CHAPTER XVII

DESCENDANTS OF MACHIAVELLI

Yes, she turned towards him with a rapid, impulsive movement, which expressed partly her sympathy for her old uncle, and partly a feeling of joy caused by the sudden hope that he had decided to give way and buy Wilbraham Hall after all.

And the fact was that, in his secret soul, he had decided to give way; he had decided that Helen, together with Helen’s cooking, was worth to him the price of Wilbraham Hall.  But when he saw her brusque, eager gesture, he began to reflect.  His was a wily and profound nature; he reckoned that he could read the human soul, and he said to himself: 

“The wench isn’t so set on leaving me as I thought she was.”

And instead of saying to her:  “Helen, lass, if you’ll stop you shall have your Wilbraham Hall,” in tones of affecting, sad surrender, he said: 

“I’m sorry to lose thee, my girl; but what must be must.”

And when he caught the look in her eyes, he was more than ever convinced that he would be able to keep Helen without satisfying her extremely expensive whim.

Helen, for her part, began to suspect that if she played the fish with sufficient skill, she would capture it.  Thus they both, in a manner of speaking, got out their landing-nets.

“I don’t say,” James Ollerenshaw proceeded, in accents calculated to prove to her that he had just as great a horror of sentimentality as she had—­“I don’t say as you wouldn’t make a rare good mistress o’ Wilbraham Hall.  I don’t say as I wouldn’t like to see you in it.  But when a man reaches my age, he’s fixed in his habits like.  And, what’s more, supposing I am saving a bit o’ money, who am I saving it for, if it isn’t for you and your mother?  You said as much yourself.  I might pop off any minute—­”

“Uncle!” Helen protested.

“Ay, any minute!” he repeated, firmly.  “I’ve known stronger men nor me pop off as quick as a bottle o’ ginger-beer near the fire.”  Here he gazed at her, and his gaze said:  “If I popped off here and now, wouldn’t you feel ashamed o’ yerself for being so hard on your old uncle?”

“You’ll live many and many a year yet,” Helen smiled.

He shook his head pessimistically.  “I’ve set my heart,” he continued, “on leaving a certain sum for you and yer mother.  I’ve had it in mind since I don’t know when.  It’s a fancy o’ mine.  And I canna’ do it if I’m to go all around th’ Five Towns buying barracks.”

Helen laughed.  “What a man you are for exaggerating!” she flattered him.  Then she sat down.

He considered that he was gradually winding in his line with immense skill.  “Ay,” he ejaculated, with an absent air, “it’s a fancy o’ mine.”

“How much do you want to leave?” Helen questioned, faintly smiling.

“Don’t you bother your head about that,” said he.  “You may take it from me as it’s a tidy sum.  And when I’m dead and gone, and you’ve got it all, then ye can do as ye feel inclined.”