Christmas at Thompson Hall by Anthony Trollope Read Free Book Online Page B

the woman who had been so blind — if indeed that story were true. Or if it were not true, of what like was the woman who would dare in the middle of the night to play such a trick as that. But still she kept her veil close over her face.
    From Cannon Street the Browns took their departure in a cab for the Liverpool Street Station, whence they would be conveyed by the Eastern Counties Railway to Stratford. Now at any rate their troubles were over. They would be in ample time, not only for Christmas Day church, but for Christmas Day breakfast. “It will be just the same as getting in there last night,” said Mr. Brown, as he walked across the platform to place his wife in the carriage for Stratford. She entered it first, and as she did so there she saw Mr. Jones seated in the corner! Hitherto she had borne his presence well, but now she could not restrain herself from a little start and a little scream. He bowed his head very slightly, as though acknowledging the compliment, and then down she dropped her veil. When they arrived at Stratford, the journey being over in a quarter of an hour, Jones was out of the carriage even before the Browns.
    â€œThere is Uncle John’s carriage,” said Mrs. Brown, thinking that now, at any rate, she would be able to free herself from the presence of this terrible stranger. No doubt he was a handsome man to look at, but on no face so sternly hostile had she ever before fixed her eyes. She did not, perhaps, reflect that the owner of no other face had ever been so deeply injured by herself.
    MRS. BROWN AT THOMPSON HALL
    â€œPlease, sir, we were to ask for Mr. Jones,” said the servant, putting his head into the carriage after both Mr. and Mrs. Brown had seated themselves.
    â€œMr. Jones!” exclaimed the husband.
    â€œWhy ask for Mr. Jones?” demanded the wife. The servant was about to tender some explanation when Mr. Jones stepped up and said that he was Mr. Jones. “We are going to Thompson Hall,” said the lady with great vigour.
    â€œSo am I,” said Mr. Jones, with much dignity. It was, however, arranged that he should sit with the coachman, as there was a rumble behind for the other servant. The luggage was put into a cart, and away all went for Thompson Hall.
    â€œWhat do you think about it, Mary,” whispered Mr. Brown, after a pause. He was evidently awe-struck by the horror of the occasion.
    â€œI cannot make it out at all. What do you think?”
    â€œI don’t know what to think. Jones going to Thompson Hall!”
    â€œHe’s a very good-looking young man,” said Mrs. Brown.
    â€œWell; — that’s as people think. A stiff, stuck-up fellow, I should say. Up to this moment he has never forgiven you for what you did to him.”
    â€œWould you have forgiven his wife, Charles, if she’d done it to you?”
    â€œHe hasn’t got a wife, — yet.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œHe is coming home now to be married,” said Mr. Brown. “He expects to meet the young lady this very Christmas Day. He told me so. That was one of the reasons why he was so angry at being stopped by what you did last night.”
    â€œI suppose he knows Uncle John, or he wouldn’t be going to the Hall,” said Mrs. Brown.
    â€œI can’t make it out,” said Mr. Brown, shaking his head.
    â€œHe looks quite like a gentleman,” said Mrs. Brown, “though he has been so stiff. Jones! Barnaby Jones! You’re sure it was Barnaby?”
    â€œThat was the name on the card.”
    â€œNot Burnaby?” asked Mrs. Brown.
    â€œIt was Barnaby Jones on the card, — just the same as ‘Barnaby Rudge,’ and as for looking like a gentleman, I’m by no means quite so sure. A gentleman takes an apology when it’s offered.”
    â€œPerhaps, my dear, that depends on the condition of his throat. If you had had a mustard plaster on all night, you might not have