So that was another feather in Tom
Bond's cap in a manner of speaking, for he'd made amazing sure of his
ground and got himself safe planted in Jenny's affections without giving
one sign, even to my eyes, that he was up to any wickedness.
I knew he was clever, but shouldn't have thought anybody could be so
clever as that with the woman of my choice. And I knew, only too well,
that Jenny must have been amazing clever also. I calmed her down and
showed no spark of anger and didn't say a hard word against Bond; but that
night, after dinner, I bade him come in my pantry and tell me what he'd
been doing. Because a lot turned in my mind on the way he was going to
state the case, and I weren't in no yielding mood to him. Words flowed
from the man, like feathers off a goose, and under his regrets and shame,
and all the rest of it, was a sort of a hidden note of triumph, which I
didn't like at all, because it showed he was contemptuous of me at heart
and knew he'd got the whip-hand.
"It's this way, Mr. Morris," he said. "I have nothing much to tell you
that will excuse what's happened. I knew you were engaged to her and all
that; and God's my judge, I never dreamed to come between; but nature's
stronger than the strongest, and I hadn't been here six months before I
knew it was life or death between me and Jenny. I fought it down and so
did she, and we suffered a terrible lot more than you'll ever know or
guess; but such things happen every day and true love never did run
smooth.
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