"Yon may be disappointed, but I don't think she will, if you send
Giles," said Mrs. Melbury, dryly.
"Very well--I'll send him."
Melbury was often persuaded by the quietude of his wife's words when
strenuous argument would have had no effect. This second Mrs. Melbury
was a placid woman, who had been nurse to his child Grace before her
mother's death. After that melancholy event little Grace had clung to
the nurse with much affection; and ultimately Melbury, in dread lest
the only woman who cared for the girl should be induced to leave her,
persuaded the mild Lucy to marry him. The arrangement--for it was
little more--had worked satisfactorily enough; Grace had thriven, and
Melbury had not repented.
He returned to the spar-house and found Giles near at hand, to whom he
explained the change of plan. "As she won't arrive till five o'clock,
you can get your business very well over in time to receive her," said
Melbury. "The green gig will do for her; you'll spin along quicker
with that, and won't be late upon the road. Her boxes can be called
for by one of the wagons."
Winterborne, knowing nothing of the timber-merchant's restitutory aims,
quietly thought all this to be a kindly chance. Wishing even more than
her father to despatch his apple-tree business in the market before
Grace's arrival, he prepared to start at once.
Melbury was careful that the turnout should be seemly. The gig-wheels,
for instance, were not always washed during winter-time before a
journey, the muddy roads rendering that labor useless; but they were
washed to-day. The harness was blacked, and when the rather elderly
white horse had been put in, and Winterborne was in his seat ready to
start, Mr. Melbury stepped out with a blacking-brush, and with his own
hands touched over the yellow hoofs of the animal.
"You see, Giles," he said, as he blacked, "coming from a fashionable
school, she might feel shocked at the homeliness of home; and 'tis
these little things that catch a dainty woman's eye if they are
neglected. We, living here alone, don't notice how the whitey-brown
creeps out of the earth over us; but she, fresh from a city--why,
she'll notice everything!"
"That she will," said Giles.
"And scorn us if we don't mind."
"Not scorn us."
"No, no, no--that's only words. She's too good a girl to do that. But
when we consider what she knows, and what she has seen since she last
saw us, 'tis as well to meet her views as nearly as possible. Why,
'tis a year since she was in this old place, owing to her going abroad
in the summer, which I agreed to, thinking it best for her; and
naturally we shall look small, just at first--I only say just at first."