Rachel Ray

"No doubt; no doubt. But what I'm coming to is this, Mrs. Ray; here has this boy of mine been behaving foolishly to your daughter, as young men will do. It may be that he has really said something to her of the kind you suppose – "

"Said something to her! Why, ma'am, he came out here and asked my permission to pay his addresses to her, which I didn't answer because just at that moment Rachel came in from Farmer Sturt's opposite – "

"Farmer Sturt's!" said Mrs. Tappitt to Mrs. Rowan, in an under voice and nodding her head. Whereupon Mrs. Rowan nodded her head also. One of the great accusations made against Mrs. Ray had been that she lived on the Farmer Sturt level, and not on the Tappitt level; – much less on the Rowan level.

"Yes, – from Farmer Sturt's," continued Mrs. Ray, not at all understanding this by-play. "So I didn't give him any answer at all."

"You wouldn't encourage him," said Mrs. Rowan.

"I don't know about that; but at any rate he encouraged himself, for he came again the next morning when I was in Baslehurst."

"I hope Miss Rachel didn't know he was coming in your absence," said Mrs. Rowan.

"It would look so sly; – wouldn't it?" said Mrs. Tappitt.

"No, she didn't, and she isn't sly at all. If she had known anything she would have told me. I know what my girl is, Mrs. Rowan, and I can depend on her." Mrs. Ray's courage was up, and she was inclined to fight bravely, but she was sadly impeded by tears, which she now found it impossible to control.

"I'm sure it isn't my wish to distress you," said Mrs. Rowan.

"It does distress me very much, then, for anybody to say that Rachel is sly."

"I said I hoped she wasn't sly," said Mrs. Tappitt.

"I heard what you said," continued Mrs. Ray; "and I don't see why you should be speaking against Rachel in that way. The young man isn't your son."

"No," said Mrs. Tappitt, "indeed he's not; – nor yet he ain't Mr. Tappitt's partner."

"Nor wishes to be," said Mrs. Rowan, with a toss of her head. It was a thousand pities that Mrs. Ray had not her wits enough about her to have fanned into a fire of battle the embers which glowed hot between her two enemies. Had she done so they might probably have been made to consume each other, – to her great comfort. "Nor wishes to be!" Then Mrs. Rowan paused a moment, and Mrs. Tappitt assumed a smile which was intended to indicate incredulity. "But Mrs. Ray," continued Mrs. Rowan, "that is neither here nor there. Luke Rowan is my son, and I certainly have a right to speak. Such a marriage as this would be very imprudent on his part, and very disagreeable to me. From the way in which things have turned out it's not likely that he'll settle himself at Baslehurst."

"The most unlikely thing in the world," said Mrs. Tappitt. "I don't suppose he'll ever show himself in Baslehurst again."

"As for showing himself, Mrs. Tappitt, my son will never be ashamed of showing himself anywhere."

"But he won't have any call to come to Baslehurst, Mrs. Rowan. That's what I mean."

"If he's a gentleman of his word, as I take him to be," said Mrs. Ray, "he'll have a great call to show himself. He never can have intended to come out here, and speak to her in that way, and ask her to marry him, and then never to come back and see her any more! I wouldn't believe it of him, not though his own mother said it!"

"I don't say anything," said Mrs. Rowan, who felt that her position was one of some difficulty. "But we all do know that in affairs of that kind young men do allow themselves to go great lengths. And the greater lengths they go, Mrs. Ray, the more particular the young ladies ought to be."

"But what's a young lady to do? How's she to know whether a young man is in earnest, or whether he's only going lengths, as you call it?" Mrs. Ray's eyes were still moist with tears; and, I grieve to say that though, as far as immediate words are concerned, she was fighting Rachel's battle not badly, still the blows of the enemy were taking effect upon her. She was beginning to wish that Luke Rowan had never been seen, or his name heard, at Bragg's End.

"I think it's quite understood in the world," said Mrs. Rowan, "that a young lady is not to take a gentleman at his first word."

"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Tappitt.

"We've all of us daughters," said Mrs. Rowan.

"Yes, all of us," said Mrs. Tappitt. "That's what makes it so fitting that we should discuss this matter together in a friendly feeling."

"My son is a very good young man, – a very good young man indeed."

