FullReads

‘Naturally. But you will go, all the same.’

A vicious light flashed into the man’s eyes.

‘If it comes to that, I shall not go!’

‘Indeed?’ said Miss Rodney calmly and coldly. ‘We will see about it. In the meantime, leave the room, sir!’

Rawcliffe nodded, grinned, and withdrew.

Late that evening there was a conversation between Miss Rodney and Mrs. Turpin. The landlady, though declaring herself horrified at what had happened, did her best to plead for Mr. Rawcliffe’s forgiveness, and would not be brought to the point of promising to give him notice.

‘Very well, Mrs. Turpin,’ said Miss Rodney at length, ‘either he leaves the house or I do.’

Resolved, as she was, not to quit her lodgings, this was a bold declaration. A meeker spirit would have trembled at the possibility that Mrs. Turpin might be only too glad to free herself from a subjection which, again and again, had all but driven her to extremities. But Miss Rodney had the soul of a conqueror; she saw only her will, and the straight way to it.

‘To tell you the truth, miss,’ said the landlady, sore perplexed, ‘he’s rather backward with his rent–‘

‘Very foolish of you to have allowed him to get into your debt. The probability is that he would never pay his arrears; they will only increase, the longer he stays. But I have no more time to spare at present. Please understand that by Saturday next it must be settled which of your lodgers is to go.’

Mrs. Turpin had never been so worried. The more she thought of the possibility of Miss Rodney’s leaving the house, the less did she like it. Notwithstanding Mr. Rawcliffe’s ‘family,’ it was growing clear to her that, as a stamp of respectability and a source of credit, the High School mistress was worth more than the solicitor’s clerk. Then there was the astonishing change that had come over Turpin, owing, it seemed, to his talk with Miss Rodney; the man spent all his leisure time in ‘making shapes and figuring’–just as he used to do when poor Harry was at the Grammar School. If Miss Rodney disappeared, it seemed only too probable that Turpin would be off again to ‘The Swan With Two Necks.’ On the other hand, the thought of ‘giving notice’ to Mr. Rawcliffe caused her something like dismay; how could she have the face to turn a real gentleman out of her house? Yes, but was it not true that she had lost money by him–and stood to lose more? She had never dared to tell her husband of Mr. Rawcliffe’s frequent shortcomings in the matter of weekly payments. When the easy-going young man smiled and nodded, and said, ‘It’ll be all right, you know, Mrs. Turpin; you can trust me, I hope,’ she could do nothing but acquiesce. And Mr. Rawcliffe was more and more disposed to take advantage of this weakness. If she could find courage to go through with the thing, perhaps she would be glad when it was over.

Three days went by. Rawcliffe led an unusually quiet and regular life. There came the day on which his weekly bill was presented. Mrs. Turpin brought it in person at breakfast, and stood with it in her hand, an image of vacillation. Her lodger made one of his familiar jokes; she laughed feebly. No; the words would not come to her lips; she was physically incapable of giving him notice.

‘By the bye, Mrs. Turpin,’ said Rawcliffe in an offhand way, as he glanced at the bill, ‘how much exactly do I owe you?’

Pleasantly agitated, his landlady mentioned the sum.

‘Ah! I must settle that. I tell you what, Mrs. Turpin. Let it stand over for another month, and we’ll square things up at Christmas. Will that suit you?’

And, by way of encouragement, he paid his week’s account on the spot, without a penny of deduction. Mrs. Turpin left the room in greater embarrassment than ever.