CHAPTER III.
On the Sunday evening, Alice's lover, having heard, not from herself,but by a side wind, that she was going home the next day, made hisappearance in Wimborne Square, somewhat perplexed--both at the move,and at her leaving him in ignorance of the same. He was acabinet-maker in an honest shop in the neighbourhood, and ineducation, faculty, and general worth, considerably Alice'ssuperior--a fact which had hitherto rather pleased her, but now gavezest to the change which she imagined had subverted their formerrelation. Full of the sense of her new superiority, she met him drapedin an indescribable strangeness. John Jephson felt, at the very firstword, as if her voice came from the other side of the English Channel.He wondered what he had done, or rather what Alice could imagine hehad done or said, to put her in such tantrums.
"Alice, my dear," he said--for John was a man to go straight at theenemy, "what's amiss? What's come over you? You ain't altogether likeyour own self to-night! And here I find you're goin' away, and ne'er aword to me about it! What have I done?"
Alice's chin alone made reply. She waited the fitting moment, withsplendour to astonish, and with grandeur to subdue her lover. To tellthe sad truth, she was no longer sure that it would be well toencourage him on the old footing; was she not standing on tiptoe, herskirts in her hand, on the brink of the brook that parted serfdom fromgentility, on the point of stepping daintily across, and leavingdomestic slavery, red hands, caps, and obedience behind her? How thenwas she to marry a man that had black nails, and smelt of glue? It wasincumbent on her at least, for propriety's sake, to render him at onceaware that it was in condescension ineffable she took any notice ofhim.
"Alice, my girl!" began John again, in expostulatory tone.
"Miss Cox, if you please, John Jephson," interposed Alice.
"What on 'arth's come over you?" exclaimed John, with the first throbof rousing indignation. "But if you ain't your own self no more, why,Miss Cox be it. 'T seems to me 's if I warn't my own self no more--'sif I'd got into some un else, or 't least hedn't got my own ears on m'own head.--Never saw or heerd Alice like this afore!" he added,turning in gloomy bewilderment to the housemaid for a word of humansympathy.
The movement did not altogether please Alice, and she felt she mustjustify her behaviour.
"You see, John," she said, with dignity, keeping her back towards him,and pretending to dust the globe of a lamp, "there's things as nowoman can help, and therefore as no man has no right to complain ofthem. It's not as if I'd gone an' done it, or changed myself, no more'n if it 'ad took place in my cradle. What can I help it, if the worldgoes and changes itself? Am _I_ to blame?--tell me that. It's notthat. I make no complaint, but I tell you it ain't me, it'scircumstances as is gone and changed theirselves, and bein' ascircumstances is changed, things ain't the same as they was, and Missis the properer term from you to me, John Jephson."
"Dang it if I know what you're a drivin' at, Alice!--Miss Cox!--and Ibeg yer pardon, miss, I'm sure.--Dang me if I do!"
"Don't swear, John Jephson--leastways before a lady. It's not proper."
"It seems to me, Miss Cox, as if the wind was a settin' from Bedlam,or may be Colney Hatch," said John, who was considered a humouristamong his comrades. "I wouldn't take no liberties with a lady, MissCox; but if I might be so bold as to arst the joke of the thing--"
"Joke, indeed!" cried Alice. "Do you call a dead uncle and tenthousand pounds a joke?"
"God bless me!" said John. "You don't mean it, Alice?"
"I do mean it, and that you'll find, John Jephson. I'm goin' to bidyou good-bye to-morrer."
"Whoy, Alice!" exclaimed honest John, aghast.
"It's truth I tell ye," said Alice.
"And for how long?" gasped John, fore-feeling illimitable misfortune.
"That depends," returned Alice, who did not care to lessen the effectof her communication by mentioning her promised return for a season."--It ain't likely," she added, "as a heiress is a goin' to act thenuss-maid much longer."
"But Alice," said John, "you don't mean to say--it's not in your mindnow--it can't be, Alice--you're only jokin' with me--"
"Indeed, and I'm not!" interjected Alice, with a sniff.
"I don't mean that way, you know. What I mean is, you don't mean ashow this 'ere money--dang it all!--as how it's to be all over betweenyou and me?--You _can't_ mean that, Alice!" ended the poor fellow,with a choking in his throat.
It was very hard upon him! He must either look as if he wanted toshare her money, or else as if he were ready to give her up.
"Arst yourself, John Jephson," answered Alice, "whether it's likely ayoung lady of fortun' would be keepin' company with a young man asdidn't know how to take off his hat to her in the park?"
Alice did not above half mean what she said: she wished mainly toenhance her own importance. At the same time she did mean it half, andthat would have been enough for Jephson. He rose, grievously wounded.
"Good-bye, Alice," he said, taking the hand she did not refuse. "Ye'rethrowin' from ye what all yer money won't buy."
She gave a scornful little laugh, and John walked out of the kitchen.
At the door he turned with one lingering look; but in Alice there wasno sign of softening. She turned scornfully away, and no doubt enjoyedher triumph to the full.
The next morning she went away.