Luke Rowan, when he left the cottage, walked quickly back across the green towards Baslehurst. He had sauntered out slowly on his road from the brewery to Bragg’s End, being in doubt as to what he would do when he reached his destination; but there was no longer room for doubt now; he had said that to Rachel’s mother which made any further doubt impossible, and he was resolved that he would ask Rachel to be his wife. He had spoken to Mrs Ray of his intention in that respect as though he thought that such an offer on his part might probably be rejected, and in so speaking had at the time spoken the truth; but he was eager, sanguine, and self-confident by nature, and though he was by no means disposed to regard himself as a conquering hero by whom any young lady would only be too happy to find herself beloved, he did not at the present moment look forward to his future fate with despair. He walked quickly home along the dusty road, picturing to himself a happy prosperous future in Baslehurst, with Rachel as his wife, and the Tappitts living in some neighbouring village on an income paid to old Tappitt by him out of the proceeds of the brewery. That was his present solution of the brewery difficulty. Tappitt was growing old, and it might be quite as well not only for himself, but for the cause of humanity in Devonshire, that he should pass the remainder of his life in that dignity which comfortable retirement from business affords. He did not desire Tappitt for a partner any more than Tappitt desired him. Nevertheless he was determined to brew beer, and was anxious to do so if possible on the spot where his great-uncle Bungall had commenced operations in that line.

It may be well to explain here that Rowan was not without good standing-ground in his dispute with Tappitt. Old Bungall’s will had somewhat confused matters, as it is in the nature of wills to do; but it had been Bungall’s desire that his full share in the brewery should go to his nephew after his widow’s death, should he on dying leave a widow. Now it had happened that he had left a widow, and that the widow had contrived to live longer than the nephew. She had drawn an income of five hundred a year from the concern, by agreement between her and her lawyer and Tappitt and his lawyer; and Tappitt, when the elder Rowan, Bungall’s nephew, died, had taught himself to believe that all the affairs of the brewery must now remain for ever in his own hands, unless he himself might choose to make other provision. He knew that some property in the concern would pass away from him when the old lady died, but he had not acknowledged to himself that young Rowan would inherit from his father all the rights which old Rowan would have possessed had he lived. Luke’s father had gone into other walks of life, and had lived prosperously, leaving behind him money for his widow, and money also for his children; and Tappitt, when he found that there was a young man with a claim to a partnership in his business, had been not only much annoyed, but surprised also. He had been, as we have seen, persuaded to hold out the right hand of friendship, and the left hand of the partnership to the young man. He had thought that he might manage a young man from London who knew nothing of beer; and his wife had thought that the young man might probably like to take a wife as well as an income out of the concern; but, as we have seen, they had both been wrong in their hopes. Luke chose to manage the brewery instead of being managed; and had foolishly fallen in love with Rachel Ray instead of taking Augusta Tappitt to himself as he should have done.

There was much certainly of harshness and cruelty in that idea of an opposition brewery in Baslehurst to be established in enmity to Bungall and Tappitt, and to be so established with Bungall’s money, and by Bungall’s heir. But Luke, as he walked back to Baslehurst, thinking now of his beer and now of his love, declared to himself that he wanted only his own. Let Tappitt deal justly with him in that matter of the partnership, and he would deal even generously with Tappitt. The concern gave an income of some fifteen hundred pounds, out of which Mrs Bungall, as taking no share of the responsibility or work, had been allowed to have a third. He was informed by his lawyer that he was entitled to claim one-half of the whole concern. If Tappitt would give in his adhesion to that villa arrangement, he should still have his thousand a year for life, and Mrs Tappitt afterwards should have due provision, and the girls should have all that could fairly be claimed for them. Or, if the villa scheme could not be carried out quite at present, he, Rowan, would do two shares of the work, and allow Tappitt to take two shares of the pay; but then, in that case, he must be allowed scope for his improvements. Good beer should be brewed for the people of Baslehurst, and the eyes of Devonshire should be opened. Pondering over all this, and resolving that he would speak out his mind openly to Rachel on the morrow, Luke Rowan reached his inn.

“There’s a lady, sir, upstairs, as wishes to speak to you,” said the waiter.

“A lady?”

“Quite elderly, sir,” said the waiter, intending to put an end to any excitement on Rowan’s part.

“It’s the gentleman’s own mother,” said the chambermaid, in a tone of reproof, “and she’s in number two sitting-room, private.” So Luke went to number two sitting-room, private, and there he found his mother waiting for him.

“This is very sad,” she said, when their first greetings were over.

“About old Tappitt? yes, it is; but what could I do, mother? He’s a stupid old man, and pigheaded. He would quarrel with me, so that I was obliged to leave the house. If you and Mary like to come into lodgings while you stay here, I can get rooms for you.”

But Mrs Rowan explained that she herself did not wish to come to any absolute or immediate rupture with Mrs Tappitt. Of course their visit would be shortened, but Mrs Tappitt was disposed to be very civil, as were the girls. Then Mrs Rowan suggested whether there might not be a reconciliation between Luke and the brewery family.

“But, mother, I have not quarrelled with the family.”

“It comes to the same thing, Luke; does it not? Don’t you think you could say something civil to Mr Tappitt, so as to — to bring him round again? He’s older than you are, you know, Luke.”

