Brown sat down, throwing back his coat and revealing his dark countenance, which was cloudy, but handsome, in a rustic, heavy way. The frost was wet and melting on his crisp, curly brown beard; he had the freshness of the cold on his face, but yet was darkly pale, as was his nature. He made but little response to the Vicar’s cheerful greeting, and drew his chair a little distance away from the blaze of the fire. Mr. Germaine tried to draw him into conversation on ordinary topics, but finding this fail, said, after a pause: ‘You have brought me, perhaps, a message from Mrs. Blencarrow?’ He was disturbed by a sort of presentiment, an uneasy feeling of something coming, for which he could find no cause. ‘No, I have brought no message. I come to you,’ said Brown, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and his head supported by his hands, ‘on my own account.’ Mr. Germaine uttered a strange cry. ‘Good heavens!’ he said, ‘it was you!’ ‘Last night?’ said Brown, looking up at him with his deep-set eyes. ‘Didn’t you know?’ Mr. Germaine could not contain himself. He got up and pushed back his chair. He looked for a moment, being a tall man also and strong, though not so strong as the Hercules before him, as if he would have seized upon him and shaken him, as one dog does another. ‘You!’ he cried. ‘The creature of her bounty! For whom she has done everything! Obliged to her for all you are and all you have!’ Brown laughed a low, satirical laugh. ‘I am her husband,’ he said. The Vicar stood with rage in his face, gazing at this man, feeling that he could have torn him limb from limb. ‘How dared you?’ he said, through his clenched teeth; ‘how dared you? I should like to kill you. You to sit there and let her appeal to you, and let her open to me and close the door, and do a servant’s office, while you were there!’ ‘What do you mean?’ said Brown. ‘I am her husband. She told you so. It’s the woman’s place in my class to do all that; why shouldn’t she?’ ‘I thought,’ said the Vicar, ‘that however much a man stood by his class, it was thought best to behave like a gentleman whatever you were.’ ‘There you were mistaken,’ said Brown. He got up and stood beside Mr. Germaine on the hearth, a tall and powerful figure. ‘I am not a gentleman,’ he said, ‘but I’ve married a lady. What have I made by it? At first I was a fool. I was pleased whatever she did. But that sort of thing don’t last. I’ve never been anything but Brown the steward, while she was the lady and mistress. How is a man to stand that? I’ve been hidden out of sight. She’s never acknowledged me, never given me my proper place. Brought up to supper at the ball by those two brats of boys, spoken to in a gracious sort of way, “My good Brown.” And I her husband--her husband, whom it was her business to obey!’ ‘It is a difficult position,’ said Mr. Germaine, averting his eyes.