The Nether Millstone — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The Nether Millstone
John Stuart Mill · en
Speed nodded without reply. The room had grown suddenly dark, for a
thunderstorm had come up from the west. There was a lurid flash of
lightning followed by a clap of thunder, and then the rain came down
in torrents. It was only a matter of ten minutes before the light came
back again. Speed nodded once more.
"All right," he whispered, "I am a fairly powerful man, and
physically, I have nothing to fear from Ralph Darnley. Besides, you
say he will not be in a condition. . . . It's a dreadful thing to
think of, Mayfield, but I can't give this up. I really couldn't go
back to the old life of drudgery again. Only please don't revert to
the subject. Let us have another glass of wine and forget all about it
for the time being."
The afternoon wore on; evening came at length, and presently with it,
Ralph Darnley. He entered the big dining-room where the others awaited
him. His easy manner changed as he caught sight of Mayfield. Just for
the moment he felt a desire to walk out of the room and leave the
house. He had not expected an insult like this. But, on the other
hand, he had asked no questions; he had accepted the invitation as
much out of curiosity as anything else, and, besides, Mary's father
was there. And Ralph had been in more questionable circumstances
before now.
"I think you know Mayfield," Speed said carelessly.
"We have met on several occasions," Ralph said quietly, "we have had
business relations together. But I hardly expected the pleasure."
"Well, you have nothing to regret as far as the business relations are
concerned," Mayfield said with a laugh. "Still, it is possible to
forget all about that for the moment. My friend, Sp--I mean, Sir
Vincent, has asked me to stay here for a night. Upon my word, he is a
man to be envied! It isn't often that a place like this tumbles into a
man's lap. With most of us virtue is its own reward."
Ralph made some suitable reply. He was annoyed and angry with himself
for coming. But there was no getting out of it now; he would have to
go on till half-past ten at least. It was a relief in its way when
Slight came in with the announcement that dinner was ready. That meal
would occupy two hours at least.
There was everything set out just as it had been in the old days, and
yet there was a subtle difference. The house lacked the presence of a
mistress; it needed the refining influence of a woman. And, in his
mind's eye, Ralph saw the woman there, smiling and tender at the head
of the table, her eyes looking into his. It was worth all the
discomfort and unpleasantness of such a meal to know that the time
would not be long now. The puppets had nearly finished their parts,
and the hour for their removal was close at hand.
But the dinner dragged all the same; only Mr. Dashwood made spasmodic
efforts at keeping up the nagging conversation. He was fitfully gay,
perhaps he noted the look of displeasure in Ralph's eyes.