Bladys of the Stewponey | Page 6

not desire at all to be married."
"Here you cannot stay. You understand well that you and she as is to be
your stepmother can't agree. As soon as you have cleared out, then in
comes she; and as I powerfully want her in the house, the sooner you
go the better. If you'd taken to her in a friendly and daughterly way,
that would have been another matter; but as you have fixed your mind
so dead against her there's no help for it. Go you must, and that to-night.
And what is more, as a virtuous and respectable man, and a man with a
conscience in my stomach, you shall go out respectably, and not be cut
off with a shilling. None shall say that of me. I'm a man as does his
duty in that station of life and situation as I finds myself in."
"I don't consider it respectable to be bowled for."
"Then I do. I am nigh on forty years older than you, and know the
world. Which is most like to be right, you or I? If you leave my house,
you leave it respectable."
"If you would suffer me to be alone, I would do nothing that is not
respectable."
"Whither would you go? Who would take charge of you? In good sooth,
until I put you into the arms of a husband I have no freedom, and unless
I do that I am responsible."
Bladys set the lamp on the floor, sank on an empty barrel-horse,
covered her face with her hands, and sobbed. The host uttered an oath.
"This angers me. Folly always doth that," said he. "I leave you to
yourself whilst I go fetch another spigot, and if you're not in a proper
frame of mind when I come back I'll wash your face with stale beer."

The taverner staggered away.
His daughter looked after him as he stumbled up the stair. Then she
was left alone in the cellar. The lamp on the floor flickered uneasily in
the descending current of air, and the folds of cobwebs waved, catching
the light, then disappearing again. The air was impregnated with a
savour of mildew and wine and ale. The floor was moist. Spilt liquor
had been trodden over the tiles and left them wet and slimy.
Bladys had not been long an orphan. Her mother had died but a few
months ago, after a lengthy and painful illness. She had been a shrewd,
firm woman, an excellent manageress, who had kept order in the house
and controlled her husband. Cornelius was a weak, vain man, and he
allowed himself to be swayed by his customers, especially by those of
the best class.
During the protracted illness of his wife he had shown attention to a
woman of indifferent character, showy in dress, whom he had
introduced into the inn to relieve his wife of her duties. This had caused
painful scenes, much recrimination, and the sick woman had with
difficulty persuaded her husband to send the woman away. Her last
hours had been embittered by the thought that her child might have this
worthless creature as her stepmother, and by the vexation of knowing
that the fruits of her care, saving, and labour would go to enrich this
person, whom she despised, yet hated.
Hardly was his wife dead before Cornelius showed plainly what were
his intentions. It became a matter of jest at his table, of scandal in the
village.
In talking with some of the gentle bucks and topers who frequented his
house, Cornelius had had the indiscretion to comment on the difficulty
he felt in disposing of his daughter before introducing his new wife to
Stewponey; and the suggestion had been made in jest that he should
have her bowled for, and give as her dower the money made on the
occasion. He accepted the suggestion gravely, and then several chimed
in to press him to carry it into execution.

Associating as Cornelius did with men coarse-minded and, whatever
their social position, of no natural refinement, casting aside, when at his
table, or about his fire, whatever polish they had, Rea was in no way
superior to his companions. He was incapable of understanding what
belonged to his duty as a father, and of treating with the delicacy due to
her sex and situation the solitary girl who was dependent on him.
Bladys loved her father, without respecting him.
He would not allow his guests to address her in an unseemly manner,
but his protection extended no further.
The girl was fully aware that she could not remain in the Stewponey
after her father was married again. To do so, she must forfeit her
self-respect and do a wrong to the memory of her mother.
The girl's