steps to be taken could not be like that, and paused eager, anxious, with his mouth open, waiting for his instructions – like a faithful dog ready to start after any stick or stone.
“Oh, you can’t expect me to be the one to tell you,” cried Patty, turning away as if to go back to the house; “the lady isn’t the one to think of all that.”
“Patty! I’m ready, ready to do anything! but how am I to know all of myself? I never had anything of the sort to do.”
“I hope not,” said Patty, with a laugh, “or else you wouldn’t be for me, Mr. Gervase, not if you were a duke – if you had been married before.”
“I – married before! Patty, only tell me what to do!” He looked exactly like Dash, waiting for somebody to throw a stone for him, but not so clever as Dash, alas! with that forlorn look of incapacity in his face, and the wish which was not father to any thought.
“Well, if you’re so pressing, a clergyman has the most to do with it.”
“I’ll go off to the rector directly.” He was like Dash now, when a feint had been made of throwing the stone: off on the moment – yet with a sense that all was not well.
“Oh! stop, you – !” Whatever the noun was, Patty managed to swallow it. “Come back,” she cried, as she might have cried to Dash. “Don’t you see? The rector; he’s the last man in the world.”
“Why?” cried Gervase. “He knows me, and you, and everything.”
“He knows – a deal too much,” said Patty; “he’d go and tell it all at the Hall, and make them send for the Lord Chancellor, or whatever it is.”
Poor Gervase trembled a little. “Couldn’t we run away, Patty, you and me together?” he said humbly; “I know them that have done that.”
“And have all the parish say I’m not married at all, and be treated like a – wherever I showed my head. No, thank you, Mr. Gervase Piercey. I don’t think enough of you for that.”
“You would think enough of Roger for that,” cried poor Gervase, stung to the heart.
“Roger!” she cried, spinning round upon him with a flush on her face. “Roger would have had the banns up long before this, if I had ever said as much to him.”
“The banns!” cried Gervase. “Ah, now I know! that’s the clerk!” The stone was thrown at last. “They’ll be up,” he said, waving his hand to her as he looked back, “before you know where you are!”
It was all that Patty could do to stop him, to bring him back before he was out of hearing. Dash never rushed more determinedly after his stone.
“Mr. Gervase,” she shouted, “Mr. Piercey; sir! Hi! here! Come back, come back! Oh, come back, I tell you!” stamping her foot upon the ground.
He returned at last, very like the dog still, humbled, his head fallen, and discomfiture showing in the very attitude of his limp limbs.
“Is that not right either?” he said.
“The clerk would be up at the Hall sooner than the rector; the rector would understand a little bit, but the clerk not at all. Don’t you see, Mr. Gervase, if it is to be – ”
“It shall be, Patty.”
“It must be in another parish, not here at all; and then you’d have to go to stay there for a fortnight.”
“Go to stay there for a fortnight!” Dismay was in the young man’s face. “How could I do that, Patty, with never having any money, and never allowed to sleep a night from home?”
“Well, for that matter,” she said, “how are you to marry anybody if things are to go on so?”
He made no reply, but looked at her with a miserable countenance, with his under lip dropped, his mouth open, and lack-lustre eyes.
And here Patty made a pause, looking at her lover, or rather gazing in the face of fate, and hesitating for one dread, all-important moment: she was not without a tenderness for him, the poor creature who adored her like Dash; but that was neither here nor there. While she looked at him there rose between him and her a vision of a very different face, strong and sure, that would never pause to be told what to do, that would perhaps master her as she mastered him. Ah! but then there was a poor cottage on one side, with a wife whose husband would be little at home, in too much request for her happiness; and on the other there was the Hall and the chance of being my lady. She looked in the face of fate, and seized it boldly, as her manner was.
“Stop a bit,” she said; “there’s another way.”
“What is it, what is it, Patty?”
“But it wants money; it costs a bit of money – a person has to go to London to get it.”
“Oh, Patty, Patty, haven’t I told you – ”
“Stop!” she said; “I’m going to think it over; perhaps it can be done, after all, if you’ll do what I tell you. Don’t come near the Seven Thorns to-night; stay at home and be very good to the old folks; say you’d like to see London and a little life, and you’re tired of here.”
“But that would be a lie!”
“Oh, you softhead, if you’re going to stick at that! Perhaps you don’t want me at all, Mr. Gervase. Give me up; it would be far the best thing for you, far the best thing for you! and then there’s nothing more to be said.”
“Oh, Patty!” cried the poor fellow; “oh, Patty! when you know I’d give up my life for you.”
“Then do as I say, and mind everything I say, and I’ll see if it can’t be done.”
CHAPTER VI
Gervase went home as she had told him, not bounding after the stone like a dog who has got its heart’s desire, but steadily, a little heavily, somewhat disappointed, yet full of expectation, and always faithful. Something was going to be done for him that would result in Patty’s standing by him for ever, and helping him to all he wanted. He did not know what it was; he was by no means sure that he would understand what it was were he told; but she did, and that was enough. It was going to be done for him, while he had no trouble and would only reap the results. That was how it was going to be all the rest of the time. Patty would take the responsibility. She would face everything for him. She would stand between him and his mother’s jibes and his father’s occasional roar of passion. Gervase was dimly sensible that his people were ashamed of him, that they thought him of little account. But Patty did not feel like that. She, too, jibed at him, it is true; but then she jibed at everybody, even Roger. It was different, and she would let no one else jibe. She would take all the responsibility; with her beside him, standing by him, or perhaps in front of him, standing between him and all that was disagreeable, he should escape all the ills of life. He should not be afraid of any one any more. He went back to the hall determined to carry out his orders. For her sake he would make a martyr of himself all that evening; he would sit with the old folks and do his best to please them. He would talk about London and how he wished to see it. He would say he was tired of the country – even that, since Patty told him to do so. To be sure, if there was no Patty, he would be tired of it; if the Hall meant the country, yes, indeed, he was tired enough of that. He went home not in the least knowing what to do with himself; but faithful, faithful to his orders. Dash, when commanded to give up the
