“Why do you talk of things impossible, John?” Jane asked.  “Mrs. Stephen Hatton speaks too plainly to be misunderstood.  Indeed her words enter the ears like darts.”

“Yes, she strips them to the naked truth.  If it be a fault, it is one easy to excuse.”

“I do not find it so.”

“I am sorry you will not go with me, for I shall have to give a good deal of this evening to Greenwood.”

“I expected that.”

“Go with me this afternoon, do, my dear!  We can ride on to Harlow also.”

“I spent all yesterday with my mother.”

“Then, good-bye!  I will be home in an hour.”

John found it very pleasant to ride through the village and up Hatton Hill again.  He thought the very trees bent their branches to greet him and that the linnets and thrushes sang together about his return.  Then he smiled at his foolish thought, yet instantly wondered if it might not be true, and thus fantastically reasoning, he came to the big gates of the Hall, and saw his mother watching for his arrival.

He took her hands and kissed her tenderly.  “O mother!  Mother!” he cried.  “How glad I am to see you!”

“To be sure, my dear lad.  But if I had not got your note this morning, I would have known by the sound of your horse’s feet he was bringing John home, for your riding was like that of Jehu, the son of Nimshi.  But there!  Come thy ways in, and tell me what has happened thee, here and there.”

They talked first of the coming war, and John advised his mother to prepare for it.  “It will be a war between two rich and stubborn factions,” he said.  “It is likely enough to last for years.  I may have to shut Hatton mill.”

“Shut it while you have a bit of money behind it, John.  I heard Arkroyd had told his hands he would lock his gates at the end of the month.”

“I shall keep Hatton mill going, mother, as long as I have money enough to buy a bale of cotton at any price.”

“I know you will.  But there!  What is the good of talking about maybe’s?  At every turn and corner of life, there is sure to stand a maybe.  I wait until we meet and I generally find them more friendly than otherwise.”

“I wanted Jane to come with me this afternoon, and she would not do so.”

“She is right.  I don’t think I expect her to come.  She didn’t like what I said to her the last time she favored me with a visit.”

“What did you say to her, mother?”

“I will not tell thee.  I hev told her to her face and I will not be a backbiter.  Not I!  Ask thy wife what I said to her and why I said it and the example I set before her.  She can tell thee.”

“Whatever is the matter with the women of these days, mother?”

“I’m sure I cannot tell.  If they had a thimbleful of sense, they would know that the denial of the family tie is sure to weaken the marriage tie.  One thing I know is that society has put motherhood out of fashion.  It considers the nursery a place of punishment instead of a place of pleasure.  Young Mrs. Wrathall was here yesterday all in a twitter of pleasure, because her husband is letting her take lessons in music and drawing.”