. Butler Cornbury curtseyed and smiled, and got herself out of the
room. Mrs. Tappitt, as soon as she remembered herself, rang the bell,
and Mr. Tappitt, following her down to the hall door, went through
the pretence of putting her into her carriage.
"She's a nasty meddlesome woman," said Tappitt, as soon as he got
back to his wife.
"And how ever she can stand up and say all those things for that
girl, passes me!" said Mrs. Tappitt, holding up both her hands. "She
was flighty herself, when young; she was, no doubt; and now I suppose
she likes others to be the same. If that's what she calls manners, I
shouldn't like her to take my girls about."
"And him a gentleman!" said Tappitt. "If those are to be our
gentlemen I'd sooner have all the Jews out of Jerusalem. But they'll
find out their gentleman; they'll find him out! He'll rob that old
mother of his before he's done; you mark my words else." Comforting
himself with this hope he took himself back to his counting-house.
Mrs. Cornbury had smiled as she went, and had carried herself through
the whole interview without any sign of temper. Even when declaring
that she intended to take Rachel's part open-mouthed, she had spoken
in a half-drolling way which had divested her words of any tone of
offence. But when she got into her carriage, she was in truth very
angry. "I don't believe a word of it," she said to herself; "not a
word of it." That in which she professed to herself her own disbelief
was the general assertion that Rowan was a swindler, supported by the
particular assertion that he had left Baslehurst over head and ears
in debt. "I don't believe it." And she resolved that it should be her
business to find out whether the accusation were true or false. She
knew the ins and outs of Baslehurst life and Baslehurst doings with
tolerable accuracy, and was at any rate capable of unravelling such a
mystery as that. If the Tappitts in their jealousy were striving to
rob Rachel Ray of her husband by spreading false reports, she would
encourage Rachel Ray in her love by spreading the truth;--if, as she
believed, the truth should speak in Rowan's favour. She would have
considerable pleasure in countermining Mr. and Mrs. Tappitt.
As to Mr. Tappitt's vote for the election;--that was gone!