"But a little hasty, perhaps," said Mrs. Tappitt.

"If you'll allow me, Mrs. Tappitt."

"Oh, certainly, Mrs. Rowan."

"A very good young man indeed; and I don't think it at all probable that in such a matter as this he will act in opposition to his mother's wishes. He has his way to make in the world."

"Which will never be in the brewery line," said Mrs. Tappitt.

"He has his way to make in the world," continued Mrs. Rowan, with much severity; "and if he marries in four or five years' time, that will be quite as soon as he ought to think of doing. I'm sure you will agree with me, Mrs. Ray, that long engagements are very bad, particularly for the lady."

"He wanted to be married next month," said Mrs. Ray.

"Ah, yes; that shows that the whole thing couldn't come to much. If there was an engagement at all, it must be a very long one. Years must roll by." From the artistic manner in which Mrs. Rowan allowed her voice to dwell upon the words which signified duration of space, any hope of a marriage between Luke and Rachel seemed to be put off at any rate to some future century. "Years must roll by, and we all know what that means. The lady dies of a broken heart, while the gentleman lives in a bachelor's rooms, and dines always at his club. Nobody can wish such a state of things as that, Mrs. Ray."

"I knew a girl who was engaged for seven years," said Mrs. Tappitt, "and she wore herself to a thread-paper, – so she did. And then he married his housekeeper after all."

"I'd sooner see my girl make up her mind to be an old maid than let her have a long engagement," said Mrs. Rowan.

"And so would I, my girls, all three. If anybody comes, I say to them, 'Let your papa see them. He'll know what's the meaning of it.' It don't do for young girls to manage those things all themselves. Not but what I think my girls have almost as much wit about them as I have. I won't mention any names, but there's a young man about here as well-to-do as any young man in the South Hams, but Cherry won't as much as look at him." Mrs. Rowan again tossed her head. She felt her misfortune in being burthened with such a colleague as Mrs. Tappitt.

"What is it you want me to do, Mrs. Rowan?" asked Mrs. Ray.

"I want you and your daughter, who I am sure is a very nice young lady, and good-looking too, – "

"Oh, quite so," said Mrs. Tappitt.

"I want you both to understand that this little thing should be allowed to drop. If my boy has done anything foolish I'm here to apologize for him. He isn't the first that has been foolish, and I'm afraid he won't be the last. But it can't be believed, Mrs. Ray, that marriages should be run up in this thoughtless sort of way. In the first place the young people don't know anything of each other; absolutely nothing at all. And then, – but I'm sure I don't want to insist on any differences that there may be in their positions in life. Only you must be aware of this, Mrs. Ray, that such a marriage as that would be very injurious to a young man like my son Luke."

"My child wouldn't wish to injure anybody."

"And therefore, of course, she won't think any more about it. All I want from you is that you should promise me that."

"If Rachel will only just say that," said Mrs. Tappitt, "my daughters will be as happy to see her out walking with them as ever."

"Rachel has had quite enough of such walking, Mrs. Tappitt; quite enough."

"If harm has come of it, it hasn't been the fault of my girls," said Mrs. Tappitt.

Then there was a pause among the three ladies, and it appeared that Mrs. Rowan was waiting for Mrs. Ray's answer. But Mrs. Ray did not know what answer she should make. She was already disposed to regard the coming of Luke Rowan to Baslehurst as a curse rather than a blessing. She felt all but convinced that Fate would be against her and hers in that matter. She had ever been afraid of young men, believing them to be dangerous, bringers of trouble into families, roaring lions sometimes, and often wolves in sheep's clothing. Since she had first heard of Luke Rowan in connection with her daughter she had been trembling. If she could have acted in accordance with her own feelings at this moment, she would have begged that Luke Rowan's name might never again be mentioned in her presence. It would be better for them, she thought, to bear what had already come upon them, than to run further risk. But she could not give any answer to Mrs. Rowan without consulting Rachel; – she could not at least give any such answer as that contemplated without doing so. She had sanctioned Rachel's love, and could not now undertake to oppose it. Rachel had probably been deceived, and must bear her misfortune. But, as the question stood at present between her and her daughter, she could not at once accede to Mrs. Rowan's views in the matter. "I will talk to Rachel," she said.