Rowan perceived at once that his mother was ranging herself on the Tappitt side in the contest, and was therefore ready to fight with so much the more vigour. He was accustomed to yield to his mother in all little things, Mrs Rowan being a woman who liked such yielding; but for some time past he had held his own against her in all greater matters. Now and again, for an hour or so, she would show that she was vexed; but her admiration for him was so genuine, and her love so strong, that this vexation never endured, and Luke had been taught to think that his judgement was to be held supreme in all their joint concerns. “Yes, mother, he is older than I am; but I do not know that I can say anything particularly civil to him — that is, more civil than what I have said. The civility which he wants is the surrender of my rights. I can’t be so civil as that.”

“No, Luke, I should be the last to ask you to surrender any of your rights; you must be sure of that. But — oh. Luke, if what I hear is true I shall be so unhappy!”

“And what have you heard, mother?”

“I am afraid all this is not about the brewery altogether.”

“But it is about the brewery altogether — about that and about nothing else to any smallest extent. I don’t at all know what you mean.”

“Luke, is there no young lady in the case?”

“Young lady! in what case — in the case of my quarrel with old Tappitt — whether he and I have had a difference about a young lady?”

“No. Luke; you know I don’t mean that.”

“But what do you mean, mother?”

“I’m afraid that you know too well. Is there not a young lady whom you’ve met at Mrs Tappitt’s, and whom you — you pretend to admire?”

“And suppose there is — for the sake of the argument — what has that to do with my difference with Mr Tappitt?” As Rowan asked this question some slight conception of the truth flashed across his mind; some faint idea came home to him of the connecting link between his admiration for Rachel Ray and Mr Tappitt’s animosity.

“But is it so, Luke?” asked the anxious mother. “I care much more about that than I do about all the brewery put together. Nothing would make me so wretched as to see you make a marriage that was beneath you.”

“I don’t think I shall ever make you wretched in that way.”

“And you tell me that there is nothing in this that I have heard — nothing at all?”

“No, by heavens! — I tell you no such thing. I do not know what you may have heard. That you have heard falsehood and calumny I guess by your speaking of a marriage that would be beneath me. But, as you think it right to ask me, I will not deceive you by any subterfuge. It is my purpose to ask a girl here in Baslehurst to be my wife.”

“Then you have not asked her yet?”

“You are cross-examining me very closely, mother. If I have not asked her I am bound to do so; not that any binding is necessary — for without being bound I certainly should do so.”

“And it is Miss Ray?”

“Yes, it is Miss Ray.”

“Oh, Luke, then indeed I shall be very wretched.”

“Why so, mother? Have you heard anything against her?”

“Against her! well; I will not say that, for I do not wish to say anything against any young woman. But do you know who she is, Luke; and who her mother is? They are quite poor people.”

“And is that against them?”

“Not against their moral character certainly, but it is against them in considering the expediency of a connection with them. You would hardly wish to marry out of your own station. I am told that the mother lives in a little cottage, quite in a humble sphere, and that the sister —”

“I intend to marry neither the mother nor the sister; but Rachel Ray I do intend to marry — if she will have me. If I had been left to myself I should not have told you of this till I had found myself to be successful; as you have asked me I have not liked to deceive you. But, mother, do not speak against her if you can say nothing worse of her than that she is poor.”

“You misunderstand me. Luke.”

“I hope so. I do not like to think that that objection should be made by you.”

“Of course it is an objection, but it is not the one which I meant to make. There may be many a young lady whom it would be quite fitting that you should wish to marry even though she had not got a shilling. It would be much pleasanter of course that the lady should have something, though I should never think of making any serious objection about that. But what I should chiefly look to would be the young lady herself, and her position in life.”

“The young lady herself would certainly be the main thing,” said Luke.

“That’s what I say — the young lady herself and her position in life. Have you made any inquiries?”

“Yes, I have — and am almost ashamed of myself for doing so.”

“I have no doubt Mrs Ray is very respectable, but the sort of people who are her friends are not your friends. Their most particular friends are the farmer’s family that lives near them.”

“How was it then that Mrs Cornbury took her to the party?”

“Ah, yes; I can explain that. And Mrs Tappitt has told me how sorry she is that people should have been deceived by what has occurred.” Luke Rowan’s brow grew black as Mrs Tappitt’s name was mentioned, but he said nothing and his mother continued her speech. “Her girls have been very kind to Miss Ray, inviting her to walk with them and all that sort of thing, because of her being so much alone without any companions of her own.”

“Oh, that has been it, has it? I thought she had the farmer’s family out near where she lived.”

“If you choose to listen to me, Luke, I shall be obliged to you, but if you take me up at every word in that way, of course I must leave you.” Then she paused, but as Luke said nothing she went on with her discourse. “It was in that way that she came to know the Miss Tappitts, and then one of them, the youngest I think, asked her to come to the party. It was very indiscreet; but Mrs Tappitt did not like to go back from her daughter’s word, and so the girl was allowed to come.”

“And to make the blunder pass off easily, Mrs Cornbury was induced to take her?”

“Mrs Cornbury happened to be staying with her father, in whose parish they had lived for many years, and it certainly was very kind of her. But it has been an unfortunate mistake altogether. The poor girl has for a moment been lifted out of her proper sphere, and — as you must have seen yourself. — hardly knew how to behave herself. It made Mrs Tappitt very unhappy.”

This was more than Luke Rowan was able to bear. His anger was not against his own mother, but against the mistress of the brewery. It was manifest that she had been maligning Rachel, and instigating his mother to take up the cudgels against her. And he was vexed also that his mother had not perceived that Rachel held, or was entitled to hold, among women a much higher position than could be fairly accorded to Mrs Tappitt. “I do not care one straw for Mrs Tappitt’s unhap............