'But Miss Hale was there?'
No answer.
'And with a young man?'
Still no answer.
At last he said:
'I tell you, mother, that there was no inquest—no inquiry.
No judicial inquiry, I mean.'
'Betsy says that Woolmer (some man she knows, who is in a grocer's shop out at Crampton) can swear that Miss Hale was at the station at that hour, walking backwards and forwards with a young man.'
'I don't see what we have to do with that.
Miss Hale is at liberty to please herself.'
'I'm glad to hear you say so,' said Mrs. Thornton, eagerly. 'It certainly signifies very little to us—not at all to you, after what has passed! but I—I made a promise to Mrs. Hale, that I would not allow her daughter to go wrong without advising and remonstrating with her.
I shall certainly let her know my opinion of such conduct.'
'I do not see any harm in what she did that evening,' said Mr. Thornton, getting up, and coming near to his mother; he stood by the chimney-piece with his face turned away from the room.
'You would not have approved of Fanny's being seen out, after dark, in rather a lonely place, walking about with a young man.
I say nothing of the taste which could choose the time, when her mother lay unburied, for such a promenade.
Should you have liked your sister to have been noticed by a grocer's assistant for doing so?'
'In the first place, as it is not many years since I myself was a draper's assistant, the mere circumstance of a grocer's assistant noticing any act does not alter the character of the act to me.
And in the next place, I see a great deal of difference between Miss Hale and Fanny.
I can imagine that the one may have weighty reasons, which may and ought to make her overlook any seeming Impropriety in her conduct.
I never knew Fanny have weighty reasons for anything.
Other people must guard her.
I believe Miss Hale is a guardian to herself.'
'A pretty character of your sister, indeed!
Really, John, one would have thought Miss Hale had done enough to make you clear-sighted.
She drew you on to an offer, by a bold display of pretended regard for you,—to play you off against this very young man, I've no doubt.
Her whole conduct is clear to me now.
You believe he is her lover, I suppose—you agree to that.'
He turned round to his mother; his face was very gray and grim.
'Yes, mother.
I do believe he is her lover.'
When he had spoken, he turned round again; he writhed himself about, like one in bodily pain.
He leant his face against his hand.
Then before she could speak, he turned sharp again:
'Mother. He is her lover, whoever he is; but she may need help and womanly counsel;—there may be difficulties or temptations which I don't know.
I fear there are.
I don't want to know what they are; but as you have ever been a good—ay! and a tender mother to me, go to her, and gain her confidence, and tell her what is best to be done.
I know that something is wrong; some dread, must be a terrible torture to her.'
'For God's sake, John!' said his mother, now really shocked, 'what do you mean?
What do you mean?
What do you know?'
He did not reply to her.
'John!
I don't know what I shan't think unless you speak.
You have no right to say what you have done against her.'
'Not against her, mother!
I could not speak against her.'
'Well! you have no right to say what you have done, unless you say more.
These half-expressions are what ruin a woman's character.'
'Her character!
Mother, you do not dare—' he faced about, and looked into her face with his flaming eyes.