"Give her my kindest respects," said Mrs. Rowan; "and pray make her understand that I wouldn't interfere if I didn't think it was for both their advantages. Good-bye, Mrs. Ray." And Mrs. Rowan got up.

"Good-bye, Mrs. Ray," said Mrs. Tappitt, putting out her hand. "Give my love to Rachel. I hope that we shall be good friends yet, for all that has come and gone."

But Mrs. Ray would not accept Mrs. Tappitt's hand, nor would she vouchsafe any answer to Mrs. Tappitt's amenities. "Good-bye, ma'am," she said to Mrs. Rowan. "I suppose you mean to do the best you can by your own child."

"And by yours too," said Mrs. Rowan.

"If so, I can only say that you must think very badly of your own son. Good-bye, ma'am." Then Mrs. Ray curtseyed them out, – not without a certain amount of dignity, although her eyes were red with tears, and her whole body trembling with dismay.

Very little was said in the fly between the two ladies on their way back to the brewery, nor did Mrs. Rowan remain very long as a visitor at Mrs. Tappitt's house. She had found herself compelled by circumstances to take a part inimical to Mrs. Ray, but she felt in her heart a much stronger animosity to Mrs. Tappitt. With Mrs. Ray she could have been very friendly, only for that disastrous love affair; but with Mrs. Tappitt she could not again put herself into pleasant relations. I must point out how sadly unfortunate it was that Mrs. Ray had not known how to fan that flame of anger to her own and her daughter's advantage.

"Well, mamma," said Rachel, returning to the room as soon as she heard the wheels of the fly in motion upon the road across the green. She found her mother in tears, – hardly able to speak because of her sobs. "Never mind it, mamma: of course I know the kind of things they have been saying. It was what I expected. Never mind it."

"But, my dear, you will be broken-hearted."

"Broken-hearted! Why?"

"I know you will. Now that you have learned to love him, you'll never bear to lose him."

"And must I lose him?"

"She says so. She says that he doesn't mean it, and that it's all nonsense."

"I don't believe her. Nothing shall make me believe that, mamma."

"She says it would be ruinous to all his prospects, especially just now when he has quarrelled about this brewery."

"Ruinous to him!"

"His mother says so."

"I will never wish him to do anything that shall be ruinous to himself; never; – not though I were broken-hearted, as you call it."

"Ah, that is it, Rachel, my darling; I wish he had not come here."

Rachel went away across the room and looked out of the window upon the green. There she stood in silence for a few minutes while her mother was wiping her eyes and suppressing her sobs. Tears also had run down Rachel's cheeks; but they were silent tears, few in number and very salt. "I cannot bring myself to wish that yet," said she.

"But he has gone away, and what can you do if he does not come again?"

"Do! Oh, I can do nothing. I could do nothing, even though he were here in Baslehurst every day of his life. If I once thought that he didn't wish me – to – be – his wife, I should not want to do anything. But, mamma, I can't believe it of him. It was only yesterday that he was here."

"They say that young men don't care what they say in that way now-a-days."

"I don't believe it of him, mamma; his manner is so steadfast, and his voice sounds so true."

"But then she is so terribly against it."

Then again they were silent for a while, after which Rachel ended the conversation. "It is clear, at any rate, that you and I can do nothing, mamma. If she expects me to say that I will give him up, she is mistaken. Give him up! I couldn't give him up, without being false to him. I don't think I'll ever be false to him. If he's false to me, then, – then, I must bear it. Mamma, don't say anything to Dolly about this just at present." In answer to which request Mrs. Ray promised that she would not at present say anything to Mrs. Prime about Mrs. Rowan's visit.

The following day and the Sunday were not passed in much happiness by the two ladies at Bragg's End. Tidings reached them that Mrs. Rowan and her daughter were going to London on the Monday, but no letter came to them from Luke. By the Monday morning Mrs. Ray had quite made up her mind that Luke Rowan was lost to them for ever, and Rachel had already become worn with care. During that Saturday and Sunday nothing was seen of Mrs. Prime at Bragg's End.

END OF VOL. I

Vol. II

CHAPTER I.

