MR. BRADSHAW'S VIRTUOUS INDIGNATION
So it was that Jemima no longer avoided Ruth, nor manifested by word or look the dislike which for a long time she had been scarce concealing.
Ruth could not help noticing that Jemima always sought to be in her presence while she was at Mr. Bradshaw's house; either when daily teaching Mary and Elizabeth, or when she came as an occasional visitor with Mr. and Miss Benson, or by herself. Up to this time Jemima had used no gentle skill to conceal the abruptness with which she would leave the room rather than that Ruth and she should be brought into contact--rather than that it should fall to her lot to entertain Ruth during any part of the evening. It was months since Jemima had left off sitting in the schoolroom, as had been her wont during the first few years of Ruth's governess-ship. Now, each morning Miss Bradshaw seated herself at a little round table in the window, at her work, or at her writing; but, whether she sewed, or wrote, or read, Ruth felt that she was always watching--watching. At first Ruth had welcomed all these changes in habit and behaviour, as giving her a chance, she thought, by some patient waiting or some opportune show of enduring, constant love, to regain her lost friend's regard; but by-and-by the icy chillness, immovable and grey, struck more to her heart than many sudden words of unkindness could have done. They might be attributed to the hot impulses of a hasty temper--to the vehement anger of an accuser; but this measured manner was the conscious result of some deep-seated feeling; this cold sternness befitted the calm implacability of some severe judge. The watching, which Ruth felt was ever upon her, made her unconsciously shiver, as you would if you saw that the passionless eyes of the dead were visibly gazing upon you. Her very being shrivelled and parched up in Jemima's presence, as if blown upon by a bitter, keen east wind. Jemima bent every power she possessed upon the one object of ascertaining what Ruth really was. Sometimes the strain was very painful; the constant tension made her soul weary; and she moaned aloud, and upbraided circumstance (she dared not go higher--to the Maker of circumstance) for having deprived her of her unsuspicious, happy ignorance. Things were in this state when Mr. Richard Bradshaw came on his annual home visit. He was to remain another year in London, and then to return and be admitted into the firm. After he had been a week at home he grew tired of the monotonous regularity of his father's household, and began to complain of it to Jemima. "I wish Farquhar were at home. Though he is such a stiff, quiet old fellow, his coming in in the evenings makes a change. What has become of the Millses?
They used to drink tea with us sometimes, formerly." "Oh! papa and Mr. Mills took opposite sides at the election, and we have never visited since. I don't think they are any great loss." Anybody is a loss--the stupidest bore that ever was would be a blessing, if he only would come in sometimes." "Mr. and Miss Benson have drunk tea here twice since you came." "Come, that's capital! Apropos of stupid bores, you talk of the Bensons.
I did not think you had so much discrimination, my little sister." Jemima looked up in surprise; and then reddened angrily. "I never meant to say a word against Mr. or Miss Benson, and that you know quite well, ****." "Never mind! I won't tell tales. They are stupid old fogeys, but they are better than nobody, especially as that handsome governess of the girls always comes with them to be looked at." There was a little pause; Richard broke it by saying-- "Do you know, Mimie, I've a notion, if she plays her cards well, she may hook Farquhar!" "Who?" asked Jemima shortly, though she knew quite well. "Mrs. Denbigh, to be sure. We were talking of her, you know. Farquhar asked me to dine with him at his hotel as he passed through town, and--I'd my own reasons for going and trying to creep up his sleeve--I wanted him to tip me, as he used to do." "For shame! ****," burst in Jemima. "Well, well! not tip me exactly, but lend me some money. The governor keeps me deucedly short." "Why! it was only yesterday, when my father was speaking about your expenses, and your allowance, I heard you say that you'd more than you knew how to spend." "Don't you see that was the perfection of art? If my father had thought me extravagant, he would have kept me in with a tight rein; as it is, I'm in great hopes of a handsome addition, and I can tell you it's needed.
If my father had given me what I ought to have had at first, I should not have been driven to the speculations and messes I've got into." "What speculations? What messes?" asked Jemima, with anxious eagerness. "Oh! messes was not the right word. Speculations hardly was; for they are sure to turn out well, and then I shall surprise my father with my riches."He saw that he had gone a little too far in his confidence, and was trying to draw in. "But what do you mean? Do explain it to me." "Never you trouble your head about my business, my dear. Women can't understand the share-market, and such things. Don't think I've forgotten the awful blunders you made when you tried to read the state of the money-market aloud to my father that night when he had lost his spectacles. What were we talking of? Oh! of Farquhar and pretty Mrs. Denbigh. Yes! I soon found out that was the subject my gentleman liked me to dwell on. He did not talk about her much himself, but his eyes sparkled when I told him what enthusiastic letters Polly and Elizabeth wrote about her. How old do you think she is?" "I know!" said Jemima. "At least I heard her age spoken about, amongst other things, when first she came. She will be five-and-twenty this autumn." "And Farquhar is forty, if he is a day. She's young, too, to have such a boy as Leonard; younger-looking, or full as young-looking as she is!
