Poor Mary as she shrunk into the house was nearly heartbroken.  That such things should be at all was very dreadful, but that the scene should have taken place in the presence of Reginald Morton was an aggravation of the misery which nearly overwhelmed her.  How could she make him understand whence had arisen her stepmother’s anger and that she herself had been neither sly nor deceitful nor pigheaded?

CHAPTER XX

“But there is some one”

When Mr. Masters had gone across to the Bush his purpose had certainly been ignoble, but it had had no reference to brandy and water.  And the allusion made by Mrs. Masters to the probable ruin which was to come from his tendencies in that direction had been calumnious, for she knew that the man was not given to excess in liquor.  But as he approached his own house he bethought himself that it would not lead to domestic comfort if he were seen returning from his walk with Mary, and he had therefore made some excuse as to the expediency of saying a word to Runciman whom he espied at his own door.  He said his word to Runciman, and so loitered away perhaps a quarter of an hour, and then went back to his office.  But his wife had kept her anger at burning heat and pounced upon him before he had taken his seat.  Sundown was there copying, sitting with his eyes intent on the board before him as though he were quite unaware of the sudden entrance of his master’s wife.  She in her fury did not regard Sundown in the least, but at once commenced her attack.  “What is all this, Mr. Masters,” she said, “about Lady Ushant and going to Cheltenham?  I won’t have any going to Cheltenham and that’s flat” Now the attorney had altogether made up his mind that his daughter should go to Cheltenham if her friend would receive her.  Whatever might be the consequences, they must be borne.  But he thought it best to say nothing at the first moment of the attack, and simply turned his sorrowful round face in silence up to the partner of all his cares and the source of so many of them.  “There have been letters,” continued the lady;—­“letters which nobody has told me nothing about.  That proud peacock from Hoppet Hall has been here, as though he had nothing to do but carry Mary away about the country just as he pleased.  Mary won’t go to Cheltenham with him nor yet without him;—­not if I am to remain here.”

“Where else should you remain, my dear?” asked the attorney.

“I’d sooner go into the workhouse than have all this turmoil.  That’s where we are all likely to go if you pass your time between walking about with that minx and the public-house opposite.”  Then the attorney was aware that he had been watched, and his spirit began to rise within him.  He looked at Sundown, but the man went on copying quicker than ever.

“My dear,” said Mr. Masters, “you shouldn’t talk in that way before the clerk.  I wanted to speak to Mr. Runciman, and, as to the workhouse, I don’t know that there is any more danger now than there has been for the last twenty years.”