“What does this mean?” he said.
Mary glanced round as it to escape from his eyes but had to look at him as she replied faintly, “You had better ask Mr Sutherland.”
“Mr Sutherland has nothing to do with it. You are mistress here.”
He waited long enough for an answer to shew that she had none to make. Then, shaking his head, he deliberately tore the letter into fragments. That stung her into saying:
“I do not wish to pursue the subject with you.”
“I have not asked your leave,” he replied. “I give you a lesson for the benefit cf the next wretch that will hold my position at the mercy of your ignorant caprice. You have spoiled the labor of the past three months for me; upset my plans; ruined me, for aught I know. Tell your father, who wants to discharge me at the end of the month, that I discharge myself now. I am not a dog, to sit at his table after the injustice he has done me.”
“He has done you no injustice, Mr Jack. He has a perfect right to choose who shall remain in his household. And I think he has acted rightly. So does Mr Herbert.”
Jack laughed gruffly. “Poor devil!” he said, “he fancies he can give ideas to the world because a few great men have given some to him. I am sorry I let his stiff manners put me out of temper with him the other night. He hates me instinctively because he feels in me what he misses in himself. But you ought to know better. Why, he hated that drunken rascal I had here, because he could handle his clarinet like a man with stuff in him. I have no more time for talking now. I have been your friend and have worked hard with your brother for your sake, because I thought you helped me to this place when I was desperately circumstanced. But now I shall not easily forgive you.” He shook his head again at her, and walked out, shutting the door behind him. The housemaid was in the hall. “My portmanteau and a couple of other things are on the landing outside my door,” he said, stopping as he passed her. “You will please give them to the man I send.”
“And by whose orders am I to trouble myself about your luggage, pray?”
Jack turned and slowly advanced upon her until she, retreating, stood against the wall. “By my orders, Mrs. Boldface,” he said. “Do as you are bid — and paid for, you hussy.”
“Well, certainly,” began the housemaid, as he turned away, “that’s—”
Jack halted and looked round wickedly at her. She retired quickly, grumbling. As he left the house, Herbert, coming in at the gate, was surprised to see him laughing heartily; for he had never seen him in good humor before.
“Good morning, Mr Jack,” said Adrian as they passed.
“Goodbye,” said Jack, derisively. And he went on. Before Adrian reached the doorstep, he heard the other roaring with laughter in the road.
Jack, when he had had his laugh out, walked quickly away, chuckling, and occasionally shaking his fist at the sky. When he came to Colonel Beatty’s house, he danced fantastically past the gate, snapping his fingers. He laughed boisterously at this performance at intervals until he came into the streets. Here, under the eye of the town, he was constrained to behave himself less remarkably; and the constraint made him so impatient that he suddenly gave up an intention he had formed of taking a lodging there, and struck off to the railway station at Slough.
“When is there a train to London?” he said, presenting himself at the booking-office.
“There’s one going now,” replied the clerk coolly.
“Now!” exclaimed Jack. “Give me a ticket — third class — single.”
“Go to the other window. First class only here.”
“First class, then,” cried Jack, exasperated. “Quick.” And he pushed in a half sovereign.
The clerk, startled by Jack’s voice, hastily gave him a ticket and an installment of the change. Jack left the rest, and ran to the platform just in time to hear the engine whistle.
“Late, sir. You’re late,” said a man in the act of slamming the barrier. By way of reply, Jack dragged it violently back and rushed after the departing train. There was a shout and a rush of officials to stop him; and one of them seized him, but, failing to hold him, was sent reeling by the collision. The next moment Jack opened the door of a first-class carriage, and plunged in in great disorder. The door was shut after him by an official, who stood on the footboard to cry out, “You will be summonsed for this, sir, so you shall. You shall be sum—”
“Go to the deuce,” retorted Jack, in a thundering voice. As the man jumped off, he turned from the door, and found himself confronted by a tall thin old gentleman, sprucely dressed, who cried in a high voice:
“Sir, this is a private compartment. I have engaged this compartment. You have no business here.”
“You should have had the door locked then,” said Jack, with surly humor, seating himself, and folding his arms with an air of concentrated doggedness.
“I — I consider your intrusion most unwarrantable — most unjustifiable,” continued the the gentleman.
Jack chuckled too obviously, at the old gentleman’s curious high voice and at his discomfiture. Then, deferring a little to white hairs, he said, “Well, well: I can get into another carriage at the next station.”
“You can do nothing of the sort, sir,” cried the gentleman, more angrily than before. “This is an express train. It does not stop.”
“Then I do, — where I am,” aid Jack curtly, with a new and more serious expression of indignation; for he had just remarked that there was one other person in the carriage — a young lady.
“I will not submit to this, sir. I will stop the train.”
“Stop it then,” said Jack, scowling at him. “But let me alone.”
The gentleman, with flushes of color coming and going on his withered cheek, turned to the alarum and began to read the printed instructions as to its use. “You had better not stop the train, father,” said the lady. “You will only get fined. The half-crown you gave the guard does not—”
“Hold your tongue,” said the gentleman. “I desire you not to speak to me, Magdalen, on any pretext whatsoever.” Jack, who had relented a little on learning the innocent relationship between his fellow travellers glanced at the daughter. She was a tall lady with chestnut hair, burnished by the rays which came aslant through the carriage window. Her eyes were bright hazel; her mouth small, but with full lips, the upper one, like her nose, tending to curl upward. She was no more than twenty; but in spite of her youth and trivial style of beauty, her manner was self-reliant and haughty. She did not seem to enjoy her journey, and took no pains to conceal her illhumor, which was greatly increased by the rebuke which her father had addressed to her. Her costume of maize color and pale blue was very elegant, and harmonized admirably with her fine complexion. Jack repeated his glance at short intervals until he discovered that her face was mirrored in the window next which he sat. He then turned away from her, and studied her appearance at his ease.
Meanwhile the gentleman, grumbling in an undertone, had seated himself without touching the alarum, and taken up a newspaper. Occasionally he looked over at his daughter, who, with her cheek resting on her glove, was frowning at the landscape as they passed swiftly through it. Presently he uttered an exclamation of impatience, and blew off some dust and soot which had just settled on his paper. Then he rose, and shut the window.
“Oh, pray don’t close it altogether, father,” said the lady. “It is too warm. I am half suffocated as it is.”
“Magdalen: I forbid you to speak to me.”
Magdalen pouted, and shook her shoulders angrily. Her father then went to the other door of the carriage, and closed the window there also. Jack