“Yes,” exclaimed Miss Grunderson, “it’s me; no, it’s I!--but, goodness
gracious, what _does_ it matter about grammar, when there’s so much
trouble in the world?--yes, and I’ve been listening,” continued the
young lady, answering Mr. Tredethlyn’s inquiring stare; “and I know that
listening in a general way is considered mean; but I think the amount of
pa’s ground-rents ought to exempt me from any imputation of meanness. If
I didn’t love that sweet lamb so dearly; and if I hadn’t a very sincere
regard for you, Mr. Tredethlyn,--having come into money suddenly myself,
and knowing how trying it is to carry it off carelessly, and not look as
if one was always conscious of being richer than other people;--if I
didn’t--in short, I shouldn’t have stopped behind those curtains,--and
run the risk of being considered a sneak and a listener. But do say that
you forgive me, please, and believe that I meant it for the best?”
pleaded Rosa, whose diction was apt to become rather obscure under the
influence of excitement.
“What, in Heaven’s name, does it all mean, Miss Grunderson?” asked
Francis, piteously.
He was ready to cling to the frailest spar by which he might float on
the wide ocean of perplexity, whose billows had so suddenly encompassed
him.
“Goodness gracious knows--_I_ don’t any more than the dead though if
there _is_ anything in drawing-room tables balancing themselves on
tip-toe and great-coats flying about the room like awkward birds the
dead may know more than we give them credit for,” exclaimed the lively
Rosa, without a single stop; “but it’s very certain there is something
wrong, and whatever it is, that Mr. Lowther is at the bottom of it.”
“Harcourt Lowther?”
“Yes. My pa hears a great deal of gossip at the Bell and--at clubs, and
such places; and he always tells me everything he hears. And oh, Mr.
Tredethlyn, if you knew how long I have wished to speak my mind to you,
I am sure you would forgive me for listening just now.”
“My dear Miss Grunderson, what could you have to say to me?” asked the
bewildered Cornishman.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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