RACHEL RAY'S FIRST LOVE-LETTER

On the Monday evening, after tea, Mrs. Prime came out to the cottage. It was that Monday on which Mrs. Rowan and her daughter had left Baslehurst and had followed Luke up to London. She came out and sat with her mother and sister for about an hour, restraining herself with much discretion from the saying of disagreeable things about her sister's lover. She had heard that the Rowans had gone away, and she had also heard that it was probable that they would be no more seen in Baslehurst. Mr. Prong had given it as his opinion that Luke would not trouble them again by his personal appearance among them. Under these circumstances Mrs. Prime had thought that she might spare her sister. Nor had she said much about her own love affairs. She had never mentioned Mr. Prong's offer in Rachel's presence; nor did she do so now. As long as Rachel remained in the room the conversation was very innocent and very uninteresting. For a few minutes the two widows were alone together, and then Mrs. Prime gave her mother to understand that things were not yet quite arranged between herself and Mr. Prong.

"You see, mother," said Mrs. Prime, "as this money has been committed to my charge, I do not think it can be right to let it go altogether out of my own hands."

In answer to this Mrs. Ray had uttered a word or two agreeing with her daughter. She was afraid to say much against Mr. Prong; – was afraid, indeed, to express any very strong opinion about this proposed marriage; but in her heart she would have been delighted to hear that the Prong alliance was to be abandoned. There was nothing in Mr. Prong to recommend him to Mrs. Ray.

"And is she going to marry him?" Rachel asked, as soon as her sister was gone.

"There's nothing settled as yet. Dorothea wants to keep her money in her own hands."

"I don't think that can be right. If a woman is married the money should belong to the husband."

"I suppose that's what Mr. Prong thinks; – at any rate, there's nothing settled. It seems to me that we know so little about him. He might go away any day to Australia, you know."

"And did she say anything about – Mr. Rowan?"

"Not a word, my dear."

And that was all that was then said about Luke even between Rachel and her mother. How could they speak about him? Mrs. Ray also believed that he would be no more seen in Baslehurst; and Rachel was well aware that such was her mother's belief, although it had never been expressed. What could be said between them now, – or ever afterwards, – unless, indeed, Rowan should take some steps to make it necessary that his doings should be discussed?

The Tuesday passed and the Wednesday, without any sign from the young man; and during these two sad days nothing was said at the cottage. On that Wednesday his name was absolutely not mentioned between them, although each of them was thinking of him throughout the day. Mrs. Ray had now become almost sure that he had obeyed his mother's behests, and had resolved not to trouble himself about Rachel any further; and Rachel herself had become frightened if not despondent. Could it be that all this should have passed over her and that it should mean nothing? – that the man should have been standing there, only three or four days since, in that very room, with his arm round her waist, begging for her love, and calling her his wife; – and that all of it should have no meaning? Nothing amazed her so much as her mother's firm belief in such an ending to such an affair. What must be her mother's thoughts about men and women in general if she could expect such conduct from Luke Rowan, – and yet not think of him as one whose falsehood was marvellous in its falseness!

But on the Thursday morning there came a letter from Luke addressed to Rachel. On that morning Mrs. Ray was up when the postman passed by the cottage, and though Rachel took the letter from the man's hand herself, she did not open it till she had shown it to her mother.

"Of course it's from him," said Rachel.

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Ray, taking the unopened letter in her hand and looking at it. She spoke almost in a whisper, as though there were something terrible in the coming of the letter.

"Is it not odd," said Rachel, "but I never saw his handwriting before? I shall know it now for ever and ever." She also spoke in a whisper, and still held the letter as though she dreaded to open it.

"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Ray.

"If you think you ought to read it first, mamma, you may."

"No, Rachel. It is your letter. I do not wish you to imagine that I distrust you."

Then Rachel sat herself down, and with extreme care opened the envelope. The letter, which she read to herself very slowly, was as follows: —

My own dearest Rachel,

It seems so nice having to write to you, though it would be much nicer if I could see you and be sitting with you at this moment at the churchyard stile. That is the spot in all Baslehurst that I like the best. I ought to have written sooner, I know, and you will have been very angry with me; but I have had to go down into Northamptonshire to settle some affairs as to my father's property, so that I have been almost living in railway carriages ever since I saw you. I am resolved about the brewery business more firmly than ever, and as it seems that "T"

– Mrs. Tappitt would occasionally so designate her lord, and her doing so had been a joke between Luke and Rachel, —

will not come to reason without a lawsuit, I must scrape together all the capital I have, or I shall be fifty years old before I can begin. He is a pig-headed old fool, and I shall be driven to ruin him and all his family. I would have done, – and still would do, – anything for him in kindness; but if he drives me to go to law to get what is as much my own as his share is his own, I will build another brewery just under his nose. All this will require money, and therefore I have to run about and get my affairs settled.

