“You must know,” he said, “that an independent poor man like that very good-looking grocer--”
“Oh, poor! none so poor! he is better off than many folks that make a deal more show,” said Sarah Jane.
“That is precisely what I was going to say. An independent man in his position, may be really in much better circumstances than the son of a more important person. Sir John Curtis is not a man to be trifled with,” Durant went on, with a momentary half-amused compunction for this cruel slander upon poor Sir John. “He is stern in his own views; he is capable of withdrawing his son’s allowance altogether if he is dissatisfied with his marriage. I am very sorry to alarm you, but I feared you might be under some delusion, and this was what I wanted to say.”
Sarah Jane’s eyes had been growing wider and wider with alarm and wonder. She turned round upon her heel as upon a pivot.
“Now I think of it,” she said, “Matilda had better come and match her ribbon herself. It is only for the strings, and the bonnet is not more than half done--and, please, come and tell all this to mother yourself. Nancy’s a dear,” said the girl, with a look which entirely changed her aspect to her sympathetic companion. “She may have her faults, but she’s always been kind, and I can’t bear that she should be deceived. Come and tell it to them at home. Mother knows a deal--she’s cleverer than any of us; _she’ll_ know if you’re right or wrong; but I won’t have Nancy put upon, not--” cried the girl, with a vehemence of regard which only the strongest asseveration could justify--“not if I was never to have another new dress for years and years!”
The unlikely pair retraced their steps rapidly, turning towards the house of the Bates’; but the effect of Durant’s revelation soon died off from the mind of Sarah Jane. She had done what duty required in taking him at once to her mother. Once told to that supreme authority, Sarah Jane felt that her mind was clear of all responsibility, and, indeed, as a matter of fact, she dismissed the burden of this new revelation long before her companion ceased his efforts to impress it upon her. She tried what she could to beguile him into lighter talk; she broke in upon him with lively observations, and little essays of friendly familiarity. The momentary agitation of sympathy which had almost interested Durant in her died away. She began to pout as he went on.