Lydia was so disconcerted by this attack that she had to pause
awhile before replying. Then she said, "Are you aware, Mrs. Skene,
that my knowledge of Mr. Byron is very slight--that I have not seen
him ten times in my life? Perhaps you do not know the circumstances
in which I last saw him. I was greatly shocked by the injuries he
had inflicted on another man; and I believe I spoke of them as the
work of a wild beast. For your sake, I am sorry I said so; for he
has told me that he regards you as his mother; and--"
"Oh, no! Far from it, miss. I ask your pardon a thousand times for
taking the word out of your mouth; but me and Ned is no more to him
than your housekeeper or governess might be to you. That's what I'm
afraid you don't understand, miss. He's no relation of ours. I do
assure you that he's a gentleman born and bred; and when we go back
to Melbourne next Christmas, it will be just the same as if he had
never known us."
"I hope he will not be so ungrateful as to forget you. He has told
me his history."
"That's more than he ever told me, miss; so you may judge how much
he thinks of you."
A pause followed this. Mrs. Skene felt that the first exchange was
over, and that she had got the better in it.
"Mrs. Skene," said Lydia then, penetratingly; "when you came to pay
me this visit, what object did you propose to yourself? What do you
expect me to do?"
"Well, ma'am," said Mrs. Skene, troubled, "the poor lad has had
crosses lately. There was the disappointment about you--the first
one, I mean--that had been preying on his mind for a long time. Then
there was that exhibition spar at the Agricultural Hall, when
Paradise acted so dishonorable. Cashel heard that you were looking
on; and then he read the shameful way the newspapers wrote of him;
and he thought you'd believe it all. I couldn't get that thought out
of his head. I said to him, over and over again--"
"Excuse me," said Lydia, interrupting. "We had better be frank with
one another. It is useless to assume that he mistook my feeling on
that subject. I WAS shocked by the severity with which he treated
his opponent."
"But bless you, that's his business," said Mrs. Skone, opening her
eyes widely. "I put it to you, miss," she continued, as if mildly
reprobating some want of principle on Lydia's part, "whether an
honest man shouldn't fulfil his engagements. I assure you that the
pay a respectable professional usually gets for a spar like that is
half a guinea; and that was all Paradise got. But Cashel stood on
his reputation, and wouldn't take less than ten guineas; and he got
it, too. Now many another in his position would have gone into the
ring and fooled away the time pretending to box, and just swindling
those that paid him. But Cashel is as honest and high-minded as a
king. You saw for yourself the trouble he took. He couldn't have
spared himself less if he had been fighting for a thousand a side
and the belt, instead of for a paltry ten guineas. Surely you don't
think the worse of him for his honesty, miss?"