But this is a nice love-letter, – is it not? However, you must take me as I am. Just now I have beer in my very soul. The grand object of my ambition is to stand and be fumigated by the smoke of my own vats. It is a fat, prosperous, money-making business, and one in which there is a clear line between right and wrong. No man brews bad beer without knowing it, – or sells short measure. Whether the fatness and the honesty can go together; – that is the problem I want to solve.

You see I write to you exactly as if you were a man friend, and not my own dear sweet girl. But I am a very bad hand at love-making. I considered that that was all done when you nodded your head over my arm in token that you consented to be my wife. It was a very little nod, but it binds you as fast as a score of oaths. And now I think I have a right to talk to you about all my affairs, and expect you at once to get up the price of malt and hops in Devonshire. I told you, you remember, that you should be my friend, and now I mean to have my own way.

You must tell me exactly what my mother has been doing and saying at the cottage. I cannot quite make it out from what she says, but I fear that she has been interfering where she had no business, and making a goose of herself. She has got an idea into her head that I ought to make a good bargain in matrimony, and sell myself at the highest price going in the market; – that I ought to get money, or if not money, family connexion. I'm very fond of money, – as is everybody, only people are such liars, – but then I like it to be my own; and as to what people call connexion, I have no words to tell you how I despise it. If I know myself I should never have chosen a woman as my companion for life who was not a lady; but I have not the remotest wish to become second cousin by marriage to a baronet's grandmother. I have told my mother all this, and that you and I have settled the matter together; but I see that she trusts to something that she has said or done herself to upset our settling. Of course, what she has said can have no effect on you. She has a right to speak to me, but she has none to speak to you; – not as yet. But she is the best woman in the world, and as soon as ever we are married you will find that she will receive you with open arms.

You know I spoke of our being married in August. I wish it could have been so. If we could have settled it when I was at Bragg's End, it might have been done. I don't, however, mean to scold you, though it was your fault. But as it is, it must now be put off till after Christmas. I won't name a day yet for seeing you, because I couldn't well go to Baslehurst without putting myself into Tappitt's way. My lawyer says I had better not go to Baslehurst just at present. Of course you will write to me constantly, – to my address here; say, twice a week at least. And I shall expect you to tell me everything that goes on. Give my kind love to your mother.

Yours, dearest Rachel,Most affectionately,Luke Rowan.

The letter was not quite what Rachel had expected, but, nevertheless, she thought it very nice. She had never received a love-letter before, and probably had never read one, – even in print; so that she was in possession of no strong preconceived notions as to the nature or requisite contents of such a document. She was a little shocked when Luke called his mother a goose; – she was a little startled when he said that people were "liars," having an idea that the word was one not to be lightly used; – she was amused by the allusion to the baronet's grandmother, feeling, however, that the manner and language of his letter was less pretty and love-laden than she had expected; – and she was frightened when he so confidently called upon her to write to him twice a week. But, nevertheless, the letter was a genial one, joyous, and, upon the whole, comforting. She read it very slowly, going back over much of it twice and thrice, so that her mother became impatient before the perusal was finished.

"It seems to be very long," said Mrs. Ray.

"Yes, mamma, it is long. It's nearly four sides."

"What can he have to say so much?"

"There's a good deal of it is about his own private affairs."

"I suppose, then, I mustn't see it."

"Oh yes, mamma!" And Rachel handed her the letter. "I shouldn't think of having a letter from him and not showing it to you; – not as things are now." Then Mrs. Ray took the letter and spent quite as much time in reading it as Rachel had done. "He writes as though he meant to have everything quite his own way," said Mrs. Ray.

"That's what he does mean. I think he will do that always. He's what people call imperious; but that isn't bad in a man, is it?"