I did not know my man when I accepted. I began to know him, as soon as we
really came to business. I found him opposed to all reform--incapable
even of decent humanity. Very well! Was I to throw up?"
His eyes pierced into hers. Lydia could only murmur: "Go on."
"Suppose I had thrown up!--what would have happened? The estate would
have sunk, more and more lamentably, into the power of a certain low
attorney who has been Melrose's instrument in all his worst doings for
years--and of a pair of corrupt clerks in the local office. Who would
have gained? Not a soul! On the contrary, much would have been lost.
Heaven knows I have been able to do little enough. But I have done
something!--I have done _something_!--that is what people forget."
He looked at her passionately; a distress rising in his eyes, which he
could not hide. Was it her silence--the absence of any cheering,
approving sound from her?
She lifted her hand, and let it drop.
"Mainstairs!" she said. It was just breathed--a cry of pain.
"Yes--Mainstairs! I know--let us tackle Mainstairs. Mainstairs is a
horror--a tragedy. If I had been allowed, I should have set the whole
thing right a couple of months ago; I should have re-housed some of the
people, closed some of the cottages, repaired others. Mr. Melrose stopped
everything. There again--what good could I do by throwing up? I had
plenty of humdrum work elsewhere that was not being interfered with--work
that will tell in the long run.
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